CHAPTER VIII 



THE BRIDE-WIDOW 



IN the heat and glow of the fine June morning 

 you may see her, the young virgin queen, 

 making ready for her nuptial flight. 



At first she is all hesitancy ; wandering to and 

 fro amidst the crowd on the hive-threshold ; 

 coquetting with the sunshine ; loath to return to 

 the dim, pent, murmurous twilight she has for- 

 saken, yet hardly daring to launch herself on 

 wings that are still untried. 



For three long days and nights since her release 

 from the prison-cell she has been a curiously soli- 

 tary figure in the busy throng within the hive. 

 Instead of the enthusiastic, welcoming world she 

 expected, she finds none but unregarding strangers 

 about her. Not a drone glances her way, and the 

 worker-bees go upon their business in seeming 

 unconcern at her presence. They do not even 

 trouble themselves to feed her, and she is left to 

 forage for herself as best she may. A con- 

 spiracy of indifference is on the clan — all part of 

 a deep design for her education, if she only 



117 



