To-day, the 4th of February, is a beautiful, mild day.

The greenhouse is full of life.
Numerous festoons of caterpillars, issuing from the nests, meander along the sand on the shelf.

Above them, at every moment, the ring on the ledge of the vase breaks up and comes together again.

For the first time I see daring leaders who, drunk with heat, standing only on their hinder prolegs at the extreme edge of the earthenware rim, fling themselves forward into space, twisting about, sounding the depths.

The endeavour is frequently repeated, while the whole troop stops.