The Banded Monk 



tinued. At the actual moment, I cannot sub- 

 stantiate this non-transmission through a 

 screen, for, even if I establish ample com- 

 munication, if I separate the bell from its sup- 

 port by means of three wedges, the Moths 

 do not come at first, however many there may 

 be in the room. But wait for half an hour, 

 more or less: the alembic of feminine flavours 

 begins its distilling and the rush of visitors 

 takes place as usual. 



Now that I possess these data, this unex- 

 pected light on the subject, I am at liberty to 

 vary my experiments, all of which lead to the 

 same conclusion. In the morning, I establish 

 the female under a wire-gauze cover. Her 

 perch is a little oak-twig similar to the last. 

 Here, motionless, as though dead, she remains 

 for long hours, buried in the tuft of leaves 

 that is to be impregnated with her emanations. 

 When visiting-time approaches, I withdraw 

 the twig, perfectly saturated, and lay it on a 

 chair, near the open window. On the other 

 hand, I leave the female under her cover, well 

 in view on the table, in the middle of the 

 room. 



The Moths arrive, first one, then two and 

 three, soon five and six. They come in, go 



293 



