Attempt to sell the pearl to dealers

The attempt to sell the great pearl marks the decisive public confrontation between Kino and the entrenched economic and racial power structure of La Paz. It is the moment when the town's hidden collusion is exposed to Kino and his neighbors, and when Kino's dream of using the pearl to lift his family out of poverty collides with a system designed to keep the poor in their place. The event transforms Kino from a hopeful man into a defiant, isolated figure, setting the stage for the violence and flight that follow.

The Procession and the Town's Anticipation

On the morning of the sale, the entire town knows that Kino is going to sell his pearl. The news travels through the brush huts, among the pearl fishermen, to the Chinese grocery-store owners, to the church where altar boys whisper about it, and even among the nuns. The beggars in front of the church speak of it, for they expect to take a tithe of the first fruits of his luck. The little boys know about it with excitement, but most of all the pearl buyers know, and each man sits alone in his office with his little black velvet tray, rolling pearls about with his fingertips and considering his part in the picture. The fishermen do not go out to dive that morning, for there will be too much to see when Kino goes to sell the great pearl. Kino's neighbors sit long over their breakfasts, speaking of what they would do if they had found the pearl: one would give it to the Holy Father in Rome, another would buy Masses for his family for a thousand years, a third would distribute the money among the poor of La Paz. All hope that sudden wealth will not turn Kino's head or graft onto him the evil limbs of greed and hatred. For Kino and Juana, this is the morning of mornings of their lives, comparable only to the day when Coyotito was born. Juana dresses Coyotito in the clothes she had prepared for his baptism, combs and braids her hair with two little bows of red ribbon, and puts on her marriage skirt and waist. Kino puts on his large straw hat, tilting it a little forward to show aggressiveness and seriousness and vigor. The great pearl is wrapped in an old soft piece of deerskin, placed in a little leather bag, and the leather bag is in a pocket in Kino's shirt. Kino steps with dignity out of the house, and Juana follows him, carrying Coyotito. As they march up the freshet-washed alley toward the town, the neighbors join them. The houses belch people; the doorways spew out children. Only one man walks with Kino: his brother, Juan Tomás.

Juan Tomás's Warnings and the History of Cheating

Juan Tomás cautions his brother to be careful that they do not cheat him. Kino agrees, but Juan Tomás presses the point: how can they know what is a fair price if they do not know what the pearl buyer gets for the pearl in another place? Kino acknowledges the truth but has no answer. As they walk, Juan Tomás tells the story of the old ones who once thought of a way to get more money for their pearls: they would pool their pearls and send an agent to the capital to sell them, keeping only his share of the profit. They got such a man, and he was never heard of again; the pearls were lost. They got another man, and he too was never heard of again. So they gave the whole thing up and went back to the old way. Kino has heard their father tell of it, and he knows that the priest made it clear that the loss of the pearl was a punishment visited on those who tried to leave their station. The priest's sermon, which he makes every year, teaches that each man and woman is like a soldier sent by God to guard some part of the castle of the Universe, and each must remain faithful to his post. The brothers walk along squinting their eyes a little, as their people have done for four hundred years since the strangers first came with argument and authority and gunpowder. In those four hundred years, Kino's people have learned only one defense: a slight slitting of the eyes and a slight tightening of the lips and a retirement. The gathering procession is solemn; any children who show a tendency to scuffle or cry out are hissed to silence by their elders. The procession leaves the brush huts and enters the stone and plaster city, where the beggars join them as they pass the church, the grocers look out at them, and the little saloons lose their customers as the owners close up shop and go along.

The Pearl Buyers' Collusion and the First Offer

The news of the approach runs ahead of the procession, and in their little dark offices the pearl buyers stiffen and grow alert. They get out papers so that they can be at work when Kino appears, and they put their own pearls in the desks, for it is not good to let an inferior pearl be seen beside a beauty. The pearl buyers' offices are clustered together in one narrow street, barred at the windows, with wooden slats cutting out the light so that only a soft gloom enters. A stout, slow man sits in an office waiting. His face is fatherly and benign, his eyes twinkle with friendship. He is a caller of good mornings, a ceremonious shaker of hands, a jolly man who knows all jokes and yet hovers close to sadness. This morning he has placed a single scarlet hibiscus in a vase on his desk, beside the black velvet-lined pearl tray. He is shaved close to the blue roots of his beard, his hands are clean, his nails polished. His right hand practices legerdemain, rolling a coin back and forth over his knuckles, making it appear and disappear, spin and sparkle. When he hears the tramp of feet, his fingers work faster and faster until, as Kino fills the doorway, the coin flashes and disappears. Kino stares into the dimness, his eyes squeezed from the outside glare. The buyer's eyes have become as steady and cruel and unwinking as a hawk's eyes, while the rest of his face smiles in greeting. Kino says, "I have a pearl." Juan Tomás snorts a little at the understatement. The neighbors peer around the doorway, little boys clamber on the window bars, and several on their hands and knees watch the scene around Kino's legs. The dealer says, "You have a pearl. Sometimes a man brings in a dozen. Well, let us see your pearl. We will value it and give you the best price." His fingers work furiously with the coin. Kino, instinctively knowing his own dramatic effects, slowly brings out the leather bag, slowly takes from it the soft and dirty piece of deerskin, and then lets the great pearl roll into the black velvet tray. Instantly his eyes go to the buyer's face, but there is no sign, no movement. The secret hand behind the desk misses its precision: the coin stumbles over a knuckle and slips silently into the dealer's lap. The fingers curl into a fist. When the right hand comes out of hiding, the forefinger touches the great pearl, rolls it on the black velvet, picks it up, brings it near to the dealer's eyes, and twirls it in the air. Kino holds his breath, and the neighbors hold theirs. The whispering goes back through the crowd: "He is inspecting it—No price has been mentioned yet—They have not come to a price." Then the dealer's hand tosses the great pearl back into the tray, the forefinger pokes and insults it, and on the dealer's face there comes a sad and contemptuous smile. "I am sorry, my friend," he says, his shoulders rising to indicate the misfortune is no fault of his. Kino insists, "It is a pearl of great value." The dealer's fingers spurn the pearl so that it bounces and rebounds softly from the side of the velvet tray. He compares it to fool's gold: "It is too large. Who would buy it? There is no market for such things. It is a curiosity only." He offers a thousand pesos.

