The Giant Scarites 



lyses all resistance. The slope is fatal: who 

 crosses the brink can no longer escape the 

 murderer. 



Head first, the Cicada dives into the abyss, 

 down which the spoiler drags her by success- 

 ive jerks. She is drawn into the low-ceil- 

 inged tunnel. Here the wings cease to flut- 

 ter, for lack of space. She reaches the 

 knacker's cellar, at the end of the corridor. 

 The Scarites now works at her for some time 

 with his pincers, in order to reduce her to 

 complete immobility, fearing lest she should 

 escape; then he returns to the mouth of the 

 charnel-house. 



It is not everything to possess plenty of 

 game; the question next arises how to con- 

 sume it in peace. The door is therefore 

 closed against importunate callers, that is to 

 say, the insect fills the entrance to the tunnel 

 with his mound of rubbish. Having taken 

 this precaution, he goes back again and sits 

 down to his meal. He will not reopen his 

 hiding-place nor remake the pit at the en- 

 trance until later, when the Cicada has been 

 digested and hunger makes its reappearance. 

 Let us leave the glutton with his quarry. 



The brief morning which I spent with him 

 in his native place did not enable me to watch 

 him at his hunting, on the sands of the beach; 

 367 



