The Life of Jean Henri Fabre 



A few long strides and I had reached my neigh- 

 bour's house, where I stuffed my pockets with 

 cocoons. On my return I offered them to the 

 scientist. He took one, turned it over and over in 

 his fingers; curiously he examined it, as we should 

 some singular object which had come from the 

 other end of the world. He shook it against his 

 ear. 



"It rattles!" he said, quite surprised. "There 

 is something inside!" 



"Why, yes!" 



"But what?" 



" The chrysalis." 



"What's that, the chrysalis?" 



" I mean the sort of mummy into which the 

 caterpillar turns before it becomes a moth." 



" And in every cocoon there is one of those 

 things? " 



" Of course; it's to protect the chrysalis that the 

 caterpillar spins." 



"Ah!" 



And without more ado, the cocoons went into the 

 pocket of the scientist, who was to inform him- 

 self at leisure concerning this great novelty, the 

 chrysalis. This magnificent assurance impressed 

 me. Knowing nothing of caterpillar, cocoon, chrys- 

 alis, or metamorphosis, Pasteur had come to re- 

 generate the silkworm. The ancient gymnasts 

 presented themselves naked for the contest. This 

 ingenious thinker, who was to fight the plague of 

 the silk-worm nurseries, had also hastened to bat- 

 tle wholly naked: that is, devoid of the simplest 



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