Close to the glass panes, in the region discreetly lit by the lantern, a numerous assembly has presently gathered together. Some come from a distance; they solemnly emerge from the shadow, and then, suddenly, with a swift easy rush like a slide, they join the crowd in the light. They investigate their surroundings, fleeing precipitately at a touch as though they had burned each other. Others, having mixed with their comrades a little, suddenly make off distractedly; they recover themselves in the darkness and return. At moments there is a violent tumult; a confused mass of swarming legs, snapping pincers and coiling, clashing tails, threatening or caressing, one does not quite know which. All take part in the scuffle, large and small; you would think it a deadly battle, a general massacre, but it is only a crazy game, like a scrimmage of kittens. Presently the group disperses; they retire for a little in all directions, without any sign of a wound, without a sprain. [114] What do you think of the saraband of these horrible creatures, so full of mirth and playfulness? Certainly it has its fascinating side; but it is not equal to the scenes of betrothal and espousal. Now the fugitives are once more assembled beneath the lantern. They pass to and fro, coming and going, often meeting face to face. The one in the greatest hurry walks over the other’s back, who allows him to do so without other protest than a movement of the rump. The time has not come for squabbling; at the most those encountering exchange the equivalent of a punch on the head: that is, a thump of the tail. We have something better here than entangled legs and brandished tails; these are pauses of great originality. Face to face, the claws drawn back, two combatants proceed to stand on their heads: that is, supporting themselves only on the fore part of the body, they raise the hinder part in the air, so high that the thorax reveals the eight white breathing-pockets. The tails, stretched out in a straight line and raised into a vertical position, rub together, slipping over each other, while their extremities are bent into a hook and gently, over and over again, knot themselves together and release themselves. Suddenly the amicable pyramid falls to the ground and each scuttles off without further ceremony. What did these two wrestlers intend by their original posture? Was it the grappling of two rivals? It would seem not, so pacific was the encounter. Subsequent observations tell me that these are the allurements of the betrothal. To declare his passion, the Scorpion stands on his head. [115] This reconnaissance and these first advances are followed by a sentimental promenade.