Peony: A Novel of China

by Pearl S. Buck

  At this point David stopped and looked at them with some pride. “When I said this, the Western Empress spoke to me.”

  “What did she say?” Kueilan asked.

  “She asked me if you were foreign too, but I said no. Then she asked me if I had children and I said yes, three sons. Now hear me—she commanded me to bring my sons and let her see them, because she has never seen children of foreign blood!”

  What consternation, pride, and excitement now fell on David’s family!

  “Did she set a day?” his wife exclaimed.

  “Tomorrow, at four in the afternoon, we are all to go. I am to wait in the anteroom, but you and the children and their nurses must go to the garden where the ladies of the court will be gathering flowers. The Chief Steward will take you there and you are to stay only as long as he says and then come back.”

  “Peony must come with me,” Kueilan said immediately.

  “Oh, no!” Peony exclaimed.

  “Yes, you must go,” David said with authority. “It is only you who can stop a child from crying.”

  So it was decided, and for once Kueilan was too distraught to play her mah-jongg well and that night she was peevish when Peony came to put her to bed because she had lost so much money.

  “Your lord is rich and generous,” Peony reminded her. “He will not reproach you, Lady.”

  But Kueilan did not want to be comforted and she continued peevish until Peony left her in bed and went to tell David that she was ready to go to sleep.

  She found him very meditative in his garden, sitting under a twisted pine tree in a bamboo chair. He heard her message and inclined his head but he did not rise for a moment. Peony waited, perceiving that he had been thinking and might want to tell her what he thought. When he did not speak she asked a question to excuse her lingering.

  “How did the voice of the Western Empress sound in your ears?”

  “Strong and fresh, but without sweetness,” he answered.

  Then he said what was in his mind. “Peony, I never felt so clearly before the imperial clemency that has been shown to my people. She knew me foreign, she heard me give her thanks—and all she wished was to see my children.”

  “Woman’s curiosity in an empress,” Peony said smiling.

  “But no dislike!” he exclaimed.

  “Why should there be dislike when your people have never made a war here or taken what was not yours of land or goods?” Peony asked warmly. “You have been good people—and you and your father are good men.”

  David looked at her strangely. “Our goodness has not saved us elsewhere in the world,” he said.

  “Those other foreign peoples are unreasonable,” Peony retorted. “We have been taught reason with our mothers’ milk.”

  Upon this she went away, and the more she pondered what David had said, the more she was not certain whether it had been well to have him grateful to the Empress or whether it were a good sign that she had made him feel foreign again. Peony sighed and for the first time wished that a day had been set for their return to their own city.

  There was no time for thinking or wishing on the morrow, be sure of that. All day Kueilan spent in bathing and powdering and dressing, and the hairline of her forehead must be straightened and every little hair pulled out that did not lie flat, and only Peony could do this without hurting her. The long fingernail on the third finger of her right hand broke off and this made her shed tears of anger.

  “How shall I hide this?” she demanded of Peony, and she held out her little hand, which was still like a lotus bud.

  “We will put the silver shield on just the same,” Peony replied. “Who will know the nail is gone beneath? Sit still, Lady, please, and let others serve you, lest you break another nail.”

  By now it was her feet that distressed Kueilan. She looked with much distaste upon her shoes, which needed to be so much larger than they had been. “I am ashamed to show these huge countrywoman’s feet,” she declared to Peony. “I wish I had never listened to what you said.”

  “Your lord was very pleased, Lady,” Peony reminded her, forgetting that she was not to speak of him.

  “Only for a day or two,” Kueilan said pouting. “He never sees my feet now. He has forgotten all my suffering. But I have to see my feet every day and now they will disgrace me before the empresses. I dare say their feet are very tiny!”

  Peony remembered her books at this moment. “No, Mistress, there you are wrong. The empresses are Manchu and not Chinese and their feet have never been bound, and therefore how much bigger are they than yours!”

  Kueilan exclaimed at this but she was consoled, and at last she was dressed and beautiful and she sat motionless in her chair so as not to spoil her looks while Peony superintended the dressing of the children before her eyes. This, too, was a task needing much patience, for Kueilan did not like the robe for her eldest son, and when at last all were ready, the third son was overcome with excitement and too much noise and he cast up his food and spoiled his garments and had to be made ready afresh.

  “I wish it were all over and that I were in bed!” Kueilan exclaimed when she rose at last and went to the gate, where the sedan chairs waited.

  “Lady, you will tell your grandchildren of this hour,” Peony said, smiling, to comfort her.

  So they set forth, David ahead and all his family behind, and they approached the great foursquare walls of the palace. At the gate they were delayed for bribes to the gatekeepers and then the chairmen were allowed to enter. Then the gates closed again after them and the chairs were set down and David came out first and then waited while they all came out. He surveyed them and felt his pride rise at the sight of his pretty wife and healthy children. Then he turned to Peony anxiously.

  “Stay close by each one, Peony! Do not let the little boys run here and there—help their mother to answer well when she is spoken to.”

  “Rest your heart,” Peony replied, but her own heart was far from at rest.

