THE WRATH OF THE BEE 



from the abodes of want! Here, smoke has lost its spell; and 

 you shall scarce have emitted the first whiffs before twenty 

 thousand vicious and frenzied demons will dart from within 

 the walls, overwhelm your hands, blind your eyes and blacken 

 your face. No living being, except, they say, the bear and the 

 Sphinx Atropos, can resist the rage of the mailed legions. 

 Above all, do not struggle: their fury would seize the neigh- 

 bouring colonies; and the smell of discharged venom would 

 incense all the republics around. There is no means of safety 

 other than instant flight through the bushes. The bee is less 

 rancorous, less implacable than the wasp and rarely pursues 

 her enemy. If flight be impossible, absolute immobility alone 

 might calm her or put her off. She is frightened by and re- 

 gents any too sudden movement, but at once forgives that which 

 no longer stirs. 



The poor hives live, or rather die, from day to day; and 

 it is because they have no honey in their cellars that smoke 

 makes no impression on the bees. They cannot gorge them- 

 selves like their sisters that belong to more prosperous com- 

 munities ; the possibilities of a future city are not there to divert 

 their ardour. Their only thought is to perish on the outraged 

 threshold, and, lean, shrunk, agile, rabid, they defend it with 



[211] 



