entrails are nibbled gradually and methodically:
first, the least essential; next, those whose removal leaves yet a
remnant of life; lastly, those whose loss inevitably entails death,
followed very soon by putrefaction.

At the first bites we see the victim's blood oozing through the wound.
It is a highly-elaborated fluid, easy of digestion, and forms a sort of
milk-diet for the new-born grub. The little ogre's teat is the bleeding
paunch of the Cetonia-larva. The latter will not die of the wound,
at least not for some time. The next thing to be tackled is the fatty
substance which wraps the internal organs in its delicate folds. This
again is a loss which the Cetonia can suffer without dying then and
there. Now comes the turn of the muscular layer which lines the skin;
now, that of the essential organs; now, that of the nerve-centres and
the trachean network, whereupon the last gleam of light is extinguished
and the Cetonia reduced to a mere bag, empty but intact, save for the
entrance-hole made in the middle of the belly. From now onwards, these
remains may rot if they will: the Scolia, by its methodical fashion of
consuming its victuals, has succeeded in keeping them fresh to the very
last; and now you may see it, replete, shining with health, withdraw its
long neck from the bag of skin and prepare to weave the cocoon in which
its development will be completed.

It is possible that I may not be quite accurate as to the precise order
in which the organs are consumed, for it is not easy to perceive what
happens inside the exploited larva's body. The ruling feature in this
scientific method of eating, which proceeds from the parts less to the
parts more necessary to preserve a remnant of life, is none the less
obvious. If direct observation did not already to some degree confirm
it, a mere examination of the half-eaten larva would do so in the most
positive fashion.

The Cetonia-larva is at first a plump grub. Drained by the Scolia's
tooth, it gradually becomes limp and wrinkled. In a few days' time it
resembles a shrivelled bit of bacon-fat and then a bag whose two
sides have fallen in. Yet this bit of bacon and this bag have the same
characteristic look of fresh meat as had the grub before it was bitten
into. Despite the persistent nibbling of the Scolia, life continues,
holding at bay the inroads of putrefaction until the mandibles have
given their last bites. Does not this remnant of tenacious vitality in
itself