118 THE LIFE OF PASTEUR 



which had seemed sound. The discouraged Alaisians thought 

 that nothing could overcome pebrine. 



Pasteur did not admit such resignation. But he began by 

 one aspect only of the problem. He resolved to submit those 

 corpuscles of the silkworm which had been observed since 1849 

 to microscopical study. He settled down in a small magna- 

 nerie near Alais; two series of worms were being cultivated. 

 The first set was full grown; it came from some Japanese seed 

 guaranteed as sound, and had produced very fine cocoons. The 

 cultivator intended to keep the seed of the moths to compensate 

 himself for the failure of the second set, also of Japanese 

 origin, but not officially guaranteed. The worms of this second 

 series were sickly and did not feed properly. And yet these 

 worms, seen through the microscope, only exceptionally pre- 

 sented corpuscles; whilst Pasteur was surprised to find some 

 in almost every moth or chrysalis from the prosperous nursery. 

 Was it then elsewhere than in the worms that the secret of 

 the pebrine was to be found? 



Pasteur was interrupted in the midst of his experiments by 

 a sudden blow. Nine days after his arrival, a telegram called 

 him to Arbois: his father was very ill. He started, full of 

 anguish, remembering the sudden death of his mother before 

 he had had time to reach her, and that of Jeanne, his eldest 

 daughter, who had also died far away from him in the little 

 house at Arbois. His sad presentiment oppressed him during 

 the w^hole of the long journey, and was fully justified; be 

 arrived to find, already in his coffin, the father he so dearly 

 loved and whose name he had made an illustrious one. 



In the evening, in the empty room above the tannery, 

 Pasteur wrote: ''Dear Marie, dear children, the dear grand' 

 father is no more; we have taken him this morning to his last 

 resting place, close to little Jeanne's. In the midst of my 

 grief I have felt thankful that our little girl had been buried 

 there. . . , Until the last moment I hoped I should see him 

 again, embrace him for the last time . . . but when I 

 arrived at the station I saw some of our cousins all in black, 

 coming from Salins; it was only then that I understood that i 

 could but accompany him to the grave. 



**He died on the day of your first communion, dear Cecile, 

 those two memories will remain in your heart, my poor child. 

 I had a presentiment of it when that very morning, at the 

 hour when he was struck down, I was asking you to pray for 



