The Egyptian Hornet

The word has anangry, malignant sound that brings the idea of attack vividly
into the mind. There is a vicious sting about it somewhere --even a foreigner,
ignorant of the meaning, must feel it. A hornet is wicked; itdarts and stabs;
it pierces, aiming without provocation for the face and eyes. Thename suggests
a metallic droning of evil wings, fierce flight, and poisonousassault. Though
black and yellow, it sounds scarlet. There is blood in it. Astriped tiger of
the air in concentrated form! There is no escape -- if it attacks.

In Egypt an ordinary bee is the size of an English hornet, butthe Egyptian
hornet is enormous. It is truly monstrous -- an ominous, dyingterror. It shares
that universal quality of the land of the Sphinx and Pyramids --great size. It
is a formidable insect, worse than scorpion or tarantula. The Rev.James
Milligan, meeting one for the first time, realized the meaning ofanother word
as well, a word he used prolifically in his eloquent sermons --devil.

One morning in April, when the heat began to bring the insectsout, he rose as
usual betimes and went across the wide stone corridor to his bath.The desert
already glared in through the open windows. The heat would beafflicting later
in the day, but at this early hour the cool north wind blewpleasantly down the
hotel passages. It was Sunday, and at half-past eight o'clock hewould appear to
conduct the morning service for the English visitors. The floorof the
passage-way was cold beneath his feet in their thin nativeslippers of bright
yellow. He was neither young nor old; his salary was comfortable;he had a
competency of his own, without wife or children to absorb it; thedry climate
had been recommended to him; and -- the big hotel took him in fornext to
nothing. And he was thoroughly pleased with himself, for he was asleek, vain,
pompous, well-advertised personality, but mean as a rat. Noworries of any kind
were on his mind as, carrying sponge and towel, scented soap anda bottle of
Scrubb's ammonia, he travelled amiably across the deserted,shining corridor to
the bathroom. And nothing went wrong with the Rev. James Milliganuntil he
opened the door, and his eye fell upon a dark, suspicious-lookingobject
clinging to the window-pane in front of him.

And even then, at first, he felt no anxiety or alarm, but merelya natural
curiosity to know exactly what it was -- this little clot of anodd-shaped,
elongated thing that stuck there on the wooden framework six feetbefore his
aquiline nose. He went straight up to it to see -- then stoppeddead. His heart
gave a distinct, unclerical leap. His lips formed themselves intounregenerate
shape. He gasped: "Good God! What is it?" For somethingunholy, something wicked
as a secret sin, stuck there before his eyes in the patch ofblazing sunshine.
He caught his breath.

For a moment he was unable to move, as though the sight halffascinated him.
Then, cautiously and very slowly -- stealthily, in fact -- hewithdrew towards
the door he had just entered. Fearful of making the smallestsound, he retraced
his steps on tiptoe. His yellow slippers shuffled. His dry spongefell, and
bounded till it settled, rolling close beneath the horriblyattractive object
facing him. From the safety of the open door, with ample spacefor retreat
behind him, he paused and stared. His entire being focusseditself in his eyes.
It was a hornet that he saw. It hung there, motionless andthreatening, between
him and the bathroom door.

And at first he merely exclaimed -- below his breath -- "GoodGod! It's an
Egyptian hornet!"

Being a man with a reputation for decided action, however, hesoon recovered
himself. He was well schooled in self-control. When people lefthis church at
the beginning of the sermon, no muscle of his face betrayed thewounded vanity
and annoyance that burned deep in his heart. But a hornet sittingdirectly in
his path was a very different matter. He realized in a flash thathe was poorly
clothed -- in a word, that he was practically half naked.

From a distance he examined this intrusion of the devil. It wascalm and very
still. It was wonderfully made, both before and behind. Its wingswere folded
upon its terrible body. Long, sinuous things, pointed liketemptation, barbed as
well, stuck out of it. There was poison, and yet grace, in itsexquisite
presentment. Its shiny black was beautiful, and the yellowstripes upon its
sleek, curved abdomen were like the gleaming ornaments upon somefeminine body
of the seductive world he preached against. Almost, he saw anabandoned dancer
on the stage. And then, swiftly in his impressionable soul, thesimile changed,
and he saw instead more blunt and aggressive forms of destruction.The
well-filled body, tapering to a horrid point, reminded him ofthose perfect
engines of death that reduce hundreds to annihilation unawares --torpedoes,
shells, projectiles, crammed with secret, desolating powers. Itswings, its
awful, quiet head, its delicate, slim waist, its stripes ofbrilliant saffron --
all these seemed the concentrated prototype of abominations madecleverly by the
brain of man, and beautifully painted to disguise their invisiblefreight of
cruel death.

