CHAPTER 1; A SUMMER WEEKEND.

Sunday; August, 12, 1821; 18 kilometers south-west of Bayeux, Normandy.

Neither Charles-Philippe, nor his younger brother, Henri bothered to change out of their "Sunday best" that early weekend afternoon.
Charles, having turned twelve
that very Sunday was only too glad to have left the small Catholic church less than an hour earlier, having squirmed impatiently in his pew the entire service. He reluctantly partook of the wafer and wine during communion, considering the idea that a wafer and fermented grape juice could become the body and blood of Christ to be too ridiculous to contemplate.
Before the last strains of the
church organ and the droning Latin prayer of the village priest died away, he and his brother Henri were racing to the door and off on some mischievous adventure that afternoon in the nearby hedgerow country.
Both boys knew that their doting aunt and
uncle, whom they were staying with for the past week, would not be too hard on them,
even if they came back with mud or dirt clinging to their clothing, as long as the two boys would return to their uncle's home in time for supper, after which the two expected to be treated with pastries that their aunt prepared for Charles' birthday celebration.
Charles had heard a report from one of the local lads that there was a honey-bee nest clinging to a branch on some solitary tree in a nearby farmer's field. Charles, a voracious reader of books, both borrowed or bought, had read that beekeepers around the world used smoke to 'pacify' the bees, allowing the beekeepers to access the honey.
Charles brought with him a bag containing tinder, a small flint stone, and an iron hammerhead. His brother Henri brought along a long stick and bundle of damp straw tied to it that they had stashed under a nearby hedgerow the evening before on which bundle they had also poured some tar.
Upon locating the tree-branch mounted shelter for that Apian colony they warily and as covertly as possible set about to set the tinder, straw and tar on fire in a nearby hedgerow corner, finding that it wasn't as easy as they thought. But their persistence paid off; thick acrid smoke began to billow out
of the damp bundle.
Grinning at each other, Charles impatiently grabbed the lengthy stick the smoldering bundle was still attached to and rushed over to a spot under the elm tree where the
bee colony was located.
Charles coughed as some of the irritating smoke drifted his way. "Well, brother? Let's see what happens now."
Henri watched for several minutes as the agitated swarm of bees began to show signs of reduced aggression and activity.
"OUCH!!!" Henri cried out, as he angrily swatted away one of the stinging insects from his neck,
"I thought you said that the smoke would
make these bees harmless!!" he protested.
Charles shook his head and smiled,
"It's just a few bees that wandered off from their nest here. Stand back, brother!
We are about to treat ourselves!"
Charles-Philippe pressed the smoldering
tar and straw wick on the end of the stick
hard against the nest; breaking it open and
filling it with smoke before it and the
honeycomb it contained plunged to the ground.
"OUCH!! OUCH!! OUCH!!"
Crying out, both boys were vigorously swatting away bees that had not been overcome by the smoke.
To Henri's surprise, his brother desperately drew in most of the length of the stick and allowed himself to be bathed in its smoke.
Charles was violently hacking for a few seconds before thrusting the smoking end of the stick back towards Henri to wreathe him in the irritating emissions as well.
"What are you doing?" Henri angrily protested. He too began to cough severely
before bolting from the scene, rapidly put some distance between himself and his brother.
"Driving the bees away, what do you think?"
Charles replied, adding "If you leave now, you'll miss the honey."
With the broken Apian shelter on the ground, Charles began to lay a pall of the acrid smoke over it, pacifying the remaining
incited bees for the time being.
Briefly distracted by some nearby cowbells, Charles courageously threw away the smoldering stick and then promptly thrust his hand into what was left of the nest
and yanked out the sticky honeycomb, swiftly
and prudently brushing off the smoke inhibited bees before rushing over to his reluctant and wary younger brother, grinning at his success.
"Here is our real treat today, brother."
"Hey!" a local farmer yelled towards them from a spot beyond some nearby grazing cattle, 'What are you two doing over there?!!"
the farmer angrily shouted.
Startled and alarmed, the two boys took off at once, and with their sweet & sticky prize in tow they rushed towards a small gap in the hedgerow, scrambling through to the other side as quickly as possible.
Upon reaching the nearby road, where their speedy exodus slowed to a walk, the two boys, their clothes reeking of smoke, looked at each other and started to laugh.
'"Here!" Charles said, as he struggled to break the honeycomb in two, offering one piece to his younger brother. Henri's sibling was startled to find that the honeycomb exhibited unusually strong resistance to his effort to tear it in two.
As Henri took one of the sticky sweet portions, gratefully starting to lick it, he couldn't help but notice the inquisitive
and thoughtful look on his brother's face.
"What are you thinking?" Henri asked,
somewhat puzzled.
Stopping in his tracks, Charles turned to face his brother, pausing a moment in deep-thought before responding, "I think it's the hexagonal
structures in the honeycomb that give it its remarkable strength." he responded, "This thing is amazingly strong and light."