Would you, on the other hand, see a stoic, who knows how to die decently? Make the Scorpion sting Oryctes nasicornis, commonly known as the Rhinoceros. None of our beetles equals him for hardy bearing. Despite the horn on his nose, he is a peace-lover, dwelling, during his larval period, in old olive-stumps. When stabbed by the Scorpion, he seems at first to feel nothing. He walks about soberly, as usual, and keeps his balance. But suddenly the atrocious poison works. The legs no longer obey with their customary accuracy; the wounded Beetle staggers and falls on his back. He will never rise again. Lying in this posture for three or four days, with no struggle beyond some vague dying movements, he very quietly gives up the ghost. How do the Moths and Butterflies behave in their turn? These delicate creatures must be very sensitive to the sting; I am persuaded of it before I put them to the test. Nevertheless, as scrupulous observers, let us experiment. A Swallowtail and a Vulcan perish the moment they are stung. I expected it. The Spurge Hawk-moth and the Striped Hawk-moth offer no more resistance: they too suffer sudden death, just like the Dragon-fly, the Lycosa and the Mantis. But, to my great surprise, the Great Peacock Moth seems invulnerable. True, the attack is difficult to deliver. The sting goes astray in the soft down, which at each stroke flies away in flocks. Despite repeated blows, I am not sure whether the sting has actually struck home. I accordingly strip the abdomen laying bare the skin. After taking this precaution, I plainly see the weapon driven in. Penetration is now indubitable; it was preceded by other, more doubtful stabs; and yet the big Moth remains impassive. I place her under a wire-gauze cover standing on the table. She grips the trellis-work and remains there all day long without moving. The wings, outspread to their full width, give not a quiver. Next morning there is no change: the victim of the operation is still hanging to the wires by the hooks of her front tarsi. I remove her and lay her on the table, with her belly uppermost. The big body shakes with rapid tremors. Is this the end? Not at all. The apparently dying Moth revives, flaps her wings and with a sudden effort, recovers her feet. She climbs up the trellis and again hangs from it. In the afternoon, I lay her on her back for the second time. The wings are actuated by a gentle movement, almost a shudder, as a result of which the prostrate insect glides over the table. It climbs up the trellis again and all movement ceases. Let us leave the poor Moth in peace: when she is really no more, she will drop off. Well, the fall does not take place until the fourth day after the sting or stings. Life is exhausted. The deceased is a female. The force of maternity, stronger than any mortal terror, postpones death’s hour: the Moth laid her eggs before she died.