t? This consisted in killing the chrysalis,
or sleeping worm inside the cocoon, lest it come out and snap the
delicate threads that it had spun. In cooler countries the process was
accomplished by putting baskets of cocoons covered with paper and
wrapped in cloth into ovens about hot enough for the baking of bread.
Here they were left an hour or so until all moisture had exuded from
them, proving that the worm had been dried up. Sometimes a blast of
steam-heat was the method used for the destruction of the chrysalis.
Such methods required greatest care, however, lest in employing a
degree of heat sufficient to exterminate the worm the silk also be
damaged. But in Bellerivre no such artificial means had to be resorted
to. Instead the cocoons were spread out beneath the burning rays of the
sun and left to bake, being wrapped each night in heavy black cloth that
had also absorbed the heat and would retain during the night the high
temperature acquired through the day. For three days this process was
continued, the cocoons being spread in the sun from dawn until dusk, and
then bundled up inside the hot cloth throughout the night.

On the fourth day Josef said:

"Now it is time that we investigated and found out whether the worms are
really dead."

He thereupon took a few cocoons and cutting them open proceeded to
examine the chrysalis inside. It was motionless and dry. Again he looked
at it, this time touching it with the point of a needle. Still it did
not move.

"It is quite dead," he remarked. "And the others must be so too. What
wonder, when they have been so steadily exposed to this broiling sun? I
should be dead if I were to lie in it day after day without protection,
and so would you. We can now safely gather the lot into baskets and put
them away until Monsieur Leclerq, the buyer, comes for them at the end
of the week."

So once again the cocoons were collected to await their purchaser, and
the silk-raisers sat down with sighs of content to anticipate the
payment of the money they had so faithfully earned, and speculate as to
what they should do with it.

"I don't believe you are any more glad to rest than your silkworms are!"
reflected Josef. "When you consider that each one of them spins between
three and four hundred yards of thread you can't blame it for wanting to
sleep when its work is done."

"Do they spin as much as that?" gasped Marie.

"Indeed they do--some of them more. Certain of the finest var