THE SONG OF THE CIGALE 41 



bility of foreseeing, or even of suggesting the impression 

 produced by this clashing of cymbals upon those who 

 inspire it. The most I can say is that their impassive 

 exterior seems to denote a complete indifference. I do 

 not insist that this is so ; the intimate feelings of the 

 insect are an insoluble mystery. 



Another reason for doubt is this : all creatures affected 

 by song have acute hearing, and this sense of hearing, a 

 vigilant sentinel, should give warning of danger at the 

 slightest sound. The birds have an exquisite delicacy 

 of hearing. If a leaf stirs among the branches, if two 

 passers-by exchange a word, they are suddenly silent, 

 anxious, and on their guard. But the Cigale is far from 

 sharing in such emotions. It has excellent sight. Its 

 great faceted eyes inform it of all that happens to right 

 and left ; its three stemmata, like little ruby telescopes, 

 explore the sky above its head. If it sees us coming it is 

 silent at once, and flies away. But let us get behind the 

 branch on which it is singing ; let us manoeuvre so as to 

 avoid the five centres of vision, and then let us speak, 

 whistle, clap the hands, beat two stones together. For 

 far less a bird which could not see you would stop its 

 song and fly away terrified. The Cigale imperturbably 

 continues to sing as if nothing had occurred. 



Of my experiences of this kind I will mention only one, 

 the most remarkable of many. 



I borrowed the municipal artillery ; that is, the iron 

 boxes which are charged with gunpowder on the day of 

 the patron saint. The artilleryman was delighted to load 

 them for the benefit of the Cigales, and to fire them off for 

 me before my house. There were two of these boxes, 

 stuffed full of powder as though for the most solemn 



