148 THE WONDERS OF INSTINCT 



to visit the building-yard by the light of a lantern, I 

 should be no wiser. The Spider, who is very shy, would 

 at once dive into her lair; and I should have lost my 

 sleep for nothing. Furthermore, she is not a very dili- 

 gent laborer; she likes to take her time. Two or three 

 bits of wool or raphia placed in position represent a whole 

 night's work. And to this slowness we must add long 

 spells of utter idleness. 



Two months pass ; and the result of my liberality sur- 

 passes my expectations. Possessing more windfalls than 

 they know what to do with, all picked up in their imme- 

 diate neighborhood, my Lycosae have built themselves 

 donjon-keeps the like of which their race has not yet 

 known. Around the orifice, on a slightly sloping bank, 

 small, flat, smooth stones have been laid to form a broken, 

 flagged pavement. The larger stones, which are Cy- 

 clopean blocks compared with the size of the animal that 

 has shifted them, are employed as abundantly as the 

 others. 



On this rockwork stands the donjon. It is an inter- 

 lacing of raphia and bits of wool, picked up at random, 

 without distinction of shade. Red and white, green and 

 yellow are mixed without any attempt at order. The 

 Lycosa is indifferent to the joys of color. 



The ultimate result is a sort of muff, a couple of inches 

 high. Bands of silk, supplied by the spinnerets, unite 

 the pieces, so that the whole resembles a coarse fabric. 

 Without being absolutely faultless, for there are always 

 awkward pieces on the outside, which the worker could 

 not handle, the gaudy building is not devoid of merit 



