The Green Grasshopper 



bits of pear and lettuce-leaves. It is in July 

 and August that things happen. A little 

 way off, the male is stridulating by himself. 

 His ardent bow-strokes set his whole body 

 quivering. Then he stops. Little by little, 

 with slow and almost ceremonious steps, the 

 caller and the called come closer together. 

 They stand face to face, both silent, both 

 stationary, their antennae gently swaying, 

 their fore-legs raised awkwardly and giving 

 a sort of handshake at intervals. The 

 peaceful interview lasts for hours. What 

 do they say to each other? What vows do 

 they exchange? What does their ogling 

 mean? 



But the moment has not yet come. They 

 separate, they fall out and each goes his own 

 way. The coolness does not last long. Here 

 they are together again. The tender declara- 

 tions are resumed, with no more success than 

 before. At last, on the third day, I behold 

 the end of the preliminaries. The male slips 

 discreetly under his companion, backwards, 

 according to the immemorial laws and cus- 

 toms of the Crickets. Stretched out behind 

 and lying on his back, he clings to the ovi- 

 positor, his prop. The pairing is accom- 

 plished. 



295 



