Read Online Forever by Judith Gould - Free Book Online

conscientiously restored.
    Ernesto de Veiga was sitting deep in the
shade of the bougainvillaea-shrouded verandah, a tall craggy man of
indeterminate age in a short-sleeved, white cotton shirt and dark
trousers. A yellow silk scarf was knotted around his throat. He sat
facing outwards, so that he could enjoy the view. And indeed, from
time to time he would look over the wicker table which held his
freshly squeezed vegetable juice and lepidoptery implements and
gaze out past the cascading bougainvillaea and spiky palm fronds
and across the beautifully kept grounds. His view was to the
bright-blue swimming pool surrounded by yellow sun umbrellas and
down the gently sloping hill, where the blue-green ocean extended
unbroken to the hazy horizon beyond. The sky was a mass of great
towering fleecy clouds.
    From the shrubbery, giant clouds of
butterflies flashed bright rainbow colours. Insects buzzed
indolently all around.
    He drew his eyes back in and looked at the
brilliant emerald- green-and-black butterfly he was holding by its
yellow thorax with a pair of tweezers. It was still alive, and
fluttered its wings in a desperate attempt to escape.
    He held it up. 'Do you know what this is?'
he asked in Portuguese-accented English.
    'Of course, senhor, ' replied Colonel
Valerio, formerly of the U.S. Army, now retired, who stood off to
the side in the military position of at ease. 'It's a
butterfly.'
    De Veiga shook his head and smiled. 'No, no,
no, Colonel. This is no mere butterfly! This is an Ornithoptera priamus! It is found near the coasts of the
Moluccas and New Guinea and northern Australia. And, as of now,
here! Beautiful, is it not? My first male of this species for my
collection! Notice the yellow dots near the costa? Here?' He
pointed with an index finger. 'It is quite similar to those of the
female Ornithoptera victoriae. A butterfly's colours,' he added,
'are a result of its ability to convert its own excreta to pure
pigment. Fascinating, no?'
    That explained, de Veiga unscrewed the lid
of a jar inside which he kept an ether-soaked sponge. Swiftly he
plunged the butterfly down into the fumes until its fluttering
ceased, then took it back out and replaced the lid tightly. He laid
the unconscious insect with its half-closed wings against a
six-inch-square wooden rack which had two lateral lathes and a
cork-lined groove into which to fit the thorax. Then, selecting a
tiny pin, he impaled the butterfly with one swift jab. Bending
forward, he blew gently on its abdomen, and its jewel-like wings
opened wide. He laid a strip of parchment vertically down on each
wing, and with a pair of needles mounted on tiny wooden holders,
secured them in that position. Then he slid the wooden rack into a
larger rectangular container of ether.
    'There, my pet,' he said softly to the
butterfly. 'You see? Death can be absolutely painless, and now your
beauty will bring joy for ever.'
    He was quite serious.
    After a minute he slid the wooden rack back
out of the ether. Now it was just a matter of waiting a week or so
for the butterfly to dry. Once that was done, he would remove it
from the rack, place it under glass, and carefully label it.
    He motioned for Colonel Valerio to roll
forward a giant, mesh-enclosed cage mounted on casters which had
been pushed away against the wall. Inside it, thousands of live
butterflies like the one he had just mounted fluttered and swirled,
like a constantly changing kaleidoscope of emeralds.
    'Ah!' Ernesto de Veiga looked up at the
colonel. 'A miracle, is it not?' His eyes were gleaming. 'Just
yesterday, these were still but chrysalides. And now look at them!'
For a long moment he stared into the cage with pride. Then, lifting
the lid, he set them free.
    Up and out the green butterflies fluttered,
rising like a column of living jewels before becoming a cloud of
scattered emeralds.
    'There.' When they had dispersed, de Veiga
folded his hands on the wicker tabletop and looked questioningly up
at his Chief of