Kino's Refusal and the Confrontation

Kino's face grows dark and dangerous. "It is worth fifty thousand," he says. "You know it. You want to cheat me." The dealer hears a little grumble go through the crowd and feels a tremor of fear. He quickly deflects, saying he is only an appraiser and urging Kino to ask the other buyers—or better, let them come so that Kino can see there is no collusion. He calls a servant to fetch three other dealers without telling them why. Kino's neighbors whisper together: they had been afraid of something like this. The pearl is large but has a strange color; they have been suspicious of it from the first. And after all, a thousand pesos is not to be thrown away—it is comparative wealth to a man who was not wealthy. But Kino has grown tight and hard. He feels the creeping of fate, the circling of wolves, the hover of vultures. He feels the evil coagulating about him, and he is helpless to protect himself. He hears in his ears the evil music. On the black velvet the great pearl glistens, so that the dealer cannot keep his eyes from it. The crowd in the doorway wavers and breaks to let the three pearl dealers through. The crowd is silent now, fearing to miss a word or a gesture. Kino is silent and watchful. He feels a little tugging at his back, turns, and looks into Juana's eyes; when he looks away, he has renewed strength. The dealers do not glance at one another nor at the pearl. The first dealer, dry and stringy, takes the pearl, rolls it quickly between thumb and forefinger, and casts it contemptuously back into the tray. "Do not include me in the discussion," he says dryly. "I will make no offer at all. I do not want it. This is not a pearl—it is a monstrosity." His thin lips curl. The second dealer, a little man with a shy soft voice, examines the pearl carefully, takes a glass from his pocket and inspects it under magnification, then laughs softly. "Better pearls are made of paste," he says. "This is soft and chalky, it will lose its color and die in a few months." He offers the glass to Kino, shows him how to use it, and Kino, who has never seen a pearl's surface magnified, is shocked at the strange-looking surface. The third dealer takes the pearl from Kino's hands. "One of my clients likes such things," he says. "I will offer five hundred pesos, and perhaps I can sell it to my client for six hundred." Kino reaches quickly and snatches the pearl from his hand, wraps it in the deerskin, and thrusts it inside his shirt. The man behind the desk says his first offer still stands—one thousand—and asks what Kino is doing. "I am cheated," Kino cries fiercely. "My pearl is not for sale here. I will go, perhaps even to the capital." The dealers glance quickly at one another, knowing they have played too hard and will be disciplined for their failure. The man at the desk quickly raises his offer to fifteen hundred, but Kino is already pushing his way through the crowd. The hum of talk comes to him dimly, his rage blood pounds in his ears, and he bursts through and strides away. Juana follows, trotting after him.

Aftermath and the Community's Division

When evening comes, the neighbors in the brush houses sit eating their corncakes and beans and discuss the great theme of the morning. They do not know—it seemed a fine pearl to them, but they have never seen such a pearl before, and surely the dealers know more about the value of pearls than they. "And mark this," they say. "Those dealers did not discuss these things. Each of the three knew the pearl was valueless." But some argue: suppose they had arranged it before? If that is so, then all of them have been cheated all of their lives. Perhaps it would have been better if Kino had taken the fifteen hundred pesos—that is a great deal of money, more than he has ever seen. Maybe Kino is being a pigheaded fool. Suppose he should really go to the capital and find no buyer for his pearl—he would never live that down. Now that he has defied them, those buyers will not want to deal with him at all. Maybe Kino has cut off his own head and destroyed himself. Others say Kino is a brave man and a fierce man; he is right. From his courage they may all profit. These are proud of Kino. In his house, Kino squats on his sleeping mat, brooding. He has buried his pearl under a stone of the fire hole. He stares at the woven tules of his sleeping mat until the crossed design dances in his head. He has lost one world and has not gained another. He is afraid of strangers and of strange places, terrified of that monster of strangeness they call the capital, which lies over the water and through the mountains, over a thousand miles away. But his dream of the future is real and never to be destroyed, and he has said "I will go," and that makes a real thing too. Juan Tomás comes in and squats beside him. Kino demands, "What else could I do? They are cheats." Juan Tomás nods gravely. "It is hard to know," he says. "We do know that we are cheated from birth to the overcharge on our coffins. But we survive. You have defied not the pearl buyers, but the whole structure, the whole way of life, and I am afraid for you." Kino asks what he has to fear but starvation, but Juan Tomás shakes his head slowly. "Suppose you are correct—suppose your pearl is of great value—do you think then the game is over?" He warns Kino that he is walking on new ground and does not know the way. Kino insists he will go soon. Juan Tomás agrees that he must, but wonders if he will find it any different in the capital. "Here, you have friends and me, your brother. There, you will have no one." Kino cries out that his son must have a chance, that his friends will protect him. Juan Tomás answers, "Only so long as they are not in danger or discomfort from it." He arises, saying, "Go with God." Kino says the same, but the words have a strange chill in them. Long after Juan Tomás has gone, Kino sits brooding. A lethargy has settled on him, and a little gray hopelessness. Every road seems blocked against him. In his head he hears only the dark music of the enemy.