The Labyrinth Spider 



One of these leaves, larger than the others, 

 roofs it in and serves as a scaffolding for the 

 whole of the ceiling. If we did not see the 

 silky remnants of the two vestibules project- 

 ing and feel a certain resistance when separat- 

 ing the parts of the bundle, we might take the 

 thing for a casual accumulation, the work of 

 the rain and the wind. 



Let us examine our find and look more 

 closely into its shapelessness. Here is the 

 large room, the maternal cabin, which rips as 

 the coating of leaves is removed; here are the 

 circular galleries of the guard-room; here are 

 the central chamber and its pillars, all in a 

 fabric of immaculate white. The dirt from 

 the damp ground has not penetrated to this 

 dwelling protected by its wrapper of dead 

 leaves. 



Now open the habitation of the offspring. 

 What is this? To my utter astonishment, the 

 contents of the chamber are a kernel of earthy 

 matters, as though the muddy rain-water had 

 been allowed to soak through. Put aside that 

 idea, says the satin wall, which itself is per- 

 fectly clean inside. It is most certainly the 

 mother's doing, a deliberate piece of work, 

 executed with minute care. The grains of 



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