The Spiders' Exodus 



open. It is so slight that I do not feel it; I 

 only know of it by the smoke from my pipe, 

 curling softly in that direction. Cold air 

 enters from without through the door; warm 

 air escapes from the room through the win- 

 dow. This is the draught that carries the 

 threads with it and enables the Spiders to em- 

 bark upon their journey. 



I get rid of it by closing both apertures and 

 I break off any communication by passing 

 my ruler between the window and the table. 

 Henceforth, in the motionless atmosphere, 

 there are no departures. The current of air 

 is missing, the skeins are not unwound and mi- 

 gration becomes impossible. 



It is soon resumed, but in a direction where- 

 of I never dreamt. The hot sun is beating on 

 a certain part of the floor. At this spot, which 

 is warmer than the rest, a column of lighter, 

 ascending air is generated. If this column 

 catch the threads, my Spiders ought to rise to 

 the ceiling of the room. 



The curious ascent does, in fact, take place. 

 Unfortunately, my troop, which has been 

 greatly reduced by the number of departures 

 through the window, does not lend itself to 

 prolonged experiment. We must begin again. 

 197 



