THE EUMENES 219 



until fortune deigns to smile upon us. The larva is 

 hatched and already fairly large. Like the egg, it hangs 

 perpendicularly, by the rear, from the ceiling; but the 

 suspensory cord has gained considerably in length and 

 consists of the original thread eked out by a sort of 

 ribbon. The grub is at dinner: head downwards, it is 

 digging into the limp belly of one of the caterpillars. 

 I touch up the game that is still intact with a straw. 

 The caterpillars grow restless. The grub forthwith 

 retires from the fray. And how? Marvel is added to 

 marvels: what I took for a flat cord, for a ribbon, at 

 the lower end of the suspensory thread, is a sheath, a 

 scabbard, a sort of ascending gallery wherein the larva 

 crawls backwards and makes its way up. The cast shell 

 of the egg, retaining its cylindrical form and perhaps 

 lengthened by a special operation on the part of the new- 

 born grub, forms this safety-channel. At the least sign 

 of danger in the heap of caterpillars, the larva retreats 

 into its sheath and climbs back to the ceiling, where the 

 swarming rabble cannot reach it. When peace is re- 

 stored, it slides down its case and returns to table, with 

 its head over the viands and its rear upturned and ready 

 to withdraw in case of need. 



Third and last act. Strength has come; the larva is 

 brawny enough not to dread the movements of the cater- 

 pillars' bodies. Besides, the caterpillars, mortified by 

 fasting and weakened by a prolonged torpor, become 

 more and more incapable of defense. The perils of the 

 tender babe are succeeded by the security of the lusty 

 stripling; and the grub, henceforth scorning its sheathed 



