She is dead, really and truly dead.
Laid upon my table and left alone for twenty-four hours, she makes not the slightest movement.

A prick of which my lens cannot see the marks, so sharp-pointed are the Epeira's weapons, was enough, with a little insistence, to kill the powerful animal.

Proportionately, the Rattlesnake, the Horned Viper, the Trigonocephalus and other ill-famed serpents produce less paralysing effects upon their victims.
And these Epeirae, so terrible to insects, I am able to handle without any fear.

My skin does not suit them.

If I persuaded them to bite me, what would happen to me?
Hardly anything.