THE LANGUEDOCIAN SCORPION 259 



slips down her spine, crawls along her forehead and leans 

 over to see what is happening. He touches the jaws with 

 the tip of his leg ; then briskly he retreats, startled. He 

 goes away ; and he is well-advised. The abyss engaged in 

 the work of mastication, so far from reserving him a 

 mouthful, might perhaps snap him up and swallow him 

 without giving him a further thought. 



A second is hanging on behind the Cricket, of whom 

 the mother is munching the front. He nibbles, he pulls, 

 eager for a bit. His perseverance comes to nothing : the 

 fare is too tough. 



I have seen it pretty often : the appetite awakens ; 

 the young would gladly accept food, if the mother took 

 the least care to offer them any, especially food adjusted 

 to the weakness of their stomachs ; but she just eats for 

 herself and that is all. 



What do you want, my pretty little Scorpions, who 

 have provided me with such delightful moments ? You 

 want to go away, to some distant place, in search of 

 victuals, of the tiniest of tiny beasties. I can see it by 

 your restless roving. You run away from the mother, 

 who, on her side, ceases to know you. You are strong 

 enough ; the hour has come to disperse. 



If I knew exactly the infinitesimal game that suited 

 you and if I had sufficient time to procure it for you, I 

 should love to continue your upbringing ; but not among 

 the potsherds of the native cage, in the company of your 

 elders. I know their intolerant spirit. The ogres would 

 eat you up, my children. Your own mothers would not 

 spare you. You are strangers to them henceforth. 

 Next year, at the wedding-season, they would eat you, 

 the jealous creatures ! You had better go ; prudence 

 demands it. 



