its
cells with specimens of most of the Hymenoptera which are not beyond its
powers. What do these four huntresses, and others of similar habits, do
with their victims when the crops of the latter are full of honey? They
must follow the example of the Philanthus or their offspring would
perish; they must squeeze and manipulate the dead bee until it yields up
its honey. Everything goes to prove as much; but for the actual
observation of what would be a notable proof of my theory I must trust
to the future.

CHAPTER XIV

THE GREAT PEACOCK, OR EMPEROR MOTH

It was a memorable night! I will name it the Night of the Great Peacock.
Who does not know this superb moth, the largest of all our European
butterflies[3] with its livery of chestnut velvet and its collar of
white fur? The greys and browns of the wings are crossed by a paler
zig-zag, and bordered with smoky white; and in the centre of each wing
is a round spot, a great eye with a black pupil and variegated iris,
resolving into concentric arcs of black, white, chestnut, and purplish
red.

Not less remarkable is the caterpillar. Its colour is a vague yellow. On
the summit of thinly sown tubercles crowned with a palisade of black
hairs are set pearls of a turquoise-blue. The burly brown cocoon, which
is notable for its curious tunnel of exit, like an eel-pot, is always
found at the base of an old almond-tree, adhering to the bark. The
foliage of the same tree nourishes the caterpillar.

On the morning of the 6th of May a female emerged from her cocoon in my
presence on my laboratory table. I cloistered her immediately, all damp
with the moisture of metamorphosis, in a cover of wire gauze. I had no
particular intentions regarding her; I imprisoned her from mere habit;
the habit of an observer always on the alert for what may happen.

I was richly rewarded. About nine o'clock that evening, when the
household was going to bed, there was a sudden hubbub in the room next
to mine. Little Paul, half undressed, was rushing to and fro, running,
jumping, stamping, and overturning the chairs as if possessed. I heard
him call me. "Come quick!" he shrieked; "come and see these butterflies!
Big as birds! The room's full of them!"

I ran. There was that which justified the child's enthusiasm and his
hardly hyperbolical exclamation. It was an invasion of giant
butterflies; an invasion hitherto unexampled in our house. Four were
already caught and placed in a bird-cage. O