I can imagine what will happen. Those insects which are already
free, and those which the stimulus of the sunshine will presently
liberate, will emerge and take to their wings. Finding the maternal
haricot close at hand they will take possession of the vines. I shall
see them exploring pods and flowers, and before very long they will lay
their eggs. That is how the pea-weevil would behave under similar
conditions.

But no: to my surprise and confusion, matters do not fall out as I
foresaw. For a few minutes the insects bustle about in the sunlight,
opening and closing their wing-covers to ease the mechanism of flight;
then one by one they fly away, mounting in the luminous air; they grow
smaller and smaller to the sight, and are quickly lost to view. My
persevering attentions have not met with the slightest success; not one
of the weevils has settled on my haricots.

When the joys of liberty have been tasted will they return--to-night,
to-morrow, or later? No, they do not return. All that week, at
favourable hours, I inspect the rows of beans pod by pod, flower by
flower; but never a Bruchus do I see, nor even an egg. Yet the season is
propitious, for at this very moment the mothers imprisoned in my jars
lay a profusion of eggs upon the dry haricots.

Next season I try again. I have at my disposal two other beds, which I
have sown with the late haricot, the red haricot; partly for the use of
the household, but principally for the benefit of the weevil. Arranged
in convenient rows, the two crops will be ready, one in August and one
in September or later.

With the red haricot I repeat the experiment already essayed with the
black haricot. On several occasions, in suitable weather, I release
large numbers of weevils from my glass jars, the general headquarters of
the tribe. On each occasion the result is plainly negative. All through
the season, until both crops are exhausted, I repeat my search almost
daily; but I can never discover a single pod infested, nor even a single
weevil perching on leaf or flower.

Certainly the inspection has not been at fault. The household is warned
to respect certain rows of beans which I have reserved for myself. It is
also requested to keep a look-out for eggs on all the pods gathered. I
myself examine with a magnifying-glass all the haricots coming from my
own or from neighbouring gardens before handing them over to the
housewife to be shelled. All my trouble is wasted: there is no