THE LANGUEDOCIAN SCORPION 245 



Four steps took me to my neighbour's, where I crammed 

 my pockets with cocoons. I came back and handed them 

 to the savant. He took one, turned and turned it 

 between his fingers ; he examined it curiously, as one 

 would a strange object from the other end of the world. 

 He put it to his ear and shook it : 



"Why, it makes a noise!" he said, quite surprised. 

 " There's something inside !" 



" Of course there is." 



" What is it ?" 



" The chrysahs." 



" How do you mean, the chrysalis ?" 



" I mean the sort of mummy into which the caterpillar 

 changes before becoming a moth." 



" And has every cocoon one of those things in- 

 side it ?" 



" Obviously. It is to protect the chrysalis that the 

 caterpillar spins." 



" Really !" 



And, without more words, the cocoons passed into the 

 pocket of the savant, who was to instruct himself at 

 his leisure touching that great novelty, the chrysalis. I 

 was struck by this magnificent assurance. Pasteur had 

 come to regenerate the silk -worm, while knowing nothing 

 about caterpillars, cocoons, chrysalises or metamorphoses. 

 The ancient gymnasts came naked to the fight. The 

 talented combatant of the plague of our silk-worm 

 nurseries hastened to the battle like\sase naked, that is 

 to say, destitute of the simplest notions about the insect 

 which he was to deliver from danger. I was staggered ; 

 nay, more, I was wonderstruck. 



I was not so much amazed by what followed. Pasteur 

 was occupied at the time with another question, that 



