prisoner is satisfied with her new abode and manifests no
regret for her natural burrow. There is no attempt at flight on her
part. Let me not omit to add that each pan must receive not more than
one inhabitant. The Lycosa is very intolerant. To her, a neighbour is
fair game, to be eaten without scruple when one has might on one's side.
Time was when, unaware of this fierce intolerance, which is more savage
still at breeding-time, I saw hideous orgies perpetrated in my
overstocked cages. I shall have occasion to describe those tragedies
later.

Let us meanwhile consider the isolated Lycosae. They do not touch up the
dwelling which I have moulded for them with a bit of reed; at most, now
and again, perhaps with the object of forming a lounge or bedroom at the
bottom, they fling out a few loads of rubbish. But all, little by
little, build the kerb that is to edge the mouth.

I have given them plenty of first-rate materials, far superior to those
which they use when left to their own resources. These consist, first,
for the foundations, of little smooth stones, some of which are as large
as an almond. With this road-metal are mingled short strips of raphia,
or palm-fibre, flexible ribbons, easily bent. These stand for the
Spider's usual basket-work, consisting of slender stalks and dry blades
of grass. Lastly, by way of an unprecedented treasure, never yet
employed by a Lycosa, I place at my captives' disposal some thick threads
of wool, cut into inch lengths.

As I wish, at the same time, to find out whether my animals, with the
magnificent lenses of their eyes, are able to distinguish colours and
prefer one colour to another, I mix up bits of wool of different hues:
there are red, green, white and yellow pieces. If the Spider have any
preference, she can choose where she pleases.

The Lycosa always works at night, a regrettable circumstance, which does
not allow me to follow the worker's methods. I see the result; and that
is all. Were I to visit the building-yard by the light of a lantern, I
should be no wiser. The animal, which is very shy, would at once dive
into her lair; and I should have lost my sleep for nothing. Furthermore,
she is not a very diligent labourer; she likes to take her time. Two or
three bits of wool or raphia placed in position represent a whole night's
work. And to this slowness we must add long spells of utter idleness.

Two months pass; and the result of my liberality surpa