Although his father had pictured for him a brilliant future in the army, Herve Joncour had ended up earning his crust in an unusual career which, by a singular piece of irony, was not unconnected with a charming side that bestowed on it a vaguely feminineintonation.

Herve Joncour bought and sold silkworms for a living.

The year was 1861. Flaubert was writing Salammbo, electric light remained hypothetical, and Abraham Lincoln, beyond the Ocean, was fighting a war of which he was not to see the finish.

Herve Joncour was thirty-two.

He bought and sold.

Silkworms.

[ skipped a few sections ]

Herve Joncour spoke for a good deal longer. He broke off only when Hara Kei averted his eyes and gave a nod.

Silence.

In French, somewhat drawing out the vowels, in a hoarse, sincere voice Hara Kei said:

"If you wish, I should be glad to see you return."

For the first time he smiled.

"The eggs you have in your possession are fish-eggs, they are worth little more than nothing."

Herve Joncour lowered his eyes. His teacup stood there, in front of him. He took it and began to turn it, to scrutinize it as though searching for something along its colored rim. When he found what he was looking for, he set his lips to it, and drank the last drop. Then he set the cup down before him and said:

"I know."

Hara Kei chuckled delightedly.

"Is that why you've paid in spurious gold?"

"I've paid for what I bought."

Hara Kei turned serious again.

"When you leave here, you'll have what you want."

"When I leave this island, alive, you'll receive the gold due to you. You have my word."

Herve Joncour did not even wait for a reply. He stood up, stepped back a few paces, then bowed.

The last thing he saw, before leaving the room, was her eyes, fixed upon him, and perfectly mute.

I checked Silk out from the library at the recommendation of my aunt. It is a quick and delightful read and left me pondering. Since the chapters are so compact, I decided to excerpt two small sections.