64 The Life of a Spider 



spends upon a shapeless mattress, of no use 

 whatever, all the silk with which she would 

 have woven the outer wrapper if nothing had 

 come to disturb her. 



Poor fool ! You upholster the wires of your 

 cage with swan's-down and you leave the eggs 

 imperfectly protected. The absence of the 

 work already executed and the hardness of the 

 metal do not warn you that you are now 

 engaged upon a senseless task. You remind 

 me of the Pelopaeus,^ who used to coat with 

 mud the place on the wall whence her nest had 

 been removed. You speak to me, in your own 

 fashion, of a strange psychology which is able 

 to reconcile the wonders of a master crafts- 

 manship with aberrations due to unfathomable 

 stupidity. 



Let us compare the work of the Banded 

 Epeira with that of the Penduline Titmouse, 

 the cleverest of our small birds in the art of 

 nest-building. This Tit haunts the osier-beds 

 of the lower reaches of the Rhone. Rocking 

 gently in the river breeze, his nest sways pendent 

 over the peaceful backwaters, at some distance 



^ A species of Wasp. — Translator's Note. 



