—I would like a Korean name. Would you give one to me?
Paul Choi and Guérin were more surprised than Jin herself, judging by the look they gave Victor. Jin, not quite understanding what Victor had just asked, turned to the interpreter for clarification.
—The legate wishes to have a Korean name and has asked her ladyship to make one for him.
—Me?
—Yes.
Not having expected such a thing, Jin turned her dark eyes to Victor. There can be no mistakes. The Queen has many worries. She didn’t know why she thought of Lady Suh’s words at that moment. Was refusing him a mistake? Was accepting him a mistake? Why was this man asking her to make up a name for him? Jin eyed Victor with a hint of suspicion, but her heart was with the Queen. She didn’t answer him as they moved from the offices to the back part of the compound where the library and dining hall were. To be more precise, she couldn’t answer him.
—There are books in that room.
Victor led Jin to the library, a large room stacked with books. Jin wandered through the space that was unusually wide for a Korean house, one possibly modified for its purpose, her face shining with delight as if she had discovered a new universe. So many books, tightly shelved in one place! The shelves reached up to the thick beams above, and each shelf was packed with books. There were Chinese and Japanese books on one side and Korean books on another. Jin moved with ease into the maze of shelves, at her fastest pace since coming to the legation office. Victor took note that it was the library that Jin showed the most interest in. He smiled at the thought that he had uncovered something that truly interested her. Jin passed the Chinese, Japanese, and Korean books and stood before a shelf filled with volumes of French history and philosophy. Montesquieu’s Persian Letters, an encyclopedia with more than thirty volumes, Lamartine’s Poetical Meditations, and the collected works of Mallarmé, Rimbaud, and Verlaine. Jin, browsing through Victor Hugo’s Les Misérables, Stendhal’s The Red and the Black, and Flaubert’s Sentimental Education, took out an edition of Baudelaire shelved next to Madame Bovary and opened it. She flicked through the pages. Her eyes fell on the opening stanza of “Invitation to the Voyage.”
My child, my sister,
Think how sweet
to go and live there together!
To love at leisure.
To love until death.
Jin couldn’t take her eyes off the poems in the book. She read one after another, feeling as if she were about to fall into its pages before remembering where she was. She looked up at Victor.
—Is this what you wanted to show me?
—No.
—. . .
—There was something else I wanted to show you.
Jin stared at him.
—I wanted to show you Paris.
Victor saw her pupils tremble. What he really meant to show her was the village of Plancy that his family had been banished from. For some reason, he thought that he might bring himself to visit it again if he could go there with this lady by his side.
To have a place to go with someone means one has fallen in love.
—I would like to go to Paris with you someday.
With you. Jin’s eyes that had trembled like the surface of water became calm once more. She gently closed the book she was holding and put it back in its place on the shelf.
—I cannot leave the palace. The only reason I could come here at all is because of a special dispensation from the Queen.
Her voice was emotionless and firm. Jin moved her gaze toward a group of books in one corner of the library. Infernal Dictionary, Critical Dictionary of Relics and Miraculous Images . . . Victor saw her looking at them.
—Those were written by my father.
Jin turned to Victor again.
—Was he a writer?
—He was.
Having failed at his ambition to write in Paris, Victor’s father had gone to Belgium before moving back to his home in Plancy. He founded a publishing house through the help of some old friends and printed mostly religious texts. Victor liked the smells of the printing press. It was where he spent most of his childhood days. Would that printing press still be there? And the lake? Did the heron still fly to those waters in their season?
Reluctant to leave, Jin kept looking back at the books as she made her way out of the library. The fingertips of her left hand, the one that wasn’t carrying the jacket, grazed over the spines as she passed.
—Would you like to borrow some of them?
Jin’s eyes lit up for a moment, but she was silent.
—If there are any that you would like to read, please help yourself.
—But how would I return them?
—I shall find you.
—You?
—Yes.
It would be impossible. A court lady and a foreign legate could never have a private meeting in the palace. Guessing why Jin wasn’t answering, Victor smiled.
