the universal joy which every species of animal expresses after its
kind.

If you were to tell me that the Cigales play on their noisy instruments
careless of the sound produced, and merely for the pleasure of feeling
themselves alive, just as we rub our hands in a moment of satisfaction,
I should not be particularly shocked. That there is a secondary object
in their conceit, in which the silent sex is interested, is very
possible and very natural, but it is not as yet proven.[1]




CHAPTER IV

THE CIGALE. THE EGGS AND THEIR HATCHING


The Cigale confides its eggs to dry, slender twigs. All the branches
examined by Réaumur which bore such eggs were branches of the mulberry:
a proof that the person entrusted with the search for these eggs in the
neighbourhood of Avignon did not bring much variety to his quest. I find
these eggs not only on the mulberry-tree, but on the peach, the cherry,
the willow, the Japanese privet, and other trees. But these are
exceptions; what the Cigale really prefers is a slender twig of a
thickness varying from that of a straw to that of a pencil. It should
have a thin woody layer and plenty of pith. If these conditions are
fulfilled the species matters little. I should pass in review all the
semi-ligneous plants of the country were I to catalogue the various
supports which are utilised by the gravid female.