  So they left him there, and a eunuch led them to an inner gate, and then the Chief Steward met them. He was a tall strong man, a eunuch as all men were in these walls, except the Emperor himself, and Peony instantly disliked his looks. He was handsome, his face full and smooth, his voice high and soft, but cold. But his eyes were not the eyes of a eunuch. He stared at her with instant and insolent admiration, and she looked away. In spite of her wish, she felt herself blush and then she grew cold. What if he took that blush to be a sign that she felt his look? She stayed close to her mistress and she took a hand of each little boy, and together they walked behind the Chief Steward to the gardens. At the gate he paused, and again his insolent eyes were on Peony while he gave them commands in his high cruel voice.

  “Their Imperial Majesties are now examining the water lilies,” he told them. “You are to stand by the great pine tree inside the gate. When they pass you must all bow, even to the children. Do not speak unless Their Majesties address you. If they do not speak and pass on, I will lead you away again. If a question is asked, I will repeat it, and you are to answer me, and I will repeat your answer to Their Majesties.”

  He led them in, and they waited by a great pine tree and he waited with them. In the distance, among the flowers in the sunshine, they could see the empresses, followed by a score and more of ladies all in beautiful robes of many colors. It was a pretty sight and Peony wished to enjoy it, but she could not because of the Chief Steward. What did he do now but take his place directly behind her? He stood so close to her that she could feel his hot breath on her nape, and she knew this meant that he was staring at her hair and at her neck and shoulders. She stepped forward and he stepped forward and suddenly she felt faint. The sunny picture before her swam into a mist, and all the brilliant colors mingled in a rainbow haze. If she stepped farther, it would be unfitting to her mistress, and yet she could not endure the terror of this man behind her. While she wavered she felt him press yet closer, and he made pretense to speak in a low voice: “The tall o
ne is the Western Empress. She will speak if either speaks, for the Eastern Empress never speaks before her.”

  While he said this he peered over Peony’s head and she felt his huge body press loathsomely against her. Now she could not bear it, and she slipped to one side and put the third son’s nurse in her place. Peony did not look up while she did this, but he reproved her. “Make no commotion, woman. Their Majesties are near!”

  “Be still, Peony!” Kueilan whispered loudly.

  What could Peony do but stand? She felt her face flush again and all the joy was spoiled. She scarcely heard what came next and she could scarcely keep from weeping.

  For the Western Empress had paused and then the Eastern Empress also and all the ladies.

  “Who are these?” the Western Empress now asked of the Chief Steward.

  He answered her, and they stood while the Western Empress looked at them. Peony did not lift her eyes, knowing it was forbidden, but she saw the royal hands, one holding a jade fan, the other hanging down empty. They were strong hands for a woman, not small, but beautifully shaped. Upon each finger was a nail shield of gold, embossed and set with jewels. The feet beneath the long robe were in embroidered shoes, and under the shoes were satin soles padded six inches thick to the give the Empress height.

  The Eastern Empress did not speak, but the Western Empress looked her fill at the children. “They do look foreign,” she declared to her ladies. “Black hair, but not smooth. The eyes are round, their noses high. Yet they are handsome and they look healthy. I wish our royal son looked so healthy.”

  She sighed and ordered sweetmeats given them all and Peony thanked Heaven that the baby did not cry. Then she heard the Western Empress ask yet another question. “Who is this pretty girl?” She knew the question was of her, and she hung her head yet lower.

  “She is our bondmaid,” Kueilan told the Chief Steward, and he shouted, “A bondmaid, Majesty!”

  “Too pretty for a bondmaid,” the Western Empress said coolly.

  That was all. The Western Empress swept on and with her the Eastern Empress and the ladies, and the Chief Steward led them out again. Now he was very affable and he heaped sweetmeats on the children, and he put his hand into his bosom and took out some money.

  “Here is something for yourself,” he said to Peony. “Her Majesty never sees another woman, and it was most unusual that she spoke of you. A word from me will bring you into these courts and you will have all you need for life.”

  While he spoke he held the money on his big open palm, but Peony did not take it. She hastened on with the children and shook her head and was not able to speak. Never had she been so glad to see David as she was now. He came forward to meet them and she answered his questions quickly while she busied herself.

  “Yes, the children were good. Our lady was beautiful. Her Majesty spoke of the children’s health.”

  And all the time she made haste to be hidden behind the curtains of her sedan chair, for the Chief Steward stood staring at her. When the curtains were drawn about her and she felt the chair hoisted to the men’s shoulders, she took out her handkerchief and wept heartily and well. She had been thoroughly frightened and now she was safe. Never would she leave the walls of the house again until they went home. A man so powerful as the Chief Steward in the Imperial Palace could reach out his hands and clutch her anywhere in the streets. She would persuade David to go home as soon as they could. Yet how could she tell him?

  All the way home she wept, wiping her eyes dry only when they turned into their own street. When she was in the house she was busy again and she kept her face turned away, and in the weariness of all, the fret of her mistress and the crying of the children, she was not noticed, for David withdrew to his own rooms as he always did when the children were troublesome. So this day ended, and when all were at rest Peony went to bed too, without having seen David. She wept again and asked herself whether she must tell David, but being weary with fear and excitement, she too fell asleep before she could answer her own question.

