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 ^ 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. 



iThis 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 



