The rare Midges that fall to my assiduous efforts do not appear to tempt them.

It is a rule for them to spend the cold season in a state of complete abstinence.
My cages tell me what must happen outside, during the winter.

Ensconced in the crannies of the rockwork, in the sunniest places, the young Empusae wait, in a state of torpor, for the return of the hot weather.
Notwithstanding the shelter of a heap of stones, there must be painful moments when the frost is prolonged and the snow penetrates little by little into the best-protected crevices.

No matter: hardier than they look, the refugees escape the dangers of the winter season.

Sometimes, when the sun is strong, they venture out of their hiding-place and come to see if spring be nigh.
Spring comes.