The Swarm 



essential again, with no successor to hope 

 for, or perhaps to fear, will renounce 

 for this year her desire for the light of 

 the sun. Reassured as to the future of 

 the activity that will soon spring into life, 

 she will tranquilly resume her maternal 

 labours, which consist in the laying of two 

 or three thousand eggs a day, as she passes, 

 in a methodical spiral, from cell to cell, 

 omitting none, and never pausing to 

 rest. 



Where is the fatality here, save in the 

 love of the race of to-day for the race of 

 to-morrow? This fatality exists in the 

 human species also, but its extent and 

 power seem infinitely less. Among men 

 it never gives rise to sacrifices as great, as 

 unanimous, or as complete. "What far- 

 seeing fatality, taking the place of this one, 

 do we ourselves obey ? We know not ; 

 as we know not the being who watches us 

 as we watch the bees. 

 S7 



