The Haricot-Weevil 



flasks and not on the pods. No matter: 

 they hatch. For a few days I see the grubs 

 roaming about, exploring the pods and the 

 glass with equal zeal. In the end they all 

 die, from the first to the last, without touch- 

 ing the food provided. 



The conclusion to be drawn is obvious: 

 the young and tender haricot is not the thing 

 for them. Unlike the Pea-weevil, the Hari- 

 cot-weevil refuses to entrust her family to 

 beans that are not hardened by age and 

 desiccation ; she declines to stop on my seed- 

 patch, because she does not find the provi- 

 sions which she requires. 



Then what does she want? She wants 

 old, hard beans, which clatter on the ground 

 like little pebbles. I will satisfy her. I 

 place in my flasks some very hard, tough 

 pods, which have been long dried in the sun. 

 This time the family prospers ; the grubs bore 

 through the parched shell, reach the seeds, 

 enter them ; and henceforth all goes well as 

 well can be. 



To all appearances, this is how the Weevil 

 invades the farmer's granary. Some hari- 

 cots are left standing in the fields until both 

 plants and pods, baked by the sun, are per- 

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