The Psyches: the Laying 



world, the Psyche has stripped herself of her 

 fur like the mother Rabbit. 



This denudation may be a mere mechanical 

 result, an unintentional effect of repeated rub- 

 bing against the low-roofed walls; but there 

 is nothing to tell us so. Maternity has its 

 foresight, even among the humblest. I 

 therefore picture the hairy Moth twisting 

 about, going to and fro in the narrow pass- 

 age in order to get rid of the fleece and 

 prepare bedding for her offspring. It is even 

 possible that she manages to use her lips, that 

 vestige of a mouth, in order to pull out the 

 down that refuses to come away of itself. 



No matter what the method of shearing 

 may be, a mound of scales and hairs fills up 

 the case in front of the chrysalid bag. For 

 the moment, it is a barricade preventing access 

 to the house, which is open at the hinder end; 

 soon, it will be a downy couch on which the 

 little caterpillars will rest for a while after 

 leaving the egg. Here, warmly ensconced in a 

 rug of extreme softness, they call a halt as a 

 preparation for the emergence and the work 

 that follows it. 



Not that silk is lacking: on the contrary, 

 it abounds. The caterpillar lavished it du- 

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