Can he owe his long period of inertia to the fact that he is one of the Tenebrionidae, or Darkling Beetles? By no means, for here in the same group is _Pimelia bipunctata_, who turns a somersault on his round back and finds his feet the moment he has turned over; here is a Cellar-beetle (_Blaps similis_, LATR.), who, unable to turn with his flat back, his big belly and his welded wing-cases,[1] struggles desperately after a minute or two of inertia. [Footnote 1: The Cellar-beetle is one of the wingless Beetles.--_Translator's Note_.] The short-legged Beetles, trotting along with tiny steps, ought, one would think, to make up in cunning, more fully than the others, for their incapacity for rapid flight. The facts do not correspond with this apparently well-founded forecast. I have consulted the genera Chrysomela,[2] Blatta,[3] Silpha, Cleonus,[4] Bolboceras,[5] Cetonia, Hoplia, Coccinella,[6] and so on. A few minutes or a few seconds are nearly always long enough for the return to activity. Several of them even obstinately refuse to sham death. [Footnote 2: Golden-apple Beetles.--_Translator's Note_.] [Footnote 3: Blackbeetles or Cockroaches.--_Translator's Note_.] [Footnote 4: A genus of Weevils.--_Translator's Note_.] [Footnote 5: A mushroom-eating Beetle. Cf. _The Life of the Fly_: chap. xviii.--_Translator's Note_.] [Footnote 6: Ladybirds.--_Translator's Note_.] As much must be said of the Beetles well-equipped for pedestrian escape. Some remain motionless for a few seconds; others, more numerous still, behave in an ungovernable fashion. In short, there is no guide to tell us in advance: "This one will readily assume the posture of a dead insect; this one will hesitate; that one will refuse." There is nothing but shadowy probabilities, until experiment has given its verdict. From this muddle shall we draw a conclusion which will set our minds at rest? I hope so. CHAPTER XV SUICIDE OR HYPNOSIS? You do not imitate the unfamiliar; you do not counterfeit a thing of which you know nothing: that is obvious. The simulation of death, therefore, implies a certain knowledge of death. Well, has the insect, or rather, has any kind of animal, a presentiment that its life cannot last for ever? Does the perturbing problem of an end occur to its dense brain? I have associated a great deal with animals, I have lived on intimate terms with them and I have never observed anything to justify me in saying yes. The animal, with its humbler destiny, is spared that apprehension of the hour of death which constitutes at once our torment and our greatness. Like the child still in the limbo of unconsciousness, it enjoys the present without taking thought of the future; free from the bitterness of a prospective ending, it lives in the blissful calm of ignorance. It is ours alone to foresee the briefness of our days; it is ours alone anxiously to question the grave regarding the last sleep.