The Life of Jean Henri Fabre 



string, a handkerchief often lost and replaced by 

 the back of my sleeve. 



There I stand one day, a pensive urchin, with 

 my hands behind my back and my face turned 

 to the sun. The dazzling splendour fascinates 

 me. I am the Moth attracted by the light of 

 the lamp. With what am I enjoying the glori- 

 ous radiance: with my mouth or my eyes? That 

 is the question put by my budding scientific curi- 

 osity. Reader, do not smile! the future observer 

 is already practising and experimenting. I open 

 my mouth wide and close my eyes: the glory dis- 

 appears. I open my eyes and shut my mouth: 

 the glory reappears. I repeat the performance, 

 with the same result. The question's solved: I 

 have learnt by deduction that I see the sun with 

 my eyes. What a discovery! That evening I 

 told the whole house all about it. Grandmother 

 smiled fondly at my simplicity: the others laughed 

 at it. 'Tis the way of the world. 



Another find. At nightfall, amidst the neigh- 

 bouring bushes, a sort of jingle attracted my atten- 

 tion, sounding very faintly and softly through the 

 evening silence. Who is making that noise? Is 

 it a little bird chirping in his nest? We must 

 look into the matter, and that quickly. True, 

 there is the wolf, who comes out of the woods 

 at this time, so they tell me. Let's go all the 

 same, but not too far: just there, behind that 

 clump of broom. I stand on the look-out for long, 

 but all in vain. At the faintest sound of move- 

 ment in the brushwood, the jingle ceases. I try 



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