The Life of the Fly 



once more applies its pimple-head to the fos- 

 tering larva, at any point, no matter where; 

 and, so long as my curiosity does not prevent 

 it, keeps itself fixed there, without the least 

 effort, or the least perceptible movement that 

 could account for the adhesion. If I repeat 

 the touch with the pencil, I see the same sud- 

 den retreat and, soon after, the same contact 

 just as readily renewed. 



This facility for gripping, quitting and re- 

 gripping, now here, now there and always 

 without a wound, the part of the victim 

 whence the nourishment is drawn tells us of 

 itself that the mouth of the Anthrax is not 

 armed with mandibular fangs capable of dig- 

 ging into the skin and tearing it. If the flesh 

 were gashed by any such pincers, one or two 

 attempts would be necessary before they could 

 be released or reapplied; besides, each point 

 bitten would display a lesion. Well, there is 

 nothing of the kind: a conscientious examina- 

 tion through the magnifying-glass shows con- 

 clusively that the skin is intact; the grub glues 

 its mouth to its prey or withdraws it with an 

 ease that can only be explained by a process of 

 simple contact. This being so, the Anthrax 

 does not chew its food as do the other carnivo- 

 rous grubs; it does not eat, it inhales. 



36 



