THE CAPRICORN 53 



others to less arduous tests. I enclose them in spacious 

 reed-stumps, equal in diameter to the natal cell. The 

 obstacle to be pierced is the natural diaphragm, a yield- 

 ing partition two or three millimeters ^ thick. Some free 

 themselves; others cannot. The less valiant ones suc- 

 cumb, stopped by the frail barrier. What would it be 

 if they had to pass through a thickness of oak? 



We are now persuaded: despite his stalwart appear- 

 ance, the Capricorn is powerless to leave the tree-trunk 

 by his unaided efforts. It therefore falls to the worm, 

 to the wisdom of that bit of an intestine, to prepare the 

 way for him. We see renewed, in another form, the 

 feats of prowess of the Anthrax, whose pupa, armed with 

 trepans, bores through rock on the feeble Fly's behalf. 

 Urged by a presentiment that to us remains an unfathom- 

 able mystery, the Cerambyx-grub leaves the inside of the 

 oak, its peaceful retreat, its unassailable stronghold, to 

 wriggle towards the outside, where lives the foe, the 

 Woodpecker, who may gobble up the succulent little 

 sausage. At the risk of its life, it stubbornly digs and 

 gnaws to the very bark, of which it leaves no more intact 

 than the thinnest film, a slender screen. Sometimes, 

 even, the rash one opens the window wide. 



This is the Capricorn's exit-hole. The insect will 

 have but to file the screen a little with its mandibles, 

 to bump against it with its forehead, in order to bring 

 it down ; it will even have nothing to do when the window 

 is free, as often happens. The unskilled carpenter, bur- 



^.078 to .117 inch. — Translator's Note. 



