The Life of Jean Henri Fabre 



the season, although she renews her net almost 

 every night. 



When twilight is over, we punctually set out 

 to pay her a family visit. Old and young alike 

 are amazed by her gyrations in the midst of her 

 quivering cordage, and we marvel at her impeccable 

 geometry as her web takes shape. Gleaming in the 

 rays of the lantern, the fabric becomes a fairy rose- 

 window which seems to be woven of moon- 

 beams. 



What a pity that we cannot wait for the 

 completion of a task so artistically begun! 

 But the hour is late, and we have still to 

 pay a visit to the Languedocian Scorpion, a 

 lover of darkness who has his own hours for 

 going abroad and rarely shows himself save 

 at night. Accordingly, It has taken time to 

 secure the last word of his history. 



Rearing the Scorpion in a breeding-cage 

 Ivill perhaps give better results, and in any 

 case will facilitate nocturnal observations 

 which alone may shed a little light on the ob- 

 scure habits of this unsociable hermit. 



Interrogated by lantern-light, the Arach- 

 noid will indeed tell us more during a few 

 seconds of stealthy inspection than during 

 days and weeks of diurnal hunting. His 

 operations are, as a matter of fact, such as 

 call for closed doors, and would rightly 

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