160 FABKE'S BOOK OF INSECTS 



brown above and yellow below, his big thighs are coral red, 

 his hind-legs a glorious azure-blue, with an ivory anklet in 

 front. But in spite of being such a dandy he wears too short 

 a coat. 



His wing-cases are merely wrinkled slips, and his wings no 

 more than stumps. He is hardly covered as far as the waist. 

 Any one seeing him for the first time takes him for a larva, 

 but he is indeed the full-grown insect, and he will wear this 

 incomplete garment to the end. 



With this skimpy jacket, of course, music is impossible to 

 him. The big thighs are there ; but there are no wing-cases, 

 no grating edge for the bow to rub upon. The other Locusts 

 cannot be described as noisy, but this one is absolutely dumb. 

 In vain have the most delicate ears listened with all their 

 might. This silent one must have other means of expressing 

 his joys. What they are I do not know. 



Nor do I know why the insect remains without wings, a 

 plodding wayfarer, when his near kinsmen on the same Alpine 

 slopes have excellent means of flying. He possesses the begin- 

 nings of wings and wing-cases, gifts inherited by the larva ; 

 but he does not develop these beginnings and make use of 

 them. He persists in hopping, with no further ambition : he 

 is satisfied to go on foot, to remain a Pedestrian Locust, when 

 he might, one would think, acquire wings. To flit rapidly 

 from crest to crest, over valleys deep in snow, to fly from one 

 pasture to another, would certainly be great advantages to 

 him. His fellow- dwellers on the mountain-tops possess wings 

 and are all the better for them. It would be very profitable 

 to extract from their sheaths the sails he keeps packed away 

 in useless stumps ; and he does not do it. Why ? 



No one knows why. Anatomy has these puzzles, these 

 surprises, these sudden leaps, which defy our curiosity. In the 

 presence of such profound problems the best thing is to bow 

 in all humility, and pass on. 



