mentary resource, especially when, in common with
the others, she has the banqueting-hall of the flowers. I cannot accept
her atrocious talent as inspired merely by the craving for a feast
obtained at the expense of an empty stomach. Something certainly escapes
us: the why and wherefore of that crop drained dry. A creditable motive
may lie hidden behind the horrors which I have related. What is it?

Any one can understand the vagueness of the observer's mind when he
first asks himself this question. The reader is entitled to be treated
with consideration. I will spare him the recital of my suspicions, my
gropings and my failures and will come straight to the results of my
long investigation. Everything has its harmonious reason for existence.
I am too fully persuaded of this to believe that the Philanthus pursues
her habit of profaning corpses solely to satisfy her greed. What does
the emptied crop portend? May it not be that...? Why, yes.... After all,
who knows?... Let us try along these lines.

The mother's first care is the welfare of the family. So far, we have
seen the Philanthus hunting only for her stomach's sake; let us watch
her hunting as a mother. Nothing is easier than to distinguish the two
performances. When the Wasp wants a few good mouthfuls and nothing more,
she scornfully abandons the Bee after picking her crop. The Bee is
to her a worthless remnant, which will shrivel where it lies and be
dissected by the Ants. If, on the other hand, she wants to stow away
the Bee as a provision for her larvae, she clasps her in her two
intermediate legs and, walking on the other four, goes round and round
the edge of the bell-glass, seeking for an outlet through which to fly
off with her prey. When she recognizes the circular track as impossible,
she climbs up the sides, this time holding the Bee by the antennae with
her mandibles and clinging to the polished and perpendicular surface
with her six feet. She reaches the top of the glass, stays for a little
while in the hollow of the knob at the top, returns to the ground,
resumes her circling and her climbing and does not decide to relinquish
her Bee until she has stubbornly attempted every means of escape. This
persistence on her part to retain her hold on the cumbrous burden tells
us pretty plainly that the game would go straight to the cells if the
Philanthus had her liberty.

Well, these Bees intended for the larvae are stung under the chin like
the others; the