"Bah!" he exclaimed, ashamed of his prolificimagination. "It's only a hornet
after all -- an insect!" And he contrived a hurried, carefulplan. He aimed a
towel at it, rolled up into a ball -- but did not throw it. Hemight miss. He
remembered that his ankles were unprotected. Instead, he pausedagain, examining
the black and yellow object in safe retirement near the door, asone day he
hoped to watch the world in leisurely retirement in the country.It did not
move. It was fixed and terrible. It made no sound. Its wings werefolded. Not
even the black antennae, blunt at the tips like clubs, showed theleast stir or
tremble. It breathed, however. He watched the rise and fall ofthe evil body; it
breathed air in and out as he himself did. The creature, herealized, had lungs
and heart and organs. It had a brain! Its mind was active allthis time. It knew
it was being watched. It merely waited. Any second, with a whizof fury, and
with perfect accuracy of aim, it might dart at him and strike. Ifhe threw the
towel and missed -- it certainly would.

There were other occupants of the corridor, however, and a soundof steps
approaching gave him the decision to act. He would lose his bathif he hesitated
much longer. He felt ashamed of his timidity, though "pusillanimity"was the
word thought selected owing to the pulpit vocabulary it was hishabit to prefer.
He went with extreme caution towards the bathroom door, passingthe point of
danger so close that his skin turned hot and cold. With one footgingerly
extended, he recovered his sponge. The hornet did not move amuscle. But -- it
had seen him pass. It merely waited. All dangerous insects hadthat trick. It
knew quite well he was inside; it knew quite well he must comeout a few minutes
later; it also knew quite well that he was -- naked.

Once inside the little room, he closed the door with exceedinggentleness, lest
the vibration might stir the fearful insect to attack. The bathwas already
filled, and he plunged to his neck with a feeling of comparativesecurity. A
window into the outside passage he also closed, so that nothingcould possibly
come in. And steam soon charged the air and left its blurreddeposit on the
glass. For ten minutes he could enjoy himself and pretend that hewas safe. For
ten minutes he did so. He behaved carelessly, as though nothingmattered, and as
though all the courage in the world were his. He splashed andsoaped and
sponged, making a lot of reckless noise. He got out and driedhimself. Slowly
the steam subsided, the air grew clearer, he put on dressing-gownand slippers.
It was time to go out.

Unable to devise any further reason for delay, he opened the doorsoftly half an
inch -- peeped out -- and instantly closed it again with aresounding bang. He
had heard a drone of wings. The insect had left its perch and nowbuzzed upon
the floor directly in his path. The air seemed full of stings; hefelt stabs all
over him; his unprotected portions winced with the expectancy ofpain. The beast
knew he was coming out, and was waiting for him. In that briefinstant he had
felt its sting all over him, on his unprotected ankles, on hisback, his neck,
his cheeks, in his eyes, and on the bald clearing that adornedhis Anglican
head. Through the closed door he heard the ominous, dull murmurof his striped
adversary as it beat its angry wings. Its oiled and wicked stingshot in and out
with fury. Its deft legs worked. He saw its tiny waist alreadywrithing with the
lust of battle. Ugh! That tiny waist! A moment's steady nerve andhe could have
severed that cunning body from the directing brain with oneswift, well-directed
thrust. But his nerve had utterly deserted him.

Human motives, even in the professedly holy, are an involvedaffair at any time.
Just now, in the Rev. James Milligan, they were inextricablymixed. He claims
this explanation, at any rate, in excuse of his abominablesubsequent behaviour.
For, exactly at this moment, when he had decided to admitcowardice by ringing
for the Arab servant, a step was audible in the corridor outside,and courage
came with it into his disreputable heart. It was the step of theman he
cordially "disapproved of," using the pulpit version of"hated and despised." He
had overstayed his time, and the bath was in demand by Mr.Mullins. Mr. Mullins
invariably followed him at seven-thirty; it was now a quarter toeight. And Mr.
Mullins was a wretched drinking man -- "a sot."

