Through this breach the back is seen; quite soft, and very pale, with scarcely a tinge of grey.  Slowly it curves upwards and becomes more and more strongly hunched; at last it is free.

The head follows, withdrawing itself from its mask, which remains in place, intact in the smallest detail, but looking very strange with its great unseeing glassy eyes.  The sheaths of the antennae, without a wrinkle, without the least derangement, and in their natural place, hang over this dead, translucid face.

In emerging from their narrow sheaths, which clasped them so tightly and precisely, the thread-like antennae have evidently met with no resistance, or the sheaths would have been turned inside out, or crumpled out of shape, or wrinkled at least.  Without harming the jointed or knotted covers, the contents, of equal volume and equally knotty, have slipped out as easily as though they were smooth, slippery objects sliding out of a loose sheath.  The method of extraction is still more astonishing in the case of the hind-legs.

It is now, however, the turn of the front and intermediate pairs of legs.  They pull out of their gauntlets and leggings without the least hitch; nothing is torn, nothing buckled; the outer skin is not even crumpled, and all the tissues remain in their natural position.  The insect is now hanging from the dome of the cover solely by the claws of the long hind-legs.  It hangs in an almost vertical position, the head downwards, swinging like a pendulum if I touch the cover.  Four tiny, steely claws are its only support.  If they gave or unclasped themselves the insect would be lost, as it is as yet unable to unfurl its enormous wings; but even had the wings emerged they could not grip the air in time to save the creature from the consequences of a fall.  But the four claws hold fast; life, before withdrawing from them, left them rigidly contracted, so that they should support without yielding the struggles and withdrawals to follow.

Now the wing-covers and wings emerge.  These are four narrow strips, vaguely seamed and furrowed, like strings of rolled tissue-paper.  They are barely a quarter of their final length.

They are so soft that they bend under their own weight, and hang down the creature’s sides in the reverse of their normal position.  The free extremities, which normally point backwards, are now pointing towards the cricket’s head as it hangs reversed.  The organs of future flight are like four leaves of withered foliage shattered by a terrific rainstorm.

A profound transformation is necessary to bring the wings to their final perfection.  The inner changes are already at work; liquids are solidifying; albuminous secretions are bringing order out of chaos; but so far no outward sign betrays what is happening in the mysterious laboratory of the organism.  All seems inert and lifeless.

In the meantime the posterior limbs disengage themselves.  The great haunches become visible, streaked on the inner faces with a pale rose, which rapidly turns to a vivid crimson.  Emergence is easy, the thick and muscular upper portion of the haunch preparing the way for the narrower part of the limb.