The little seeker whom I had caught so nicely with a promise of the roundabout never made a second find. For three years I requisitioned friends and neighbours, especially the youngsters, those sharp-eyed scrapers of the brushwood; I myself scraped a great deal under masses of dead leaves, inspected stone-heaps, examined hollow tree-trunks. My trouble was in vain: the precious cocoon was nowhere to be found. Suffice it to say that the Banded Monk is very scarce in my neighbourhood. The importance of this detail will be seen when the time comes.
As I suspected, my solitary cocoon did belong to the famous Moth. On the 20th of August there emerges a female, corpulent and big-bellied, attired like the male, but in a lighter frock, more in the nankeen style. I establish her in a wire-gauze bell-jar in the middle of my study, on the big laboratory-table, littered with books, pots, trays, boxes, test-tubes and other engines of science. I have described the setting before: it is the same as in the case of the Great Peacock. The room is lighted by two windows looking out [[283]]on the garden. One is closed, the other is kept open day and night. The Moth is placed between the two, in the shadow, some four or five yards away.
The rest of the day and the following day pass without anything worth mentioning. Hanging by her claws to the front of the trellis-work, on the side nearest the light, the prisoner is motionless, inert. There is no waving of the wings, no quivering of the antennæ. Even so did the female Great Peacock behave.
The mother Bombyx matures; her tender flesh hardens. By some process of which our science has not the remotest idea, she elaborates an irresistible bait which will bring callers flocking to her from the four corners of the heavens. What takes place in that fat body, what transformations are performed that shall presently revolutionize everything around? Were they known to us, the Moth’s nostrums would add a cubit to our stature.
On the third day the bride is ready. The festivities burst into full swing. I was in the garden, already despairing of success, so long were things delayed, when, at about three o’clock in the afternoon, in very hot weather [[284]]and brilliant sunshine, I saw a host of Moths gyrating in the embrasure of the open window.
It is the lovers coming to call upon their sweetheart. Some are just leaving the room, others going in, others again are perched upon the wall, resting as though jaded after a long journey. I see some approaching in the distance, over the walls, over the curtain of cypress-trees. They are hurrying up from all directions, but becoming more and more rare. I missed the beginning of the reception; and the guests are nearly all here.
Let us go upstairs. This time, in broad daylight, without losing a single detail, I once more witness the bewildering spectacle into which the great night Moth initiated me. My study is filled with a swarm of males, whom I estimate at a glance to number about sixty, as far as it is possible to make a count in this seething mass. After circling a few times round the cage, several go to the open window, but return again forthwith and resume their evolutions. The most eager perch on the cage, hustle and trample on one another, fighting for the good places. Inside the barrier, the captive waits impassively, with her [[285]]great paunch hanging against the wires. She gives not a sign of emotion in the presence of the turbulent throng.
Going in or going out, fussing round the cage or flitting through the room, for more than three hours they keep up their frenzied saraband. But the sun is sinking, the temperature becomes a little cooler. Chilled likewise is the ardour of the Moths. Many go out and do not come in again. Others take up their positions in readiness for the morrow; they settle on the transoms of the closed window, as the Great Peacocks did. The celebration is over for to-day. It will certainly be renewed to-morrow, for it is still without result, because of the wires.
But alas, to my great dismay, it is not renewed; and this through my own fault! Late in the day, some one brings me a Praying Mantis, worthy of attention because of her exceptionally small size. Preoccupied with the events of the afternoon, without thinking what I am doing, I hastily place the carnivorous insect in the cage that holds my Bombyx. Not for a moment do I dream that this co-habitation can turn out ill. The Mantis is such a little, slender thing; the other is so [[286]]obese! And thus I entertained no apprehensions.
Ah, little did I know the bloodthirsty fury of which the grapnelled insect is capable! Next morning, to my bitter astonishment, I find the tiny Mantis devouring the huge Moth. The head and the front part of the breast have already disappeared. Horrible creature! What a disappointment I owe to you! Farewell to my researches, which I had cherished in my imagination all night long; not for three years shall I be able to resume them, for lack of a subject.