336 THE INSECT WORLD. 
also, as if to look at her. They advance briskly towards her, 
strike her with their heads, and mount on her back. She 
then dashes off, carrying with her some of the workers. Not 
one of them offers her honey; she takes it herself from the open 
cells, which are for the use of the whole hive. They no longer 
draw up in line on each side of her as she moves along, her 
guard of honour no longer surrounds her; she seems fallen from 
her high rank. 
However, the first bees which were disturbed by her now follow, 
running like herself, and spread alarm in their turn among 
the rest of the population. The road which the queen has tra- 
versed is to be recognised by the excitement which she has caused 
on her passage, and which cannot now be calmed. Very soon 
she has visited every corner of the hive, so that the fever has 
become general. She now no longer lays her eggs in the cells, 
but lets them fall anywhere at random. She seems to have lost 
her wits. 
The nurses in their turn are attacked with the contagion. They 
pay no attention now to their charges. Those which return from 
the country have no sooner entered the hive than they take part in 
these tumultuous movements, and give themselves up to the general 
excitement. Not even thinking of depositing the pellets of 
pollen which they carry on their legs, they run about apparently 
without aim. The delirium takes possession of the whole republic. 
The end of all this is a general sortie. The whole hive, with the 
queen at its head, precipitates itself towards the door, and issues 
forth to create a swarm. Once in the fresh air, they become 
quiet. Their madness subsides, and they fix themselves to a branch 
of a tree, and having been captured, set to work again as usual. 
Francis Huber often remarked that, in a swarm which had started, 
if the queen, who directed the flight, were seized and killed, im- 
mediately all the bees would return to the hive. It would seem 
that, having lost their chief, they acknowledged themselves inca- 
pable of forming a colony. 
A swarm never comes out except on a fine day, or, to speak more 
accurately, at an hour of the day when the sun is shining, when 
the air is calm, and the sky clear. It is generally between ten 
o’clock in the morning and three o’clock in the afternoon. ‘“ We 
