ts centre; the marginal belt alone
increases in thickness. The piece thus becomes a bowl-shaped porringer,
surrounded by a wide, flat edge.

The time for the laying has come. With one quick emission, the viscous,
pale-yellow eggs are laid in the basin, where they heap together in the
shape of a globe which projects largely outside the cavity. The
spinnerets are once more set going. With short movements, as the tip of
the abdomen rises and falls to weave the round mat, they cover up the
exposed hemisphere. The result is a pill set in the middle of a circular
carpet.

The legs, hitherto idle, are now working. They take up and break off one
by one the threads that keep the round mat stretched on the coarse
supporting network. At the same time, the fangs grip this sheet, lift it
by degrees, tear it from its base and fold it over upon the globe of
eggs. It is a laborious operation. The whole edifice totters, the floor
collapses, fouled with sand. By a movement of the legs, those soiled
shreds are cast aside. Briefly, by means of violent tugs of the fangs,
which pull, and broom-like efforts of the legs, which clear away, the
Lycosa extricates the bag of eggs and removes it as a clear-cut mass,
free from any adhesion.

It is a white-silk pill, soft to the touch and glutinous. Its size is
that of an average cherry. An observant eye will notice, running
horizontally around the middle, a fold which a needle is able to raise
without breaking it. This hem, generally undistinguishable from the rest
of the surface, is none other than the edge of the circular mat, drawn
over the lower hemisphere. The other hemisphere, through which the
youngsters will go out, is less well fortified: its only wrapper is the
texture spun over the eggs immediately after they were laid.

Inside, there is nothing but the eggs: no mattress, no soft eiderdown,
like that of the Epeirae. The Lycosa, indeed, has no need to guard her
eggs against the inclemencies of the winter, for the hatching will take
place long before the cold weather comes. Similarly, the Thomisus, with
her early brood, takes good care not to incur useless expenditure: she
gives her eggs, for their protection, a simple purse of satin.

The work of spinning, followed by that of tearing, is continued for a
whole morning, from five to nine o'clock. Worn out with fatigue, the
mother embraces her dear pill and remains motionless. I shall see no
more to-day. Next morning,