The Psyches: the Cases 



scaly fluff of a Moth. In case of necessity, he 

 does not shrink from acts of sheer madness: 

 he weaves mineral matter, so urgent is his 

 need to clothe himself. 



This need outweighs that of nourishment. 

 I take a young caterpillar from his grazing- 

 ground, a leaf of very hairy hawkweed which, 

 after many attempts, I have found to suit him 

 as food because of its green blade and as wool 

 because of its white fleece. I take him, I say, 

 from his refectory and leave him to fast for 

 a couple of days. Then I strip him and put 

 him back on his leaf. And I see him, unmind- 

 ful of eating, in spite of his long fast, first 

 labouring to make himself a new coat by col- 

 lecting the hairs of the hawkweed. His appe- 

 tite will be satisfied afterwards. 



Is he then so susceptible to cold? We are 

 in the midst of the dog-days. The sun shoots 

 down a fiery torrent that brings the wild con- 

 cert of the Cicadae up to fever-pitch. In the 

 baking heat of the study where I am question- 

 ing my animals, I have flung off hat and neck- 

 tie and am working in my shirt-sleeves; and, 

 in this oven, what the Psyche clamours for is, 

 above all things, a warm covering. Well, lit- 

 tle shiverer, I will satisfy you ! 

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