"Why?" he asked. "I'm afraid, my dear Geoffrey, you are not disposed to study science. To kill the poor thing who managed to find life in the very bosom of death, is a cruel suggestion, is it not? To me, this unclassified insect is a valuable proof (if I needed one) of the indestructibility of the germs of conscious existence; it has eyes, and the senses of taste, smell, touch and hearing,--and it gained these together with its intelligence, out of the dead flesh of a woman who lived, and no doubt loved and sinned and suffered more than four thousand years ago!" He broke off,--then suddenly added--"All the same I frankly admit to you that I believe it to be an evil creature. I do indeed! But I like it none the less for that. In fact I have rather a fantastic notion about it myself. I am much inclined to accept the idea of the transmigration of souls, and so I please my humour sometimes by thinking that perhaps the princess of that Royal Egyptian house had a wicked, brilliant, vampire soul,--and that ... _here it is_!" A cold thrill ran through me from head to foot at these words, and as I looked at the speaker standing opposite me in the wintry light, dark and tall, with the 'wicked, brilliant, vampire soul' clinging to his hand, there seemed to me to be a sudden hideousness declared in his excessive personal beauty. I was conscious of a vague terror, but I attributed it to the gruesome nature of the story, and, determining to combat my sensations, I examined the weird insect more closely. As I did so, its bright beady eyes sparkled, I thought, vindictively, and I stepped back, vexed with myself at the foolish fear of the thing which overpowered me. "It is certainly remarkable,"--I murmured--"No wonder you value it,--as a curiosity. Its eyes are quite distinct, almost intelligent in fact." "No doubt she had beautiful eyes,"--said Rimânez smiling. "She? Whom do you mean?" "The princess, of course!" he answered, evidently amused; "The dear dead lady,--some of whose personality must be in this creature, seeing that it had nothing but her body to nourish itself upon." And here he replaced the creature in its crystal habitation with the utmost care. "I suppose"--I said slowly, "you, in your pursuit of science, would infer from this that nothing actually perishes completely?" "Exactly!" returned Rimânez emphatically. "There, my dear Tempest, is the mischief,--or the deity,--of things. Nothing can be entirely annihilated;--not even a thought." I was silent, watching him while he put the glass case with its uncanny occupant away out of sight. "And now for luncheon," he said gaily, passing his arm through mine--"You look twenty per cent. better than when you went out this morning, Geoffrey, so I conclude your legal matters are disposed of satisfactorily. And what else have you done with yourself?"