The Life of Jean Henri Fabre 



office as exterminator. My heel sometimes hesi- 

 tates before coming down upon the handful which 

 I have gathered. They are so pretty! Just think, 

 there are yellow ones and pink, white ones and 

 brown, all with dark spiral streaks. I fill my 

 pockets with the handsomest so as to feast my 

 eyes upon them at my leisure. 



On haymaking days in the master's field, I strike 

 up an acquaintance with the Frog. Flayed and 

 stuck at the end of a split stick, he serves as live 

 bait to tempt the Crayfish from his retreat by the 

 edge of the brook. On the alder-tree I catch the 

 Hoplia, the splendid Beetle who pales the azure 

 of the heavens. I pick the narcissus and learn 

 to gather, with the tip of my tongue, the tiny 

 drops of honey that lie right at the bottom of 

 the cleft corolla. I also learn that too-long in- 

 dulgence in this quest always brings a headache; 

 but this discomfort in no way impairs my admira- 

 tion for the glorious white flower, which wears 

 a narrow red collar at the throat of its funnel. 

 When we go to beat the walnut-trees, the barren 

 grass-plots provide me with Locusts, spreading their 

 wings, some into a blue fan, others into a red. 



And thus the rustic school, even in the heart 

 of winter, furnished continuous food for my inter- 

 est in things. 



But while the love of plants and animals 

 developed automatically, without guide or ex- 

 ample, in the child predestined to entomology, 



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