ight she must be able to perceive these terrible sappers
as they hover about her, meditating their crime. Too peaceable giantess!
if you see them why do you not seize them in your talons, crush the
pigmies at their work, so that you may proceed with your travail in
security? But no, you will leave them untouched; you cannot modify your
instincts, even to alleviate your maternal misfortunes.

The eggs of the common Cigale are of a shining ivory white. Conical at
the ends, and elongated in form, they might be compared in shape to the
weaver's shuttle. Their length is about one-tenth of an inch, their
diameter about one-fiftieth. They are packed in a row, slightly
overlapping one another. The eggs of the Cacan are slightly smaller, and
are assembled in regular groups which remind one of microscopical
bundles of cigars. We will consider the eggs of the common Cigale to the
exclusion of the others, as their history is the history of all.

September is not yet over when the shining white as of ivory gives way
to the yellow hue of cheese. During the first days of October you may
see, at the forward end of the egg, two tiny points of chestnut brown,
which are the eyes of the embryo in formation. These two shining eyes,
which almost seem to gaze at one, and the cone-shaped head of the egg,
give it the look of a tiny fish without fins--a fish for whom half a
nut-shell would make a capacious aquarium.

About the same time I notice frequently, on the asphodels in the paddock
and on those of the neighbouring hills, certain indications that the
eggs have recently hatched out. There are certain cast-off articles of
clothing, certain rags and tatters, left on the threshold of the
egg-chamber by the new-born grubs as they leave it and hurry in search
of a new lodging. We shall see in a moment what these vestiges mean.

But in spite of my visits, which were so assiduous as to deserve
success, I had never contrived to see the young Cigales emerge from
their egg-chambers. My domestic researches had been pursued in vain. Two
years running I had collected, in boxes, tubes, and bottles, a hundred
twigs of every kind which were peopled by the eggs of the Cigale; but
not one had shown me what I so desired to witness: the issue of the
new-born Cigales.

Reaumur experienced the same disappointment. He tells us how all the
eggs supplied by his friends were abortive, even when he placed them in
a glass tube thrust under his armpit, in order to