“There is nothing, absolutely no-th-thing of the kind, and probably there never was anything of the kind. All those things are the idle fancies of frivolous travellers. Just as you swell out an air-cushion with air, so I now swell out the crocodile with my person. It is elastic to an incredible degree. For that matter, this hollow formation of the crocodile is fully in accordance with natural science. For supposing, for instance, you were commissioned to construct a new crocodile, the question would naturally present itself to you: What is the fundamental characteristic of the crocodile? The answer is plain: To swallow people. How should this aim—the swallowing of people—be attained in the construction of the crocodile? The answer is still plainer: Make him hollow. The science of physics has long proved that Nature abhors a vacuum. According to this law, the interior of the crocodile must necessarily be empty, in order that the crocodile may abhor a vacuum and may therefore swallow everything that comes to hand, so as to fill itself up. And this is the only reasonable cause that all crocodiles eat men. Now, the construction of man is different: for instance, the emptier is a human head, the less desire it feels to fill itself up; and this is the only exception to the general rule. All this has now become to me as clear as day; all this I have comprehended out of my own intellect and experience, being, as it were, in the entrails of Nature, in Nature’s retort, listening to the beating of her pulse. Even etymology agrees with my theory, for the very name of the crocodile implies devouring greed. ‘Crocodile,’ ‘_crocodillo_,’ is an Italian word—a word contemporary, it may be, with the ancient Egyptian Pharaohs, and evidently derived from the French root, _croquer_, which means: to eat, to devour, or in any way to use (any object) for food. All this I intend to explain in my first lecture to the audience which will assemble in Elyòna Ivànovna’s salon, when I am carried there in my tank.” “My dear friend, don’t you think you had better take a—a cooling medicine?” I involuntarily exclaimed. “He’s delirious, delirious!” I repeated to myself in horror. “Fiddlesticks!” he replied, contemptuously; “moreover, in my present position that would be not altogether convenient. For that matter, I knew you would begin to talk about cooling medicines.” “Ivan Matvyèich,” said I; “it is hard to believe all the wonders you speak of. And do you mean to tell me that you really, really intend never to dine any more?”