The Life of the Caterpillar 



the head. The chrysalid sack, the second 

 wrapper, presents no obstacle; it has remained 

 open since the adult Psyche left it. Next 

 comes the mass of eiderdown, the heap of 

 fluff of which the mother stripped herself. 

 Here the little caterpillars stop. Much more 

 spaciously and comfortably lodged than in the 

 bag whence they have come, some take a rest, 

 others bustle about, exercise themselves in 

 walking. All pick up strength in preparation 

 for their exodus into the daylight. 



They do not stay long amid this luxury. 

 Gradually, as they gain vigour, they come 

 out and spread over the surface of the case. 

 Work begins at once, a very urgent work, 

 that of the wardrobe. The first mouthfuls 

 will come afterwards, when we are dressed. 



Montaigne, when putting on the cloak 

 which his father had worn before him, used 

 a touching expression. He said: 



"I dress myself in my father." 



The young Psyches in the same way dress 

 themselves in their mother: they cover them- 

 selves with the clothes left behind by the de- 

 ceased, they scrape from it the wherewithal 

 to make themselves a cotton frock. The ma- 

 terial employed is the pith of the little stalks, 



