A Parasite of the Maggot 



tres. No matter what part my Injector at- 

 tacks, the effect produced Is the same, or 

 nearly. The Insect falls as though struck by 

 lightning. It lies on Its back and wriggles Its 

 legs, especially the hind-legs. If I set It on Its 

 feet again, I behold a sort of St. Vitus' dance. 

 Scarabaus lowers his head, arches his back, 

 draws himself up on his twitching legs. He 

 marks time with his feet on the ground, moves 

 forward a little, moves as much backward, 

 leans to the right, leans to the left, In wild dis- 

 order, Incapable of keeping his balance or 

 making progress. And this happens with sud- 

 den jerks and jolts, with a vigour no whit in- 

 ferior to that of the animal in perfect health. 

 It Is a displacement of all the works, a storm 

 that uproots the mutual relations of the mus- 

 cles. 



Seldom have I witnessed such sufferings, in 

 my career as a cross-examiner of animals and, 

 therefore, as a torturer. I should feel a scru- 

 ple, did I not foresee that the grain of sand 

 shifted to-day may one day help us by taking 

 Its place In the edifice of knowledge. Life Is 

 everywhere the same, in the Dung-beetle's 

 body as In man's. To consult It in the insect 

 means consulting it in ourselves, means moving 

 towards vistas which we cannot afford to 



375 



