20 THE LIFE AND LOVE OF THE INSECT 



shepherd uses the trowel as a lever and, with his free 

 hand, pushes back the rubbish. 



Here we are ! A cave opens out and, in the moist 

 warmth of the yawning vault, I see a splendid pear lying 

 fuU-length upon the ground. I shall certainly long re- 

 member this first revelation of the maternal work of the 

 Scarab. My excitement could have been no greater 

 were I an archaeologist digging among the ancient relics 

 of Egypt and lighting upon the sacred insect of the dead, 

 carved in emerald, in some Pharaonic crypt. blessed 

 joys of truth suddenly shining forth, what others are 

 there to compare with you ! The shepherd was in the 

 seventh heaven : he laughed in response to my smile and 

 was happy in my gladness. 



Luck does not repeat itself : " Non his m idem," says 

 the old adage. And here have I twice had under my eyes 

 this curious shape of the pear. Could it be the normal 

 shape, not subject to exception ? Must we abandon all 

 thought of a sphere similar to those which the insect roUs 

 on the ground ? Let us continue and we shall see. A 

 second hole is found. Like the previous one, it contains a 

 pear. The two discoveries are as like as two peas ; they 

 might have issued from the same mould. And a valuable 

 detail is this : m the second burrow, beside the pear and 

 lovingly embracing it, is the mother Beetle, engaged, no 

 doubt, in givmg it the finishing touches before leaving 

 the underground cave for good. All doubts are dis- 

 pelled : I know the worker and I know the work. 



The rest of the mornmg confirmed these premisses 

 to the full : before an intolerable sun drove me from the 

 slope explored, I possessed a dozen pears identical in 

 shape and almost in dimensions. On various occasions, 

 the mother was present in the workshop. 



