The Capricorn 



to leave the tree-trunk by his unaided efforts. 

 It therefore falls to the worm, to the wisdom 

 of that bit of an intestine, to prepare the way 

 for him. We see renewed, in another form, 

 the feats of prowess of the Anthrax, whose 

 pupa, armed with trepans, bores through 

 rock on the feeble Fly's behalf. Urged by 

 a presentiment that to us remains an un- 

 fathomable mystery, the Cerambyx-grub 

 leaves the inside of the oak, its peaceful re- 

 treat, its unassailable stronghold, to wriggle 

 towards the outside, where lives the foe, the 

 Woodpecker, who may gobble up the suc- 

 culent little sausage. At the risk of its life, 

 it stubbornly digs and gnaws to the very bark, 

 of which it leaves no more intact than the 

 thinnest film, a slender screen. Sometimes, 

 even, the rash one opens the window wide. 



This is the Capricorn's doorway. The 

 insect will have but to file the screen a little 

 with its mandibles, to bump against It with 

 its forehead, in order to bring It down; It 

 will even have nothing to do when the win- 

 dow is free, as often happens. The un- 

 skilled carpenter, burdened with his extrava- 

 gant head-dress, will emerge from the dark- 

 ness through this opening when the summer 

 heats arrive. 



After the cares of the future come the 



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