Julie's other friends thought differently. They supposed that Antoine had made an amicable arrangement with her which was satisfactory to them both, and that they ought to accept his invitation, in order to do their friend a service. They questioned Julie with that theory in mind, and Julie did not undeceive them.
As for the professors, the ostentatious christening of a new plant did not seem particularly absurd to them. Monsieur Thierry had enriched horticulture with several interesting specimens. He had fostered the acclimatization of useful trees, and his name well deserved to figure in the annals of science. A good dinner on such an occasion does no harm, and the presence of a number of attractive women is not absolutely inconsistent with the solemn preoccupations of botany.
When everybody had arrived, Monsieur Antoine assumed a modest and good-humored air, a rare but certain symptom of inward triumph unmingled with suspicion. He placed everybody round a large table, in the centre of which an object of considerable height was concealed under a great bell of white paper. Then he took from his pocket a treatise in manuscript, luckily very short, but which it was difficult to listen to without laughing, for in it French and Latin were murdered with the utmost coolness. That manuscript of his own composition, which began with messieurs et mesdames, and which treated of the importation and cultivation of the most beautiful lilies known, concluded thus: "Having had what I consider the advantage of buying, raising and bringing to perfect bloom the only specimens in France of a lily which exceeds in size, in fragrance and in splendor all varieties above-mentioned, I call the attention of the honorable company to my individual, and invite them to give it a name."
Having concluded the reading of his speech, Monsieur Antoine deftly raised, with the end of a reed, the white paper covering, and Julien uttered a cry of surprise when he saw the Antonia Thierrii perfectly fresh and blooming in all its glory. He believed at first that there had been some trickery—that it was a perfect artificial imitation; but the plant, when the covering was removed, gave forth a perfume which recalled to his mind, and Julie's as well, the first day of their passion; and when the clamor due to sincere or courteous admiration had made the circuit of the table, Monsieur Antoine added:
"Messieurs les savants, you must know that this plant put forth two shoots, the first one late in May, a very pretty specimen, accidentally broken, and preserved in a herbarium close by; the second in August, twice as large and full as the other. It blossomed, as you see, the tenth day of said month."
"Christen, christen!" cried Madame d'Ancourt. "I would like to stand godmother to that lovely lily, but I fancy that another——"
She glanced at Julie with a mixture of irony and goodwill. The professors paid no heed, but unanimously proclaimed the name of Antonia Thierrii.
"You are very kind, messieurs," said Monsieur Antoine, flushing with pleasure and stammering with emotion, "but I have a slight modification to suggest to you. It is no more than fair that this plant should bear my name, but I should like to prefix the name of a person who—of a lady who—in short, I ask to have it called the Julia-Antonia Thierrii."
"That's a little long," said Marcel; "but then the plant is so tall!"