The Life of the Bee 
widening base descends to a half, or two- 
thirds, of the entire height of the hive. 
And then, the last bee that an inward voice 
has impelled to form part of this group 
having added itself to the curtain suspended 
in darkness, the ascension ceases; all move- 
ment slowly dies away in the dome ; and, for 
long hours, this strange inverted cone will 
wait, in a silence that almost seems awful, in 
a stillness one might regard as religious, for 
the mystery of wax to appear. 
In the meantime the rest of the bees— 
those, that is, that remained down below in 
the hive—have shown not the slightest desire 
to join the others aloft, and pay no heed to 
the formation of the marvellous curtain on 
whose folds a magical gift is soon to descend. 
They are satisfied to examine the edifice and 
undertake the necessary labours. They 
carefully sweep the floor, and remove, one 
by one, twigs, grains of sand, and dead 
leaves; for the bees are almost fanatically 
cleanly, and when, in the depths of winter, 
severe frosts retard too long what apiarists 
term their “flight of cleanliness,” rather 
than sully the hive they will perish by 
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