The Collaborators 



the vermicular dish is found to be highly accept- 

 able, one might even say excellent. What would 

 it be if the refined art of the gourmets of antiquity 

 had cooked it! . . . 



If I have made this investigation it was cer- 

 tainly not in the hope of enriching the bill of fare. 

 The rarity of the great grubs and the repugnance 

 which all kinds of vermin arouses in most of us 

 will always stand in the way of my discovery be- 

 coming a common dish. . . . 



As far as I am concerned, it was still less the 

 desire for a dainty mouthful that actuated me. My 

 sobriety is not easily tempted. A handful of cher- 

 ries pleases me better than the preparations of our 

 kitchens. My only desire was to elucidate a point 

 of natural history. 1 



I certainly admire this zeal for science 

 and this absence of prejudice even in the 

 choice of food; yet 1 am tempted to remark 

 that in the matter of intrepidity, whether 

 in respect of food or of science, there is one 

 of Fabre's circle of acquaintances who sur- 

 passed the schoolmaster and perhaps equals 

 Fabre himself. I am referring to Favier. 

 Who, then, is Favier? 



Favier is an old soldier. He has pitched his hut 

 of clay and branches under the African carob-trees; 



1 Souvenirs, x., pp. 102-109. 



277 



