over the rough paths might
jeopardise the contents of the cells. A basket carried on the shoulder
was deemed safer. Favier took a man to help him and set out. The
expedition provided me with four well-stocked tiles. It was all that the
two men were able to carry between them; and even then I had to stand
treat on their arrival: they were utterly exhausted. Le Vaillant tells
us of a nest of Republicans (Social Weaver-birds.--Translator's Note.)
with which he loaded a wagon drawn by two oxen. My Mason-bee vies with
the South-African bird: a yoke of Oxen would not have been too many to
move the whole of that nest from the banks of the Aygues.

The next thing is to place my tiles. I want to have them under my eyes,
in a position where I can watch them easily and save myself the worries
of earlier days: going up and down ladders, standing for hours at a
stretch on a narrow rung that hurt the soles of my feet and risking
sunstroke up against a scorching wall. Moreover, it is necessary that
my guests should feel almost as much at home with me as where they come
from. I must make life pleasant for them, if I should have them grow
attached to the new dwelling. And I happen to have the very thing for
them.

Under the leads of my house is a wide arch, the sides of which get
the sun, while the back remains in the shade. There is something for
everybody: the shade for me, the sunlight for my boarders. We fasten
a stout hook to each tile and hang it on the wall, on a level with our
eyes. Half my nests are on the right, half on the left. The general
effect is rather original. Any one walking in and seeing my show for
the first time begins by taking it for a display of smoked provisions,
gammons of some outlandish bacon curing in the sun. On perceiving his
mistake, he falls into raptures at these new hives of mine. The news
spreads through the village and more than one pokes fun at it. They look
upon me as a keeper of hybrid Bees:

'I wonder what he's going to make out of that!' say they.

My hives are in full swing before the end of April. When the work is at
its height, the swarm becomes a little eddying, buzzing cloud. The
arch is a much-frequented passage: it leads to a store-room for various
household provisions. The members of my family bully me at first for
establishing this dangerous commonwealth within the precincts of our
home. They dare not go to fetch things: they would have to pass through
a swarm of Bees; and then...