# Myths and Legends Beyond Our Borders/The Medal and the Orchid

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THE MEDAL AND THE ORCHID
THOSE who have lived among the natives of America say that they are a finer people, morally and mentally, than their northern cousins. Their life is under less stress, therefore less heroic, than that of the Sioux and others who obtain their subsistence by the hunt on the wide, ​cold plains, and they come from a stock that was more than half civilized, enjoying, therefore, a heritage of refinement and intelligence. When Europe awoke to the beauty of the orchid, seekers for this strange plant of the air began to invade the forests of the Amazon, for rare strains of it commanded little fortunes from rich amateurs. Among these hunters was a French botanist, Pierre de Vert, a young man who had given his life to study. He was retiring, sensitive, and religious, as those are apt to be who spend their years in the company of woods and mountains, and to him an orchid was not merely a flower: it was a problem, a mystery, a symbol.
A Paris nobleman had offered a prize for the most beautiful flower that could be found for the Easter festival, and knowing Pierre's love for orchids he gave him money for a trip to Guiana, together with a medal which the Pope had blessed and which in case of a pecuniary strait would assure his return to France, for its gold value was five hundred francs. Landing in Cayenne, Pierre set off at once for Mount Roraima, of which fabulous tales had reached his ears, and, careless of malaria, of tormenting insects, of wild beasts, of loathsome snakes, he reached the highlands where he hoped to find the largest and most striking of the orchids. During his search he stumbled on the habitations of a rude hill tribe of savages. They were unable to understand why he had come among them; ​they had suffered from the treachery and misconduct of the whites; they disbelieved him when he said that he had travelled all the way from the farther shore of the great water to seek flowers, because flowers could be had in any place: so they took him prisoner, and the unrestrained clamored to have him roasted. They searched his pockets and took his money. They had seen enough of white men to know how many vices could be indulged with gold. "Is this all?" asked the chief, holding the coins before him.
Pierre was about to answer, "Yes," but as he placed his hand on his heart he felt the medal there. He could not lie.
"All?" repeated the Indian.
Pierre bit his lip and looked into the sky. It was hard to be robbed of every coin, and have to give up his medal also.
"All?" demanded the chief again.
Pierre shook his head, parted his clothing at the throat, and revealed the medal.
"The lad will not lie, yet he is white!" exclaimed one of his captors, in astonishment.
"It is his soul that is white," declared another.
The people would not touch the medal. Pierre had won them. They made a bed of fragrant leaves for him, and he slept unguarded until the call of birds aroused him in the morning. When the Indians had shared their meal with him they gave back the money they had taken. "You are ​good," they said. "You do not deceive. Keep your coins and rest, and we will help you."
The people dispersed, and did not return until night. When they came back they were laden with the strangest and most exquisite blossoms, whose heavy perfume was almost overpowering. One of these was of remarkable size and color, and that one, Pierre knew, would win the prize. He detached the plant from the tree to which it had fastened, and some weeks afterward it bloomed in Notre Dame. The wonder and admiration of the people were almost reward enough for his toil and hardship. With the money he received as a prize he returned to Guiana and taught the gospel to the Indians.