Part 2 (1/2)
”Quite so. They are peculiar to Russia.”
”But what are you doing with them?” I asked.
He continued to smile.
”Do you notice anything remarkable about these b.u.t.terflies?”
”No,” I said after prolonged observation, ”I can't say I do ... save that they are not denizens of this country.”
”I think we might christen them,” he said. ”Let us call them Lepidoptera Sarakoffii.” He tapped the gla.s.s again and watched the insects move.
”But they are very remarkable,” he continued. ”Do they appear healthy to you?”
”Perfectly.”
”You agree, then, that they are in good condition?”
”They seem to be in excellent condition.”
”No signs of decay--or disease?”
”None.”
He nodded.
”And yet,” he said thoughtfully, ”they should be, according to natural law, a ma.s.s of decayed tissue.”
”Ah!” I looked at him with dawning comprehension. ”You mean----?”
”I mean that they should have died long ago.”
”How long do they live normally?”
”About twenty to thirty hours. At the outside their life is not more than thirty-six hours. These are somewhat older.”
I gazed at the little creatures crawling aimlessly about. _Aimless_, did I say? There they were, filling up the floor of the gla.s.s case, moving with difficulty, getting in each other's way, sprawling and colliding, apparently without aim or purpose. At that spectacle my thoughts might well have taken a leap into the future and seen, instead of a crowded ma.s.s of b.u.t.terflies, a crowded ma.s.s of humanity. I asked Sarakoff a question.
”How old are they?” I expected to hear they had existed perhaps a day or two beyond their normal limit.
”They are almost exactly a year old,” was the reply. I stared, marvelling. A year old! I bent down, gazing at the turbulent restless ma.s.s of gaudy colour. A year old--and still vital and healthy!
”You mean these insects have lived a whole year?” I exclaimed, still unconvinced.
He nodded.
”But that is a miracle!”
”It is, proportionately, equal to a man living twenty-five thousand years instead of the normal seventy.”
”You don't suggest----?”