own resources on its victim's belly. Betraying every symptom of uneasiness,
the grub gropes, hesitates, casts about and does not insert its mandibles
anywhere, though it is now the ventral surface which it is exploring. It
would not display greater hesitation if placed on the back of the larva. I
repeat, who knows? On this side it might perhaps injure the nervous plexus,
which is even more essential than the dorsal vessel. The inexperienced grub
must not drive in its mandibles at random; its future is jeopardized if it
gives a single ill-judged bite. If it gnaws at the spot where I myself
operated with my needle wrought into a scalpel, its victuals will very soon
turn putrid. Once more, then, we witness an absolute refusal to perforate
the skin of the victim elsewhere than at the very point where the egg was
fixed.

The mother selects this point, which is undoubtedly that most favourable to
the future prosperity of the larva, though I am not able clearly to discern
the reasons for her choice; she fixes the egg to it; and the place where
the opening is to be made is henceforth determined. It is here that the
grub must bite: only here, never elsewhere. Its invincible refusal to
tackle the Cetonia in any other part, even though it should die of
starvation, shews us how rigorous is the rule of conduct with which its
instinct is inspired.

As it gropes about, the grub laid on the victim's ventral surface sooner or
later rediscovers the gaping wound from which I have removed it. If this
takes too long for my patience, I can myself guide its head to the place
with the point of a paint-brush. The grub then recognizes the hole of its
own making, slips its neck into it and little by little dives into the
Cetonia's belly, so that the original state of affairs appears to be
exactly restored. And yet its successful rearing is henceforth highly
problematical. It is possible that the larva will prosper, complete its