a kind of circular pit. Here Captain Nemo stopped and pointed out to us something I had never seen before.
It was an oyster of most extraordinary size, a gigantic tridacne, a shell which would have held a lake of holy water, a vase whose breadth was more than two and a half yards, and, therefore, larger than that which was in the saloon of the Nautilus.
I approached this enormous mollusc. It was fixed to a granite slab, and there it grew by itself beneath the calm waters of the grotto. I estimated its weight at 600 pounds. Now an oyster like this would contain about thirty pounds’ weight of meat, and one must have the stomach of a Gargantua to swallow a few dozen of such “natives.”
The captain was aware of the existence of this bivalve; evidently it was not the first time he had visited it, and I thought that in coming hither he had only wished to show us a natural curiosity. I was mistaken. Captain Nemo had a personal interest in ascertaining the actual condition of this tridacne.
The shells were open. The captain thrust his dagger between them so as to prevent them shutting again. He then raised the membraneous tissue with its fringed edges which formed the covering of the oyster. There, between the plaits, I saw a loose pearl of the size of a small cocoa-nut. Its globular form, its perfect transparency, the splendid “water,” stamped it as a jewel of inestimable price. Actuated by an impulse of curiosity, I extended my hand to seize it and weigh it, but the captain stopped me, shook his head, and, withdrawing his dagger, permitted the shells to close suddenly.
I then understood his motives. By leaving this pearl hidden within the tridacne, he allowed it to grow insensibly. With each year of existence the mollusc added new con-
