It knows how soft the pupa's flesh will be and upholsters the bedroom with velvet.

It knows that the enemy is likely to break in during the slow work of the transformation and, to set a bulwark against his attacks, it stores a calcium pap inside its stomach.

It knows the future with a clear vision, or, to be accurate, behaves as though it knew it.

Whence did it derive the motives of its actions?
Certainly not from the experience of the senses.

What does it know of the outside world?
Let us repeat, as much as a bit of an intestine can know.