lovely, pure, and exquisite against the blue
of the heavens. The delicious perfume, the gleam and the
shimmer--oh, she'd never forget the rapture of it as long as
she lived.

As she flew she thought of how all that beauty would come again,
and her heart expanded with delight in the glory of the great
world in which she was permitted to live.

At the end of the garden shone the starry tufts of the
jasmine--delicate yellow faces set in a wreath of pure
white--sweet perfume wafted to Maya on the soft wings of the
breeze.

And weren't there still some trees in bloom? Wasn't it the
season for lindens? Maya thought delightedly of the big serious
lindens, whose tops held the red glow of the setting sun to the
very last.

She flew in among the stems of the blackberry vines, which were
putting forth green berries and yielding blossoms at the same
time. As she mounted again to reach the jasmine, something
strange to the touch suddenly laid itself across her forehead
and shoulders, and just as quickly covered her wings. It was the
queerest sensation, as if her wings were crippled and she were
suddenly restrained in her flight, and were falling, helplessly
falling. A secret, wicked force seemed to be holding her
feelers, her legs, her wings in invisible captivity. But she did
not fall. Though she could no longer move her wings, she still
hung in the air rocking, caught by a marvelously yielding
softness and delicacy, raised a little, lowered a little, tossed
here, tossed there, like a loose leaf in a faint breeze.

Maya was troubled, but not as yet actually terrified. Why should
she be? There was no pain nor real discomfort of any sort.
Simply that it was so peculiar, so very peculiar, and something
bad seemed to be lurking in the background. She must get on. If
she tried very hard, she could, assuredly.

But now she saw a thread across her breast, an elastic silvery
thread finer than the finest silk. She clutched at it quickly,
in a cold wave of terror. It clung to her hand; it wouldn't
shake off. And there ran another silver thread over her
shoulders. It drew itself across her wings and tied them
together--her wings were powerless. And there, and there!
Everywhere in the air and above her body--those bright,
glittering, gluey threads!

Maya screamed with horror. Now she knew! Oh--oh, now she knew!
She was in a spider's web.

Her terrified shrieks rang out in the silent dome of the summer
day, where the sunshine to