FABRE'S BOOK OF INSECTS 



at the merest touch into atoms nearly as fine as the dust 

 on a Butterfly's wing. On a bed of this powdery stuff, 

 which glittered like steel filings, I placed four Cater- 

 pillars in need of clothes. One, and one alone, decided 

 to dress himself. His metallic garment, from which 

 the light drew flashes of every colour of the rainbow, 

 was very rich and sumptuous, but mightily heavy and 

 cumbrous. Walking became laborious under that load 

 of metal. Even so must a B}'^antine Emperor have 

 walked at ceremonies of State. 



In cases of necessity, then, the young Caterpillar does 

 not shrink from acts of sheer madness. So urgent is 

 his need to clothe himself that he will weave mineral 

 matter rather than go naked. Food means less to him 

 than clothes. If I make him fast for a couple of days, 

 and then, having robbed him of his garment, place him 

 on his favourite foo'd, a leaf of very hairy hawkweed, he 

 will make himself a new coat before satisfying his 

 hunger. 



This devotion to dress is due, not to any special sensi- 

 tiveness to cold, but to the young Caterpillar's foresight. 

 Other Caterpillars take shelter among the leaves, in 

 underground cells, or in the cracked bark of trees, but 

 the Psyche spends his winter exposed to the weather. 

 He therefore prepares himself, from his birth, for the 

 perils of the cold season. 



[106] 



