Pearl Buck - Peony

She moved her chair nearer to Leah’s. “Child, you know — and no one so well as you — what is happening to our people here in this Chinese city — how few of us are faithful any more! Leah, we are being lost!”

“The Chinese are very kind to us,” Leah said.

Madame Ezra made a pettish gesture with her right hand. “It is what Ezra is always saying!” she exclaimed. “Kindness — I grow tired of it! Because the Chinese have not murdered us, does that mean they are not destroying us? Leah, I tell you, when I was your age the synagogue was full on every seventh day. You know what a small remnant is there nowadays.”

“Still, that is not the fault of the Chinese,” Leah said doubtfully.

“It is, it is,” Madame Ezra insisted. “They pretend they like us — they are always ready to laugh, to invite us to their feasts, to do business with us. They keep telling us there is no difference between our people and theirs. Now, Leah, you know there is unchangeable difference between them and us. We are the children of the true God, and they are heathen. They worship images of clay. Have you ever looked into a Chinese temple?”

“Yes,” Leah faltered. “When I was a child sometimes Aaron and I would go — just to see—”

“Well, then, you know,” Madame Ezra retorted.

“Can we blame them”—Leah was gently stubborn—“just for being kind?”

“They are not kind for kindness’s sake,” Madame Ezra retorted. “No, no, I tell you, it’s their trick to be kind. They win us by guile. They get their women to entice our men. And they pretend to be tolerant — why, they even say they are quite willing to worship our Jehovah as well as their own idols!” Madame Ezra’s full face was red and handsome as she spoke thus earnestly to the young girl.

Leah continued to listen, her hands still clasped in her lap. “What do you want me to do, Aunt?” she asked at last.

“I want you to — to — persuade David,” Madame Ezra said. “You and he together, Leah! Think how you could influence him!”

“But David knows me,” Leah said in her straightforward way. “He would think it very odd if I were different — from what I have always been.”

“You are grown now, you and he,” Madame Ezra urged.

“We have always been like brother and sister,” Leah said simply.

Madame Ezra pushed the embroidery from her lap and rose. She began to walk up and down the room. “That is exactly what I want you both to forget!” she exclaimed. “It was well enough when you were children, Leah—”

She paused and Leah rose.

“Yes, Aunt?”

“You know what I mean,” Madame Ezra said harshly.

“I know, but I don’t know how to do it,” Leah said. Tears came into her large beautiful eyes. “You want me to — to—”

“Entice him — entice him,” Madame Ezra said in the same harsh voice.

“I can’t,” Leah said steadily. “He would only laugh at me. And I would laugh at myself. It wouldn’t be — me.”

She put out her hand and took Madame Ezra’s hand and held it between her own. “I have to be myself, dear Aunt, don’t I? I know David, too.” She felt her heart warm at the thought of David and she grew brave before this lady whom she loved and yet feared. “Perhaps I know him even better than you do. Forgive me, Aunt! You see, we are so nearly the same age. And I feel something in him — something great and — and good. If I can speak straightly to that part in him — which is also in me—”

They were gazing into each other’s eyes while she thus spoke. Madame Ezra listened, her heart beating. Yes, Leah could do this!

Then suddenly, at this instant before Madame Ezra could reply, they heard a great noise from the outside courts. Voices shouted, gongs clanged, Wang Ma hurried from the bedroom.

“Mistress, it must be the caravan!” she exclaimed, and hastened away to find out. At the gate to the court she ran full into her husband, Old Wang.

“The caravan — the caravan!” he yelled. “Old Mistress — Master says — please come — it’s the caravan!”

Madame Ezra pulled her hand from between Leah’s hands. “We shall have to go,” she said. “Better today than tomorrow, the Sabbath.”

But Leah sat still. “Aunt, let me wait here — let me think — of what you have said is my duty.”

“Very well, child,” Madame Ezra replied. “Think of it — but come when you will.”

“Yes.” Leah’s voice was a sigh. The next moment she was alone, and she folded her arms on the table at her side and laid down her head upon them. Then, after a few seconds, she rose and went to the corner of the room, and standing with her face toward the wall, she began to pray in a soft sobbing voice.

The coming of the caravan each year was an event for the whole city. The news of it ran from mouth to mouth, and when the long line of camels came padding down the dusty path at the side of the stone-paved streets, the doors of every house and shop were open and crowded with people. Upon a proud white camel at the head of the caravan sat Kao Lien, the trusted business partner of the House of Ezra. Behind him came guards armed with swords and old foreign muskets, and behind them plodded the loaded camels. All were weary with the long journey westward through Turkestan and back again through mountain passes, but for the final homecoming the men had decked themselves in their best, and even the camels held their narrow heads high and moved with majesty.

Last of all came Ezra in his mule cart. For days he had posted men along the last miles of the caravan route, watching and ready to set off to bring him word of the caravan. In the small morning hours of this day he had received the breathless runner, and had heard that the caravan was traveling by forced marches and would reach the city in a few hours. With forethought the runner had called the gateman, who had called for the mule cart, and into it Ezra had hastened, counting upon food at an inn. He had met the caravan at a village some ten miles outside the city, and then he had greeted Kao Lien with a great embrace, and the two had eaten a hasty breakfast, and had come on again toward the city, Ezra’s mule cart following the caravan. He had ordered the blue satin curtains lifted, and now he rode smiling through the watching streets, waving his hands to all greetings.

Then at the gilded door of the teahouse that stood on the main street he saw his friend Kung Chen, smoking a long brass-tipped bamboo pipe, and he ordered the muleteer to stop the vehicle and let him down so that he could do this Chinese merchant the courtesy of passing him on foot. He paused to bow and to give greeting, and the caravan halted while he did this.

“I congratulate you upon the safe return of your partner and the caravan,” Kung Chen said.

“The camels are laden with goods of the richest sort,” Ezra replied. “When you have time, I beg you to come and see what we have, in order that you may choose what you want for your own shops. I give you first choice. Only what is left shall go to other merchants, until our contract is signed.”

“Thank you, thank you,” the urbane Chinese replied. He was a large, fat man, his brocaded satin robe a little short in front because of his full paunch. A sleeveless black velvet jacket softened the curves.

Ezra grew warm with fine friendliness. “Come tomorrow, good friend,” he urged. “Take a modest meal with me, and afterward we can look over the goods at our pleasure. No!” He broke off. “What am I saying? Tomorrow is our Sabbath. Another day, good friend.”

“Excellent, excellent,” Kung Chen replied in his mellow voice. He bowed, he pushed Ezra gently again toward his chair, and the caravan went on.

Just before it reached the gates of his house Ezra saw his son, David, drop lightly over the brick wall of the compound and run beside the first camel, waving his right arm in greeting to Kao Lien. Then he darted ahead and through the gates.