The Narbonne Lycosa 



do not see them grow larger. I find 

 them, at the tardy period of their emancipa- 

 tion, just as they were when they left the 

 bag. 



During the bad season, the mother herself 

 is extremely abstemious. At long intervals, 

 she accepts, in my jars, a belated Locust, 

 whom I have captured, for her benefit, in the 

 sunnier nooks. In order to keep herself in 

 condition, as when she is dug up in the course 

 of my winter excavations, she must therefore 

 sometimes break her fast and come out in 

 search of prey, without, of course, discarding 

 her live mantilla. 



The expedition has its dangers. The 

 youngsters may be brushed off by a blade of 

 grass. What becomes of them when they have 

 a fall? Does the mother give them a 

 thought? Does she come to their assistance 

 and help them to regain their place on her 

 back? Not at all. The affection of a 

 Spider's heart, divided among some hun- 

 dreds, can spare but a very feeble portion to 

 each. The Lycosa hardly troubles, whether 

 one youngster fall from his place, or six, or 

 all of them. She waits impassively for the 

 victims of the mishap to get out of their own 



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