Sometimes the female is alone. The male, having finished his business, has found means to release himself and go away. He had grave reasons for cutting short the transports of the alcove. Especially in May, the time of the most ardent enjoyment, I often indeed find the female nibbling and relishing her deceased mate.
Who committed the murder? The Scorpioness, evidently. These are the atrocious customs of the Praying Mantis:[3] the lover is stabbed and then eaten, if he does not retire in time. By the exercise of nimbleness and decision, he can do so sometimes, not always. He is able to release his hands, for it is his that squeeze; by lifting his thumbs, he unclasps them. But there remains the diabolical little mechanism of the combs, an apparatus of sensual pleasure, now a trap. On both sides the long teeth of this interlocking gear, closely fitting and perhaps [[151]]spasmodically contracted, refuse to come apart as promptly as could be wished. The poor fellow is lost.
He has a poisoned dagger similar to that which threatens him: can he, does he know how to defend himself? It seems as though he cannot, for he is always the victim. It is possible that his reversed posture hinders him in wielding his tail, which he must curve over his back if he wishes to bring it into play. Perhaps also an insuperable instinct prevents him from putting the future mother to death. He allows himself to be pinked by the terrible bride; he perishes without defence.
The widow forthwith begins to eat him. It is a part of the ritual, as with the Spiders, who, deprived of the Scorpion’s fatal engine, at least leave the males time to escape if they are prompt enough in forming a decision.
The funeral repast, though frequent, is not indispensable; whether the male is devoured depends a little on the condition of the female’s stomach. I have seen some who, despising the nuptial morsel, frugally swallowed the head of the deceased and [[152]]then flung the corpse outside, without touching it again. I have seen these furies carry their dead husband at arm’s length, dragging him about the whole morning, in sight of all, like a trophy, and then, without further ceremony, leaving him untouched and abandoning him to those eager dissectors, the Ants. [[153]]
[1] Cf. The Life of the Caterpillar: chap. xi.—Translator’s Note. [↑]
[2] Cf. The Life of the Grasshopper: chap. xvi.—Translator’s Note. [↑]