To produce his masterpiece, the sculptor retires to his den. Even so the Sacred Beetle. She shuts herself down in her crypt, to model, in contemplative seclusion, the materials introduced. Two opportunities offer for obtaining the block to be worked. In the one case, the Scarab gathers from the heap, according to the method which we know, a choice block, which is kneaded into a ball on the spot and which is already spherical before it is set in motion. Were it only a question of provisions intended for her own meals, she would never act otherwise. When she thinks the ball of sufficient bulk, if the place do not suit her wherein to dig the burrow, she sets out with her rolling burden, walking at random till she lights upon a favourable spot. During the journey, the ball, without improving upon the perfect sphere which it was at the start, hardens a little on the surface and becomes encrusted with earth and little grains of sand. This earthy rind, picked up on the road, is an authentic sign of a more or less long excursion. The detail is not without importance; it will serve us presently. Less frequently, the spot close to the heap whence the block has been extracted satisfies the insect as suitable for the excavation of the burrow. The soil is free from pebbles and easy to dig. Here, no journey is necessary, nor, therefore, any ball convenient for transit. The soft biscuit of the sheep is gathered and stored as found and enters the workshop a shapeless mass, either in one piece, or, if need be, in different lumps. This case occurs seldom in the natural state, because of the coarseness of the ground, which abounds with broken stones. Sites practicable for easy digging are few and far between and the insect has to roam about, with its burden, to find them. In my voleries, on the other hand, where the earthy layer has been purged with the sieve, it is the usual case. Here the earth is easy to dig at any point; wherefore the mother, working for her laying, is content to lower the nearest morsel underground, without giving it any definite shape. Whether the storing without preliminary ball or conveyance be achieved in the fields or in my voleries, the final result is most striking. One day, I see a shapeless lump disappear into the crypt. The next day, or the day after, I visit the workshop and find the artist face to face with her work. The uncouth mass of the start, the loose shreds introduced by armfuls have become a pear of perfect accuracy and conscientious finish.