THE SACRED BEETLE 



head and his fore-feet. Two or three days pass, and 

 no progress seems to have been made. 



I try to help a couple of them by opening a loophole 

 with my knife; but these favoured ones make no more 

 progress than the others. 



In less than a fortnight silence reigns in all the shells. 

 The prisoners, worn out with their efforts, have all died. 



Then I take some other shells, as hard as the first, 

 wrap them in a wet rag, and put them in a corked flask. 

 When the moisture has soaked through them I rid them 

 of the wrapper, but keep them in the flask. This time 

 the experiment is a complete success. Softened by the 

 wet the shells are burst by the prisoner, who props him- 

 self boldly on his legs, using his back as a lever, or else 

 scrapes away at one point till the walls crumble to pieces. 

 In every case the Beetle is released. 



In natural conditions, when the shells remain under- 

 ground, the same thing occurs. When the soil is burnt 

 by the August sun it is impossible for the insect to wear 

 away his prison, which is hard as a brick. But when 

 a shower comes the shell recovers the softness of its early 

 days : the insect struggles with his legs and pushes with 

 his back, and so becomes free. 



At first he shows no interest in food. What he wants 

 above all is the joy of the light. He sets himself in 

 the sun, and there, motionless, basks in the warmth. 



[23] 



