40 THE LIFE AND LOVE OF THE INSECT 



side that lay on the ground is still at the bottom, at the 

 same point ; the side that faced upwards is still at the 

 top ; the crater that lay on my right has been replaced 

 by the neck, still on my right. Whence comes a con- 

 clusion completely confirming my previous statements : 

 no rolling ; mere pressure, which kneads and moulds. 



The next day, a third visit. The pear is finished. 

 Its neck, yesterday a yawning sack, is now closed. The 

 egg, therefore, is laid ; the work has been carried through 

 and demands only the finishing touches of general 

 polishing, touches upon which the mother, so intent on 

 geometrical perfection, was doubtless engaged at the 

 time when I disturbed her. 



The most delicate part of the affair escapes my ob- 

 servation. I see quite clearly, in the main, how the 

 hatching-chamber of the egg is obtained : the thick pad 

 surrounding the original crater is thinned and flattened 

 out under the pressure of the feet and lengthened into 

 a sack the mouth of which gradually narrows. Up to 

 this point, the work provides its own explanation. But 

 we have no explanation of the exquisite perfection of the 

 cell wherein the egg is to hatch, when we think of the 

 insect's rigid tools, the wide, toothed armlets whose 

 jerky awkwardness suggests the spasmodic movements 

 of an automaton. 



With this clumsy equipment, excellently adapted to 

 coarse work though it be, how does the Scarab obtain 

 the natal dwelling, the oval nest so daintily polished and 

 glazed within ? Does the foot, a regular saw, fitted 

 with enormous teeth, begin to rival the painter's brush 

 in delicacy from the moment when it is inserted through 

 the narrow orifice of the sack ? Why not ? I have 

 said elsewhere and this is the occasion to repeat it : 



