232 THE LIFE AND LOVE OF THE INSECT 



Under one of the potsherds is a motionless couple, face 

 to face, with linked fingers. Cautiously I raise the pot- 

 sherd and leave the occupants uncovered, so as to study 

 the results of the interview at my ease. The darkness of 

 the night falls and nothing, it seems to me, will disturb 

 the calm of the home deprived of its roof. A brisk 

 shower compels me to retire. They, under the lid of the 

 cage, have no need to take shelter against the rain. 

 What will they do, left to their business as they are, 

 but deprived of a canopy to their alcove ? 



An hour later, the rain ceases and I return to my 

 Scorpions. They are gone. They have taken up their 

 abode under a neighbouring potsherd. Still mth their 

 fingers hnked, the female is outside and the male indoors, 

 preparing the home. At intervals of ten minutes, the 

 members of my family relieve one another, so as not to 

 lose the exact moment of the pairing, which appears to 

 me to be imminent. Useless cares : at eight o'clock, it 

 being now quite dark, the couple, dissatisfied with the 

 spot, set out on a fresh ramble, hand in hand, and go 

 in search elsewhere. The male, walking backwards, 

 leads the march, chooses the dwelHng as he pleases ; the 

 female follows with docihty. It is an exact repetition 

 of what I saw on the 25th of April. At last, a tile is found 

 to suit them. The male goes in first, but, this time, 

 without letting go of his companion for a moment, with 

 one hand or the other. The nuptial chamber is pre- 

 pared with a few sweeps of the tail. Gently drawn 

 towards him, the Scorpioness enters in the wake of her 

 guide. 



I visit them a couple of hours later, thinking that I 

 have given them time enough to finish their preparations. 

 T raise the potsherd. They are there in the same posture, 



