THE SWARM 65 



37 

 And now to return to our swarming hive, where the 

 bees have already given the signal for departure, without 

 waiting for these reflections of ours to come to an end. At 

 the moment this signal is given, it is as though one sudden 

 mad impulse had simultaneously flung open wide every 

 gate in the city ; and the black throng issues, or rather pours 

 forth, in a double, or treble, or quadruple jet, as the number 

 of exits may be — in a tense, direct, vibrating, uninterrupted 

 stream that at once dissolves and melts into space, where 

 the myriad transparent furious wings weave a tissue throbbing 

 with sound. And this for some moments will quiver right 

 over the hive, with prodigious rustle of gossamer silks that 

 countless electrified hands might be ceaselessly rending and 

 stitching ; it floats undulating, it trembles and flutters, like a 

 veil of gladness invisible fingers support in the sky, and wave 

 to and fro, from the flowers to the blue, expecting sublime 

 advent or departure. And at last one angle declines, another 

 is lifted ; the radiant mantle unites its four sunlit corners ; 

 and, like the wonderful carpet the fairy-tale speaks of that 

 flies across space to obey its master's command, it steers its 

 straight course, bending forward a little as though to hide 

 in its folds the sacred presence of the future, towards the 

 willow, the pear-tree, or lime whereon the queen has alighted ; 

 and round her each rhythmical wave comes to rest, as though 

 on a nail of gold, and suspends its fabric of pearls and of 

 luminous wings. 



