THE CAPRICORN 151 



towards the door. This is a trifling detail in appearance ; 

 but in reality it is everything. To lie this way or that in the 

 long cell is a matter of great indifference to the grub, which is 

 very supple, turning easily in its narrow lodging and adopt- 

 ing whatever position it pleases. The coming Capricorn will 

 not enjoy the same privileges. Stiffly encased in his horny 

 armour, he will not be able to turn from end to end ; he will 

 not even be capable of bending, if some sudden curve should 

 make the passage difficult. He must, without fail, find the 

 door in front of him, or he will perish in the transformation- 

 room. If the grub should forget this little matter, and lie 

 down to sleep with its head at the back of the cell, the Capri- 

 corn would be infallibly lost. His cradle would become a 

 hopeless dungeon. 



But there is no fear of this danger. The ' bit of intestine ' 

 knows too much about the future to neglect the formality of 

 keeping its head to the door. At the end of spring the Capri- 

 corn, now in possession of his full strength, dreams of the joys 

 of the sun, of the festivals of light. He wants to get out. 



What does he find before him ? First, a heap of filings 

 easily dispersed with his claws ; next, a stone lid which he 

 need not even break into fragments, for it comes undone in 

 one piece. It is removed from its frame with a few pushes 

 of the forehead, a few tugs of the claws. In fact, I find the 

 lid intact on the threshold of the abandoned cell. Last comes 

 a second mass of woody remnants as easy to scatter as the 

 first. The road is now free : the Capricorn has but to follow 

 the wide vestibule, which will lead him, without any possi- 

 bility of mistake, to the outer exit. Should the doorway not 

 be open, all that he has to do is to gnaw through a thin screen, 

 an easy task. Behold him outside, his long antennae quiver- 

 ing with excitement. 



What have we learnt from him ? Nothing from him, but 

 much from his grub. This grub, so poor in organs of sensa- 

 tion, gives us much to think about. It knows that the coming 

 Beetle will not be able to cut himself a road through the oak, 

 and it therefore opens one for him at its own risk and peril. 



