THE LANGUEDOCIAN SCORPION 245 



Four steps took me to my neighbour's, where I crammed 

 my pockets with cocoons. I came back and handed them 

 to the savant. He took one, turned and turned it 

 between his fingers ; he examined it curiously, as one 

 would a strange object from the other end of the world. 

 He put it to his ear and shook it : 



" Why, it makes a noise !" he said, quite surprised. 

 " There's something inside !" 



" Of course there is." 



"What is it?" 



" The chrysalis." 



" How do you mean, the chrysalis ?" 



" I mean the sort of mummy into which the caterpillar 

 changes before becoming a moth." 



"And has every cocoon one of those things in- 

 side it ?" 



" Obviously. It is to protect the chrysalis that the 

 caterpillar spins." 



"Really!" 



And, without more words, the cocoons passed into the 

 pocket of the savant, who was to instruct himself at 

 his leisure touching that great novelty, the chrysalis. I 

 was struck by this magnificent assurance. Pasteur had 

 come to regenerate the silk-worm, while knowing nothing 

 about caterpillars, cocoons, chrysalises or metamorphoses. 

 The ancient gymnasts came naked to the fight. The 

 talented combatant of the plague of our silk-worm 

 nurseries hastened to the battle likewise naked, that is 

 to say, destitute of the simplest notions about the insect 

 which he was to deliver from danger. I was staggered ; 

 nay, more, I was wonderstruck. 



I was not so much amazed by what followed. Pasteur 

 was occupied at the time with another question, that 



