eshold, with her head and thorax outside the
hole. The Gnat, on her side, does not stir.

Often, they are face to face, separated by a space no wider than a
finger's breadth. Neither of them shows the least excitement. The
Halictus--judging, at least, by her tranquillity--takes no notice of
the parasite lying in wait for her; the parasite, on the other hand,
displays no fear of being punished for her audacity. She remains
imperturbable, she, the dwarf, in the presence of the colossus who could
crush her with one blow.

In vain I watch anxiously for some sign of apprehension on either side:
nothing in the Halictus points to a knowledge of the danger run by
her family; nor does the Gnat betray any dread of swift retribution.
Plunderer and plundered stare at each other for a moment; and that is
all.

If she liked, the amiable giantess could rip up with her claw the tiny
bandit who ruins her home; she could crunch her with her mandibles, run
her through with her stiletto. She does nothing of the sort, but leaves
the robber in peace, to sit quite close, motionless, with her red eyes
fixed on the threshold of the house. Why this fatuous clemency?

The Bee flies off. Forthwith, the Gnat walks in, with no more ceremony
than if she were entering her own place. She now chooses among the
victualled cells at her ease, for they are all open, as I have said;
she leisurely deposits her eggs. No one will disturb her until the Bee's
return. To flour one's legs with pollen, to distend one's crop with
syrup is a task that takes long a-doing; and the intruder, therefore,
has time and to spare wherein to commit her felony. Moreover, her
chronometer is well-regulated and gives the exact measure of the Bee's
length of absence. When the Halictus comes back from the fields, the
Gnat has decamped. In some favourable spot, not far from the burrow, she
awaits the opportunity for a fresh misdeed.

What would happen if a parasite were surprised at her work by the Bee?
Nothing serious. I see them, greatly daring, follow the Halictus right
into the cave and remain there for some time while the mixture of pollen
and honey is being prepared. Unable to make use of the paste so long as
the harvester is kneading it, they go back to the open air and wait
on the threshold for the Bee to come out. They return to the sunlight,
calmly, with unhurried steps: a clear proof that nothing untoward has
occurred in the depths where the Halictus works.

A tap on