FABRES BOOK OF INSECTS 



however — there are never many — are enough to prevent 

 the Snail from feeling anything, thanks to the prompti- 

 tude of the Glow-worm, who, at lightning speed, darts 

 some kind of poison into his victim by means of his 

 grooved hooks. 



There is no doubt at all that the Snail is made in- 

 sensible to pain. If, when the Glow-worm has dealt 

 some four or five of his twitches, I take away the victim 

 and prick it with a fine needle, there is not a quiver in 

 the wounded flesh, there is not the smallest sign of life. 

 Moreover, I occasionally chance to see Snails attacked 

 by the Lampyris while they are creeping along the 

 ground, the foot slowly crawling, the tentacles swollen to 

 their full extent. A few disordered movements betray 

 a brief excitement on the part of the Snail, and then 

 everything ceases: the foot no longer crawls, the front- 

 part loses its graceful curve, the tentacles become limp 

 and give way under their own weight, dangling feebly 

 like a broken stick. The Snail, to all appearance, is 

 dead. 



He is not, however, really dead. I can bring him to 

 life again. When he has been for two or three days in 

 a condition that is neither life nor death I give him a 

 shower-bath. In about a couple of days my prisoner, 

 so lately injured by the Glow-worm's treachery, is re- 

 stored to his usual state. He revives, he recovers move- 



[58] 



