The Cabbage-caterpillar 



a kiss. It does not chew, it sucks, it takes 

 discreet sips at the moisture all around it. 



The fact that it refrains entirely from bi- 

 ting is confirmed by my autopsy of the stricken 

 caterpillars. In the patient's belly, notwith- 

 standing the number of nurselings who hardly 

 leave room for the nurse's entrails, every- 

 thing is in perfect order; nowhere do we see a 

 trace of mutilation. Nor does aught on the 

 outside betray any havoc within. The ex- 

 ploited caterpillars graze and move about 

 peacefully, giving no sign of pain. It is im- 

 possible for me to distinguish them from the 

 unscathed ones in respect of appetite and un- 

 troubled digestion. 



When the time approaches to weave the 

 carpet for the support of the chrysalis, an 

 appearance of emaciation at last points to the 

 evil that is at their vitals. They spin never- 

 theless. They are stoics who do not forget 

 their duty in the hour of death. At last, they 

 expire, quite softly, not of any wounds, but 

 of anaemia, even as a lamp goes out when the 

 oil comes to an end. And it has to be. The 

 living caterpillar, capable of feeding itself 

 and forming blood, is a necessity for the wel- 

 fare of the grubs; it has to last about a 



359 



