If, while an Emanglon is home entertaining somebody, a fly comes into the room where they are, the guest, even if he is his best friend, will get up and leave at once without saying a word, wearing that ruffled and stung expression which is inimitable. The other has understood, even if he has seen nothing. Only a fly could cause this disaster. Drunk with hatred, he searches for it. But his friend is already far away.
The great treachery is to enter the home of someone you intend to injure, provided with a fly hidden in your pocket, to let it loose in the dining room and then to act the part of the man who has been insulted. But the other has his eye on you, you may be sure! He watched your pockets, your collar, your sleeves, he suspects immediately that there’s a fly in this visit. So you must act prudently. As in everything else, you must be skillful, and if you get a good chance, don’t think that your work is over with.
— Henri Michaux, from “The Emanglons” in Voyage to Great Garaban, trans. Richard Ellmann