I have given them plenty of first-rate materials, far superior to those which they use when left to their own resources.  These consist, first, for the foundations, of little smooth stones, some of which are as large as an almond.  With this road-metal are mingled short strips of raphia, or palm-fibre, flexible ribbons, easily bent.  These stand for the Spider’s usual basket-work, consisting of slender stalks and dry blades of grass.  Lastly, by way of an unprecedented treasure, never yet employed by a Lycosa, I place at my captives’ disposal some thick threads of wool, cut into inch lengths.

As I wish, at the same time, to find out whether my animals, with the magnificent lenses of their eyes, are able to distinguish colours and prefer one colour to another, I mix up bits of wool of different hues:  there are red, green, white and yellow pieces.  If the Spider have any preference, she can choose where she pleases.

The Lycosa always works at night, a regrettable circumstance, which does not allow me to follow the worker’s methods.  I see the result; and that is all.  Were I to visit the building-yard by the light of a lantern, I should be no wiser.  The animal, which is very shy, would at once dive into her lair; and I should have lost my sleep for nothing.  Furthermore, she is not a very diligent labourer; she likes to take her time.  Two or three bits of wool or raphia placed in position represent a whole night’s work.  And to this slowness we must add long spells of utter idleness.

Two months pass; and the result of my liberality surpasses my expectations.  Possessing more windfalls than they know what to do with, all picked up in their immediate neighbourhood, my Lycosae have built themselves donjon-keeps the like of which their race has not yet known.  Around the orifice, on a slightly sloping bank, small, flat, smooth stones have been laid to form a broken, flagged pavement.  The larger stones, which are Cyclopean blocks compared with the size of the animal that has shifted them, are employed as abundantly as the others.

On this rockwork stands the donjon.  It is an interlacing of raphia and bits of wool, picked up at random, without distinction of shade.  Red and white, green and yellow are mixed without any attempt at order.  The Lycosa is indifferent to the joys of colour.

The ultimate result is a sort of muff, a couple of inches high.  Bands of silk, supplied by the spinnerets, unite the pieces, so that the whole resembles a coarse fabric.  Without being absolutely faultless, for there are always awkward pieces on the outside, which the worker could not handle, the gaudy building is not devoid of merit.  The bird lining its nest would do no better.  Whoso sees the curious, many-coloured productions in my pans takes them for an outcome of my industry, contrived with a view to some experimental mischief; and his surprise is great when I confess who the real author is.  No one would ever believe the Spider capable of constructing such a monument.