It is to that same ravine that I invite my reader, if he is not repelled by the small annoyances of which I have given him a foretaste. S. occitanica haunts these parts, not in numbers giving one another rendezvous when nidification is going on, but solitary individuals far apart, wherever their vagabond peregrinations have led them. Just as their relative S. flavipennis seeks the society of relations and the animation of a work-yard and company, so, on the other hand, does the Languedocian Sphex prefer calm, isolation, and solitude. Graver in behaviour, more formal in manner, more elegant of figure, and in more sombre attire, she always lives apart, careless of what others are doing, disdaining companionship, a very misanthrope among Sphegidæ. S. flavipennis is sociable; S. occitanica is unsociable—a profound difference, alone sufficient to characterise them. This suggests how greatly the difficulty of observing the latter is increased. No long meditated experiment is possible, nor can one attempt to repeat it a second time if the first has failed. If you make preparations beforehand,—for instance, if you put in reserve a piece of game to substitute for that of the Sphex,—it is to be feared, indeed it is almost certain, that she will not appear, or if she comes, your preparations turn out useless. Everything must be improvised at once—conditions which I have not always been able to realise as I could have wished. Let us take courage; the position is good. Many a time I have here surprised the Sphex reposing on a vine-leaf, exposed to the full rays of the sun. The insect, lying flat and spread out, is voluptuously enjoying the delights of warmth and light. From time to time a kind of frenzy of pleasure bursts forth in her; she thrills with well-being, drums rapidly on her resting-place with the points of her feet, and produces a sound somewhat like the roll of a drum, or heavy rain falling on foliage perpendicularly. You may hear this joyous drumming several paces off. Then again comes perfect stillness, followed by a fresh nervous commotion, and that waving of tarsi which is a sign of supreme happiness. I have known some of these ardent sun-worshippers suddenly leave a half-finished burrow to settle on a neighbouring vine and take a bath of sun and light, returning reluctantly to give a careless sweep to the hole, and finally abandon the workshop, unable longer to resist the temptation of luxuriating on a vine leaf. Perhaps this voluptuous resting-place is also an observatory whence to inspect the neighbourhood, and espy and choose prey. This Sphex catches only the ephippiger of the vine, scattered here and there on the leaves or on any convenient bush. The game is succulent—all the more that only females full of eggs are selected.