—Perhaps I should give you a few volumes instead. What do you like to read?
Could she possibly accept? Jin hesitated, but her desire for the books overwhelmed her caution.
—I would like to read a book from France.
She answered with a resolve that belied her hesitation.
—Is there any book in particular?
—I have never seen French books until today. My roommate at the palace, Soa, enjoys being read to. If Your Excellency could choose a book that she might like?
When Victor looked as if he didn’t quite understand her words, Paul Choi stepped in. Jin had said she wanted to read to Soa, but it was the Queen she was thinking of. She wanted to read these strange books to the Queen. It would take time for Jin to translate the French words into Korean, but she was already curious as to how the Queen, who had read many books from China and Japan as well as Korea, would respond to these unfamiliar texts. While Jin thought of the Queen, Victor thought of his mother. She married at twenty-seven. His father was fifty-nine. It was his father’s second marriage and his mother’s first. His old father’s desire. The sound of his young mother reading aloud. The woman before him had the power to conjure up these memories from the other side of time.
—I shall have something selected while we eat.
The four people came out of the library and entered the dining hall where the table was set. Victor took Jin’s green jacket from her hand, and after hanging it up, he went to the gramophone he had brought from Paris and put on Berlioz’s Symphonie fantastique. Music is a blessing upon all people. As Guérin slid out Jin’s chair for her, he told her that the symphony was one His Excellency had carefully chosen for her. Jin listened to the sounds that were so different from the daegeum Yeon played or the music of the geomungo or ajaeng zither. It was a sound so sweet it could make a leaf dance on a windless summer’s day.
Upon the table were transparent cups and champagne. There were four neat settings of forks, knives, and spoons. A middle-aged Korean woman wearing an apron, who worked as the legation chef, served each of them a bowl of creamy soup, glancing at Jin as she did so.
—Today’s entrée is coq au vin.
Guérin said this with a smile as Victor came back to the table from the gramophone.
—It is a chicken dish. I believe Koreans would like it. His Excellency arranged the menu himself. You must enjoy it. He was like a little boy as he chose the music and the menu.
As even the interpreter Paul Choi joined in on the teasing laugh, Victor concentrated on uncorcking the champagne.
—That bottle is also the best one we have in our legation offices. It comes directly from the Champagne region. The best champagne. He brought out for your ladyship what he never brought out even for Bishop Blanc.
As if trying to distract Jin from Guérin’s words, Victor poured the champagne into the clear glass sitting before her. The dew-like bubbles of the wine sparkled in the light.
—Does Bishop Blanc visit often?
The other three looked at Jin in unison.
&n
bsp; —Do you know Bishop Blanc?
—My lady! Are you a Catholic?
Guérin and the interpreter Paul Choi spoke at the same time. Victor was also surprised at her mention of Bishop Blanc.
—I’ve known him since I was little. He is the one who taught me French.
—Is that so!
Victor was overjoyed. The thought of Blanc being the bridge to this woman whom he had thought he was complete strangers with was like discovering a great mountain to lean on. He couldn’t help the large smile that brightened his face. And no wonder, for he had been worried about what to do after Jin returned to the palace. But then he remembered Blanc’s concerned expression when Victor revealed that the woman he was in love with was a court lady, and his smile faded.
While Victor filled Guérin’s and Paul Choi’s glasses with champagne, the cook placed a salad with olive oil and balsamic vinegar dressing next to each soup plate. There were also small bites of bread and cheese from Normandy, as well as butter.
—My lady, are you a Catholic?
The interpreter Paul Choi asked again.
—I cannot say I am.
There was a slight pall of disappointment in Paul Choi’s face at Jin’s vague answer. Blanc had been against Jin becoming an official Catholic. He had seen those who had suffered double the indignities for being both Catholic and being in the King’s service. He advised her that until Korea gave Catholics complete freedom of religion, it was enough to follow the faith in her heart only. The woman Suh was of the same mind. She was against Jin converting to Catholicism, but Suh herself and Yeon were already faithful followers.
