The Life of the Bee 
laid upon them, still conscious of the part 
that they have themselves to play; they 
resume their labours, therefore, fill as best 
they can the place of those who have gone, 
remove all trace of the orgies, carefully house 
the provisions that have escaped pillage, 
sally forth to the flowers again, and keep 
scrupulous guard over the hostages of the 
future. 
And, for all that the moment may appear 
gloomy, hope abounds wherever the eye may 
turn. We might be in one of the castles 
of German legend, whose walls are composed 
of myriad phials containing the souls of men 
about to be born. For we are in the abode 
of life that goes before life. On all sides, 
asleep in their closely sealed cradles, in this 
infinite superposition of marvellous six-sided 
cells, lie thousands of nymphs, whiter than 
milk, who with folded arms and head bent 
forward await the hour of awakening. In 
their uniform tombs that, isolated, become 
nearly transparent, they seem almost like 
hoary gnomes lost in deep thought, or 
legions of virgins whom the folds of the 
shroud have coritorted, who are buried in 
190 
