1 86 The Life of the Spider 



As the technical name tells the reader nothing, 

 how shall he be informed ? I see but one means, 

 which is to invite him to the May festivals, in the 

 waste-lands of the South. The murderess of the 

 Bees is of a chilly constitution ; in our parts, 

 she hardly ever moves away from the olive- 

 districts. Her favourite shrub is the white- 

 leaved rock-rose {Cistus albidus), with the large, 

 pink, crumpled, ephemeral blooms that last but 

 a morning and are replaced, next day, by fresh 

 flowers, which have blossomed in the cool dawn. 

 This glorious efflorescence goes on for five or six 

 weeks. 



Here, the Bees plunder enthusiastically, fuss- 

 ing and busthng in the spacious whorl of the 

 stamens, which beflour them with yellow. 

 Their persecutrix knows of this affluence. She 

 posts herself in her watch-house, under the rosy 

 screen of a petal. Cast your eyes over the 

 flower, more or less everywhere. If you see a 

 Bee lying lifeless, with legs and tongue out- 

 stretched, draw nearer : the Thomisus will be 

 there, nine times out of ten. The thug has 

 struck her blow ; she is draining the blood of 

 the departed. 



