More Hunting Wasps 



half-way and, so to speak, flings herself into 

 her clutches, either thoughtlessly or out of 

 curiosity. There is no wild terror, no sign 

 of anxiety, no tendency to make off. How 

 comes it that the experience of the ages, 

 that experience which, we are told, teaches 

 the animal so many things, has not taught 

 the Bee the first element of apiarian wis- 

 dom: a deep-seated horror of the Philan- 

 thus? Can the poor wretch take comfort 

 by relying on her trusty dagger? But she 

 yields to none in her ignorance of fencing; 

 she stabs without method, at random. 

 However, let us watch her at the supreme 

 moment of the killing. 



When the ravisher makes play with her 

 sting, the Bee does the same with hers and 

 furiously. I see the needle now moving this 

 way or that way in space, now slipping, vio- 

 lently curved, along the murderess' convex 

 surface. These sword-thrusts have no seri- 

 ous results. The manner in which the two 

 combatants are at grips has this effect, that 

 the Philanthus' abdomen is inside and the 

 Bee's outside. The latter's sting therefore 

 finds under its point only the dorsal surface 

 of the foe, a convex, slippery surface and so 

 well armoured as to be almost invulnerable. 

 There is here no breach into which the 

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