The impulse that was ticking away in Arcadio Carnabuci was not confined to himself and the plants. No. Animals felt it too. The spiders in their spangled webs yearned for love, and spun sonnets of a fragile and unbearable beauty, glazed with tears of dew. Scorpions in dark corners clipped their castanets in courtship, and then curled up in pairs in discarded shoes, snug as bugs .... The humble newts in the waterspout sang in deep voices. The frogs and the toads joined in with them, and soon a chorus of magical croaking was filling the air. The music they made was so beautiful it made those who heard it weep and yearn for the life of an amphibian so they could unlock the secret of the song.