The Haricot-Weevil 
flasks and not on the pods. No matter: 
they hatch. For a few days I see the grubs 
roaming about, exploring the pods and the 
glass with equal zeal. In the end they all 
die, from the first to the last, without touch- 
ing the food provided. 
The conclusion to be drawn is obvious: 
the young and tender haricot is not the thing 
for them. Unlike the Pea-weevil, the Hari- 
cot-weevil refuses to entrust her family to 
beans that are not hardened by age and 
desiccation; she declines to stop on my seed- 
patch, because she does not find the provi- 
sions which she requires. 
Then what does she want? She wants 
old, hard beans, which clatter on the ground 
like little pebbles. I will satisfy her. I 
place in my flasks some very hard, tough 
pods, which have been long dried in the sun. 
This time the family prospers; the grubs bore 
through the parched shell, reach the seeds, 
enter them; and henceforth all goes well as 
well can be. 
To all appearances, this is how the Weevil 
invades the farmer’s granary. Some hari- 
cots are left standing in the fields until both 
plants and pods, baked by the sun, are per- 
283 
