The Massacre of the Males 
of wrathful virgins. They wake, in 
pious wonder; they cannot believe their 
eyes; and their astonishment struggles 
through their sloth as a moonbeam 
through marshy water. They stare 
amazedly round them, convinced that 
they must be victims of some mistake ; 
and the mother-idea of their life. being 
first to assert itself in their dull brain, 
they take a step towards the vats of 
honey to seek comfort there. But ended 
for them are the days of May honey, the 
wine-flower of lime trees and fragrant am- 
brosia of thyme and sage, of marjoram 
and white clover. Where the path once 
lay open to the kindly, abundant reser- 
voirs, that so invitingly offered their 
waxen and sugary mouths, there stands 
now a burning-bush all alive with poi- 
sonous, bristling stings. The atmosphere 
of the city is changed; in lieu of the 
friendly perfume of honey, the acrid odour 
35% 
