The Swarm 
disease, or war. No, the exile has long 
been planned, and the favourable hour 
patiently awaited. Were the hive poor, 
had it suffered from pillage or storm, had 
misfortune befallen the royal family, the 
bees would not forsake it. They leave it 
only when it has attained the apogee of 
its prosperity ; at a time when, after the 
arduous labours of the spring, the im- 
mense palace of wax has its 120,000 well- 
arranged cells overflowing with new honey, 
and with the many-coloured flour, known 
as “bees’ bread,’ on which nymphs and 
larvee are fed. 
Never is the hive more beautiful than 
on the eve of its heroic renouncement, in 
its unrivalled hour of fullest abundance 
and joy; serene for all its apparent excite- 
ment and feverishness. 
Let us endeavour to picture it to our- 
selves, not as it appears to the bees, — for 
we cannot tell in what magical, formidable 
47 
