The Life of the Grasshopper 



your hands, knock two stones together. For 

 much less than this, a bird, though it would 

 not see you, would interrupt its singing and 

 fly away terrified. The imperturbable 

 Cicada goes on rattling as though nothing 

 were afoot. 



Of my experiments in this matter, I will 

 mention only one, the most memorable. I 

 borrow the municipal artillery, that is to 

 say, the mortars which are made to thunder 

 forth on the feast of the patron-saint. The 

 gunner is delighted to load them for the 

 benefit of the Cicadae and to come and fire 

 them off at my place. There are two of 

 them, crammed as though for the most sol- 

 emn rejoicings. No politician making the 

 circuit of his constituency in search of re- 

 election was ever honoured with so much 

 powder. We are careful to leave the wind- 

 ows open, to save the panes from break- 

 ing. The two thundering engines are set at 

 the foot of the plane-trees in front of my 

 door. No precautions are taken to mask 

 them: the Cicadae singing in the branches 

 overhead cannot see what is happening 

 below. 



We are an audience of six. We wait for 

 a moment of comparative quiet. The num- 



78 



