FABRE'S BOOK OF INSECTS 



only, he turns himself over till his head is hanging 

 downwards. His crumpled wings straighten out, un- 

 furl, and spread themselves. Then with an almost in- 

 visible movement he draws himself up again by sheer 

 strength, and hooks his fore-legs on to his empty skin. 

 This movement has released the tip of his body from its 

 sheath. The whole operation has taken about half an 

 hour. 



For a time the freed Cicada does not feel very strong. 

 He must bathe in air and sunshine before strength and 

 colour come to his frail body. Hanging to his cast skin 

 by his fore-claws only, he sways at the least breath of 

 air, still feeble and still green. But at last the brown 

 tinge appears, and is soon general. Supposing him to 

 have taken possession of the twig at nine o'clock in the 

 morning, the Cicada flies away at half-past twelve, leav- 

 ing his cast skin behind him. Sometimes it hangs from 

 the twigs for months. 



Ill 



THE cicada's music 



The Cicada, it appears, loves singing for its own 

 sake. Not content with carrying an instrument called 

 the cymbal in a cavity behind his wings, he increases 

 its power by means of sounding-boards under his chest. 



[32] 



