Meanwhile it is the turn of the fore-legs and then of the intermediary legs to shed armlets and gauntlets, always without the least rent, however small, without a crease of rumpled material, without a trace of any change in the natural position. The insect is now fixed to the top of the cage only by the claws of the long hind-legs. It hangs perpendicularly, head downwards, swinging like a pendulum, if I touch the wire-gauze. Four tiny hooks are what it hangs by. If they gave way, if they became unfastened, the insect would be lost, for it is incapable of unfurling its enormous wings anywhere except in space. But they will hold: life, before withdrawing from them, left them stiff and solid, so as to be able firmly to support the struggles that are to follow. The wing-cases and wings now emerge. These are four narrow strips, faintly grooved and looking like bits of paper ribbon. At this stage, they are scarcely a quarter of their final length. So limp are they that they bend under their own weight and sprawl along the insect’s sides in the opposite direction to the normal. Their free end, which should be turned backwards, now points towards the head of the Locust, who is hanging upside down. Imagine four blades of thick grass, bent and battered by a rainstorm, and you will have a fair picture of the pitiable bunch formed by the future organs of flight. It must be no light task to bring things to the requisite stage of perfection. The deeper-seated changes are already well-started, solidifying liquid mucilages, bringing order out of chaos; but so far nothing outside betrays what is happening in that mysterious laboratory where everything seems lifeless. Meanwhile, the hind-legs become released. The great thighs appear in view, tinted on their inner surface with a pale pink, which will soon turn into a streak of bright crimson. The emergence is easy, the bulky haunch clearing the way for the tapering knuckle. It is different with the shank. This, in the adult insect, bristles throughout its length with a double row of hard, pointed spikes. Moreover, the lower extremity ends in four large spurs. It is a genuine saw, but with two parallel sets of teeth and so powerful that, if we dismiss the size from our minds, it might be compared with the rough saw wielded by a quarryman. The larva’s shin is similarly constructed, so that the object to be extracted is contained in a sheath as awkwardly shaped as itself. Each spur is enclosed in a similar spur, each tooth fits into the hollow of a similar tooth; and the moulding is so exact that we should obtain no more intimate contact if, instead of the envelope waiting to be shed, we coated the limb with a layer of varnish distributed uniformly with a fine brush.