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 I gazed at Captain Nemo in astonishment, and replied:

“I can quite understand that your nets furnish you excellent fish, but I do not quite comprehend how you hunt the aquatic game in the submarine forests, and, least of all, why so small a portion of meat appears at your table.”

“For the reason that I never consume the flesh of terrestrial animals.”

“But this, now?” I retorted, pointing to a dish upon which some slices of a “fillet” were placed.

“That which you believe to be meat is nothing but tortoise fillet. Here is likewise some dolphin liver which you might take for pork. My cook is an experienced hand, and excels in preparing the various productions of the sea. Taste those. Here is a conserve d’hololuries, which Malais declared unrivalled. Here is a cream made of the milk from the breast of a cetacean, and sugar from the great fucus of the North Sea; and, finally, allow me to offer you these confitures d’anemones, which are equal to the most pleasant fruits.”

I tasted them, more out of curiosity than hunger, while Captain Nemo amused me by his improbable tales.

“But this inexhaustible sea not only feeds but clothes me. That material you wear is made from the byssus of certain shell fish. They are coloured with the purple of the ancients, variegated with violet tints, which I extract from the aplysis of the Mediterranean. The perfumes you will find upon your dressing-table have been produced by the distillation of marine plants. Your bed is