The Burrow 99 



night's work. And to this slowness we must 

 add long spells of utter idleness. 



Two months pass ; and the result of my 

 liberality surpasses my expectations. Possess- 

 ing more windfalls than they know what to 

 do with, all picked up in their immediate 

 neighbourhood, my Lycosae have built them- 

 selves donjon-keeps the Uke of which their race 

 has not yet known. Around the orifice, on a 

 slightly sloping bank, small, fiat, smooth stones 

 have been laid to form a broken, flagged pave- 

 ment. The larger stones, which are Cyclopean 

 blocks compared with the size of the animal 

 that has shifted them, are employed as abund- 

 antly as the others. 



On this rockwork stands the donjon. It is 

 an interlacing of raphia and bits of wool, picked 

 up at random, without distinction of shade. 

 Red and white, green and yellow are mixed 

 without any attempt at order. The Lycosa is 

 indifferent to the joys of colour. 



The ultimate result is a sort of muff, a couple 

 of inches high. Bands of silk, supplied by the 

 spinnerets, unite the pieces, so that the whole 

 resembles a coarse fabric. Without being abso- 



