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less； he still exercised his vocation as teacher； for neither pure science
nor poetry was sufficient to nourish his mind； and he was still Professor
Fabre； untiringly pursuing his programme of education； although no longer
applying himself thereto exclusively。
This long active period was also the most silent period of his life；
although not an hour； not a minute of his many days was left unoccupied。
In the first few months at his new home he resumed his hymn to labour。
〃You will learn in your turn；〃 he writes to his son émile； 〃you will learn；
I hope； that we are never so happy as when work does not leave us a
moment's repose。 To act is to live。〃 （6/7。）
The better to belong to himself； he eluded all invitations； even those from
his nearest or most intimate friends； he hated to go away even for a few
hours； preferring to enjoy in his own house their presence amidst his
habitual and delightful surroundings。 Everything in this still unexplored
country was new to him。 What would he do elsewhere； even in his beloved
Carpentras； whither his faithful friend and pupil Devillario； who had
formerly followed him in his walks around Avignon； would endeavour from
time to time to draw him？ Devillario was a magistrate； a collector and
palaeontologist； his simple tastes； his wide culture； and his passion for
natural history would surely have decided Fabre to accept his invitations；
but that he forbade himself the pleasure。 〃I am afraid the hospitable
cutlet that awaits me at your table will have time to grow cold； I am up to
the neck in my work （6/8。）。。。But you； when you can； escape from your
courts； and we will philosophize at random； as is our custom when we can
manage to pass a few hours together。 As for me； it is very doubtful whether
the temptation will seize me to come to Carpentras。 A hermit of the Theba？d
was no more diligent in his cell than I in my village home。〃 （6/9。）
CHAPTER 7。 THE INTERPRETATION OF NATURE。
Was there not indeed a sufficiency of captivating matters all about him；
and beneath his very feet？
In his deep； sunny garden a thousand insects fly； creep； crawl； and hum；
and each relates its history to him。 A golden gardener…beetle trots along
the path。 Rose…beetles pass； in snoring flight； on every hand； the gold and
emerald of their elytra gleaming； now and again one of them alights for a
moment on the flowering head of a thistle； he seizes it carefully with the
tips of his nervous； pointed fingers； seems to caress it； speaks to it； and
then suddenly restores it to freedom。
Wasps are pillaging the centauries。 On the blossoms of the camomile the
larvae of the Melo？ are waiting for the Anthophorae to carry them off to
their cells； while around them roam the Cicindelae； their green bodies
〃spotted with points of amaranth。〃 At the bottom of the walls 〃the chilly
Psyche creeps slowly along under her cloak of tiny twigs。〃 In the dead
bough of a lilac…tree the dark…hued Xylocopa； the wood…boring bee； is busy
tunnelling her gallery。 In the shade of the rushes the Praying Mantis；
rustling the floating robe of her long tender green wings； 〃gazes alertly；
on the watch； her arms folded on her breast； her appearance that of one
praying；〃 and paralyses the great grey locust； nailed to its place by fear。
Nothing here is insignificant； what the world would smile at or deride will
provide the sage with food for thought and reflection。 〃Nothing is trivial
in the majestic problem of nature； our laboratory acquaria are of less
value than the imprint which the shoe of a mule has left in the clay； when
the rain has filled the primitive basin； and life has peopled it with
marvels〃； and the least fact offered us by chance on the most thoroughly
beaten track may possibly open prospects as vast as all the starry sky。
Tell yourself that everything in nature is a symbol of something like a
specimen of an abstruse cryptogram； all the characters of which conceal
some meaning。 But when we have succeeded in deciphering these living texts；
and have grasped the allusion； when； beside the symbol； we have succeeded
in finding the commentary； then the most desolate corner of the earth
appears to the solitary seeker as a gallery full of the masterpieces of an
unsuspected art。 Fabre puts into our hands the golden key which opens the
doors of this marvellous museum。
Let us consider the terebinth louse； it is just a little yellow mite； but
is it nothing else？ Its genealogical history teaches us 〃by what amazing
essays of passion and variety the universal law which rules the
transmission of life is evolved。 Here is neither father nor eggs； all these
mites are mothers； and the young are born living； just like their mothers。〃
To this end 〃almost the whole of the maternal substance is disintegrated
and renewed and conglobated to form the ovarium。。。the whole creature has
become an egg； which has； for its shell； the dry skin of the tiny creature；
and the microscope will show a whole world in formation。。。a nebulosity as
of white of egg； in which fresh centres of life are forming； as the suns
are condensed in the nebulae of the heavens。〃 （7/1。）
What is this fleck of foam； like a drop of saliva； which we see in
springtime on the weeds of the meadows； among others on the spurge； when
its stems begin to shoot； and its sombre flowers open in the sunlight？ 〃It
is the work of an insect。 It is the shelter in which the Cicadellina
deposits her eggs。 What a miraculous chemist！ Her stiletto excels the
finest craft of the botanical anatomist〃 by its sovereign art of separating
the acrid poison which flows with the sap in the veins of the most venomous
plants； and extracting therefrom only an inoffensive fluid。 （7/2。）
At every step the insects set us problems equally varied。 The other
creatures are nearer to us； they resemble us in many respects。 But insects；
almost the first…born of creation； form a world apart； and contain； in
their tiny bodies； as Réaumur has admirably said； 〃more parts than the most
gigantic animals。〃 They have senses and faculties of their own； which
enable them to accomplish actions； which are doubtless very simply related
in reality； but which seem； to our minds； as extraordinary as the habits of
the inhabitants of Mars might； if by chance they were to descend in our
midst。 We do not know how they hear； nor how they see through their
compound eyes； and our ignorance concerning the majority of their senses
still further increases the difficulty； which so often arrests us； of
interpreting their actions。
The tubercled Cerceris 〃finds by the hundred〃 and almost immediately a
species of weevil； the Cleona ophthalmica； on which it feeds its larvae；
and which the human eye； though it searches for hours； can scarcely find
anywhere。 The eyes of the Cerceris are like magnifying glasses； veritable
microscopes； which immediately distinguish； in the vast field of nature； an
object that human vision is powerless to discover。