—We were destined to meet you. We should’ve invited the bishop as well.
Victor smiled again at Guérin’s words.
—Perhaps next time.
The fragrance of the champagne wafted around the table. The three men held up their glasses and turned to Jin.
Was it Li Bai who wrote, I sat to drink alone with the flowers, but the moon came with my shadow, and we were three? Li Bai, whose poetry never failed to make an appearance in any evening of drinks with the Qing officials in China.
—Would you care for some?
To Jin, who hesitated, for she was uncertain whether she should drink champagne in the middle of the day, Victor recited another poem by Li Bai.
I go to bed for I am drunk
You should go now
And when you return tomorrow morning, bring your zither
—Champagne can hardly make you drunk.
—It is only to bring out the flavor of the dish.
Guérin and Paul Choi coaxed her. Jin relaxed and held up her glass. The sound of their clinking glasses rang clear and bright in the air. The Queen enjoyed conversing with the wives of the King’s foreign political council or with Lillias Underwood, wife of the King’s physician. When she was told stories of the lands across the ocean, her eyes were not those of the Mother of the Nation, which were fierce and concerned, sometimes heartbroken and anxious. They were eyes that shone with anticipation and discovery of the endless stories that filled the pages of books. There would be champagne with the refreshments at those conversations as well.
Jin took a sip of champagne and closed her eyes. It spread in her mouth a fragrance as sweet as the music floating in her ears.
Victor took up his spoon and had a taste of the cream soup before buttering his bread and eating that as well. When the cook brought out the coq au vin, he tasted it first using his fork and knife. He was discreetly showing Jin how to dine in the Western style. Jin watched Victor as she tried the soup herself and used her fork on the salad, betraying no awkwardness. From time to time the sound of the cicadas crying from the phoenix tree overwhelmed Berlioz’s Symphonie fantastique.
Jin slowly tasted the unfamiliar flavor of the coq au vin, and a faint smile appeared on Victor’s face as he wiped his brow. He was thinking of Jin when she first entered the legation grounds, how he had forgotten she was Korean and embraced her. The lovely scent of that moment had suddenly come back to him as they sat there around the table.
He also remembered the eyes of the woman who had glared at him as he apologized for greeting her in the French style.
—Bishop Blanc’s Korean orphanage is also in Gondangol.
What was she saying? Guérin, who was refilling the champagne glasses, and Paul Choi, who had dropped a clove of roasted garlic on the sleeve of his tunic and was wiping it with a napkin, both looked up at Victor.
—The reason I requested we visit Gondangol is that I want to see the orphanage.
—Did you? We had the same thought.
Victor smiled again at Jin. Jin turned her gaze to the two paintings hung on the wall of the dining hall. Victor noticed her interest in them.
—This one is Monet’s The Gare Saint-Lazare. Over there is Seurat’s A Sunday Afternoon on the Island of La Grande Jatte. The Monet is a photograph of mine, and the Seurat is a copy.
Jin looked carefully at the paintings as if matching them to Victor’s words. Paintings from the country of this polite, pleasant diplomat. The capital of which was Paris. What kind of a place was it, this place where the books in the library were published, where the music that lingered so in the ear was made, and pictures that filled one’s vision were painted?
For the first time, Jin became intensely curious as to what Paris must be like.
One of the joys of life is to partake in a favorite dish with a person one cares deeply about. Victor was glad that Jin ate the French-style chicken without reluctance. How long was it since he had happily watched a woman partake in a meal? Guérin proposed that they have their coffee underneath the parasol in front of the legation annex. The four stood up to move. Before Jin could push her chair out, Victor was behind her to help pull it out of the way. As she waited for Victor to bring her jacket back from the other room where the music came from, Jin examined some framed photographs mounted side by side on the wall. Were they the legate’s family? Foreign women and men smiled out at her from their little frames. There was a white-haired man and a lady wearing a pearl necklace. There was also Victor in his diplomatic dress uniform. Among the older photos, there was one of a young boy of about five or six that caught her eye. Whatever he was thinking in that moment, his mouth was firmly closed. He was frowning as if he’d been told to look in front of him when the snapshot was taken.
