58 FABRE'S BOOK OF INSECTS 



teach it ; time does not awaken a glimmer in its unconscious- 

 ness. Pure instinct, if it stood alone, would leave the insect 

 powerless in the face of circumstances. Yet circumstances 

 are always changing, the unexpected is always happening. 

 In this confusion some power is needed by the insect as by 

 every other creature to teach it what to accept and what 

 to refuse. It requires a guide of some kind, and this guide 

 it certainly possesses. Intelligence is too fine a word for it : 

 I will call it discernment. 



Is the insect conscious of what it does ? Yes, and no. 

 No, if its action is guided by instinct. Yes, if its action is 

 the result of discernment. 



The Pelopseus, for instance, builds her cells with earth 

 already softened into mud. This is instinct. She has always 

 built in this way. Neither the passing ages nor the struggle 

 for life will induce her to imitate the Mason-bee and make 

 her nest of dry dust and cement. 



This mud nest of hers needs a shelter against the rain. 

 A hiding-place under a stone, perhaps, sufficed at first. But 

 when she found something better she took possession of it. 

 She installed herself in the home of man. This is discern- 

 ment. 



She supplies her young with food in the form of Spiders. 

 This is instinct, and nothing will ever persuade her that 

 young Crickets are just as good. But should there be a lack 

 of her favourite Cross Spider she will not leave her grubs 

 unfed ; she will bring them other Spiders. This is discern- 

 ment. 



In this quality of discernment lies the possibility of future 

 improvement for the insect. 



IV 



HER ORIGIN 



The Pelopseus sets us another problem. She seeks the 

 warmth of our fireplaces. Her nest, built of soft mud which 



