Read Online The Last Mandarin by Stephen Becker - Free Book Online Page B

t’ang fan! Rice is scarce, you know. In the south is nothing but rice. Not so here.”
    â€œGo on about Fu,” Burnham said.
    â€œWell, when he says Peking will be defended to the last man, he means that the Communists must pay a stiff price for it. The Communists said immediately that they could walk into Peking when they chose. That meant, Fu must not expect too much. Well, they are all around us now, out past the Summer Palace, out by the Western Hills, and the railway to Tientsin is useless. So in a week or two or three, or two months if the weather is bad and movement difficult, the Communists will come marching in, and General Fu will greet them, and will be made a general in their armies and placed in charge of boots, or cooking.”
    â€œAnd what will happen to you?”
    Feng slumped, blew a great razzing whicker, tapped his chopsticks level on the wooden table and scratched his head with them. Finally he said, “I will drive a san-luerh. Nothing will change for the poor. Nothing has ever changed for the poor.”
    Outside the restaurant Burnham was approached by two beggars, both male, both in tatters, scruffy, doubtless diseased. Feng moved swiftly, interposing himself and crying, “Be off! Be off!”
    â€œWait,” Burnham said.
    The beggars stood humbly, with cupped hands.
    Burnham was uncertain, but took the plunge. “Here,” he said, “is money,” and he passed them a bill each. “I am living at the Willow Wine Shop in Stone Buddha Alley off Red Head Street, and I have come to Peking to speak with Head Beggar. Do you understand me? The kai-t’ou. The chi-t’ou.”
    Feng made round eyes.
    The beggars might have been deaf.
    â€œYou will tell the others,” Burnham said. “I have money for Head Beggar.”
    The beggars exchanged a glance and cringed.
    Burnham shrugged. “Feng: you too. Let Peking nourish this report: there is a foreigner who seeks Head Beggar.”
    â€œIt is madness,” Feng mumbled.
    â€œProbably,” Burnham laughed. “Now let us chaffer with Master Tun.”
    The san-luerh was ready. The bill came to two dollars. Burnham offered two American bills, and Tun almost jigged in delight. He rushed to the greasy window and held the bills to the glow. “This I recognize,” he said. “Your Confucius, and the number one. Sir, it has been my pleasure. I trust I have given satisfaction, and that you will one day renew your custom.”
    Feng was inspecting the wheel. “It is well,” he said.
    Burnham announced regally, “My expert says it is well. Why should I not renew my custom? I thank you, Master Tun.”
    â€œMy poor shop is honored.”
    â€œThe satisfaction is mine.” And murmuring this and smiling that, Burnham and Feng drove out the wide door.
    At the Beggars’ Hospital Burnham offered Feng his fare. Feng scowled, muttered and finally blew his nose onto the street. “No, I will not,” he said, and then shook his head, unable to explain.
    Nor did he have to. Burnham had not expected this tough one to accept money now. “Well, it was a small justice,” he said. “You lost father and mother. You work like a horse. One tire seems little enough recompense.”
    â€œJustice should not be the gentleman’s burden alone,” Feng said.
    â€œYou have been a good omen on my first day. I owe you for that.”
    â€œNo, no, no,” Feng said, and then did an unusual thing, daring, unheard of. He set a hand on Burnham’s shoulder. “Long life and prosperity,” he said. “I will burn paper for this.”
    â€œStrength and courage,” Burnham said, “and no more talk of hanks of rope, hey? See you again.”
    â€œSee you again,” Feng said. It was the traditional farewell in Peking, and in most of China, and Burnham always marveled at the optimism of it.

7
    In Nanking all resistance ceased on the night of