In spite of the remonstrances of her majesty, he still wished to get out, and after daily visiting the front of the hive for nearly a month, during which time the fine weather continued, he began to persuade himself the interdiction could not extend so far as this; "It has been fine a great while," said he to himself, "and if we stay within at this rate we shall let all the summer pass away;" and again his former surmise returned, "they are old and lazy," continued he, "and while they have any food left, are determined not to seek for more; I will not stay, however;" and he was still farther confirmed in this resolution, when boldly advancing quite out on the block he saw other Bees, from a neighbouring hive, taking the air, and appearing like himself to be thinking it high time to get abroad. A swarm of insects also were enjoying themselves, and frisking about in the warm sun. Struck with shame that these should be on the wing before him, he at that moment forgot all the kind admonitions of his mother, and the punishment that awaited him if he disobeyed them; and mounting in the air, his loud humming testified his joy at being again at liberty. But alas! where was he to go? or to what flower could he now pay his court? The fluttering insects he had seen were but the dancers of the day, just born to frisk a few hours, and then return to their original nothingness; and our young adventurer disdained to join the giddy train, or even to appear to notice what was so unlike the character of a busy Bee.
It was now the latter end of April, when the thorn is in blossom, violets and primroses also decorate the hedges, and the hypatica, and polyanthus "of unnumbered dyes," already appeared in the gardens; but very few leaves were yet on the trees, though the buds were bursting, and many of the fruit-trees were in full bloom; to these our little wanderer winged his way, and as he flew from blossom to blossom, and from one branch to the other, he could not but acknowledge with regret that his limbs felt cold, and very different from the vigour they possessed the former summer. He wished to attribute it to his having been kept so long within the hive, but a sudden blast soon checked his ardour; a shivering came over him, and a drowsiness, which he could not account for, succeeded; presently a pelting shower obliged him to creep for shelter into a wall, against which the trees were nailed, and here he began to see his error; "Can I go back again?" said he; "Ah! no, they will not receive me; my absence is by this time known, and I am never to be admitted more. Oh, my mother! would that I had followed your counsel!"
He had scarcely spoken these words, when a mist spread itself before his eyes; his breath appeared failing, and he found himself still more inclined to sleep, yet instinct told him that in such a state to give way to the inclination was dangerous; he feared the cold would seize him while insensible, and his life must pay for it, but all his efforts to keep himself awake were vain; the rain continued so, that he could not get out to use his wings, and at length lost to all recollection, he sunk stupid and senseless to the bottom of his retreat.
How long he continued in this torpid state I cannot say, but his friends he had left, after anxiously expecting his return from day to day, and being disappointed, gave him up for lost; and though he often awoke during his confinement, it was only to a keener sense of his misery; his limbs were still too stiff to move, his eyes dim, and each time that he closed them to return to sleep, (now the only alleviation of his sorrows,) he concluded he should never open them again: he breathed a sigh of regret on the remembrance of the home he had quitted, and would gladly have returned, and in the presence of the whole community acknowledge his rashness; but alas! he could not now move a wing: yet as the warm weather came on, he felt himself revive beyond his hopes: he could look out from the place of his confinement, and though not so ardent in his expectations as a few weeks before, he began again to feel a pleasure in the rays of the sun, and to anticipate a future enjoyment of them. "I shall not die," said he to himself, "but shall yet be able to accomplish my desire, and shew myself an industrious Bee."
The trees on which he had before observed only blossom were now full of leaves; where the bloom had first appeared, he saw the fruit, yet in its infant state. "This is not now the food for me," said he, and he looked wishfully around to observe if there were any flowers near, from which he could gather his accustomed nourishment. While thus engaged, a Butterfly, on sportive wing, came frisking by, and though he settled first on one leaf, and then on another, was unmindful of him, till he fixed directly on that which shaded the place from which our poor invalid was examining the neighbouring plants. "Oh!" said he, with a heavy sigh, as he marked the light wing of this new comer, "Oh! that I could fly like him and ramble from flower to flower, without pain or dread of any."
The attention of the Butterfly was attracted by the mournful tone in which this was uttered, and unlike many of his kind, he even stopped to listen to the complaining insect, and ask if he could relieve him; "Perhaps," said he, "you are entangled in a spider's web; and though I am unused to the art of war, I will endeavour to liberate you."
"An offer like this," replied the Bee, "I should not have expected from one of your nature; but you can give me no assistance; it is not a web which keeps me here, but ill health, and which I have brought upon myself by my own folly: I have no one else to blame, that I am not flying about as you are, though I hope to some better purpose."
"Do not be too sure of that," replied the good-humoured Butterfly, "nor despise the help of one so insignificant as you suppose I am; if I can in any way assist you, I shall not have been flying about in vain."
"I beg your pardon," returned the Bee, conscious that he should not have answered in such a manner; "pray let the pain I feel plead my excuse; I have been confined within this place for I don't know how long, and now I feel the enlivening beams of the sun without being able to enjoy them, and must even starve for want of food, after I have escaped death from the cold that first seized me."
"Do not be discouraged," replied the Butterfly, "look at the border just below you, where there are many of the most beautiful flowers; surely they will afford you nourishment; you need not fear starving in the midst of plenty."