In a flash the plan was conceived and put into execution. Thetemptation, of
course, was of the devil. Mr. Milligan hid the motive fromhimself, pretending
he hardly recognized it. The plan was what men call a dirtytrick; it was also
irresistibly seductive. He opened the door, stepped boldly, nosein the air,
right over the hideous insect on the floor, and fairly prancedinto the outer
passage. The brief transit brought a hundred horrible sensations-- that the
hornet would rise and sting his leg, that it would cling to hisdressing-gown
and stab his spine, that he would step upon it and die, likeAchilles, of a heel
exposed. But with these, and conquering them, was one otherstronger emotion
that robbed the lesser terrors of their potency -- that Mr.Mullins would run
precisely the same risks five seconds later, unprepared. He heardthe gloating
insect buzz and scratch the oilcloth. But it was behind him. Hewas safe!

"Good morning to you, Mr. Mullins," he observed with agracious smile. "I trust
I have not kept you waiting."

"Mornin'!" grunted Mullins sourly in reply, as hepassed him with a distinctly
hostile and contemptuous air. For Mullins, though depraved,perhaps, was an
honest man, abhorring parsons and making no secret of hisopinions -- whence the
bitter feeling.

All men, except those very big ones who are supermen, havesomething
astonishingly despicable in them. The despicable thing inMilligan came
uppermost now. He fairly chuckled. He met the snub with a calm,forgiving smile,
and continued his shambling gait with what dignity he couldtowards his bedroom
opposite. Then he turned his head to see. His enemy would meet aninfuriated
hornet -- an Egyptian hornet! -- and might not notice it. Hemight step on it.
He might not. But he was bound to disturb it, and rouse it toattack. The
chances were enormously on the clerical side. And its sting meantdeath.

"May God forgive me!" ran subconsciously through hismind. And side by side with
the repentant prayer ran also a recognition of the tempter'seternal skill: "I
hope the devil it will sting him!"

It happened very quickly. The Rev. James Milligan lingered amoment by his door
to watch. He saw Mullins, the disgusting Mullins, step blithelyinto the
bathroom passage; he saw him pause, shrink back, and raise hisarm to protect
his face. He heard him swear aloud: "What's the d_____dthing doing here? Have I
really got 'em again?" And then he heard him laugh -- ahearty, guffawing laugh
of genuine relief -- "It's real!"

The moment of revulsion was overwhelming. It filled the churchlyheart with
anguish and bitter disappointment. For a space he hated the wholerace of men.

For the instant Mr. Mullins realized that the insect was not afiery illusion of
his disordered nerves, he went forward without the smallesthesitation. With his
towel he knocked down the flying terror. Then he stooped. Hegathered up the
venomous thing his well-aimed blow had stricken so easily to thefloor. He
advanced with it, held at arm's length, to the window. He tossedit out
carelessly. The Egyptian hornet flew away uninjured, and Mr.Mullins -- the Mr.
Mullins who drank, gave nothing to the church, attended noservices, hated
parsons, and proclaimed the fact with enthusiasm -- this same Mr.Mullins went
to his unearned bath without a scratch. But first he saw hisenemy standing in
the doorway across the passage, watching him -- and understood.That was the
awful part of it. Mullins would make a story of it, and the storywould go the
round of the hotel.

The Rev. James Milligan, however, proved that his reputation forself-control
was not undeserved. He conducted morning service half an hourlater with an
expression of peace upon his handsome face. He conquered alloutward sign of
inward spiritual vexation; the wicked, he consoled himself, everflourished like
green bay trees. It was notorious that the righteous never haveany luck at all!
That was bad enough. But what was worse -- and the Rev. JamesMilligan
remembered for very long -- was the superior ease with whichMullins had
relegated both himself and hornet to the same level ofcomparative
insignificance. Mullins ignored them both -- which proved that hethought
himself superior. Infinitely worse than the sting of any hornetin the world: he
really was superior.