hat the
long-horned insect is a peaceful creature I am well aware; but the
Scarites does not know it; on the sands of the shore he has never
encountered such a colossus as this, who is capable of impressing less
timid creatures than he. Fear of the unknown will merely aggravate the
situation.

Guided by the tip of my straw, the Capricorn sets his foot upon the
prostrate insect. The Scarites' tarsi begin to quiver immediately. If
the contact be prolonged or multiplied, or if it become aggressive,
the dead insect gets on its legs again and scuttles off, just as the
titillations of the Fly have already shown me. When danger is imminent
and all the more to be dreaded because its nature is unknown, the
trick of the simulation of death disappears and flight takes its
place.

The following experiment is not without value. I take some hard
substance and knock the foot of the table on which the insect is lying
on its back. The shock is very slight, not enough to shake the table
perceptibly. The whole thing is limited to the inner vibrations of a
resilient body which has received a blow. But it is quite enough to
disturb the insect's immobility. At each tap the tarsi are flexed and
quiver for a moment.

Lastly, let us try the effect of light. So far, the patient has been
treated in the shade of my cabinet, away from the direct sunlight. The
sun is shining full upon the window. What will the motionless insect
do if I carry it thither, from my table to the window, into the bright
light? That we can find out in a moment. Under the direct rays of the
sun, the Scarites immediately turns over and moves off.

This is enough. Patient, persecuted creature, you have half-betrayed
your insect. When the Fly tickles you, drains your moist lip, treats
you as a corpse whose juices she would like to suck; when the huge
Capricorn appears to your horrified gaze and puts a foot on your
belly, as though to take possession of his prey; when the table
quivers, that is to say, when, for you, the ground shakes, undermined
perhaps by some invader of your burrow; when a bright light surrounds
you, favouring the designs of your enemies and imperilling your safety
as an insect that loves the dark, then, in truth, it would be wiser
not to move, if really your chief resource, when danger threatens you,
is to simulate death.

On the contrary, at those critical moments, you give a start; you
move, you resume your normal attitude, you run away. Your fraud