There are better things than mingled legs and brandished tails: there are sometimes poses of the highest originality. Front to front and claws drawn back, two wrestlers assume the acrobat’s “straight bend,” that is to say, resting only on the fore-quarters, they raise the whole back of the body, so much so that the chest displays the four little lung-sacs uncovered. Then the tails, held vertically erect in a straight line, exchange mutual rubs, glide one over the other, while their extremities are hooked together and repeatedly fastened and unfastened. Suddenly, the friendly pyramid falls to pieces and each runs off hurriedly, without ceremony.
What were those two wrestlers trying to do, in their eccentric posture? Was it a set-to between two rivals? It would seem not, so peaceful is the encounter. My subsequent observations were to tell me that this was the mutual teasing of a betrothed couple. To declare his flame, the Scorpion does the straight bend.
To continue as I have begun and give a homogeneous picture of the thousand tiny particulars gathered day by day would have its advantages: the story would be sooner told; but, at the same time, deprived of its details, which vary greatly between one observation and the next and are difficult to group, it would be less interesting. Nothing must be neglected in the relation of manners so strange and as yet so little known. At the risk of repeating one’s self here and there, it is preferable to adhere to chronological order and to tell the story by fragments, as one’s observations reveal fresh facts. Order will emerge from this disorder; for each of the more remarkable [[230]]evenings supplies some feature that corroborates and completes those which go before. I will therefore continue my narration in the form of a diary.
25 April, 1904.—Hullo! What is this, which I have not yet seen? My eyes, ever on the watch, look upon the affair for the first time. Two Scorpions face each other, with claws outstretched and fingers clasped. It is a question of a friendly grasp of the hand and not the prelude of a battle, for the two partners behave to each other in the most peaceful way. There is one of either sex. One is paunchy and browner than the other: that is the female; the other is comparatively slim and pale: that is the male. With their tails prettily curled, the couple stroll with measured steps along the pane. The male is ahead and walks backwards, without jolt or jerk, without any resistance to overcome. The female follows obediently, clasped by her finger-tips and face to face with her leader.
The stroll has halts that alter nothing in the manner of the tie; it is resumed, now here, now there, from end to end of the enclosure. Nothing shows the object which the strollers have in view. They loiter, they dawdle, they most certainly exchange ogling glances. Even so, in my village, on Sundays, after vespers, do the youth of both sexes saunter along the hedges, every Jack with his Jill.
Often they tack about. It is always the male who decides which fresh direction the pair shall take. Without releasing her hands, he turns gracefully to the left or right about and places himself side by side with his companion. Then, for a moment, with his tail laid flat, he strokes her spine. The other stands motionless, impassive. [[231]]
For over an hour, without tiring, I watch these interminable comings and goings. A part of the household lends me its eyes in the presence of the strange sight which no one in the world has yet seen, at least with a vision capable of observing. In spite of the lateness of the hour, so upsetting to our habits, our attention is concentrated and no essential thing escapes us.
At last, at about ten o’clock, an event happens. The male has lit upon a potsherd the shelter of which seems to suit him. He releases his companion with one hand, with one alone, and, continuing to hold her with the other, he scratches with his legs and sweeps with his tail. A grotto opens. He enters and, slowly, without violence, drags the patient Scorpioness after him. Soon, both have disappeared. A plug of sand closes the dwelling. The couple are at home.
To disturb them would be a blunder: I should be interfering too soon, at an inopportune moment, if I tried at once to see what was happening below. The preliminary stages may last for the best part of the night; and it does not do for me, who have turned eighty, to sit up so late. I feel my legs giving way; and my eyes seem full of sand. Let us go to sleep.
All night long, I dream of Scorpions. They crawl under my bed-clothes, they pass over my face; and I am not particularly excited, so many curious things do I see in my imagination. The next morning, at day-break, I raise the stoneware. The female is alone. Of the male there is no trace, either in the home or in the neighbourhood. First disappointment, to be followed by many others.