“So the ichneumons laid their eggs in my body!” he cried, in despair. “And have I now to feed all their voracious young?”
“That’s it!” said the young ones. “You’ve hit it to a T. Bestir yourself now, you stupid, lazy caterpillar, and eat till you burst, or we’ll eat you!”
So saying, they took a good nip at his flesh.
“Oh, oh!” yelled the caterpillar. “I will, I will, indeed I will.”
“Yes, but hurry up!” said the young ones. “We are so hungry, so hungry!”
And the caterpillar ate ever so much more than before, but it was not the slightest use. He could never eat enough and the ichneumon-flies’ young kept on crying for more. The ant and the swallow and the nightingale mocked at him every day and the gardener beat the cabbage with his rake, so angry was he at all this consumption.
But the caterpillar swallowed it all and reflected that there was not on earth a lot so distressing as his.
“Jeer away!” he thought. “You’re quick at that. If only you knew that I don’t get the food myself which I procure: the benefit of it all goes to the ichneumon-flies’ young.”
He ate and ate desperately. At last, he could bear it no longer. All day long, he noticed how the ichneumons were rummaging about inside him. He rolled round on the cabbage-leaf in despair and turned and twisted and screamed for help.
“Rather eat me up altogether while you’re about it!” he cried. “Rather let me die at once: I can’t endure this life!”