riable period; some larvae let themselves
fall at the end of half an hour; others spend hours in their
long-stemmed cup; some even remain suspended until the following day.

Whether soon or late, the fall of the larva leaves suspended the thread
by which it hung, the wrappings of the primary larva. When all the brood
have disappeared, the aperture of the nest is thus hung with a branch of
fine, short threads, twisted and knotted together, like dried white of
egg. Each thread is expanded into a tiny cup at its free end. These are
very delicate and ephemeral relics, which perish at a touch. The least
wind quickly blows them away.

Let us return to the larva. Sooner or later, as we have seen, it falls
to the ground, either by accident or intention. The tiny creature, no
bigger than a flea, has preserved its tender newly-hatched flesh from
contact with the rough earth by hanging in the air until its tissues
have hardened. Now it plunges into the troubles of life.

I foresee a thousand dangers ahead. A mere breath of wind may carry this
atom away, and cast it on that inaccessible rock in the midst of a rut
in the road which still contains a little water; or on the sand, the
region of famine where nothing grows; or upon a soil of clay, too
tenacious to be tunnelled. These mortal accidents are frequent, for
gusts of wind are frequent in the windy and already severe weather of
the end of October.

This delicate organism requires a very soft soil, which can easily be
entered, so that it may immediately obtain a suitable shelter. The cold
days are coming; soon the frosts will be here. To wander on the surface
would expose it to grave perils. It must contrive without delay to
descend into the earth, and that to no trivial depth. This is the unique
and imperative condition of safety, and in many cases it is impossible
of realisation. What use are the claws of this tiny flea against rock,
sandstone, or hardened clay? The creature must perish if it cannot find
a subterranean refuge in good time.

Everything goes to show that the necessity of this first foothold on the
soil, subject as it is to so many accidents, is the cause of the great
mortality in the Cigale family. The little black parasite, the destroyer
of eggs, in itself evokes the necessity of a large batch of eggs; and
the difficulty which the larva experiences in effecting a safe lodgment
in the earth is yet another explanation of the fact that the maintenance
of the r