The queen inclined her head to the little bee, who once again for a brief moment saw her monarch’s countenance beam upon her gently, lovingly.
“You have our thanks,” she said. “You have saved us. No matter what your previous conduct may have been, you have made up for it a thousandfold.—But go, rest now, little girl, you look very miserable, and your hands are trembling.”
“I should like to die for you,” Maya stammered, quivering.
“Don’t worry about us,” replied the queen. “Among the thousands inhabiting this city there is not one who would hesitate a moment to sacrifice his life for me and for the welfare of the country. You can go to sleep peacefully.”
She bent over and kissed the little bee on her forehead. Then she beckoned to the ladies-in-waiting and bade them see to Maya’s rest and comfort.
Maya, stirred to the depths of her being, allowed herself to be led away. After this, life had nothing lovelier to offer. As in a dream she heard the loud, clear signals in the distance, saw the high dignitaries of state assemble around the royal chambers, heard a dull, far-echoing drone that shook the hive from roof to foundation.
“The soldiers! Our soldiers!” whispered the ladies-in-waiting at her side.
The last thing Maya heard in the little room where her companions put her to bed was the tramp of soldiers marching past her door and commands shouted in a blithe, resolute, ringing voice. Into her dreams, echoing as from a great distance, she carried the ancient song of the soldier-bees:
Sunlight, sunlight, golden sheen,
By your glow our lives are lighted;