224 THE LIFE AND LOVE OF THE INSECT 



our bed-clothes. The hateful animal causes us more 

 fright than damage. Although not unusual in my present 

 abode, his visits have never had consequences of the least 

 seriousness. The weird beast, overrated in reputation, 

 is repulsive rather than dangerous. 



Much more to be feared and much less well-known 

 generall}^ is the Languedocian Scorpion, isolated in 

 the Mediterranean provinces. Far from seeking our 

 dwelling-houses, he keeps out of the way, in untilled 

 solitudes. Beside the Black Scorpion, he is a giant who, 

 when full-grown, measures eight to nine centimetres in 

 length.^ His colouring is that of pale, withered straw. 



The tail, which is really the animal's belly, is a series 

 of five prismatic joints, like little kegs whose staves 

 meet in undulating ridges resembling strings of beads. 

 Similar cords cover the arms and fore-arms of the claws 

 and divide them into long facets. Others run sinuously 

 along the back and imitate the joints of a cuirass, the 

 pieces of \^ hich might have been collected by a capricious 

 milling-punch. These bead-like projections produce a 

 fiercely robust armour, which is characteristic of the 

 Languedocian Scorpion. It is as though the animal had 

 been fasliioned out of chips with blows of the adze. 



The tail ends in a sixth joint, which is vesicular and 

 smooth. This is the gourd in which the poison, a for- 

 midable fluid resembUng water in appearance, is elaborated 

 and held in reserve. A curved, brown and very sharp 

 sting ends the apparatus. A pore, visible only under the 

 lens, opens at some distance from the point. Through 

 this, the venomous humour is injected into the puncture. 

 The sting is very hard and very sharp-pointed. Holding 

 it between the tips of my fingers, I can push it through 



*■ 3 to 3^ inches. — Translator's Note. 



