The Life of the Bee 
or falls, it advances or retires, in proportion 
as the cells grow empty to which it clings. 
For, contrary to what is generally believed, 
the winter life of the bee is not arrested, 
although it be slackened. By the concerted 
beating of their wings—little sisters that 
have survived the flames of the sun—which 
go quickly or slowly in accordance as the 
temperature without may vary, they main- 
tain in their sphere an unchanging warmth, 
equal to that of a day in spring. This secret 
spring comes from the beautiful honey, itself 
but a ray of heat transformed, that returns 
now to its first condition. It circulates in 
the hive like generous blood. The bees at 
the full cells present it to their neighbours, 
who pass it on in their turn. Thus it goes 
from hand to hand and from mouth to 
mouth, till it attain the extremity of the 
group in whose thousands of hearts one 
destiny, one thought, is scattered and united. 
It stands in lieu of the sun and the flowers 
till its elder brother, the veritable sun of the 
real, great spring, peering through the 
half-open door, glides in his first softened 
292 
