The Hermit of Serignan 



by thistles and by Wasps and Bees. Here, without 

 distant expeditions that take up my time, without 

 tiring rambles that strain my nerves, I could con- 

 trive my plans of attack, lay my ambushes, and 

 watch their effects at every hour of the day. Hoc 

 erat in votis. Yes, this was my wish, my dream, 

 always cherished, always vanishing into the mists 

 of the future. 



And it is no easy matter to acquire a laboratory 

 in the open fields, when harassed by a terrible 

 anxiety about one's daily bread. For forty years 

 have I fought, with steadfast courage, against the 

 paltry plagues of life; and the long-wished-for lab- 

 oratory has come at last. What it has cost me 

 in perseverance and relentless work I will not try 

 to say. It has come ; and with it— -a more serious 

 condition — perhaps a little leisure. I say perhaps, 

 for my leg is still hampered by a few links of the 

 convict's chain. 



But this is not my business for the moment: 

 I want to speak of the bit of land long cherished 

 in my plans to form a laboratory of living ento- 

 mology, the bit of land which I have at last ob- 

 tained in the solitude of a little village. It is a 

 harmas, the name given, in this district, 1 to an 

 untilled, pebbly expanse abandoned to the vege- 

 tation of the thyme. It is too poor to repay the 

 work of the plough; but the sheep passes there 

 in spring, when it has chanced to rain and a little 

 grass shoots up. 



1 The country round Serignan, in Provence. — A. T. 

 de M. 



213 



