THE STAG-BEETLE 231 



worm prepares to change its form. Near the sur- 

 face, that its future exit may be the easier, the little 

 creature hollows out a sufficiently large oval cham- 

 ber and lines it with a sort of wadding made of the 

 finest fibers of the wood. Thus the tender flesh of 

 the rejuvenated insect will be protected from all 

 rude outer contact. 



"These precautions taken, the worm undergoes 

 its transfiguration : it splits open all down the back, 

 strips off its skin, throws it away like a discarded 

 garment, and is born a second time, as one might 

 say, but under a totally different form. It is no 

 longer a worm — far from it — but it is not yet a stag- 

 beetle, although the outlines of the latter are already 

 discernible. 



"The creature is quite motionless, as if dead. 

 The legs, neatly folded over the stomach, are as 

 transparent as crystals; the nippers are pressed 

 close to the breast; the wings, not yet expanded, 

 have the appearance of a short scarf encircling the 

 flanks; and the whole is swathed in swaddling- 

 clothes finer in texture than an onion skin. The en- 

 tire organism is wrapped in a repose so profound 

 that one might think all life extinct. It is white or 

 crystalline in appearance, and so tender that a 

 mere nothing will wound it. The coarse worm of 

 the beginning has been succeeded by this most deli- 

 cate of creatures. 



"Out of the material amassed by the wood-gnaw- 

 er's voracious appetite there is created an entirely 

 new being. The flesh, at first nearly fluid, slowly 



