Lucien, seated on the grass, amused himself with touching all the plants within reach of his travelling staff; suddenly he noticed that the branches and leaves of a small shrub shut up when he brushed them with his stick, just like the ribs of a parasol, moved by some invisible spring—it was a sensitive-plant.
He called to us to ask for an explanation of this phenomenon, so we assembled round the shrub, which was about three feet high; its leaves finely cut and of a delicate green color, with pink flowers in tufts half hidden among them. The leaves, touched by the stick, shrank up close to the parent stem, and the oval, slender, and delicate ones, rising on their stalks, pressed against one another. In about five minutes the leaves which had been rubbed again spread out, as if they had recovered from their fright.
It was, however, only for a short time; for Lucien amused himself by rubbing his fingers over the leaves, which immediately doubled up, as if offended by the slight touch. The Indians call it the "Bashful Plant." A blow struck on the principal stem is sufficient to make all the branches close, as if animated by a kind of modest feeling. When the sun sets, the sensitive plant spontaneously shuts up its delicate foliage, which does not open again freely until the return of day.
Lucien's first idea, at waking, was to run towards the shrubs which interested him the day before. They were covered with dew, and looked as if they were asleep, until the first rays of the sun fell upon them. Before we started, the young naturalist again tested the delicate sensibility of the plant, which Sumichrast told him was allied to the tree which produces gum-arabic.
L'Encuerado's cheek was less swollen, and Sumichrast could use his hand, although it still pained him. The mountain in front of us, which was too steep to climb, caused us some perplexity.
"Let us slant off to the left, over this moist ground, carpeted with turf," said Sumichrast, plunging into the thicket.
About midday, just as l'Encuerado was declaring, in a grumbling tone, that we ought to have inclined towards the right, our little troop entered the wood. An undulating slope led us to a summit not more than twenty yards across, and in less than half an hour the opposite descent brought us into a delicious glen.
"Hallo! Master 'Sunbeam,'" cried Sumichrast, while helping me to construct our hut, "don't you recollect you are the one to provide the fire?"
"All right," replied Lucien, who seemed to be lost in the contemplation of a dead branch; "I want to get hold of an insect which appears to be making, like us, natural-history collections, for I have just found in its nest a quantity of spiders, flies, and small worms."
"It is one of the Hymenoptera," said Sumichrast; "it collects all round its eggs the food the young will eat when they are hatched; the insect is therefore full of forethought—a good example for us to imitate."