Vespaluus squealed and wriggled with
laughter, for he was being tickled nearly to death, and now
and again he gave a furious kick and used a bad word as one
of the few bees that had escaped disarmament got its protest
home. But the spectators saw with amazement that he showed
no signs of approaching death agony, and as the bees dropped
wearily away in clusters from his body his flesh was seen to
be as white and smooth as before the ordeal, with a shiny
glaze from the honey-smear of innumerable bee-feet, and here
and there a small red spot where one of the rare stings had
left its mark. It was obvious that a miracle had been
performed in his favour, and one loud murmur, of
astonishment or exultation, rose from the onlooking crowd.
The king gave orders for Vespaluus to be taken down to await
further orders, and stalked silently back to his midday
meal, at which he was careful to eat heartily and drink
copiously as though nothing unusual had happened. After
dinner he sent for the Royal Librarian.
`` `What is the meaning of this fiasco?' he demanded.
`` `Your Majesty,' said that official, `either there is
something radically wrong with the bees---'
`` `There is nothing wrong with my bees,' said the king
haughtily, `they are the best bees.
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