The Banded Monk 



great paunch hanging against the wires. She 

 gives not a sign of emotion in the presence of 

 the turbulent throng. 



Going in or going out, fussing round the 

 cage or flitting through the room, for more 

 than three hours they keep up their frenzied 

 saraband. But the sun is sinking, the tem- 

 perature becomes a little cooler. Chilled like- 

 wise is the ardour of the Moths. Many go 

 out and do not come in again. Others take 

 up their positions in readiness for the mor- 

 row; they settle on the transoms of the closed 

 window, as the Great' Peacocks did. The 

 celebration is over for to-day. It will cert- 

 ainly be renewed to-morrow, for it is still 

 without result, because of the wires. 



But alas, to my great dismay, it is not re- 

 newed; and this through my own fault 1 Late 

 in the day, some one brings me a Praying 

 Mantis, worthy of attention because of her 

 exceptionally small size. Preoccupied with 

 the events of the afternoon, without thinking 

 what I am doing, I hastily place the carnivor- 

 ous insect in the cage that holds my Bombyx. 

 Not for a moment do I dream that this co- 

 habitation can turn out ill. The Mantis is 

 such a little, slender thing; the other is so 

 285 



