NIGHT. 61 



he prefers error to ignorance. "I don't know," said the 

 scholar, looking at the other for the solving word of the 

 enigma. "No more do I," replied the other; "if I had 

 known, I should not have asked you." The only reason, 

 however; for Virgil's calling the lupin sad was, that he stood 

 in need, for the measure of his verse, of two long syllables, 

 which the word tristis supplied him with. This is not an 

 uncommon thing with the Latin poets, whom I love to a 

 reasonahle extent, but whom I do not choose to raise to the 

 clouds, in order to give a rational colouring to any degree 

 of envy or malice that I may have towards my contem- 

 poraries. 



But let us continue to watch the awakening of the plants. 

 The balsam, which had drooped its leaves towards the earth, 

 now again raises them towards the heavens. The primrose, 

 which, on the contrary, had raised its leaves, and embraced 

 its stalk with them, spreads them abroad, and allows them to 

 hang down a little. 



The insects begin to buzz ; the souci-pluvial opens its 

 flower, which is a violet disc surrounded by rays, white at 

 top, and pale violet underneath; the white water-hly, which 

 yesterday evening closed its flowers, blooms afresh; whilst 

 the convolvulus, which climbs in garlands, loaded with flowers, 

 rose, violet, white, and striped, closes its flowers, which have 

 been open during the night. The day-lilies, in their turn, 

 expand their blue and yellow flowers. Each plant blows at 

 the hour that has been appointed for it: the sun, which 

 forces one to expand, obliges another to close; and yet to 

 the eye, there is no difference in them. 



Insects, butterflies, and flies of all kinds and colours, are 

 busy everywhere. 



But the dandelion closes its petals about three o'clock in 

 the afternoon; the souci-pluvial is not long in following 

 its example, unless the weather be rainy, for then it would 

 have closed much sooner. The daisy, which had spread its 

 little bosom out to the sun, gathers itself together, and 

 becomes pink. Gradually the leaves of the acacia are folded, 

 as are those of the other trees, whose waking we this morning 

 witnessed; the day-hly closes; the sun is about to set; the 

 white blossom of the water-lily gathers its petals together. 



