There is no quiver of the wounded tissues, no reaction against the brutality of the needle.

A corpse itself could not give fewer signs of life.
Here is something even more conclusive: chance occasionally gives me Snails attacked by the Lampyris while they are creeping along, the foot slowly crawling, the tentacles swollen to their full extent.

A few disordered movements betray a brief excitement on the part of the Mollusc and then everything ceases: the foot no longer slugs; the front part loses its graceful swan-neck curve; the tentacles become limp and give way under their own weight, dangling feebly like a broken stick.
This condition persists.
Is the Snail really dead?
Not at all, for I can resuscitate the seeming corpse at will.

After two or three days of that singular condition which is no longer life and yet not death, I isolate the patient and, though this is not really essential to success, I give him a douche which will represent the shower so dear to the able-bodied Mollusc.

In about a couple of days, my prisoner, but lately injured by the Glow-worm's treachery, is restored to his normal state.