The Crab Spider 



harvesting. While she is filling her baskets 

 and distending her crop, the Thomisus, that 

 bandit lurking under cover of the flowers, 

 issues from her hiding-place, creeps round be- 

 hind 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, scornfully 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 re- 

 volted 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 the cruel vampire become 

 215 



