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black pearl that filled his hand.

8
    W HEN MY FATHER AND I WENT HOME that evening it was like a parade. News of the monstrous pearl, found by Ramón the son of Bias Salazar, had spread through the town. It was as if the news had been written across the sky in letters of fire.
    Farmers from the hills, idlers, fishermen, pearlers, merchants from their shops, women and children from everywhere, even Father Gallardo from the church, but not the Sevillano, were in the parade that followed us along the Malecón and up the hill to the plaza. Some carried torches and all sang and shouted to celebrate the great black pearl. For the town of La Paz lives by the finding and selling of pearls and therefore everyone in the town and the country around shares somehow in the fortunes of the sea.
    The crowd followed us to the gates of our house and when we went in, it milled around the plaza and grew larger as more people heard the news of the pearl. It was a bigger celebration than the town has on the Cinco de Mayo.
    In our home is a small workshop where my father changes gems that are not perfect and here he took the great pearl. He closed the door, so the Indian servants could not see what he was about.
    First he placed the pearl on the scales and balanced the weights. "It is 62.3 in carats as you have told me," he said. "And it is exactly round. But you are wrong about its perfection." He held the pearl to the light. "Look, and you will see the smallest of flaws. It lies in the first layer or somewhere beneath, I cannot tell for certain."
    I had seen the flaw already, and because I did not want to see it I had decided that it was too small to be important. "If you cut the pearl, you may find that the flaw goes deep," I said.
    "If the flaw does go deep," my father said, "then it is not a great pearl. Which would you rather have, the Paragon of Pearls or just one that is good?"
    "The Paragon," I said.
    Still I did not wish him to cut the pearl, for I had seen many fine pearls destroyed by this cutting.
    "If the flaw lies deep we have nothing," I said. "Now the flaw is small and whoever buys the pearl may never see it."
    "The flaw will be seen first," my father replied, "and even though the pearl weighs more than sixty carats and is round and of rare orient and color, it is only the flaw that will be talked about. So fetch another lamp and turn up the wick on this one, and while you do this pray that God guides my hand with the knife."
    I turned up the wick and lighted another lamp, as I was told to do, but I did it with my heart beating loud. From the plaza came the sound of singing and through the window I could see the flare of torches. In a moment or two, I feared, there could be nothing to celebrate, for the townspeople or for me or for anyone.
    I began to pray, but somehow the words would not come. I kept hearing the old man's words, "The Manta Diablo will have it someday, the Manta Diablo will have it back." I stared at the pearl and the knife lying beside it. Would Soto Luzon's words come true? Would the knife my father was about to use destroy the pearl forever?
    My father picked up the small, sharp knife whose edge was slightly curved. He took the pearl firmly in one hand and breathed deeply and held his breath and laid the edge of the knife against the pearl. There was the faintest whisper as the knife nicked the surface. Then a peeling that was thinner than the thinnest paper came free and slowly, slowly grew in length and at last, after what seemed an hour, fell lightly upon the table.
    Outside, the singing had grown louder, but here in the room there was not a sound, except the sound of my father breathing again. He put down the knife and held the pearl under the lamp and stared at it for a long time. I watched his face for some sign that the flaw had disappeared. His face did not change.
    My throat was dry and choked with fear. "What do you see?" /tried to say.
    He did not answer me for my words came out in a hoarse jumble