The Elephant Weevil 
the top of her stake, for lack of a support 
whereby to release herself. Like the work- 
men in our factories, the Elephant Weevil 
also is sometimes the victim of her machin- 
ery. Let us wish her good luck and sure 
feet, careful not to slip, and continue. 
This time the mechanism works perfectly, 
but so slowly that the descent of the drill, 
even when magnified by the lens, cannot be 
perceived. And the insect veers and veers 
about, rests and again resumes her work. 
An hour, two hours pass, of enervating, 
sustained attention, for I want to see the 
action at the exact moment when the Weevil 
withdraws her probe, turns round and depo- 
sits her egg at the mouth of the well. This 
at least is how I foresee events. 
Two hours elapse, exhausting my patience. 
I make arrangements with my household. 
Three of us will relieve one another in turn, 
keeping an uninterrupted watch on the 
obstinate creature, whose secret I must have 
at all costs. 
I was well-advised to call in helpers to 
lend me their eyes and their attention. 
After eight hours, eight endless hours, the 
sentry on the watch summons me. The 
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