The Life of the Spider 



which has been heavily tried by all these 

 prudent retreats and particularly by the fierce 

 heat of the dog-days. A Spider suddenly 

 rushes from her hole: she has been rendered 

 warlike, doubtless, by prolonged abstinence. 

 The tragedy that happens under the cover of 

 the bottle lasts for but the twinkling of an eye. 

 It is over: the sturdy Carpenter-bee is dead. 

 Where did the murderess strike her. That is 

 easily ascertained: the Tarantula has not let 

 go; and her fangs are planted in the nape of 

 the neck. The assassin has the knowledge 

 which I suspected: she has made for the essen- 

 tially vital centre, she has stung the insect's 

 cervical ganglia with her poison-fangs. In 

 short, she has bitten the only point a lesion in 

 which produces sudden death. I was delighted 

 with this murderous skill, which made amends 

 for the blistering which my skin received in 

 the sun. 



Once is not custom: one swallow does not 

 make a summer. Is what I have just seen 

 due to accident or to premeditation? I turn 

 to other Lycosae. Many, a deal too many 

 for my patience, stubbornly refuse to dart 

 from their haunts in order to attack the 

 Carpenter-bee. The formidable quarry is too 



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