Adrift in Pacific and Other Great Adventures – 17 Titles in One Volume (Illustrated Edition). Jules Verne
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Kin-Fo was by no means astonished at this state of affairs, and he walked on without looking around him; so that two strangers, dressed like Europeans, who had followed him from the time he left the yamen, did not even attract his attention. He did not see them, although they seemed desirous of not losing sight of him. They kept at some distance, following him,—walking when he walked, stopping when he stopped. At times these two men exchanged peculiar looks and a couple of words, and it was very evident that they were there to watch him. Of medium height, not over thirty, active, and well set, one would have called them two pointers with sharp eyes and fleet limbs.
Kin-Fo, after walking around the country for a league, retraced his steps, in order to reach the shores of Houang-Pou.
The two blood-hounds immediately followed.
Kin-Fo, on his way home, met two or three beggars of the most forlorn aspect, and bestowed alms upon them.
A short distance beyond, several Christian Chinese women, trained to their charitable profession by the French Sisters of Charity, crossed the road. They were carrying home poor little waifs in a basket on their back. They have been appropriately called the “rag-pickers of children.” And what are these unfortunate little ones but rags scattered in the gutter?
Kin-Fo emptied his purse into the hands of these sisters, who seemed rather surprised at this act on the part of a Celestial.
By the time he reached Shang-hai on his way home, and was returning by the way of the wharf, it was evening, and the floating population were still astir. Shouting and singing came to his ears from every side. He listened intently, eager to know what would be the last words to fall on his ear in this life.
A young Tankadere, guiding her sampan through the sombre waters of Houang-Pou, was singing the following ditty:—
“With bark in bright colors,
Embellished
With thousands of flowers,
In rapture I wait him
Who comes back to-morrow.
Sea-god, watch and guard him,
While he is returning,
And help him to hasten
To me!”
“He will return to-morrow; and I, where shall I be?” thought Kin-Fo, shaking his head.
The young Tankadere resumed:—
“He sailed far, far from me,
Perhaps to
The country of Mantchoux,
The great wall of China.
O heart! how thou tremblest
At thought of him braving
The storm!”
Kin-Fo still listened, but this time said nothing.
The singer concluded:—
“Why sailed he inviting
Disaster?
To die so without me?
Come! priest is awaiting
To join the same moment
Our emblems, the Phoenix!
Come, come! I so love thee,
And thou lovest me.”
“Yes: perhaps riches are not every thing in this world,” he murmured. “But life is not worth living.”
Half an hour later he entered his house. The two strangers, who had followed him till then, were obliged to stop.
Kin-Fo quietly proceeded to the kiosk of Long Life, opened the door, closed it again, and found himself alone in a little salon, lighted by a lantern of ground glass, which shed a soft glow around.
On a table, which was made of a single piece of jade, stood a box containing a few grains of opium, mixed with a deadly poison,—a “have ready” which the wealthy ennuyé kept always on hand.
Kin-Fo took up two of these grains, put them in one of those red-clay pipes which opium-smokers are in the habit of using, and began to light it.
“Why, how is this?” said he. “Not even an emotion in this moment when I am about to fall asleep never to wake again!”
He hesitated a moment.
“No!” he cried, throwing down his pipe on the floor, which broke it in pieces, “That supreme emotion I must have, even if it be but an attempt. I must have it, and I will have it.”
And, leaving the kiosk, he proceeded to Wang’s room, walking faster than usual.
CHAPTER VIII.
In Which Kin-Fo Makes A Serious Proposition To Wang, Which The Latter No Less Seriously Accepts.
The philosopher had not yet retired, but was lying on the lounge reading the latest edition of “The Pekin Gazette;” and the contraction of his eyebrows was a certain indication that the paper was paying a compliment to the reigning dynasty of Tsing.
Kin-Fo pushed open his door, entered the room, threw himself on an arm-chair, and, without other preamble, said,—
“Wang, I have come to ask you to do me a service.”
“Ten thousand services,” answered the philosopher, letting fall the paper. “Speak, speak, my son! speak without fear; and, whatever they may be, I will render them.”
“The service I require,” said Kin-Fo, “is one of that kind that a friend can render but once; and when it is done, Wang, I will excuse you from the nine thousand nine hundred and ninety-nine others. And I must add that you must not even expect a return of thanks on my part.”
“The most skilful unraveller of the inexplicable could not understand you. What is it all about?”
“Wang,” said Kin-Fo, “I am ruined.”
“Ah, ah!” said the philosopher, with the tone of one who hears good rather than bad news.
“The letter that I found here on our return from Canton,” resumed Kin-Fo, “informed me that the Central Bank in California had failed. With the exception of the yamen and a million dollars, which would enable me to exist a month or two longer, I have nothing left.”
“Then,” said Wang, after a good look at his pupil, “it is no longer the rich Kin-Fo who speaks to me?”
“It is the poor Kin-Fo, whom poverty by no means frightens.”
“Well answered, my son,” said the philosopher, rising. “I have not lost my time and pains in teaching you wisdom. The future has changed. Heretofore you have only vegetated, without tastes, passions, or struggles. You are going to live now. Confucius said, ‘What matters it that the future has changed? There always come fewer misfortunes than one fears.’ And the Talmud repeated his words. We shall earn our daily rice. The ‘Nun-Schum’ teaches us that, ‘In life there are ups and downs. The wheel of fortune turns perpetually, and the spring wind is variable. Rich or poor, try to do your duty.’ Let us leave.”
And Wang in earnest, like a practical philosopher, was about to leave the sumptuous house; but Kin-Fo detained him.
“I said a moment ago,” he resumed, “that poverty did not frighten me; and I now add that it is because I have resolved not to endure it.”
“Ah!” said Wang, “you wish then”—
“To