The Life of the Caterpillar 



of his case. The silky felt of the interior is 

 never thick or soft enough to please him. The 

 thicker and softer it is, the better for his own 

 comfort during the process of transformation 

 and for the safety of his family afterwards. 



Well, my knavish tricks have now robbed 

 him of everything. Does he perceive the dis- 

 aster? Though the silk and timber at his 

 disposal permit, does he dream of rebuilding 

 the shelter, so essential first to his chilly back 

 and secondly to his family, who will cut it up 

 to make their first home? Not a bit of it. 

 He slips under the mass of twigs where I let 

 it fall and there begins to work exactly as 

 he would have done under normal conditions. 



This shapeless roof and this sand on which 

 the jumble of rafters are lying now represent 

 to the Psyche the walls of the regulation 

 home; and, without in any way modifying his 

 labours to meet the exigencies of the moment, 

 the caterpillar upholsters the surfaces within 

 his reach with the same zest that he would 

 have displayed in adding new layers to the 

 quilted lining which has disappeared. Instead 

 of being pasted on the proper wall, the pre- 

 sent hangings come in contact with the rough 

 surface of the sand and the hopeless tangle 

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