On the confines of the transparent network, where an extension of that network seems to be gradually weaving itself out of nothing, I can see that the meshes are really already in existence.

I can plainly recognise the longitudinal nervures, which are already stiff; and I can also see--pale, and without relief--the transverse nervures.

I find them all in the terminal stump, and am able to spread out a few of its folds under the microscope.
It is obvious that the wing is not a tissue in the process of making, through which the procreative energy of the vital juices is shooting its shuttle; it is a tissue already complete.

To be perfect it lacks only expansion and rigidity, just as a piece of lace or linen needs only to be ironed.
In three hours or more the explanation is complete.

The wings and elytra stand erect over the locust's back like an immense set of sails; at first colourless, then of a tender green, like the freshly expanded wings of the Cigale.