What Flowers Say. George Sand
doubt, no doubt! But how he makes up for it in the darkness! He’s hemeralopic, and what’s more, he’s presbyopic.”
Elsie didn’t understand these epithets, which she supposed were degrading, and didn’t dare ask for an explanation. She was still in the shadowy pathway, which she didn’t like one bit, but she finally saw the tree-covered walk open in front of her. The summerhouse was appearing beyond it, whitened by the light of the rising moon, when suddenly she drew back, forcing Miss Barbara to draw back too.
“What is it?” asked the lady with the big eyes, who saw nothing at all.
“It’s . . . it’s nothing,” answered Elsie, embarrassed. “I saw the dark form of a man in front of us, and now I can make out Mr. Bat crossing by the door to your summerhouse. He’s walking in your flower border.”
“Ah!” cried Miss Barbara indignantly. “I should have expected it. He follows me, he spies on me, he’s trying to ruin my life. But don’t be afraid, dear Elsie, I’ll give him what he deserves.”
Miss Barbara rushed forward.
“Aha! Sir,” she said, talking to a large tree against which the moon cast strange shadows. “When will you stop pestering me with your harassments?”
She was going to scold him properly, when Elsie interrupted her and led her toward the door to the summerhouse, saying, “Dear Miss Barbara, you’re mistaken. You think you’re talking to Mr. Bat but you’re talking to your shadow. Mr. Bat is already gone. I don’t see him anymore and I don’t think he was trying to follow us.”
“Frankly, I don’t agree with you,” answered the governess. “How can you explain the fact that he arrived ahead of us, since we left him behind, and we neither saw nor heard him pass by us?”
“He could have walked through the flower beds,” answered Elsie. “It’s the shortest way and it’s the way I often go when the gardener isn’t looking.”
“No, no!” said Miss Barbara distressfully, “he went over the trees. Look, you can see far, look over your head! I bet he’s lurking in front of my windows!”
Elsie looked and saw only the sky, but, after a minute, she saw the moving shadow of a huge bat pass back and forth on the cottage walls. She didn’t want to say anything to Miss Barbara, whose obsessions were making Elsie impatient because they were keeping her from satisfying her curiosity. Elsie urged her to go into the summerhouse, saying that there were neither bats nor tutors spying on them.
“Besides,” she added, entering the little parlor on the first floor, “if you’re worried, we could close the windows and curtains very tightly.”
“Now that is impossible!” answered Miss Barbara. “I’m giving a ball and my guests must come through the window.”
“A ball!” cried Elsie, dumbfounded. “A ball in this little cottage? Guests who enter through the window? You’re making fun of me, Miss Barbara.”
“It’s a ball, I say. A grand ball,” answered Miss Barbara, lighting a lamp, which she placed on the windowsill. “Magnificent costumes, unbelievable luxury!”
“If that’s true,” said Elsie, shaken by her governess’s confidence, “I can’t stay here in this old dress I have on. You should have warned me. I would have put on my pink dress and my pearl necklace.”
“Oh! My dear girl,” answered Miss Barbara, placing a basket of flowers next to the lamp. “It would do you no good to cover yourself in gold and jewels—you could never compare with my guests.”
Elsie, a little mortified, said nothing. Miss Barbara put some water and honey in a saucer and said, “I’m preparing the refreshments.”
Then, suddenly, she cried out, “Here’s one now! It’s the princess moth, the Nepticula marinicollella, in her black velvet tunic crossed with a large band of gold. Her dress is of black lace with a long fringe. Let’s present her with an elm leaf; it’s the palace of her ancestors where she was born. Wait! Give me that leaf from the apple tree for her first cousin, the beautiful Malella, whose black dress has silver stripes and a skirt fringed in pearly white. Give me some flowering broom, to brighten the eyes of my dear Cemiostoma spartifoliella, who is approaching in her white gown with black and gold accents. Here are some roses for you, Marquise Nepticula centifoliella. Just look, dear Elsie! Look at this dark red tunic, trimmed in silver. And these two illustrious blue moth Lavernides: lineela, who is wearing an orange scarf embroidered in gold over her dress, while schranckella has an orange scarf striped with silver. What taste, what harmony in these gaudy colors, softened by the velvety fabrics, the transparency of the silky fringes, and the delightful patterns! The Adelida panzerella is wrapped in gold, embroidered with black; her skirt is in lilac with gold fringe. Finally, here’s the pyralid moth rosella, one of the most simply dressed, who has an overdress of bright pink tinted with white on the borders. What a pleasant effect the underdress of light brown has! She has only one fault, which is that she’s a little too tall. But here’s a group of really exquisite little creatures. These are the Tineidae, or clothes moths, some dressed in brown and studded with diamonds, others in white with pearls on gauze. Dispunctella has ten drops of gold on her silver dress. Here are some important people of rather imposing size—the Adelidae family with their antennae twenty times longer than their bodies. Their clothes are green-gold with red or violet highlights, which remind you of the necklaces of the most beautiful hummingbirds.
“And now, look! Look at the crowd pushing to get in! There are more and still more coming! Elsie, you won’t know which one of these queens of the evening to admire the most for the splendor and the exquisite taste of her attire. The tiniest details of the bodice, the antennae, and feet are unbelievably delicate, and I don’t think you have ever seen such perfect creatures anywhere. Now, notice the grace of the movements, the crazy and charming haste in flight, the flexibility of their antennae, with which they talk to each other, the gentleness of their bearing. Elsie, isn’t it an incredible celebration, and aren’t all other creatures ugly, freakish, and sorry-looking in comparison?”
“I’ll say anything to make you happy,” answered a disappointed Elsie, “but to tell the truth, I see nothing, or practically nothing of what you’re describing so enthusiastically. I can see little microscopic butterflies flying around those flowers and the lamp, but I can hardly make out bright specks and dark specks, and I’m afraid you’re drawing on your imagination for the brilliance you like to dress them in.”
“She doesn’t see! She can’t make them out!” the Bug-Eyed Fairy cried unhappily. “Poor little thing! I knew it! I warned you that your disability would keep you from seeing the joys I relish. Fortunately, I know how to compensate for your weak vision. Here is an instrument that I, myself, never use, which I borrowed from your parents for you. Take it and look.”
She gave Elsie a very strong magnifying glass, which caused Elsie some difficulty, since she had never used one. Finally, after a few tries, she succeeded in making out the real and surprising beauty of one of the little creatures. She focused on another and saw that Miss Barbara has not misled her: gold, purple, amethyst, garnet, orange, pearl, and pink combined to form symmetrical adornments on the coats and dresses of these almost imperceptible dignitaries. She innocently asked why so much richness and beauty were lavished on creatures who lived only a few days at the most and who flew at night, barely visible to humans.
“There it is!” answered the Bug-Eyed Fairy, laughing. “Always the same question! My dear Elsie, grown-ups ask the same question, which means they don’t have any better idea of the laws of the universe than children. They believe everything was created for them and what they don’t see or don’t understand shouldn’t exist. But I, the Bug-Eyed Fairy, as they call me, know that what is simply beautiful is as important as what is useful to people, and I rejoice when I contemplate marvelous things or creatures that no one dreams of making use of. There are thousands and thousands of millions of my dear little moths spread over the earth. They live modestly with their families on little leaves, and no one has yet thought of harassing them.”