Note 6 — Chapter III · THE BEADED TROX

Poor swallow-tail coat of mine, of supple broadcloth, companion of my drudgery6 and witness of my poverty, I abandon you without regret for the peasant’s jacket; you are reposing in a drawer, with a few bags of camphorated lavender; the housewife keeps an eye on you and shakes you from time to time. Useless pains! You will perish by the Clothes-moths, as the Mole perished by the maggot, the Snake by the Dermestes and we ourselves by.… Let us not dig that last pit of all before the hour has struck. Everything must return to the renovating crucible into which death is continually pouring materials to ensure the continual blossoming of life.