Pearl Buck - Kinfolk

Chen gave a snort. “That Kitty! No — no — but what made you think of a girl, Jim?”

“Your red face.”

Chen began rubbing his crown again. “Ha — yes — well—” So he stammered.

“Come — come!” James said.

Chen swallowed, clenched his hands together on his lap and plunged in. “I want to marry Mary,” he said abruptly.

“Eh?” James said stupidly.

“You hear me,” Chen said. Even his eyes looked red.

“But you are always laughing at her,” James said still stupidly. “And she never knows what you are laughing at. And you quarrel how often!”

“Married people always quarrel,” Chen said.

“Ah, but Chen, you two do not act like people in love!”

“And have you been in love?” Chen asked.

How seldom James thought of Lili, how resolutely he had put her away, and yet now her soft charming face, her childlike voice, came creeping back into his memory. He remembered his love for her, and how while it lived that love had wrapped him about in a dream. Mary and Chen did not walk in dreams. She was busy and brisk and she commanded Chen to do this and that and Chen laughed at her and sometimes he made a great show of obedience and sometimes he only laughed and did nothing, and when she flew at him he pretended terror. It was not at all what had been between him and Lili.

“I have been in love,” James said gravely.

“Did she die?”

“She married someone else.”

“What a fool she!” Chen exclaimed cheerfully. “Well, better luck for me, Jim — and for you too, someday.”

“I shall not soon marry,” James said.

“I shall,” Chen retorted. “But the question is — how can I tell Mary?”

He sat with his legs spread wide, his hands on his knees, his hair standing upright, and his square face so rueful that James burst into laughter himself. “You tell her everything else. Why can you not tell her this?”

But Chen was grave. “No, no. This is different. It is serious. A man cannot just go and speak to a woman so.”

“Why not? You are not a villager in love, are you?”

Chen continued to look grave. “It is delicate. The old way is not good — for us, that is. Yet I do not like the American way for us, either. I saw it in the movies. It was too disgusting to me — also insulting to Mary.”

It was so amazing to see Chen, who was always ready for anything, thus confounded by love, and by love for Mary, whom he saw every day and whom he teased as easily as he breathed, that James was speechless for a few minutes, half amused, half impressed. In this silence Chen continued to talk. “Besides, how do I know she thinks of me as I wish her to do? It may be that she will need a little education — you know, someone to say to her for instance, ‘Eh, Mary, this Chen, who is such a rough joking fellow — at heart he is different. He is rather good. He is very faithful’—some such thing, Jim.”

“Shall I say this to her for you?” James asked.

“Will you, good brother?” Chen said, very red again in the face. “That is what I want to ask.”

“Why not? I will say that and much more.”

“You like me well enough?” Chen asked with a little new anxiety. “Your father, for example — would he object to me?”

“My father seems so far away that I had not even thought of him. As for me, you are already my brother, and I will gladly give you my sister to bring our two bloods into one.”

Chen sat back and he wiped his face with his sleeve and blew out a great sigh of relief. “Now then, I feel better,” he said in a loud voice. “Of course — I must not be too happy yet. She may not like me for a husband.”

“To this I cannot honestly reply,” James said. “I have never seen her thinking of any man or even of a husband.”

They considered Mary, and Chen asked excitedly, “Jim, eh — why not ask her now?”

“But she will be going to bed.”

Chen got up and looked through the court. “The light is still behind her window,” he said. “Eh — how can I sleep now until I know?”

“But how will you sleep if she does not want you?” James asked in reply.

This could not be answered. The two young men looked at one another. Chen was suddenly pale. He set his pleasant lips grimly. “I must know,” he muttered.

James lingered one moment more. “Then I will ask her,” he said, and he went to do it.

Mary was brushing her short straight black hair when she heard the knock on her door. She had taken off her outer garments and she had put on a bathrobe of red wool that she had brought with her from America. She opened the door and saw her brother.

“What’s the matter?” she asked.

“I want a few minutes with you, Mary.”

“Come in,” she said. “But what is it that can’t wait until tomorrow?”

They were speaking in English, and somehow in this language he found it difficult to say what must be said, and he dropped back into Chinese. “I come for a strange thing.”

“What is it?” she asked still in English.

“I am a go-between, a marriage broker, and I bring an offer.”

“Don’t be silly!” she exclaimed.

“Is it silly? Perhaps it is,” James replied. “For I told him to come to you himself, and he cannot. He is shy of you when it comes to love.”

Did Mary know of what he was talking? He thought she did. Her eyes were wide and dark and her cheeks were pink and her lips parted. He waited for her to speak and she did not. She sat on the edge of her bed and he sat on the stool by her table and they continued to look at one another.

“Chen loves you, Mary,” he said simply and he spoke these words in English.

“Oh,” Mary said and it was a sigh, very soft, like a child’s.

“Is that all?” he asked.

“But — but how does he know?” she demanded.

“He seems to know,” James said tenderly.

She sat gazing at him, her cheeks pinker.

“And do you say nothing?” James asked.

“I am trying to find out how I feel,” she said. “I think I feel — happy.”

“Good! Take a little longer.” So he encouraged her.

They waited and he saw her eyes drop to her small bare feet. “I didn’t have time to put on my slippers. My feet are getting cold.”

“Where are they? I’ll find them for you.”

“No, they’re here, under the bed.” She found the slippers for herself and put them on.

“You ought to be careful on these earthen floors,” James said. He rose. “Well, shall I tell him that tomorrow you will speak to him yourself?”

She raised her long straight lashes. “Yes,” she whispered. She turned and picked up her brush again and stood watching for an instant the dark straightness of her hair.

“I want you to be happy, Mary,” he said at last.

“I am always happy,” she said with a look of sweet firmness which he knew so well, and he left her to go back to Chen.

He found that friend of his prowling restlessly around the room.

“How long you were!” Chen exclaimed.

“I wasn’t,” James retorted. “She hadn’t thought of it—”

“Hadn’t thought of me?” Chen moaned.

“Let us say — of marriage.”

Chen sat down as though his legs were suddenly weak. “But all women must marry,” he remonstrated.

“Not nowadays. Chen, you are too old-fashioned.”

“Then I suppose she doesn’t—”

“She wants to talk with you tomorrow herself.”

“You mean she didn’t—”

“She did not refuse you,” James replied slowly and clearly. “She is thinking. I daresay she will think all night. But knowing her, by tomorrow doubtless Mary will know what she wants.”

Chen groaned. “I shan’t sleep all night.”

“Then you will be foolish and tomorrow you will not look your best.”