[Illustration:  DURING THE DROUGHTS OF SUMMER THIRSTING INSECTS, AND NOTABLY THE ANT, FLOCK TO THE DRINKING-PLACES OF THE CIGALE.]

As we see, reality completely reverses the action described by the fable.  The shameless beggar, who does not hesitate at theft, is the Ant; the industrious worker, willingly sharing her goods with the suffering, is the Cigale.  Yet another detail, and the reversal of the fable is further emphasised.  After five or six weeks of gaiety, the songstress falls from the tree, exhausted by the fever of life.  The sun shrivels her body; the feet of the passers-by crush it.  A bandit always in search of booty, the Ant discovers the remains.  She divides the rich find, dissects it, and cuts it up into tiny fragments, which go to swell her stock of provisions.  It is not uncommon to see a dying Cigale, whose wings are still trembling in the dust, drawn and quartered by a gang of knackers.  Her body is black with them.  After this instance of cannibalism the truth of the relations between the two insects is obvious.

Antiquity held the Cigale in high esteem.  The Greek Beranger, Anacreon, devoted an ode to her, in which his praise of her is singularly exaggerated.  “Thou art almost like unto the Gods,” he says.  The reasons which he has given for this apotheosis are none of the best.  They consist in these three privileges:  [Greek:  gegenes, apathes, hanaimosarke]; born of the earth, insensible to pain, bloodless.  We will not reproach the poet for these mistakes; they were then generally believed, and were perpetuated long afterwards, until the exploring eye of scientific observation was directed upon them.  And in minor poetry, whose principal merit lies in rhythm and harmony, we must not look at things too closely.

Even in our days, the Provencal poets, who know the Cigale as Anacreon never did, are scarcely more careful of the truth in celebrating the insect which they have taken for their emblem.  A friend of mine, an eager observer and a scrupulous realist, does not deserve this reproach.  He gives me permission to take from his pigeon-holes the following Provencal poem, in which the relations between the Cigale and the Ant are expounded with all the rigour of science.  I leave to him the responsibility for his poetic images and his moral reflections, blossoms unknown to my naturalist’s garden; but I can swear to the truth of all he says, for it corresponds with what I see each summer on the lilac-trees of my garden.

LA CIGALO E LA FOURNIGO.

I.

Jour de Dieu, queto caud!  Beu tems per la Cigalo,
Que, trefoulido, se regalo
D’uno raisso de fio; beu tems per la meissoun. 
Dins lis erso d’or, lou segaire,
Ren plega, pitre au vent, rustico e canto gaire;
Dins soun gousie, la set estranglo la cansoun.

Tems benesi per tu.  Dounc, ardit! cigaleto,
Fai-lei brusi, ti chimbaleto,
E brandusso lou ventre a creba ti mirau. 
L’Ome enterin mando le daio,
Que vai balin-balan de longo e que dardaio
L’ulau de soun acie sus li rous espigau.