“Here I am!” I exclaimed, and finishing my toilet in all haste, precipitated myself outside the hive, a prey to the strongest emotion. I was not pale, but green! Monsieur was one of the finest drones in the hive, rather stout, but, withal, well made; his physiognomy was full of a pleasing, wistful, and yet proudly aristocratic expression—as novelists would say—I had often seen him accompany the queen in her daily rounds of inspection, tormenting her with his jokes, helping her with his foot, sharing with her the prestige of sovereignty, and altogether appearing to be the happiest of princes, and most beloved of husbands. The people loved him little, but feared him much, he had the queen’s ear, the queen had publicly kissed his forehead, and it was reported by one of the chamber maids that Monsieur was soon to be a father. This important news spread around, and filled each cell with joy. We saw ourselves transformed into nurses surrounded by groups of children, giving food to this one, rocking that one. Already in each chamber a soft couch was prepared to receive the new comer, and in the evening {263} before going to sleep, certain flowers had been pointed out as those containing the sugar which would yield the most delicate honey, as food for the youngsters when they made their appearance. [Illustration] Our expectations were confirmed. Our beloved queen laid ten thousand twin eggs, all so beautiful that it was impossible to choose between them. The prince was radiant with joy, and spent his whole time in kissing the eggs one after the other. I had witnessed all this, {264} had beheld him in his glory, and now, I was rudely awakened to see him dragged to his doom. More than that, oh horror! I was chosen to be his executioner. The prince, under the dreadful circumstances, showed decided reluctance to yield up his life. This seemed all the more pitiable as nature had deprived him of either offensive or defensive weapons. He was completely in our power. “What have I done to deserve this doom? Oh, my queen, grant me but one hour!” he cried, kneeling before her, “but half an hour, nay, five minutes. I have revelations, confessions . . . ” “Make haste!” said the queen, striving to conceal her emotion; “we must abide by the law. Away with him; put an end to him; he is now worse than useless.” The queen retired to her chamber, still full of souvenirs of the prince, and in an instant he was pierced by a thousand darts. Should I live a century, I shall never forget the scene. I pretended to share in the outrage, yet never moved my sting from its sheath. Even among the most advanced communities there are barbarous laws. Poor Messieurs, poor Messieurs!