It was an extraordinary creature. I knew by its conduct one or two days in advance whether we were to have fair weather, storm or rain, indicated by the position which my barometer assumed in the middle of its web. Before a coming storm it held tightly to the web with all its feet or even bound itself to it with extra threads; before rain it rolled itself into a ball in one corner of the web and gathered all its legs up underneath its body; while, when dry, hot weather was approaching, it spread its legs as widely as it could, holding on with only two, or even at times with only one of them. I used to wonder whether the spider had rheumatism or had suffered some accident like mine in Udzimi, as I was also very sensitive to all changes in the weather.
But what was more incredible and strange for me was the conduct of my spider when I was in low spirits or filled with longing to be away. Whereas it was usually quite indifferent to me, at such times it showed definite signs of nervous agitation, running across its web, as if to attract my attention, and, when it found this of no avail, even making the web sway back and forth and swinging from it.
One day I sat near the table in a brown study, pressing my head between my hands. Sad thoughts filled my mind, and I was far away from the prison walls, even far away from Asia. Suddenly I felt as though some one were carefully observing me, but I looked round and saw nobody. Glancing about for the spider, I could not find it anywhere. It was neither on its web nor in the window. As this was its first disappearance since it had taken up lodgings with me, I made a search of the walls and room and finally located it. It was right there on the table before me, having let itself down from the ceiling by its self-made aerial route and landed on a clean sheet
