ut a single exception, the bee has always been stung
in the throat. In the preparations for the final blow the extremity of
the abdomen may of course touch here and there, at different points of
the thorax or abdomen, but it never remains there, nor is the sting
unsheathed, as may easily be seen. Once the struggle has commenced the
Philanthus is so absorbed in her operations that I can remove the glass
cover and follow every detail of the drama with my magnifying-glass.

The invariable situation of the wound being proved, I bend back the head
of the bee, so as to open the articulation. I see under what we may call
the chin of the bee a white spot, hardly a twenty-fifth of an inch
square, where the horny integuments are lacking, and the fine skin is
exposed uncovered. It is there, always there, in that tiny defect in the
bee's armour, that the sting is inserted. Why is this point attacked
rather than another? Is it the only point that is vulnerable? Stretch
open the articulation of the corselet to the rear of the first pair of
legs. There you will see an area of defenceless skin, fully as delicate
as that of the throat, but much more extensive. The horny armour of the
bee has no larger breach. If the Philanthus were guided solely by
considerations of vulnerability she would certainly strike there,
instead of insistently seeking the narrow breach in the throat. The
sting would not grope or hesitate, it would find its mark at the first
attempt. No; the poisoned thrust is not conditioned by mechanical
considerations; the murderer disdains the wide breach in the corselet
and prefers the lesser one beneath the chin, for purely logical reasons
which we will now attempt to elicit.

The moment the bee is stung I release it from the aggressor. I am struck
in the first place by the sudden inertia of the antennae and the various
members of the mouth; organs which continue to move for so long a time
in the victims of most predatory creatures. I see none of the
indications with which my previous studies of paralysed victims have
made me familiar: the antennae slowly waving, the mandibles opening and
closing, the palpae trembling for days, for weeks, even for months. The
thighs tremble for a minute or two at most; and the struggle is over.
Henceforth there is complete immobility. The significance of this sudden
inertia is forced upon me: the Philanthus has stabbed the cervical
ganglions. Hence the sudden immobility of all the organs o