FABLE OF THE CIGALE AND THE ANT 7 



exploiter of others, who fills her granaries with every 

 edible she can find. At no time does the Cigale plead 

 starvation at the doors of the ant-hills, faithfully 

 promising a return of principal and interest ; the Ant 

 on the contrary, harassed by drought, begs of the 

 songstress. Begs, do I say ! Borrowing and repayment 

 are no part of the manners of this land-pirate. She 

 exploits the Cigale ; she impudently robs her. Let us 

 consider this theft ; a curious point of history as yet 

 unknown. 



In July, during the stifling hours of the afternoon, 

 when the insect peoples, frantic with drought, wander 

 hither and thither, vainly seeking to quench their thirst 

 at the faded, exhausted flowers, the Cigale makes light of 

 the general aridity. With her rostrum, a delicate augun 

 she broaches a cask of her inexhaustible store. Crouch- 

 ing, always singing, on the twig of a suitable shrub or 

 bush, she perforates the firm, glossy rind, distended by 

 the sap which the sun has matured. Plunging her 

 proboscis into the bung-hole, she drinks deliciously, 

 motionless, and wrapt in meditation, abandoned to the 

 charms of syrup and of song. 



Let us watch her awhile. Perhaps we shall witness 

 unlooked-for wretchedness and want. For there are 

 many thirsty creatures wandering hither and thither ; 

 and at last they discover the Cigale's private well, 

 betrayed by the oozing sap upon the brink. They gather 

 round it, at first with a certain amount of constraint, 

 confining themselves to lapping the extravasated liquor. 

 I have seen, crowding around the honeyed perforation, 

 wasps, flies, earwigs, Sphinx-moths, Pompilid^, rose- 

 chafers, and, above all, ants. 



