168 THE DEBACLE. 
away to where the smoke of chimneys showed 
among trees. There was a garden here, and 
ivy-bushes, and to these she lowered herself. 
It was a grim gathering of bumble-bees and 
wasps and gay butterflies, taking their last 
meal on this earth. 
Dusk came on, and with it the cold. The 
last rays of the setting sun touched and 
turned our bee to gold, as she reeled, dead- 
drunk, among the traitor ivy. Then she lost 
hold, and fell in a stupor. 
Next morning her frozen corpse lay under 
the ivy-bush as the sun came back to find 
her. 
