A last resource remains; and I base great hopes upon it. This is to move my Calicurgi to the very spot of their investigations and to install them at the door of the Arachnid’s house, above the natural burrow. I take the field with an apparatus which I am dragging for the first time into the open, consisting of a glass cover, another of woven wire, together with the different instruments necessary to handle and shift my irascible and dangerous subjects. My search for burrows among the pebbles and the tufts of thyme and lavender soon meets with success. Here is a splendid one. The insertion of a straw informs me that it is inhabited by a Tarantula of a size suited to my plans. I sweep and flatten down the neighbourhood of the orifice to receive the wire bell, under which I place a Pompilus. This is a fitting moment to light one’s pipe and wait, stretched on the pebbles.... A further disappointment! Half an hour passes and the Hymenopteron confines herself to turning round the wire, as she did in my study. Not a sign of cupidity on her part in the presence of that burrow at the bottom of which I see the Tarantula’s diamond eyes gleaming. The wire-work enclosure is replaced by one of glass, the walls of which cannot be scaled, thus obliging the insect to remain on the ground and at last to take notice of the pit, which it seems to ignore. This time, we are more successful. After a few strolls round the circuit, the Calicurgus casts eyes upon the cavity that yawns beneath her feet. She goes down it. This boldness staggers me. I should never have dared expect as much as that. To fling yourself suddenly upon the Tarantula when she is outside her domain is all very well; but to plunge into the lair when the terrible animal is waiting for you there with her double poisoned dagger! What will come of this temerity? A flutter of wings rises from the depths. Run to earth in her private apartments, the Lycosa is doubtless struggling with the intruder. That noise of wings is the song of victory of the Calicurgus, unless, indeed, it be her death-song. The murderer may well be the murdered. Which of the two will emerge from below alive? It is the Lycosa, who hurriedly scampers out and takes up her stand at the entrance to the burrow in her position of defence, with her fangs open and her four front-legs outstretched. Is the other stabbed? Not at all, for she comes out forthwith, not without receiving a cuff, as she passes, from the Arachnid, who at once returns to her den. Dislodged from the basement a second and a third time, the Tarantula always comes up again without a wound, always waits for the invader on the door-sill, administers punishment and pops in again. In vain I alternate my two Pompili and change the burrow: I do not succeed in seeing anything more. Certain conditions, which my stratagems fail to realize, are lacking to the fulfilment of the drama.