Piccolissima | Page 8

reanimated him, and gave him courage, and with one bound
he flew upon the arm of Piccolissima. With a sudden familiarity he
murmured in a low voice, "Art thou, perhaps, an elder sister of mine?
Thou warmest me. Art thou placed in the sun to strengthen thy wings?
Relate to me, quickly, thy metamorphosis whilst I dry myself. Let us
see, hast thou been a caterpillar, a worm? How many feet didst thou
once have? I will lay a wager thou didst not have any. For me, I had
three rows of feet, forty-two in all, at least. Come, then, speak, and tell
me; answer my question."
Usually Piccolissima did not require to be urged to speak; but these
questions were of such an extraordinary nature, so unexpected, that the
little girl remained silent. "Whether I have been a caterpillar or a worm?
A queer question at the commencement of an acquaintance."
In the mean time the questioner was silent. Occupied with the comfort
of exposing all his little person to the sun, he extended his wings,
which, intersected with nerves, became every moment more substantial,
without losing any of their delicacy. This transparent network, divided
like stained glass windows, by dark lines, resembled isinglass,
sometimes decomposing the sun's rays, and showing the colors of the
rainbow.
The head of the insect, as it dried, became shiny like satin; the eyes, of
a reddish brown, glowed in a circle of silver. Over a little jet band, on
the top of his head, three little soft eyes peeped out like those which the

young observer had already noticed in the other fly. The brown trunk of
this one seemed more delicate; his bronze corselet, reflecting like
emerald, was garnished with fine hairs, like the down which the fresh
morning spreads over beautiful fruits. The belly of the insect, which
showed itself between and through the transparent wings, was of a
beautiful shining black set off by six white crescents, symmetrically
placed on the right and left. The legs appeared to Piccolissima brown,
and very delicate. As she examined them, she remembered that the
young boaster had vaunted itself of having forty-two of them; and she
was upon the point of venturing to inquire what had become of the
superfluous ones, when the lively fly, finding itself dry and
strengthened, raised two of its legs and examined them very closely,
and crossing them with great dexterity rubbed the soles of his feet one
against the other. Piccolissima was tempted so to call the two balls of
flesh covered with hair, and armed with two nails which terminated the
foot bones. The fly, having cleaned his brushes or sponges,--for they
were as much like one as the other,--employing his trunk very skilfully,
began to rub them over and under his wings, and over his little face, his
eyes, and his antennae. He combed, brushed, sponged, and cleaned
himself all over. Hardly had he finished one side before he began upon
the other, using those of his six feet which were the most convenient.
At last, he seemed weary of being watched by Piccolissima; and,
shaking himself, he just grazed the eyelids of the little girl with his
wings, and all of a sudden flew away, and alighted on the window pane,
where he marched backward and forward with his head now up, and
now down, quite indifferent to the laws of gravity.
Piccolissima followed him with her eyes with less surprise than
curiosity; not being able to contain herself any longer, she determined
to speak to the old fly.
"How does your companion contrive to walk with his head down in that
way?"
The old fly, satiated with sugar, turned half round to the right, and with
one spring placed himself opposite the little girl, and stared at her with
such a stupefied look, that Piccolissima, although her good sense
refused to believe it, thought for a moment that the ten or twelve
thousand eyes were all fixed on her, forgetting, in her confusion at
being thus stared at, that though each eye had thousands of faces to

mirror all surrounding objects, still there was behind them all only one
power of seeing, only one fly.
"What matters it, in the name of all that is sweet in the world? Of what
consequence is it, when one walks, whether the head is on one side or
the other, up or down? Poor infirm creature that thou art," said the fly;
"dost thou see any difference?"
Piccolissima, somewhat mortified at having always walked with her
head upward, remained stupened and silent. It seems necessary, thought
she, that every surface, in whatever direction it is placed, should have
the same power to attract and support the feet of the flies as the ground
and the floor to