The lower portion of the original sausage remains, however, with its walls intact for a length of an inch or two. Here, in a thick layer, the grub’s excreta are accumulated, held in reserve for the final work. In the centre of this mass a hollow is dug, carefully polished inside. With the excavated rubbish the grub builds not just a canopy, like that with which the winter alcove was protected, but a solid lid, with a rough outer surface, in appearance not unlike the work of the Cetoniæ when they wrap themselves in a shell of mould. This lid, with what is left of the pudding, forms a habitation which would remind us pretty closely of the Cockchafer’s dwelling, were it not truncated in the upper part, which moreover is most often topped by a few remnants from the destroyed cylinder. The grub is now shut in for the transformation, motionless, with its body emptied of all dross. In a few days a blister appears on the dorsal surface of the last abdominal segments. This swells, spreads and gradually extends as far as the thorax. It is the work of excoriation beginning. Distended by a colourless liquid, the blister gives an uncertain glimpse of a sort of milky cloud, the first blurred outline of the new organism. The thorax splits in front, the cast skin is slowly pushed backwards, and at last we have the nymph, all white, half-opaque and half-crystalline. I obtain my first nymphs about the beginning of May. Four or five weeks later, the perfect insect arrives, white on the wing-cases and belly, while the rest of the body already possesses the normal colouring. The chromatic evolution is quickly completed; and, before the end of June, the Geotrupes, now perfectly matured, emerges from the soil at twilight and flies off to start on his scavenger’s job without delay. The laggards, those whose egg has gone through the winter, are still in the white nymphal stage when their elders effect their release. Not before September is nigh will they burst their natal shell and, in their turn, sally forth to aid in the cleansing of the fields. CHAPTER XV THE SISYPHUS: THE INSTINCT OF PATERNITY The duties of paternity are hardly ever imposed on any except the higher animals. The bird excels in them; and the furred folk perform them honourably. Lower in the scale, the father is generally indifferent to his family. Very few insects form exceptions to this rule. Whereas all display a frenzied ardour in propagating their species, nearly all, having satisfied the passion of the moment, promptly break off domestic relations and retire, heedless of their brood, which must do the best that it can for itself.