114 THE LIFE OF THE BEE 



again, that their antenns, which seem so well adapted for 

 the questioning of the finer, less evident side of things, may 

 serve as a compass in the invisible ; or lastly, that the 

 position of every cell may derive mathematically from the 

 arrangement and dimensions of the cells on the first row, 

 and thus dispense with the need for further measurement. 

 But these explanations are evidently insufficient ; the first are 

 mere hypotheses that cannot be verified, the others do no 

 more than transplant the mystery. And useful as it may 

 be to transplant mystery as often as we possibly can, it were 

 not wise to imagine that a mystery has ceased to be because 

 we have shifted its home. 



63 



Now let us leave these dreary building grounds, this 

 geometrical desert of cells. The combs have been started 

 and are becoming habitable. Though it be here the in- 

 finitely little that, without apparent hope, adds itself to the 

 infinitely little, though our eye with its limited vision look 

 and see nothing, the work of wax, halting neither by day 

 nor by night, will advance with incredible quickness. The 

 impatient queen already has more than once paced the 

 stockades that gleam white in the darkness, and no sooner 

 is the first row of dweUings complete than she takes posses- 

 sion with her escort of counsellors, guardians, or servants — 

 for we know not whether she lead or be led, be venerated 

 or supervised. When the spot has b/sen reached that she, 

 or her urgent advisers, may regard as favourable, she arches 

 her back, bends forward, and introduces the extremity of 



