THE CAPRICORN 51 



acy of this definition provides me with my answer: the 

 grub has the aggregate of sense-impressions that a bit of 

 an intestine may hope to have. 



And this nothing-at-all is capable of marvelous acts 

 of foresight; this belly, which knows hardly aught of 

 the present, sees very clearly into the future. Let us 

 take an illustration on this curious subject. For three 

 years on end the larva wanders about in the thick of 

 the trunk ; it goes up, goes down, turns to this side and 

 that ; it leaves one vein for another of better flavor, but 

 without moving too far from the inner depths, where 

 the temperature is milder and greater safety reigns. A 

 day is at hand, a dangerous day for the recluse obliged 

 to quit its excellent retreat and face the perils of the sur- 

 face. Eating is not everything: we have to get out of 

 this. The larva, so well-equipped with tools and mus- 

 cular strength, finds no difficulty in going where it pleases, 

 by boring through the wood ; but does the coming Capri- 

 corn, whose short spell of life must be spent in the open 

 air, possess the same advantages? Hatched inside the 

 trunk, will the long-horned insect be able to clear itself 

 a way of escape? 



That is the difficulty which the worm solves by in- 

 spiration. Less versed in things of the future, despite 

 my gleams of reason, I resort to experiment with a view 

 to fathoming the question. I begin by ascertaining that 

 the Capricorn, when he wishes to leave the trunk, is 

 absolutely unable to make use of the tunnel wrought by 

 the larva. It is a very long and very irregular maze, 

 blocked with great heaps of wormed wood. Its diameter 



