324 THE QUEEN-BEE. 
To one alone they give love, and for themselves preserve nothing but 
wisdom. 
The characteristic attribute of this child of grace, of whom the 
whole multitude is enamoured, is certain beautiful long legs of gold, 
or rather of transparent amber, of a gilded yellow. This rich colour 
lends nobility to her belly, and is also found on the edge of her dorsal 
rings. Elegant, svelte, and noble, she is freed from the drudgery 
of dragging the industrial apparatus which overloads the worker,— 
brushes and panniers. Like all the bees, she carries a sword,—I mean 
the sting,—but never uses it except in a personal combat; nor has she 
many occasions, being so surrounded, beset, and overwhelmed with an 
excess of love. 
This mother is very timorous, a trifle is sufficient to terrify her; at 
the slightest danger she takes to flight, and conceals herself at the 
bottom of the hive. Her head is not very large, and the unique func- 
tion which so distinguishes her, is not one of those which tend to 
expand the brain. The others have more opportunity of acquiring 
knowledge and varying their accomplishments. The little gleaners 
gather a wide experience of the country and of life. The bee-architects, 
who, moreover, attend to a thousand unforeseen domestic affairs, are 
compelled to think and develop their intelligence. The mother has but 
two duties to fulfil. 
On a sunny day in spring, about three hours after noon, she issues 
forth, and out of a myriad males or more she selects a spouse, carries 
him off a moment on her wings, and then rejects him, mutilated; he 
does not survive his felicity. She re-enters her hive, and all is ended. 
She is impregnated for four years, the ordinary term of her existence. 
No loves can be briefer or more chaste. All her toil, by day and night, 
without distinction of season,—except for three months of lethargy in 
rigorous winters,—is to lay eggs everywhere, and without cessation. 
She flies from cellule to cellule, and in each deposits an egg. Nothing 
more is required of her. She was born for this destiny, and her people 
prosper in proportion to her fecundity. If she fell barren, all would 
languish,—as well as the activity, the labour, and the love which 
