The Vine-Weevil 
sun, the Rhynchites’ victuals remain as soft 
as need be. 
Thus I argued, meditating a fresh experi- 
ment; and the facts confirmed the accuracy 
of my forecast. This time all goes well. 
Rather than the green rolls of recent 
manufacture, I gather the brown cigars which 
are due to fall to the ground. The larve 
in these latter, being older, are less difficult 
to rear. Lastly, my harvest is installed in 
glass jars as before, but on a bed of moist 
sand. With this and this alone I achieve 
complete success. 
Despite the mildew which this time 
invades the heaped cigars and seems bound 
to jeopardize everything, the larve thrive 
and grow without hindrance. The decay 
which I distrusted so much in the beginning, 
when I kept my crops dry to avoid it, this 
decay suits them. I see them taking big 
mouthfuls of decomposing shreds, the tainted 
remains of leaves that have almost turned 
to mould. 
I am no longer surprised that in my first 
experiments my nurselings allowed them- 
selves to die of hunger. Obeying a mistaken 
167 
