INTELLIGENCE OF FLOWERS 



quietly, after finishing her meal, without even grazing the 

 bucket of water, the stigma and the pollen; and none of that 

 which is required would take place. But the wise Orchid has 

 observed the life that moves around it. It knows that the 

 bees form an innumerous, greedy and busy people, that they 

 come out by thousands in the sun-lit hours, that a perfume has 

 but to quiver like a kiss on the threshold of an opening flower 

 for them to hasten in numbers to the banquet laid under the 

 nuptial tent. We therefore have two or three looters in the 

 sugary chamber: the space is scanty, the walls slippery, the 

 guests ill-mannered. They crowd and hustle one another to 

 such good purpose that one of them always ends by falling 

 into the bucket that awaits her beneath the treacherous repast. 

 She there finds an unexpected bath, conscientiously wets her 

 bright, diaphanous wings and, despite immense efforts, can- 

 not succeed in resuming her flight. This is where the astute 

 flower lies in wait for her. There is but one opening through 

 which she can leave the magic bucket: the spout that acts as 

 a wastepipe for the overflow of the reservoir. It is just wide 

 enough to allow of the passage of the insect, whose back 

 touches first the sticky surface of the stigma and then the viscid 

 glands of the pollen-masses that await her along the vaulted 



[ 89] 



