but vertical, and tried to pull herself up on to her feet; and when, after two unsuccessful attempts, she at last succeeded, she walked the entire length of the ladder, catching one rung after the other. On reaching the end her support failed, she stumbled and fell; but, nothing daunted, she caught at the end of one of its enormous poles with her tiny hands, pulled herself up, doubled the promontory, looked at René-Jean and Gros-Alain, and burst out laughing. [Illustration 098] III. [Illustration 099] Just then René-Jean, satisfied with the result of his investigations of the woodlouse, raised his head and affirmed,-- "It is a female." Georgette's laughter made René-Jean laugh, and Gros-Alain laughed because his brother did. Georgette having effected her object and joined her brothers, they sat round upon the floor as in a sort of diminutive chamber, but their friend the woodlouse had vanished. It had taken advantage of Georgette's laughter and hidden itself away in a crack. Other events followed the visit of the woodlouse. First some swallows flew by. Their nests were probably under the eaves. They flew quite close to the window, somewhat startled at the sight of the children, describing great circles in the air, and uttering their sweet spring note. This made the three children look up, and the woodlouse was forgotten. Georgette pointed her finger at the swallows, crying,-- "Biddies!" [Illustration 100] René-Jean reprimanded her,-- I "You mustn't say 'biddies,' missy; you must say 'birds.'" "'Bir's,'" said Georgette. And, all three watched the swallows. Then a bee flew in. Nothing reminds one of the human soul more than the bee, which goes from flower to flower as a soul from star to star, gathering honey as the soul absorbs the light. This one came buzzing in with an air of great stir, as if it said: "Here I am; I have just seen the roses, and now I have come to see the children. What is going on here, I should like to know?" A bee is a housekeeper, scolding as it hums. As long as the bee stayed, the children never once moved their eyes from it. It explored the entire library, rummaging in every corner, flying about quite as if it were at home in its hive; winged and melodious, it darted from case to case, peering through the glass at the titles of the books, just as if it had a brain, and having paid its visit, it flew away. "It has gone home," said René-Jean. "It is an animal," remarked Gros-Alain. "No," replied René-Jean, "it is a fly." "A f'y,'" said Georgette. Then Gros-Alain, who had just found a string on the floor with a knot in the end, took the other end between his thumb and his forefinger, and having made a sort of windmill of the string, he was deeply absorbed in watching its whirling.