The Spiders' Exodus 



The thing is done: with the aid of nothing 

 that is visible to the three of us looking on, a 

 Spider makes her ascent. She ambles with her 

 eight legs through the air; she mounts, gently 

 swaying. The others, in ever-increasing num- 

 bers, follow sometimes by different roads, 

 sometimes by the same road. Any one who 

 did not possess the secret would stand amazed 

 at this magic ascent without a ladder. In a 

 few minutes most of them are up, clinging to 

 the ceiling. 



Not all of them reach it. I see some who, 

 on attaining a certain height, cease to go up 

 and even lose ground, although moving their 

 legs forward with all the nimbleness of which 

 they are capable. The more they struggle up- 

 wards, the faster they come down. This drift- 

 ing, which neutralizes the distance covered, 

 and even converts it into a retrogression, is 

 easily explained. 



The thread has not reached the platform; 

 it floats, it is fixed only at the lower end. As 

 long as it is of a fair length, it is able, al- 

 though moving, to bear the minute animal's 

 weight. But, as the Spider climbs, the float 

 becomes shorter in proportion; and the time 

 comes when a balance is struck between the 



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