  David discovered her plight himself the next morning before Peony had so much as seen him. He had finished his breakfast and was about to set forth on a visit to a new shop in the south end of the city where rugs were being woven in new patterns, when a messenger came to the gate in the yellow garments that meant that he was from the Imperial Palace. He was very haughty and he frightened the gateman and the servants by his loud voice and his high manners, saying that he brought out a letter addressed to “The Foreigner Surnamed Chao, from the City of K’aifeng, Now Resident in the Hutung of the Silver Horse.”

  Chao was the Chinese surname of Ezra’s family and the letter was for David. The gateman received it, and begging the imperial messenger to be seated, he ran with the letter to the head servant, who took it to David as he was about to come out from his own door.

  “Master—from the palace!” the servant gasped.

  David took the letter with wonder, and opened it. His face changed as he read the words it contained. He looked astonished and then stern.

  “Does the messenger still wait?” he asked.

  “At the gate, Master,” the servant replied.

  “Pay him well and tell him that I shall send an answer when I have considered the proposal.”

  The man went away and paid the messenger and then spread throughout the household the rumor that the master had been offered a high post in the Imperial Court. This rumor came to Peony and immediately she grew afraid. If David were tempted indeed to stay near the court, then how could she remain with him? She could never be safe from that evil eunuch. Her life fell into pieces before her eyes, and she felt so faint that she could scarcely continue with her task of arranging lilies in a bowl. Now indeed she must speak to David and tell him what had befallen her.

  But David sent for her before she could speak. It was not usual that he sent for her, since when he had anything to say to her he strolled about the house until he found her. Peony knew, therefore, that he wished to speak privately to her, and she inclined her head when the servant came to call her and she put the flowers into the water and went at once.

  David stood in the middle of his sitting room when she came in. In his hand was a large yellow envelope. When he saw Peony he held it out to her. “What is the meaning of this?” he asked.

  She took the letter and read it. It was an offer from the Chief Steward to purchase her as a maid for one of the ladies of the court. Arrogantly phrased, it was all but a command. She folded the letter and thrust it into its envelope and looked speechlessly at David. Tears welled into her eyes again.

  David sat down. “Sit down, Peony,” he said.

  She sat down, bending her head and wiping her eyes with the edge of her sleeve.

  “Do you know any reason for this?” he asked kindly.

  To her dismay she saw that he imagined she knew that this offer was to be made. She shook her head and could not speak for weeping.

  “Come, Peony,” he said at last, growing angry with her. “Have the courage to tell me if you want to leave my house!”

  His anger dried her tears immediately. “Dare to say that I have no courage!” she retorted.

  “This is more like you,” he said. “Now tell me everything.”

  So Peony told him what had happened the day before, and the further David heard the more angry and dismayed he was.

  “What a quandary!” he exclaimed. “We cannot stay here any more, or the Chief Steward will make our life wretched for us. A word from him and the very merchants will fear to deal with us!”

  “It is all because of me,” Peony said in much distress. “Let me go.”

  “Sell you?” David exclaimed. His voice was so hot that Peony took heart.

  “I could run away,” she said.

  “You could run away!” he repeated. “And what would become of me, Peony? Could I forgive myself?”

  “If I ran away I might be able to find my way to you again,” Peony faltered.

&nbs
p; They looked at one another and it was a strange long look. Peony was humble and trembling and frightened and David was fearful not only at what he saw in her face but at what he now perceived in his own heart. He could not let her leave him. He was jealous that the Chief Steward had so much as seen her and he blamed himself.

  “How dare I let you out of my gate?” he muttered.

  Peony looked down and did not answer. He saw her long straight lashes lying upon her cheeks and he rose abruptly.

  “Prepare everything,” he commanded. “We leave for home tonight.”

  She rose slowly, and lifted her eyes to his face.

  “David,” she whispered, and did not know she spoke his name. “Do not think of me!”

  “I do think of you,” he said shortly. “Obey me, Peony! I give it as my command.”

  “I obey you, David.” Her voice was as soft as her breath.

  That night soon after midnight David and his family left the city in hired mule carts. To his friend who was the head of Kung Chen’s shops in the city he explained truthfully why he must go. “The young woman has been like a sister to my wife rather than a bondmaid, and it cannot be allowed,” he said.

  “That Chief Steward is a very devil,” the merchant agreed. “How many families in this city have suffered the loss of their daughters through him! You do well to escape.”

  To his wife David also told the truth in a few simple words, and Kueilan was half frightened and yet unwilling to yield to fear. “It might be very well for Peony to be in the palace,” she reasoned. “We would have a friend there and she is so clever—who knows, she might even be a servingwoman to the Empress!”

  To this David would not listen. “Peony has been in our house always, and it does not become me to sell her like a slave.” If Kueilan looked at him with suspicion he refused to see it. “Come,” he said. “Hasten yourself, Little Thing! We go tonight whether you are ready or not.”