The Life of the Caterpillar 



her down she prepares a defensive barricade 

 for them and a place wherein to wait before 

 emerging. Thus all is given, all spent with 

 a view to the future. Save for some thin, dry 

 strips which my lens can only with difficulty 

 distinguish, there is nothing left that could 

 provide a cannibal feast for so numerous a 

 family. 



No, my little Psyches, you do not eat your 

 mother. In vain do I watch you: never, 

 either to clothe or to feed himself, does any 

 one of you lay a tooth upon the remains of 

 the deceased. The maternal skin is left un- 

 touched, as are those other insignificant relics, 

 the layer of muscular tissue and the network 

 of air-ducts. The sack left behind by the 

 chrysalis also remains intact. 



The time comes to quit the natal wallet. 

 An outlet has been contrived long beforehand, 

 saving the youngsters from committing any 

 act of violence against what was once their 

 mother. There is no sacrilegious cutting to 

 be done with the shears; the door opens of 

 itself. 



When she was a wriggling speck of sau- 

 sage, the mother's front segments were re- 

 markably translucent, forming a contrast with 

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