egg-chamber by the new-born grubs as they leave it and hurry in search
of a new lodging. We shall see in a moment what these vestiges mean.

But in spite of my visits, which were so assiduous as to deserve
success, I had never contrived to see the young Cigales emerge from
their egg-chambers. My domestic researches had been pursued in vain. Two
years running I had collected, in boxes, tubes, and bottles, a hundred
twigs of every kind which were peopled by the eggs of the Cigale; but
not one had shown me what I so desired to witness: the issue of the
new-born Cigales.

Réaumur experienced the same disappointment. He tells us how all the
eggs supplied by his friends were abortive, even when he placed them in
a glass tube thrust under his armpit, in order to keep them at a high
temperature. No, venerable master! neither the temperate shelter of our
studies and laboratories, nor the incubating warmth of our bodies is
sufficient here; we need the supreme stimulant, the kiss of the sun;
after the cool of the mornings, which are already sharp, the sudden
blaze of the superb autumn weather, the last endearments of summer.

It was under such circumstances, when a blazing sun followed a cold
night, that I found the signs of completed incubation; but I always came
too late; the young Cigales had departed. At most I sometimes found one
hanging by a thread to its natal stem and struggling in the air. I
supposed it to be caught in a thread of gossamer, or some shred of
cobweb.

At last, on the 27th of October, despairing of success, I gathered some
asphodels from the orchard, and the armful of dry twigs in which the
Cigales had laid their eggs was taken up to my study. Before giving up