This act of cannibalism agrees with what the open-air colony showed me last year. From time to time, I would find, under the stones, a pot-bellied female making a comfortable ritual meal off her companion of the night. [[235]]I suspected that the male, if he did not break loose in time, once his functions were fulfilled, was devoured, wholly or partly, according to the matron’s appetite. I now have the certain proof before my eyes. Yesterday, I saw the couple enter their home after the usual preliminary, the stroll; and, this morning, under the same tile, at the moment of my visit, the bride is consuming her mate.
We are entitled to believe that the poor wretch has attained his ends. Were he still necessary to the brood, he would not yet be eaten. The actual couple have therefore been quick about the business, whereas I see others fail to finish after provocations and contemplations exceeding in duration the time which it takes the hour-hand to go twice round the clock. Circumstances which it is impossible to state with precision—the condition of the atmosphere, perhaps, the electric tension, the temperature, the individual ardour of the couple—to a large extent accelerate or delay the finale of the pairing; and this is what constitutes the serious difficulty for the observer anxious to seize the exact moment whereat the as yet uncertain function of the combs might be revealed.
14 May.—It is certainly not hunger that sets my animals in commotion night after night. The quest of food has nothing to say to their evening rounds. I have served up a varied bill of fare to the busy crowd, a fare chosen from that which they appear to like best. It includes tender morsels in the shape of young Crickets; small Locusts, fleshier and in better condition than the Acridians; Moths minus their wings. In a more advanced season, I add Dragon-flies, a highly-appreciated dish, as is proved by their equivalent, the full-grown Ant-lion, of whom I often find the scraps, the wings, in the Scorpions’ cave. [[236]]
This luxurious game leaves them indifferent; none of them pays attention to it. Amid the hubbub, the Crickets hop, the Moths beat the ground with the stumps of their wings, the Dragon-flies quiver; and the passers-by take no notice. They tread them underfoot, they topple them over, they push them away with a stroke of the tail; in short, they absolutely refuse to look at them. They have other business in hand.
Almost all of them move along the glass wall. Some of them obstinately attempt to scale it: they hoist themselves on their tails, fall down, try again elsewhere. With their outstretched fists they knock against the pane; they want to get away at all costs. And yet the grounds are large enough, there is room for all; the walks lend themselves to long strolls. No matter: they want to roam afar. If they were free, they would disperse in every direction. Last year, at the same time, the colonists of the enclosure left the village and I never saw them again.
The spring pairing-season enjoins journeys upon them. The shy hermits of yesterday now leave their cells and go on love’s pilgrimage; heedless of food, they set out in quest of their kind. Among the stones of their territory there must be choice spots at which meetings take place, at which assemblies are held. If I were not afraid of breaking my legs, at night, over the rocky obstacles of their hills, I should love to assist at their matrimonial festivals, amid the delights of liberty. What do they do up there, on their bare slopes? Much the same, apparently, as in the glass enclosure. Having made their choice of a bride, they take her about, for a long stretch of time, hand in hand, through the tufts of lavender. If they miss the attractions of my lantern, [[237]]they have the moon, that incomparable lamp, to light them.
20 May.—The sight of the first invitation to a stroll is not an event upon which we can count every evening. Several emerge from under their stones already linked in couples. In this concatenation of clasped fingers, they have passed the whole day, motionless, one in front of the other and meditating. When night comes, they resume, without separating for a moment, the walk around the glass begun on the evening before, or even earlier. No one knows when or how the junction was effected. Others meet unawares in sequestered passages difficult of inspection. By the time that I see them, it is too late: the equipage is on the way.
To-day, chance favours me. The acquaintance is made before my eyes, in the full light of the lantern. A frisky, sprightly male, in his hurried rush through the crowd, suddenly finds himself face to face with a passer-by who takes his fancy. She does not say no; and things go quickly.
The foreheads touch, the claws work; the tails swing with a wide movement: they stand up vertically, hook together at the tips and softly stroke each other with a slow caress. The two animals perform the acrobat’s “straight bend,” in the manner already described. Soon, the raised bodies collapse; fingers are clasped and the couple starts on its stroll without more ado. The pyramidal pose, therefore, is really the prelude to the harnessing. The pose, it is true, is not rare between two individuals of the same sex who meet; but it is then less correct and, above all, less marked by ceremony. At such times, we find movements of impatience, instead of friendly excitations; the tails strike in lieu of caressing each other. [[238]]
Let us watch the male, who hurries away backwards, very proud of his conquest. Other females are met, who form an audience and look on inquisitively, perhaps enviously. One of them flings herself upon the ravished bride, embraces her with her legs and makes an effort to stop the equipage. The male exhausts himself in attempts to overcome this resistance; in vain he shakes, in vain he pulls: the thing won’t go. Undistressed by the accident, he throws up the game. A neighbour is there, close by. Cutting parley short, this time without any further declaration, he takes her hands and invites her to a stroll. She protests, releases herself and runs away.