FABRE'S BOOK OF INSECTS 



head is always turned towards the door. This is a 

 triHing detail in appearance; but in reality it is every- 

 thing. To lie this way or that in the long cell is a matter 

 of great indifference to the grub, which is very supple, 

 turning easily in its narrow lodging and adopting what- 

 ever position it pleases. The coming Capricorn will not 

 enjoy the same privileges. Stiffly encased in his horny 

 armour, he will not be able to turn from end to end; he 

 will not even be capable of bending, if some sudden 

 curve should make the passage difficult. He must, 

 without fail, find the door in front of him, or he 

 will perish in the transformation-room. If the grub 

 should forget this little matter, and lie down to sleep 

 with its head at the back of the cell, the Capricorn would 

 be infallibly lost. His cradle would become a hopeless 

 dungeon. 



But there is no fear of this danger. The "bit of in- 

 testine" knows too much about the future to neglect the 

 formality of keeping its head at the door. At the end 

 of spring the Capricorn, now in possession of his full 

 strength, dreams of the joys of the sun, of the festivals 

 of light. He wants to get out. 



What does he find before him'? First, a heap of 

 filings easily dispersed with his claws; next, a stone lid 

 which he need not even break into fragments, for it comes 

 undone in one piece. It is removed from its frame with 

 a few pushes of the forehead, a few tugs of the claws. 



r222"| 



