ain.

Perseverance spells success. The pair are now face to face, she
motionless and grave, he all excitement. With the tip of his leg, he
ventures to touch the plump wench. He has gone too far, daring youth
that he is! Panic-stricken, he takes a header, hanging by his safety-
line. It is only for a moment, however. Up he comes again. He has
learnt, from certain symptoms, that we are at last yielding to his
blandishments.

With his legs and especially with his palpi, or feelers, he teases the
buxom gossip, who answers with curious skips and bounds. Gripping a
thread with her front tarsi, or fingers, she turns, one after the other,
a number of back somersaults, like those of an acrobat on the trapeze.
Having done this, she presents the under-part of her paunch to the dwarf
and allows him to fumble at it a little with his feelers. Nothing more:
it is done.

The object of the expedition is attained. The whipper-snapper makes off
at full speed, as though he had the Furies at his heels. If he remained,
he would presumably be eaten. These exercises on the tight-rope are not
repeated. I kept watch in vain on the following evenings: I never saw
the fellow again.

When he is gone, the bride descends from the cable, spins her web and
assumes the hunting-attitude. We must eat to have silk, we must have
silk to eat and especially to weave the expensive cocoon of the family.
There is therefore no rest, not even after the excitement of being
married.

The Epeirae are monuments of patience in their lime-snare. With her head
down and her eight legs wide-spread, the Spider occupies the centre of
the web, the receiving-point of the information sent along the spokes. If
anywhere, behind or before, a vibration occur, the sign of a capture, the
Epeira knows about it, even without the aid of sight. She hastens up at
once.

Until then, not a movement: one would think that the animal was
hypnotized by her watching. At most, on the appearance of anything
suspicious, she begins shaking her nest. This is her way of inspiring
the intruder with awe. If I myself wish to provoke the singular alarm, I
have but to tease the Epeira with a bit of straw. You cannot have a
swing without an impulse of some sort. The terror-stricken Spider, who
wishes to strike terror into others, has hit upon something much better.
With nothing to push her, she swings with her floor of ropes. There is
no effort, no visible exertion. Not a sin