ifference of costume is most striking. The
Melecta's deep mourning has naught in common with the Anthophora's
russet coat. The Parnopes' emerald-and-carmine thorax possesses not the
least feature of resemblance with the black-and-yellow livery of the
Bembex. And this Chrysis also is a dwarf in comparison with the ardent
Nimrod who goes hunting Gad-flies.

Besides, what a curious idea, to make the parasite's success depend upon
a more or less faithful likeness with the insect to be robbed! Why, the
imitation would have exactly the opposite effect! With the exception of
the Social Bees, who work at a common task, failure would be certain,
for here, as among mankind, two of a trade never agree. An Osmia,
an Anthophora, a Chalicodoma had better be careful not to poke an
indiscreet head in at her neighbour's door: a sound drubbing would soon
recall her to a sense of the proprieties. She might easily find herself
with a dislocated shoulder or a mangled leg in return for a simple visit
which was perhaps prompted by no evil intention. Each for herself in her
own stronghold. But let a parasite appear, meditating foul play: that's
a very different thing. She can wear the trappings of Harlequin or of a
church-beadle; she can be the Clerus-beetle, in wing-cases of vermilion
with blue trimmings, or the Dioxys-bee, with a red scarf across her
black abdomen, and the mistress of the house will let her have her way,
or, if she become too pressing, will drive her off with a mere flick
of her wing. With her, there is no serious fray, no fierce fight. The
Bludgeon is reserved for the friend of the family. Now go and practice
your mimesis in order to receive a welcome from the Anthophora or the
Chalicodoma! A few hours spent with the insects themselves will turn any
one into a hardened scoffer at these artless theories.

To sum up, mimesis, in my eyes, is a piece of childishness. Were I not
anxious to remain polite, I should say that it is sheer stupidity; and
the word would express my meaning better. The variety of combinations in
the domain of possible things is infinite. It is undeniable that, here
and there, cases occur in which the animal harmonizes with surrounding
objects. It would even be very strange if such cases were excluded from
actuality, since everything is possible. But these rare coincidences are
faced, under exactly similar conditions, by inconsistencies so strongly
marked and so numerous that, having frequency on their si