212 THE LIFE OF THE BEE 



They formed rosettes, stars and garlands, sprays and branches, 

 at the foot of a hawthorn or fruit tree cut ball-shape or 

 pyramid fashion, and the box, vigilant as a sheep-dog, ran 

 along the edges to prevent the flowers from trespassing into 

 the path. It was there that I was taught the names and 

 habits of the independent foragers whom we do not con- 

 descend to notice, regarding them as mere vulgar flies, 

 maleficent wasps, or stupid coleoptera. And yet, beneath 

 the double pair of wings that characterise it in the insect 

 world, each one of these conceals its own plan of life, its 

 own utensils, its own idea of a destiny that is always difficult 

 and often marvellous. First there come the nearest kindred 

 of our domestic honey-fly, the thickset, hairy humble-bee, 

 occasionally small in size, but, as a rule, enormous, and 

 covered, like primitive man, with a formless fur, which 

 rings of copper and cinnabar encircle. They are still half- 

 barbarous : they ravish the calyces, destroying them if they 

 resist, and push through the satin veils of the corollas Hke 

 a cave-bear that might have forced its way into the silken, 

 pearl-bestrewn tent of a Byzantine princess. 



By their side, larger than the largest of them, there 

 passes a monster clothed in darkness. It burns with a sombre 

 fire, of green and violet : it is the Xylocopa wood-ranger, 

 the giant of the melhferous world. Next in order of stature 

 come the funereal Ghalicodomce, or building-bees, clad in black 

 cloth, who construct with clay and gravel edifices as hard as 

 stone. Then follow pell-mell Dasypodce and wasp-like Halicti, 

 Andrennce, which often fall victim to a fantastic parasite, the 

 Stylops, whereby their appearance is completely changed — 

 the dwarfish Panur^i, always heavily laden with pollen, and 



