The Life of Jean Henri Fab re 



a world-wide reputation to sustain . . . and visits 

 to receive. To-day it was the visit of a Minister 

 and all the flies on the ministerial wheel. And he 

 had to return thanks, feeling upon him the eyes of 

 the reporters and the photographer's lens. What 

 an ordeal! Fabre can hold out no longer! . . . 



Do you not feel that the harvest of fame at 

 ninety years of age and after almost ninety 

 years of labour is perhaps even more painful 

 than the harvest of science in the ardour of 

 youth? 



Meditating upon his history, with its full 

 days and hours, Fabie, in a delightful flight 

 of imagination, shows us the harassed en- 

 tomologist escaping from the past to find 

 himself alone with his thoughts and his be- 

 loved insects. " He slips silently to the gate 

 of his harmas. There he lies down on a bank 

 thickly carpeted with lavender and withered 

 couch-grass ' . . . A few moments pass. 

 His children intervene: " he is relaxing him- 

 self, stretching himself, soothed, happy as a 

 little child. — ' But, father, you aren't think- 

 ing! When the dew is falling!' 'Ah, my 

 children, why did you wake me? I was hav- 

 ing such a beautiful dream!' For in his 

 sleep he had entered into conversation with 

 the crickets of his native country-side." 



Fatigue of the body, weariness of the mind, 



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