Pearl Buck - Pavilion of Women

Little Sister Hsia nodded. Her hands fell limply apart. A shade of disappointment hung about her pale lips and eyes.

Madame Wu touched her own pretty lips with her perfumed silk handkerchief. “I feel my third son needs more education,” she said in her gentle voice, whose gentleness seemed always to put distances between her and the one to whom she spoke. “I have decided, therefore, to have him taught by a suitable foreign man to speak a foreign language and read foreign books. After all, what was enough for our ancestors is not today enough for us. The seas no longer divide the peoples, and Heaven is no more our own canopy. Can you tell me if there is a foreign man in the city whom I can invite to teach Fengmo?”

Little Sister Hsia was so taken aback by this request that had nothing to do with what she had heard that for a moment she could not speak at all.

“I hear that there is a foreign priest,” Madame Wu went on. “Can you tell me about him?”

“Priest?” Little Sister Hsia murmured.

“So I hear,” Madame Wu said.

Little Sister Hsia looked doubtful. “If it is the one I think you must mean,” she said, “I don’t think that you would want him for your son.”

“Is he not learned?” Madame Wu inquired.

“What is the wisdom of man, dear friend?” Little Sister Hsia asked. “He is as good as an atheist!”

“Why do you say that?” Madame Wu asked.

“I cannot think he is a true believer,” Little Sister Hsia said gravely.

“Perhaps he has his own religion,” Madame Wu said.

“There is only one true religion,” Little Sister Hsia said positively.

Madame Wu smiled. “Will you ask him to come and see me?” she asked.

She was astonished to see a flying dark blush sweep over the plain face before her.

“He is unmarried,” Little Sister Hsia said. “I don’t know what he would think if I were to visit him.”

Madame Wu put out a kind hand and touched the bony fingers lying on Little Sister Hsia’s lap. “None could suspect your virtue,” she said.

The kindness melted the foreign woman’s shyness. “Dear Madame Wu,” she said, “I would do anything to help you.”

The edge of intensity crept into her voice again, but Madame Wu put it off gracefully, disliking intensity above all things. “You are so good,” she said. She clapped her hands, and Ying came in with the tray of tea and sweetmeats.

For half an hour Madame Wu busied herself with this. Then she took steps to help her guest to leave.

“Now,” she said in her sweet way, “would you like to make a prayer before you go?”

“I’d love to,” Little Sister Hsia said.

She closed her eyes and bowed her head, and her voice began its fervent address to someone unseen. Madame Wu sat in graceful silence while this went on. She did not close her eyes. Instead she watched Little Sister Hsia’s face with forebearing comprehension. How empty was this soul, so alone, so far from home! She had come across the sea to do her good works. All knew of her, of her weekly meeting to teach sewing to beggar women. All knew that she lived poorly and gave away most of what she had. But how lonely the woman in this poor creature! A kind affection stirred in the depths of Madame Wu’s heart. Little Sister Hsia was ignorant, of course, and one could not listen to her, but she was good and she was lonely.

When Little Sister Hsia opened her eyes she was astonished at the liquid warmth she saw in the great beautiful eyes of Madame Wu. For a moment she thought her prayer had been miraculously answered. Perhaps God had touched the heart of this heathen woman?

But Madame Wu rose and by that firm movement bade Little Sister Hsia farewell. “You will send the priest to me soon?” she asked and made it a command in the asking.

Against her will Little Sister Hsia found herself promising that she would.

“How can I repay you?” Madame Wu said courteously. “At least, let me say this, Little Sister. In return for your kindness in arranging a teacher for my third son, please pray for me whenever you like.” So she dismissed her visitor.

All day during this day Madame Wu had not forgotten what Ying had told her, that she had heard Rulan sobbing in the night. But Madame Wu had long ago learned that the affairs of a great household must be managed one by one and in order. This order was first in her own mind. She had tried to see Tsemo and Heaven had prevented it. The time was not ripe, therefore. And as she had learned to do, while she pondered on large things, she acted on small ones.

She sent for the cook to bring in his monthly accounts, which had been due two days earlier but which he had withheld, feeling the confusion in the house. Madame Wu read these accounts and remarked on the high price of the fuel grass.

Now, Ying always took care to be present when the accounts were presented, for she believed that her husband, although a better cook than any could find, was nevertheless not clever at anything else. When Madame Wu spoke of the fuel, she knew at once that some other servant had reported the matter, and she guessed that it was a certain middle-aged woman servant who had once approached the cook with offers of love. But Ying’s husband knew better than to look at another woman, and now the woman had turned sour and could not find enough fault with Ying and the cook.

When Madame Wu mentioned the fuel, Ying cried out to her husband, “You bone, I told you not to get it at the West Gate Market! Everything is more dear there.”

“We should not buy any fuel at all as early as this,” Madame Wu said. “The fuel from our own lands should be enough until the eighth month, when new grass can be cut.”

“The steward has plowed some of the grass lands,” the cook replied.

Madame Wu knew it was not necessary to carry the matter further. She accepted his excuse since she had administered her rebuke, and she closed the books and gave them to him. Then she went to her money, box and brought out what was due on the past month and enough to use as cash for the next month. The family numbered something over sixty persons, including all mouths, and the sum was never small.

The manservant in charge of the clothing and repairs came next, and with him the two sewing women, and Madame Wu discussed with them the summer garments required for servants and family, the changes of bedding, and such matters. When these were finished, carpenters came in to estimate the costs of repairs to two leaking roofs, and the building of a new outhouse for storage.

To all such affairs Madame Wu gave her close and entire attention. It was her talent that whatever she did, it was with the whole of her mind and for that time nothing else was. When one affair was settled, her mind went wholly to the next one. Thus during this day she accepted one task after the other. It was only when dusk came on and the household matters were finished that she acknowledged her own thoughts again. They centered on Fengmo.

“I have this day proceeded very far toward the decision of his life,” she thought. She had not risen from the big chair by the library table, at which she had worked all day. While she was now more than ever firm in her decision that he should marry Linyi, nevertheless it was only just that she should talk with him and allow him some freedom first to rebel. She summoned Ying from the next room where she was preparing the bed for the night.

“Go and tell Fengmo to come here,” she said. She hesitated while Ying waited.

“And when you have summoned my son,” Madame Wu went on, “invite the Second Lady to appear at the family meal tonight.”

Ying pursed her mouth and went away, and Madame Wu sat, her finger and thumb to her lip, while she waited. At this time Fengmo would be in his room, since it was about the hour for the evening meal. If Fengmo were in good humor with what she decided, she would eat tonight with the family instead of alone, as she had done during the last few days. It was time for her to come out and take her place among them again.