—That’s me as a boy.
Victor had approached her and seen the photo Jin was looking at.
—It’s the youngest photograph of me.
Jin nodded and drew her long jacket from the coat hanger he held out and draped it over her arm.
—I wondered what you looked like when you were young.
When you were young. The words evoked memories of Banchon and the woman Suh, of Yeon who wrote on any surface, and the sad dowager consort whom she served as a companion. Yeon, who did not speak but played his flute. Where could she see such an image now? Yeon was a Jangakwon musician now. She had left the banquet without getting a good look at his face. Would she get to meet Yeon at Gondangol?
—The people of my country do not like being photographed.
—I’m aware.
—They think their souls will be taken if they are photographed.
—Is that also what you think?
You. Victor had used an intimate form of the pronoun. She gave him a look.
—Are you also afraid of being photographed?
—I do not know. I have never been.
—Then may I take a photograph of you?
As if it just occurred to him, Victor went to his room and returned with his photograph of the King. Jin gazed at it intently. The King posed before the Hall of Diligent Governance.
—I took that photo. I took it about two months ago. But is he not the same now as he always was?
Victor held out another photo. Jin examined the image in her hands. It took a moment for her to recognize that the court lady in the photo was her. It was unimaginable to
her that she was photographed, and the eyes that looked up at him were full of surprise.
—It is you.
Jin did not hide her perplexed expression as she looked him in the eye.
—I met you, on a bridge, the day I first visited the palace.
Jin knew. She hadn’t forgotten how a foreigner had said bonjour to her as she crossed the Silk Stream bridge with Lady Suh. She had also learned that the foreigner was the French legate at the banquet. Lady Suh had greatly admonished her that day when she had returned his greeting in his language. Lady Suh, who was generally of a peaceful temperament, gave her a scolding. How dare a court lady greet a stranger? Must you be taught every rule of the palace from the beginning? This was why she remembered the incident.
But when had the legate taken her picture?
Fascinated, Jin gave the image of herself a close look. Time swallows all and passes, never to return. There were two photos taken on that bridge, and Lady Suh was in them as well. Jin was clear, but Lady Suh was a blur. Perhaps because of Lady Suh’s spirited walk. It surprised Jin how passing moments could be retained so exactly. The moment she had inadvertently replied bonjour and turned to catch up to Lady Suh who was walking ahead of her, and the moment she turned to look at the legate again—these past moments had not disappeared but lived on in the photograph.
—May I have these?
—If you let me photograph you today!
The two smiled at each other for the first time. Leaving Victor to make the preparations, Jin came out to the legation courtyard. The cicada cries pierced the ear, and the midday heat hit her like a wall. Paul Choi was alone, lost in thought, waiting for dessert underneath the parasol of the annex. As Jin approached, he smiled and spoke.
—I’ve never seen the legate like this. He is very hardworking and thorough when it comes to his duties, but I’ve found him a bit cold and almost unapproachable. But today he’s quite different.
—. . .
—He’s pleasant and friendly. Can you tell?
—I’m not sure what you mean.
Having attended some business or other, Guérin appeared outside of the main legation building. He shielded his eyes from the bright sunlight, squinting one eye as he shrugged. It meant that he was hot, perhaps. Seeing Guérin made Paul Choi, who was about to say something, turn quiet again. The cook brought out cups of coffee and slices of cake to the white table underneath the parasol. Victor presently joined them from the legation’s inner compound carrying a large leather case. The cook, who had gone back inside after laying the table underneath the parasol, now followed him carrying a bundle wrapped in silk. As she placed it on an empty chair underneath the parasol, she stole another look at Jin.
The Court Dancer Page 12
