“Let us recapitulate. Insects are necessary to flowers to bring pollen to the stigmas. A drop of nectar, distilled on purpose for this, attracts them to the bottom of the corolla; a bright spot shows them the road to follow. Either I am a triple idiot or we have here an admirable chain of facts. Later, my children, you will find only too many people saying: This world is the product of chance, no intelligence rules it, no Providence guides it. To those people, my friends, show the snap-dragon’s yellow spot. If, less clear-sighted than the burly bumble-bee, they do not understand it, pity them: they have diseased brains.”
CHAPTER LXIII
MUSHROOMS
WHILE they were talking about insects and flowers, time had slipped by until the Sunday arrived when Uncle Paul was to tell about mushrooms. The gathering was larger than the first time. The story of poisonous plants had been repeated in the village. Some people in a rut, content with their stupid ignorance, had said: “What is the use of it?” “The use!” replied the others; “it teaches one to beware of poisonous plants, so as not to die miserably like poor Joseph.” But those in the rut had tossed their heads with a satisfied air. Nothing is so sufficient unto itself as folly. So only willing listeners came to Uncle Paul.
“Of all poisonous plants, my friends,” he began, “mushrooms are the most formidable; and yet some furnish a delightful food capable of tempting the soberest.”
“For my part,” observed Simon, “I acknowledge, nothing is equal to a dish of mushrooms.”
“Nobody will accuse you of gluttony, for, as I have just said, mushrooms can tempt the soberest. I do not wish to discourage their use. I know too well what a resource they are in the country; I simply propose to put you on your guard against the poisonous kinds.”
“You are going to teach us to distinguish the good from the bad?” asked Mathieu.
“No; that is impossible for us.”
“How impossible? Everybody knows that you can eat without fear mushrooms that grow at the foot of such and such a tree.”