The love of lucre has laid waste the land.

Because wine paid handsomely, they pulled up the forest to plant the vine.

Then came the Phylloxera, the vine-stocks perished and the once green table-land is now no more than a desolate stretch where a few tufts of hardy grasses sprout among the pebbles.

This waste-land is the Lycosa's paradise: in an hour's time, if need were, I should discover a hundred burrows within a limited range.
These dwellings are pits about a foot deep, perpendicular at first and then bent elbow-wise.

The average diameter is an inch.