"The order did not come before."

"Patience! let us be gone!"

Notwithstanding I had suffered so greatly in this prison, it gave me
pain to leave it; not simply because it would have been best for the
winter season, but for many other reasons. There I had the ants to
attract my attention, which I had fed and looked upon, I may almost
say, with paternal care. Within the last few days, however, my
friend the spider, and my great ally in my war with the gnats, had,
for some reason or other, chosen to emigrate; at least he did not
come as usual. "Yet perhaps," said I, "he may remember me, and come
back, but he will find my prison empty, or occupied by some other
guest--no friend perhaps to spiders--and thus meet with an awkward
reception. His fine woven house, and his gnat-feasts will all be
put an end to."

Again, my gloomy abode had been embellished by the presence of
Angiola, so good, so gentle and compassionate. There she used to
sit, and try every means she could devise to amuse me, even dropping
crumbs of bread for my little visitors, the ants; and there I heard
her sobs, and saw the tears fall thick and fast, as she spoke of her
cruel lover.

The place I was removed to was under the leaden prisons, (I Piombi)
open to the north and west, with two windows, one on each side; an
abode exposed to perpetual cold and even icy chill during the
severest months. The window to the west was the largest, that to
the north was high and narrow, and situated above my bed.