This last scene was enacted on one of the deeply-sunken roads on the outskirts of Carpentras, whither Fabre was fond of repairing for his researches. From an early period, indeed, his craze for exploration had led him far beyond the Avignon district. On this third stage of his excursions, he struck out to some extent in all directions, but the locality which he preferred for his insect-hunting was undoubtedly the “Sunken Road,” as it was called, in the neighbourhood of Carpentras. A lonely valley with a sandy soil, with high, steep slopes on either hand, its flanks deeply scored into ravines and burned by the sun, the “Sunken Road” was an ideal home for the Hymenoptera, those lovers of sunny slopes and soils that are easily worked; and this was enough to make it the favourite haunt of the intrepid biologist. [54] Among the Hymenoptera that frequent the slopes and embankments of the “Sunken Road,” in addition to the Hunting-wasps, which feed their larvæ on living flesh, there are other species which provide them with honey. These also attracted the naturalist’s attention; these also provided a protracted test for his ingenuity and patience, and finally rewarded his pains beyond all hopes. The following is an interesting description of the naturalist’s encounter with a swarm of Bees in the “Sunken Road” while endeavouring to observe the installation of the Sitares in the cell of the Anthophora: In front of a high expanse of earth a swarm stimulated by the sun, which floods it with light and heat, is dancing a crazy ballet. It is a hover of Anthophoræ, a few feet thick and covering an area which matches the sort of house-front formed by the perpendicular soil. From the tumultuous heart of the cloud rises a monotonous, threatening murmur, while the bewildered eye strays through the inextricable evolutions of the eager throng. With the rapidity of a lightning-flash, thousands of Anthophoræ are incessantly flying off and scattering over the country-side in search of booty; thousands of others also are incessantly arriving, laden with honey or mortar, and keeping up the formidable proportions of the swarm. I was at that time something of a novice as regards the nature of these insects. “Woe,” said I to myself, “woe to the reckless wight bold enough to enter the heart of this swarm and, above all, to lay a rash hand upon the dwellings under construction! Forthwith surrounded by the furious host, he would expiate his rash attempt, stabbed by a thousand stings!” At this thought, rendered still more alarming by the recollection of certain misadventures of which I had been the victim when seeking to observe too closely the combs of the Hornet (Vespa crabro), I felt a shiver of apprehension pass through my body.