rews the paddock, so that we may
have a richer field of operations.

In the following August, my visits to the mound of leaf-mould become a
daily habit. By two o'clock in the afternoon, when the sun has cleared
the adjacent pine-trees and is shining on the heap, numbers of male
Scoliae arrive from the neighbouring fields, where they have been
slaking their thirst on the eryngo-heads. Incessantly coming and going
with an indolent flight, they circle round the heap. If some female
rise from the soil, those who have seen her dart forward. A not very
turbulent affray decides which of the suitors shall be the possessor;
and the couple fly away over the wall. This is a repetition of what I
used to see in the Bois des Issards. By the time that August is over.
The males have ceased to show themselves. The mothers do not appear
either: they are busy underground, establishing their families.

On the 2nd of September, I decide upon a search with my son Emile,
who handles the fork and the shovel, while I examine the clods dug up.
Victory! A magnificent result, finer than any that my fondest ambition
would have dared to contemplate! Here is a vast array of Cetonia-larvae,
all flaccid, motionless, lying on their backs, with a Scolia's egg
sticking to the centre of their abdomen; here are young Scolia-larvae
dipping their heads into the entrails of their victims; here are others
farther advanced, munching their last mouthfuls of a prey which is
drained dry and reduced to a skin; here are some laying the foundation
of their cocoons with a reddish silk, which looks as if it had been dyed
in Bullock's blood; here are some whose cocoons are finished. There is
plenty of everything, from the egg to the larva whose period of activity
is over. I mark the 2nd of September as a red-letter day; it has given
me the final key to a riddle which has kept me in suspense for nearly
half a century.

I place my spoils religiously in shallow, wide-mouthed glass jars
containing a layer of finely sifted mould. In this soft bed, which is
identical in character with the natal surroundings, I make some faint
impressions with my fingers, so many cavities, each of which receives
one of my subjects, one only. A pane of glass covers the mouth of the
receptacle. In this way I prevent a too rapid evaporation and keep my
nurselings under my eyes without fear of disturbing them. Now that all
this is in order, let us proceed to record events.

The Cetonia-larvae w