On the Threshold of the Hive 
twelve domes of straw, some of which he 
had painted a bright pink, and some a 
clear yellow, but most of all a tender 
blue; having noticed, long before Sir 
John Lubbock’s demonstrations, the bees’ 
fondness for this colour. 
These hives stood against the wall of 
the house, in the angle formed by one of 
those pleasant and graceful Dutch kit- 
chens whose earthenware dresser, all bright 
with copper and tin, reflected itself through 
the open door on to the peaceful canal. 
And the water, burdened with these fami- 
liar images beneath its curtain of poplars, 
led one’s eyes to a calm horizon of mills 
and of meadows. 
Here, as in all places, the hives lent a 
new meaning to the flowers and the silence, 
the balm of the air and the rays of the 
sun. One seemed to have drawn very 
near to the festival spirit of nature. One 
was content to rest at this radiant cross- 
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