ure and
lovingly embraces it, ready to bite whoso would take it from her. I
myself am sometimes the thief. I then hear the points of the
poison-fangs grinding against the steel of my pincers, which tug in one
direction while the Lycosa tugs in the other. But let us leave the
animal alone: with a quick touch of the spinnerets, the pill is restored
to its place; and the Spider strides off, still menacing.

Towards the end of summer, all the householders, old or young, whether in
captivity on the window-sill or at liberty in the paths of the enclosure,
supply me daily with the following improving sight. In the morning, as
soon as the sun is hot and beats upon their burrow, the anchorites come
up from the bottom with their bag and station themselves at the opening.
Long siestas on the threshold in the sun are the order of the day
throughout the fine season; but, at the present time, the position
adopted is a different one. Formerly, the Lycosa came out into the sun
for her own sake. Leaning on the parapet, she had the front half of her
body outside the pit and the hinder half inside.

The eyes took their fill of light; the belly remained in the dark. When
carrying her egg-bag, the Spider reverses the posture: the front is in
the pit, the rear outside. With her hind-legs she holds the white pill
bulging with germs lifted above the entrance; gently she turns and
returns it, so as to present every side to the life-giving rays. And
this goes on for half the day, so long as the temperature is high; and it
is repeated daily, with exquisite patience, during three or four weeks.
To hatch its eggs, the bird covers them with the quilt of its breast; it
strains them to the furnace of its heart. The Lycosa turns hers in front
of the hearth of hearths, she gives them the sun as an incubator.

In the early days of September, the young ones, who have been some time
hatched, are ready to come out. The pill rips open along the middle
fold. We read of the origin of this fold in an earlier chapter. {24}
Does the mother, feeling the brood quicken inside the satin wrapper,
herself break open the vessel at the opportune moment? It seems
probable. On the other hand, there may be a spontaneous bursting, such
as we shall see later in the Banded Epeira's balloon, a tough wallet
which opens a breach of its own accord, long after the mother has ceased
to exist.

The whole family emerges from the bag straightway. Then and there, the