THE WRATH OF THE BEE 



3 



The bee, essentially so pacific, so forbearing, who never 

 stings (unless you touch her) when looting among the flowers, 

 the bee, once she has returned to her kingdom with the waxen 

 monuments, either retains her mild and tolerant character, 

 or grows violent and deadly dangerous, according as her ma- 

 ternal city be opulent or poor. Here again, as often happens 

 when we study the manners of this spirited and mysterious 

 little people, the previsions of human logic are utterly at fault. 

 It were but natural that the bees should defend desper- 

 ately treasures so laboriously amassed, a city such as we 

 find in good apiaries, where the nectar, overflowing the 

 numberless cells that represent thousands of casks piled 

 from cellar to garret, streams in golden stalactites along 

 the rustling walls and sends far afield, in glad response 

 to the ephemeral perfumes of calyces that are opening, 

 the more lasting perfume of the honey that keeps alive 

 the memory of calyces which time has closed. Now this 

 is not the case. The richer their abode, the less eagerness do 

 they show to fight round about it. Open or overturn a 

 wealthy hive: if you take care to drive the sentries from the 

 entrance with a whiff of tobacco smoke, it will be extremely 



[207] 



