formidable neighbour. I see one side by side with the Philanthus on
the same honeyed thistle-head: assassin and future victim are drinking
from the same flask. I see some one who comes heedlessly to enquire who
that stranger can be, crouching in wait on the table. When the spoiler
makes her rush, it is usually at a Bee who meets her half-way, and, so
to speak, flings herself into her clutches, either thoughtlessly or out
of curiosity. There is no wild terror, no sign of anxiety, no tendency
to make off. How comes it that the experience of the ages, that
experience which, we are told, teaches the animal so many things, has
not taught the Bee the first element of apiarian wisdom: a deep-seated
horror of the Philanthus? Can the poor wretch take comfort by relying on
her trusty dagger? But she yields to none in her ignorance of fencing;
she stabs without method, at random. However, let us watch her at the
supreme moment of the killing.

When the ravisher makes play with her sting, the Bee does the same with
hers and furiously. I see the needle now moving this way or that way
in space, now slipping, violently curved, along the murderess' convex
surface. These sword-thrusts have no serious results. The manner
in which the two combatants are at grips has this effect, that the
Philanthus' abdomen is inside and the Bee's outside. The latter's sting
therefore finds under its point only the dorsal surface of the foe,
a convex, slippery surface and so well armoured as to be almost
invulnerable. There is here no breach into which the weapon can slip
by accident; and so the operation is conducted with absolute surgical
safety, notwithstanding the indignant protests of the patient.

After the fatal stroke has been administered, the murderess remains for
a long time belly to belly with the dead, for reasons which we shall
shortly perceive. There may now be some danger for the Philanthus. The
attitude of attack and defence is abandoned; and the ventral surface,
more vulnerable than the other, is within reach of the sting. Now the
deceased still retains the reflex use of her weapon for a few minutes,
as I learnt to my cost. Having taken the Bee too early from the
bandit and handling her without suspecting any risk, I received a most
downright sting. Then how does the Philanthus, in her long contact with
the butchered Bee, manage to protect herself against that lancet, which
is bent upon avenging the murder? Is there any chance of a comm