After the exodus of the young, when she deserts her tent of swansdown, half a finger’s-breadth in thickness, very warm and soft, but blocked with rubbish which would hamper a second family, the Clotho Spider [72] proceeds to fashion elsewhere a light hammock with a canopy, an inexpensive summer-house where she will pass the remainder of the warm weather. Those who are not yet marriageable ask no better protection against the inclemencies of the winter; their robust powers of endurance are satisfied with a muslin tent under the shelter of a stone. The matrons, on the other hand, as the heat begins to decrease, hasten to enlarge and strengthen their cells, lavishing upon them the contents of their silk-reservoirs, which the hunting-expeditions of the fine summer nights have left distended. When the sharp white-frosts set in they will doubtless find more comfort in their luxurious mansions than in the first rickety hovels; nevertheless, they do not build them precisely for themselves but rather for the use of their expected offspring; wherefore the walls are never stout nor the feather-beds downy enough. The superb structure of the Clotho is above all a nest, beside which those of the Chaffinch and the Siskin are but squatter’s huts. The mother, it is true, does not sit upon her eggs, being as she is without an incubator; she does not feed her offspring, who for that matter do not require her assistance; but the part which she plays is, none the less, one of exquisite tenderness. For seven or eight months she watches over her brood, protecting it with a devotion equal to that of the bird, or even greater. Maternity, the supreme inspiration of the noblest instincts, has thousands upon thousands of masterpieces to bear witness to its skill. Let us recall that of the Labyrinth Spider. [73] What a wonderful achievement is the spacious building where the mother mounts guard about the star-shaped tabernacle, the family cradle! What an eminently logical stronghold is this rampart of silk reinforced by masonry, to protect the eggs from the probe of the Ichneumon-fly! Similarly, each mother has her own defensive methods, which are sometimes the most ingenious inventions and sometimes devices of extreme simplicity. The strange thing is that the distribution of talents takes no account whatever of the insect hierarchy. Certain insects of the highest rank, protected by sumptuous wing-cases, or sporting lofty plumes, or attired in garments of imbricated gold scales, are almost or quite incapable of doing anything; they are magnificent duffers, whereas others, among the very humblest, and passing unperceived, amaze us by their talents when we grant them our attention. But do not things happen likewise amongst ourselves? True merit shuns indolent luxury. If we are to turn to the best advantage the little good which may lie hidden within us, we must feel the incentive of need. As long as nineteen centuries ago, Persius prefaced his satires with the lines: