ise of
the attack, then the other should also have learned something from the
prolonged exercise of defence, for attack and defence are of equal
significance in the struggle for life. Among the theorists of our day,
is there any so far-sighted as to be able to solve this enigma?

I will take this opportunity of presenting a second point which
embarrasses me; it is the carelessness--it is worse than that--the
imbecility of the bee in the presence of the Philanthus. One would
naturally suppose that the persecuted insect, gradually instructed by
family misfortune, would exhibit anxiety at the approach of the
ravisher, and would at least try to escape. But in my bell-glasses or
wire-gauze cages I see nothing of the kind. Once the first excitement
due to imprisonment has passed the bee takes next to no notice of its
terrible neighbour. I have seen it side by side with Philanthus on the
same flower; assassin and future victim were drinking from the same
goblet. I have seen it stupidly coming to inquire what the stranger
might be, as the latter crouched watching on the floor. When the
murderer springs it is usually upon some bee which passes before her,
and throws itself, so to speak, into her clutches; either thoughtlessly
or out of curiosity. There is no frantic terror, no sign of anxiety, no
tendency to escape. How is it that the experience of centuries, which is
said to teach so much to the lower creatures, has not taught the bee
even the beginning of apine wisdom: a deep-rooted horror of the
Philanthus? Does the bee count upon its sting? But the unhappy creature
is no fencer; it thrusts without method, at random. Nevertheless, let us
watch it at the final and fatal moment.

When the ravisher brings her sting into play the bee also uses its
sting, and with fury. I see the point thrusting now in this direction,
now in that; but in empty air, or grazing and slipping over the
convexity of the murderer's back, which is violently flexed. These blows
have no serious results. In the position assumed by the two as they
struggle the abdomen of the Philanthus is inside and that of the bee
outside; thus the sting of the latter has under its point only the
dorsal face of the enemy, which is convex and slippery, and almost
invulnerable, so well is it armoured. There is no breach there by which
the sting might possibly enter; and the operation takes place with the
certainty of a skilful surgeon using the lancet, despite the indignant