The Crab Spider 183 



return. Soon she is wrapped up in her harvest- 

 ing. While she is fiUing her baskets and dis- 

 tending her crop, the Thomisus, that bandit 

 lurking under cover of the flowers, issues from 

 her hiding-place, creeps round behind the 

 bustling insect, steals up close and, with a 

 sudden rush, nabs her in the nape of the neck. 

 In vain, the Bee protests and darts her sting at 

 random ; the assailant does not let go. 



Besides, the bite in the neck is paralyzing, 

 because the cervical nerve-centres are affected. 

 The poor thing's legs stiffen ; and all is over in a 

 second. The murderess now sucks the victim's 

 blood at her ease and, when she has done, scorn- 

 fully flings the drained corpse aside. She hides 

 herself once more, ready to bleed a second 

 gleaner should the occasion offer. 



This slaughter of the Bee engaged in the 

 hallowed delights of labour has always revolted 

 me. Why should there be workers to feed idlers, 

 why sweated to keep sweaters in luxury ? Why 

 should so many admirable lives be sacrificed to 

 the greater prosperity of brigandage ? These 

 hateful discords amid the general harmony 

 perplex the thinker, all the more as we shall see 



