The Great Peacock 



presence, on the table of my insect-laboratory. 

 I forthwith cloister her, still damp with the 

 humours of the hatching, under a wire-gauze 

 bell-jar. For the rest, I cherish no particular 

 plans. I incarcerate her from mere habit, the 

 habit of the observer always on the look-out 

 for what may happen. 



It was a lucky thought. At nine o'clock in 

 the evening, just as the household is going to 

 bed, there is a great stir in the room next to 

 mine. Little Paul, half-undressed, is rushing 

 about, jumping and stamping, knocking the 

 chairs over like a mad thing. I hear him call 

 me: 



"Come quick!" he screams. "Come and 

 see these Moths, big as birds ! The room is 

 full of them!" 



I hurry in. There is enough to justify the 

 child's enthusiastic and hyperbolical exclama- 

 tions, an invasion as yet unprecedented in our 

 house, a (raid of giant Moths. Four are 

 already caught and lodged in a bird-cage. 

 Others, more numerous, are fluttering on the 

 ceiling. 



At this sight, the prisoner of the morning 

 is recalled to my mind. 



"Put on your things, laddie," I say to my 



247 



