The Life of the Caterpillar 



spring in our part of the world. To- 

 day the temperature has suddenly grown 

 milder, but the wind is still blowing from the 

 north. 



Now at this first visit all the Moths hur- 

 rying to the prisoner enter the enclosure from 

 the north; they follow the movement of the 

 air; not one beats against it. If their compass 

 were a sense of smell similar to our own, if 

 they were guided by odoriferous particles dis- 

 solved in the air, they ought to arrive from 

 the opposite direction, ^f they came from the 

 south, we might believe them to be informed 

 by effluvia carried by the wind; coming as they 

 do from the north, through the mistral, that 

 mighty sweeper of the atmosphere, how can 

 we suppose them to have perceived, at a great 

 distance, what we call a smell? This reflux 

 of scented atoms in a direction contrary to the 

 aerial current seems to me inadmissible. 



For a couple of hours, in radiant sun- 

 shine, the visitors come and go outside the 

 front of the study. Most of them search 

 for a long while, exploring the wall, flit- 

 ting along the ground. To see their hesita- 

 tion, one would think that they were at a loss 

 to discover the exact place of the bait that at- 

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