Returning from the mill, Jules picked up Louis on the way and brought him back to share in the benefit of what Uncle Paul might have to say concerning the specimens Jules had collected. “The insect found on the vine,” said he, after examining one of the brilliant creatures, “is a weevil. You all remember that this name is given to various beetles with a head tapering into a sort of trumpet. This one is the rhynchites, as entomologists call it, or the vine-grub, as it is known to vine-growers. It is of a magnificent lustrous green on the back, and underneath it shines like gold. Some dark-blue ones are also found, but they are more rare. The male has on each side of the thorax a little pointed protuberance directed forward. The larva is a small, white, legless worm that begins life in a roll made by the mother with a vine leaf. In the month of May she begins operations by cutting the stem of the leaf three-quarters through to arrest the flow of sap, so that the leaf may wither and be the easier to roll. Then the weevil rolls it up and lays three or four eggs in its folds. When in the process of drying the leaf has assumed the color of tobacco, you would take it for a cigar hanging from the vine. The young larvæ soon abandon this first shelter, let themselves fall, and burrow into the ground, where they finish developing. The vine-grub saps the vigor of the vine by destroying its leaves, and therefore the cigar-like rolls should be picked off and burned in May or June. In this way the infant insects are destroyed in the cradle and much future damage is prevented.” “Along with the shiny green weevil that rolls vine leaves into cigars I found this other insect,” Jules announced, displaying the creature. “That is not a weevil, as you can see from the shape of its head, which has no tapering beak. Its wing sheaths are chestnut red, the rest of the body being black. It is known as the eumolpus or, more commonly, the vine-fretter, or, in our language, the scrivener because in gnawing the surface of the vine leaves it traces fine lines that look somewhat like intricate handwriting. It attacks in the same way the stems of grape leaves and of grape clusters, the young shoots of the vine, and the grapes themselves. If the insects are numerous, all these incisions and lacerations cause the vines to wither away and produce but little fruit, and that of poor quality. “The larvæ of the vine-fretter live in the ground, and to destroy them the soil thus infested is turned over in the winter, as exposure to the cold kills the grubs. When the insects are fully developed it is exceedingly difficult to rid the vines of them. At the slightest alarm the little creature, busy with its destructive writing on the leaves, draws its legs up under its belly and lets itself drop to the ground, where it cannot be easily seen because of its dull hue; and it also keeps perfectly still, playing dead.” “Does it think it can escape by not moving?” asked Emile.