The Life of Jean Henri Fabre 



furrow the sybarite stretches himself flat upon his 

 belly. Lolling his tongue and thrashing the boughs 

 with his tail, he keeps his soft, deep gaze fixed upon 

 me: 



" What are you doing over there, you booby, 

 baking in the heat? Come here, under the fol- 

 iage; see how comfortable I am! 



That is what I seem to read in my compan- 

 ion's eyes. 



" Oh, my Dog, my friend," I should answer, 

 if you could only understand, " man is tormented 

 by a desire for knowledge, whereas your torments 

 are confined to a desire for bones and, from time 

 to time, a desire for your sweetheart! This, 

 notwithstanding our devoted friendship, creates a 

 certain difference between us, even though people 

 nowadays say that we are more or less related, 

 almost cousins. I feel the need to know things 

 and am content to bake in the heat; you feel no 

 such need and retire into the cool shade." 



Yes, the hours drag when you lie waiting for 

 an insect that does not come. 1 



Yet from his expeditions into the country- 

 side, he almost always brings back some new 

 pensioner who serves to enrich his collection 

 of intimates admitted to the familiarities of 

 cohabitation. For not only the harmas but 



1 Souvenirs, n., pp. 80, 81, 90, 91. The Mason Wasps, 

 chap, ii., " The Odyneri." 



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