2,6 The Life of a Spider 



A drop of blood flows ; the wounded spot is 

 surrounded by a reddish circle, changing to 

 purple. The bird almost immediately loses the 

 use of its leg, which drags, with the toes doubled 

 in ; it hops upon the other. Apart from this, 

 the patient does not seem to trouble much 

 about his hurt ; his appetite is good. My 

 daughters feed him on Flies, bread-crumb, 

 apricot-pulp. He is sure to get well, he will 

 recover his strength ; the poor victim of the 

 curiosity of science will be restored to liberty. 

 This is the wish, the intention of us all. Twelve 

 hours later, the hope of a cure increases ; the 

 invalid takes nourishment readily ; he clamours 

 for it, if we keep him waiting. But the leg 

 still drags. I set this down to a temporary 

 paralysis which will soon disappear. Two days 

 after, he refuses his food. Wrapping himself 

 in his stoicism and his rumpled feathers, the 

 Sparrow hunches into a ball, now motionless, 

 now twitching. My girls take him in the hollow 

 of their hands and warm him with their 

 breath. The spasms become more frequent. 

 A gasp proclaims that all is over. The bird 

 is dead. 



