The caterpillars are imperfectly paralysed, perhaps because they have received but a single stab; they toss about when touched with a pin; they are bound to wriggle when bitten by the larva.

If the egg is laid on one of them, the first morsel will, I admit, be consumed without danger, on condition that the point of attack be wisely chosen; but there remain others which are not deprived of every means of defence.

Let a movement take place in the mass; and the egg, shifted from the upper layer, will tumble into a pitfall of legs and mandibles.

The least thing is enough to jeopardize its existence; and this least thing has every chance of being brought about in the disordered heap of caterpillars.

The egg, a tiny cylinder, transparent as crystal, is extremely delicate: a touch withers it, the least pressure crushes it.
No, its place is not in the mass of provisions, for the caterpillars, I repeat, are not sufficiently harmless.