In two hours I captured twenty butterflies, of whom two were tonsured; no more.

As for those whose antennae I had amputated the night before, not one reappeared.

Their nuptial period was over.
Of fourteen marked by the tonsure two only returned.

Why did the other twelve fail to appear, although furnished with their supposed guides, their antennae?
To this I can see only one reply: that the Great Peacock is promptly exhausted by the ardours of the mating season.
With a view to mating, the sole end of its life, the great moth is endowed with a marvellous prerogative.

It has the power to discover the object of its desire in spite of distance, in spite of obstacles.