The Common Wasp 



forthwith tightly stoppered with the lump of 

 clay which we bring with us ready kneaded, 

 for most often there is no water on the spot. 

 We have now nothing to do but wait. 



Carrying a lantern and a basket with the 

 implements, Paul and I set out, at nine 

 o'clock in the evening, to perform an opera- 

 tion of this sort. The weather is mild and 

 the moon gives a little light. The farm- 

 house Dogs are bandying distant yelps; the 

 Screech-owl is hooting in the olive-trees; the 

 Italian Crickets 1 are performing their sym- 

 phony in the bushes. And we chat about in- 

 sects, the one asking questions, eager to 

 learn, the other telling the little that he 

 knows. Delightful nights of Wasp-hunting, 

 you well atone for our loss of sleep and make 

 us forget the stings which are likely to incur! 



Here we are! The pushing of the reed 

 into the passage is the most delicate matter. 

 Sentries may well emerge from this guard- 

 house and attack the operator's hand during 

 the hesitation caused by the unknown direc- 

 tion of the gallery. The danger is provided 

 for. One of us keeps watch; he will drive 

 away the assailants with his handkerchief, 

 should any appear. Besides, an idea is not 



1 Cf. The Life of the Grasshopper: chaps, xiv. and xvi. 

 — Translator's Note. 



243 



