The Cicada: the Transformation 



bathe in air a'nd sunshine for a long time 

 before strength and colour can come to its 

 frail body. About two hours pass without 

 producing any noticeable change. Hanging 

 to his cast skin by his fore-claws only, the 

 Cicada sways at the least breath of air, still 

 feeble and still green. At last the brown 

 tinge appears, becomes more marked and is 

 soon general. Half an hour has effected 

 the change of colour. Slung from the sus- 

 pension-twig at nine o'clock in the morning, 

 the Cicada flies away, before my eyes, at 

 half-past twelve. 



The cast skin remains, intact, save for its 

 fissure, and so firmly fastened that the rough 

 weather of autumn does not always succeed 

 in bringing it to the ground. For some 

 months yet, even during the winter, one 

 often meets old skins hanging in the bushes 

 in the exact position adopted by the larva 

 at the moment of its transformation. Their 

 horny nature, something like dry parchment, 

 ensures a long existence for these relics. 



Let us hark back for a moment to the 

 gymnastic feat which enables the Cicada to 

 leave his scabbard. At first retained by the 

 tip of the abdomen, which is the last part 

 to remain in its case, the Cicada turns over 

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