“Now it’s all up with me,” said the caterpillar, one morning.
“You may be right, this time,” replied the ichneumon-grubs.
That evening, they ate the last remnant of their host. Only the skin was left of the dead caterpillar. It lay dry and shrivelled up outside the grubs, who nestled in it as in a warm fur.
One fine day, they flew out. Pretty little animals they were, with light, bright wings, like their parents.
“Hurrah!” they cried. “Now it’s only a question of finding a caterpillar for our young. Each for himself and the devil take the hindmost: such is nature’s law. We are nature’s police: we see to it that things keep their balance. It would be a hideous world indeed, if it were full of caterpillars!”
“Or of ichneumon-flies!” piped the swallow and gulped down a mouthful of them as he spoke.
THE BEECH AND THE OAK