The Beaded Trox 



tempt to digest it. Is it now safe from 

 attack? No: the Moth vie with us for its 

 possession. 



Poor swallow-tail coat of mine, of supple 

 broadcloth, companion of my drudgery x and 

 witness of my poverty, I abandon you with- 

 out regret for the peasant's jacket; you are 

 reposing in a drawer, with a few bags of 

 camphorated lavender; the housewife keeps 

 an eye on you and shakes you from time to 

 time. Useless pains! You will perish by 

 the Clothes-moths, as the Mole perished by 

 the maggot, the Snake by the Dermestes 

 and we ourselves by. ... Let us not dig 

 that last pit of all before the hour has 

 struck. Everything must return to the ren- 

 ovating crucible into which death is contin- 

 ually pouring materials to ensure the con- 

 tinual blossoming of life. 



1 This is a reference to the days when the author was 

 a provincial schoolmaster. Cf. The Life of the Fly: 

 chaps, xiii., xiv., xix., and xx. Translator's Note. 

 71 



