The Labyrinth Spider 



ceedings which might not be tolerated by the 

 unfriendly hedge. 



Several times a week, in July, I go to study 

 my Spiders on the spot, at an early hour, 

 before the sun beats fiercely on one's neck. 

 The children accompany me, each provided 

 with an orange wherewith to slake the thirst 

 that will not be slow in coming. They lend 

 me their good eyes and supple limbs. The 

 expedition promises to be fruitful. 



We soon discover high silk buildings, be- 

 trayed at a distance by the glittering threads 

 which the dawn has converted into dewy 

 rosaries. The children are wonderstruck at 

 those glorious chandeliers, so much so that 

 they forget their oranges for a moment. Nor 

 am I, on my part, indifferent. A splendid 

 spectacle indeed is that of our Spider's laby- 

 rinth, heavy with the tears of the night and lit 

 up by the first rays of the sun. Accompanied 

 as it is by the Thrushes' symphony, this alone 

 is worth getting up for. 



Half an hour's heat; and the magic jewels 

 disappear with the dew. Now is the moment 

 to inspect the webs. Here is one spreading its 

 sheet over a large cluster of rock-roses; it is 

 the size of a handkerchief. A profusion of 



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