184 INSECT LIFE 



xtii 



of mutton stuffed with garlic, and piles of bread ; 

 there the insipid chickens, good to amuse one's 

 grinders when serious hunger has been appeased. 

 Not far off, in a place of honour, are the Ventoux 

 cheeses sprinkled with asses' pepper, and hard by 

 Aries sausages, whose pink flesh is marbled with 

 squares of bacon and whole pepper. In this corner 

 are green olives still dripping with pickle, and black 

 ones seasoned with oil. In another are melons from 

 Cavaillon, some white, some orange, to suit all tastes, 

 and there a pot of anchovies which make a man 

 drink hard and be tireless on the march, and finally 

 the bottles, cooling in the icy water of a trough. 

 Is nothing forgotten ? Yes, we have not mentioned 

 the crown of the feast, raw onions eaten with salt. 

 Our two Parisians, for there are two among us, my 

 fellow botanists, are at first taken somewhat aback by 

 this decidedly bracing bill of fare. They will be the 

 first, a little later, to break forth in its praise. All 

 is ready. Let us to table ! Then began one of 

 those homeric meals which make an epoch in one's 

 life. The first mouthfuls have a touch of frenzy. 

 Slices of leg of mutton and bread succeed one 

 another with alarming rapidity. Each of us, with- 

 out communicating his apprehensions, casts an 

 anxious look on the provender, and says inwardly, 

 "If we go on at this rate, will there be enough 

 for this evening and to-morrow?" However, the 

 craving abated : first we devoured silently, then we 

 ate and talked ; fears for the next day abated too ; 

 we did justice to him who ordered the bill of fare, 

 and who, foreseeing our voracity, arranged to meet 

 it worthily. Now came the time to appreciate the 



