_Menelaus. Proteus_
_Me_. I can understand your turning into _water_, you know, Proteus,
because you _are_ a sea-god. I can even pass the tree; and the lion is
not wholly beyond the bounds of belief. But the idea of your being able
to turn into _fire_, living under water as you do,—this excites my
surprise, not to say my incredulity.
_Pro_. Don't let it; because I can.
_Me_. I have seen you do it. But (to be frank with you) I think there
must be some deception; you play tricks with one's eyes; you don't
really turn into anything of the kind?
_Pro_. Deception? What deception can there possibly be? Everything is
above-board. Your eyes were open, I suppose, and you saw me change into
all these things? If that is not enough for you, if you think it is a
fraud, an optical illusion, I will turn into fire again, and you can
touch me with your hand, my sagacious friend. You will then be able to
conclude whether I am only visible fire, or have the additional
property of burning.
_Me_. That would be rash.
_Pro_. I suppose you have never seen such a thing as a polypus, nor
observed the proceedings of that fish?
_Me_. I have seen them; as to their proceedings, I shall be glad of
your information.
_Pro_. The polypus, having selected his rock, and attached himself by
means of his suckers, assimilates himself to it, changing his colour to
match that of the rock. By this means he hopes to escape the
observation of fishermen: there is no contrast of colour to betray his
presence; he looks just like stone.
_Me_. So I have heard. But yours is quite another matter, Proteus.
_Pro_. I don't know what evidence would satisfy you, if you reject that
of your own eyes.
_Me_. I have seen it done, but it is an extraordinary business; fire
and water, one and the same person!