The poor man and all his companions, Dick Sand and Tom excepted,
believed themselves, and must believe themselves, where they were
not! It needed other incidents, facts still more grave than certain
scientific curiosities, to undeceive them!
It was then nine o'clock in the morning. Cousin Benedict had talked
for a long time. Did he perceive that his auditors, propped up in
their cells, had gradually fallen asleep during his entomological
lecture? No; certainly not. He lectured for himself. Dick Sand no
longer questioned him, and remained motionless, although he did not
sleep. As for Hercules, he had resisted longer than the others; but
fatigue soon finished by shutting his eyes, and, with his eyes, his
ears.
For some time longer Cousin Benedict continued to lecture. However,
sleep finally got the best of him, and he mounted to the upper cavity
of the cone, in which he had chosen his domicile.
Deep silence fell on the interior of the cone, while the storm filled
space with noise and fire. Nothing seemed to indicate that the tempest
was nearly over.
The lantern had been extinguished. The interior of the ant-hill was
plunged in complete darkness.
No doubt all slept. However, Dick Sand, alone, did not seek in sleep
the repose which was so necessary to him. Thought absorbed him. He
dreamed of his companions, whom he would save at all hazards.
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