The Simulation of Death 



imagine that it is possible to go on like this 

 until our patience is exhausted. Sooner or 

 later, flurried by my pestering, the Scarites 

 refuses to sham dead. Scarcely is he laid on 

 his back after a fall, when he turns over and 

 takes to his heels, as though he judged a 

 stratagem which succeeded so indifferently to 

 be henceforth useless. 



If we were to stop here, it would certainly 

 seem that the insect, a cunning hoaxer, seeks, 

 as a means of defence, to cheat those who 

 attack him. He counterfeits death; he re- 

 peats the process, becoming more persistent 

 in his fraud in proportion as the aggression 

 is repeated; he abandons his trickery when 

 he deems it futile. But hitherto we have 

 subjected him only to a friendly examina- 

 tion-in-chief. The time has come to put a 

 string of searching questions and to trick the 

 trickster if there be really any deception. 



The Beetle under experiment is lying on 

 the table. He feels beneath him a hard body 

 which gives him no chance of digging. As 

 he cannot hope to take refuge underground, 

 an easy task for his nimble and vigorous 

 tools, the Scarites lies low in his death-like 

 pose, keeping it up, if need be, for an hour. 

 If he were reclining on the sand, the loose 

 soil with which he is so familiar, would he 



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