"These cocoons not only have excellent silk on them, but they have more of it than if they had been spun by a healthy worm. As a result they command the highest price and buyers are eager to find them."
"I guess I don't know anything about silkworms or cocoons either," announced Pierre in dismay.
Both boys laughed.
"It is amazing how much there is to know about almost anything when you once start to learn about it from top to bottom," declared Henri. "I came into this filature when quite young, and it has taken me years to find out even the little I know now."
"I think you know a lot," Pierre returned admiringly. "I'd be happy if I knew even half as much."
"Oh, no you wouldn't," was the prompt retort. "You'd want to know a great deal more, just as I do—that is, if you were any good. There are a thousand things I want to find out. The silk business, you see, is to be my trade. I have an uncle in the weaving mills at Lyons, and some day when I know more he is to find a place for me there. So I am learning all I can about the classifying and reeling of cocoons; and I have also raised a few silkworms so as to be familiar with the very beginnings of the industry. Soon I am to go into the filature to help with the reeling; and after that they have promised to send me on into the throwing mills, where the filament is twisted into thread preparatory to weaving. Then I shall be ready to go to Lyons and see how silks, satins, and velvets are made. Lyons, you know, is a famous silk-making city. It was there that Philippe de la Salle, the great silk designer, lived. Because he did such beautiful work he was decorated by Louis XVI with the Order of Saint Michel and was given a pension of six mille livres. Think of that! Alas, such things do not happen now. That was long ago—between 1723 and 1803. His good fortune did not, however, last long, for the Revolution came, and the court which gave him his money went out of power. Still the people of Lyons were proud of him and despite the fact that he had been a court favorite they provided for him lodgings in the Palais Saint Pierre, where he lived for the rest of his life."
"I am afraid I do not know much about what he did," said Pierre with engaging frankness.
"Why, it was Philippe de la Salle who designed the silk hangings for the chamber of Marie Antoinette, and who originated the Empire motif of the wreath of laurel; he also designed silks gorgeous with garlands intertwined with ribbon; or decorated with baskets of fruit and flowers; and sometimes he made use of great birds. He has done some of the finest silk designs ever woven. My uncle told me, however, that years and years before that wonderful silks were made; and that fragments showing beautiful designs are in the museums of Berlin and Nuremberg, as well as in our own Cluny Museum, and the great museums of London. He said there were also marvelous church vestments of even earlier date and also some very ancient Byzantine silks splendid with griffins, eagles, and lions. Some day, perhaps, I shall go to see them, and maybe I myself may learn to weave such fabrics. Who knows? And what are you going to do, Pierre?"
"I suppose I shall just go on raising silkworms," was the quiet reply. "It is hard work, but I see nothing else ahead for me. However, when my father and uncle return from the war there will be time enough for me to think what I will do."
"Ah, but you have a plan already; I can see that!" Henri cried.