The Life of the Fly 



ping against my bare heels; I remember the 

 handkerchief hanging from my waist by a bit 

 of string, a handkerchief often lost and re- 

 placed by the back of my sleeve. 



There I stand one day, a pensive urchin, 

 with my hands behind my back and my face 

 turned to the sun. The dazzling splendour 

 fascinates me. I am the Moth attracted by 

 the light of the lamp. With what am I enjoy- 

 ing the glorious radiance: with my mouth or 

 my eyes ? That is the question put by my bud- 

 ding scientific curiosity. Reader, do not smile : 

 the future observer is already practising and 

 experimenting. I open my mouth wide and 

 close my eyes: the glory disappears. I open 

 my eyes and shut my mouth: the glory re- 

 appears. I repeat the performance, with the 

 same result. The question's solved: I have 

 learnt by deduction that I see the sun with my 

 eyes. Oh, what a discovery ! That evening, 

 I told the whole house all about it. Grand- 

 mother smiled fondly at my simplicity: the 

 others laughed at it. 'Tis the way of the 

 world. 



Another find. At nightfall, amidst the 



neighbouring bushes, a sort of jingle attracted 



my attention, sounding very faintly and softly 



through the evening silence. Who Is making 



128 



