144 AUTUMN AND WINTER 



and then, without further preamble, my visitor, M. Pasteur, 

 said : "I should like to see some cocoons. I have never 

 seen any ; I know them only by name. Could you get me 

 some ? " 



' " Nothing easier. My landlord happens to sell cocoons ; 

 and he lives in the next house. If you will wait a moment, 

 I will bring you what you want." 



* Four steps took me to my neighbour's, where I crammed 

 my pockets with cocoons. I came back and handed them to 

 the savant. He took one, turned and turned it among his 

 fingers ; he examined it curiously, as one would a strange 

 object from the other end of the world. He put it to his ear 

 and shook it : 



* " Why, it makes a noise," he said, quite surprised. 

 " There 's something inside." 

 1 " Of course there is." 

 " What is it?" 

 ' "The chrysalis." 

 ' " How do you mean, the chrysalis ?" 



* " I mean the sort of mummy into which the caterpillar 

 changes before becoming a moth." 



' " And has every cocoon one of those things inside 



it?" 



1 " Obviously, it is to protect the chrysalis that the cater- 

 pillar spins." 



' " Really." 



1 And without more words, the cocoons passed into the 

 pocket of the savant, who was to instruct himself at his 

 leisure touching that great novelty, the chrysalis. I was 

 struck by this magnificent assurance. Pasteur had come to 

 regenerate the silkworm, while knowing nothing about cater- 

 pillars, cocoons, chrysalises or metamorphoses.' 



Pasteur's ignorance is very common : we all share it 



