Read Online The Promise: A Novel of China and Burma (Oriental Novels of Pearl S. Buck) by Pearl S. Buck - Free Book Online
Authors: Pearl S. Buck
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“and you alone have been saved for some will of Heaven. Come with me. I will give you a gun for revenge.”
Now the man could see easily that Sheng was a soldier and a leader of soldiers, and so he turned blindly, the tears still running down his face, and made as if to follow Sheng with the dead child lying in his two arms as though on a bed.
“Leave the child,” Sheng ordered him.
But the young man looked piteously from one face to the other. “I can leave the ones that are buried under the house,” he said, “but how can I put down my little son? The dogs will eat him.”
“Give him to me,” Mayli said. “I will buy him a coffin and see that he is buried for you.”
“Good,” Sheng said, and his eyes fell warmly upon her when she said this.
So the young man gave her his dead boy, and Mayli took the child in her arms. In all her life it was the first time she had ever held a child so close. By some strange chance this girl had been near no child. Alone she had grown up in her father’s house and in a foreign land where she had no cousins and cousins’ cousins. She took this little creature and he crumpled in her arms and lay against her so helplessly that her heart swelled in her breast and she could not speak. She could only look at Sheng.
Over the dead child they looked at each other and though neither of them had ever seen him in life, this death of a child made them suddenly tender toward each other again.
“I will come to you as quickly as I can,” Sheng said.
“I shall wait your coming,” Mayli said. It was only a courteous sentence, such as any one uses for an expected guest, but she made her eyes speak it, too.
So he understood, and he went his way, the man following, and she went hers.
“Let me carry the burden,” Liu Ma said.
But Mayli shook her head. “I am younger than you,” she said, “and I am stronger.”
And so she carried the child home, and there the house was as they had left it, though on the south side ten houses had fallen in a row, and a cloud of dust was everywhere. Inside the court her little dog stood trembling and waiting, and when she came in it smelled the dead child and lifted its head and whimpered. But she went on without speaking and laid the child on her own bed.
He was a fair little boy, about three years old, and his face was round and smooth. So far as eye could see there was nothing injured in him, and she took the little fat hand, wondering if by some chance there was still life in it. But no, she could feel the stiffening of death begun already in the delicate fingers, dimpled at the knuckles. So she laid it down again and sat there a while, not able to take her eyes from this child whom she had never seen alive. And for the first time it came to her what this war was and what it meant in the world when a child could be murdered and none could stay the murderer. Anger grew in her like a weed.
“I wish I could put out my hands and feel an enemy’s throat,” she muttered.
At this moment Liu Ma put aside the red satin door curtain and peered in because she heard nothing so long but silence. There she saw her young mistress sitting on the bed, gazing at the child.
“Shall I go and buy the coffin?” she asked.
“Yes,” Mayli said.
“But where shall we put the grave?” Liu Ma asked.
“We will find a little land outside the city,” Mayli said. “A farmer will sell me a few feet somewhere for the body of a child.”
“To rent it will be enough,” Liu Ma said. “A child’s body does not last long, and this child is not even your own blood.”
“Every child whom the enemy kills is my own blood!” Mayli cried with such passion that the old woman hid herself quickly behind the curtain.
So Liu Ma went away and after a while Mayli rose and drew the curtains about the bed and she went out into the court and lay down in a long rattan chair that she had bought and kept under the eaves of the house. She lay with her hands over her eyes and
Now the man could see easily that Sheng was a soldier and a leader of soldiers, and so he turned blindly, the tears still running down his face, and made as if to follow Sheng with the dead child lying in his two arms as though on a bed.
“Leave the child,” Sheng ordered him.
But the young man looked piteously from one face to the other. “I can leave the ones that are buried under the house,” he said, “but how can I put down my little son? The dogs will eat him.”
“Give him to me,” Mayli said. “I will buy him a coffin and see that he is buried for you.”
“Good,” Sheng said, and his eyes fell warmly upon her when she said this.
So the young man gave her his dead boy, and Mayli took the child in her arms. In all her life it was the first time she had ever held a child so close. By some strange chance this girl had been near no child. Alone she had grown up in her father’s house and in a foreign land where she had no cousins and cousins’ cousins. She took this little creature and he crumpled in her arms and lay against her so helplessly that her heart swelled in her breast and she could not speak. She could only look at Sheng.
Over the dead child they looked at each other and though neither of them had ever seen him in life, this death of a child made them suddenly tender toward each other again.
“I will come to you as quickly as I can,” Sheng said.
“I shall wait your coming,” Mayli said. It was only a courteous sentence, such as any one uses for an expected guest, but she made her eyes speak it, too.
So he understood, and he went his way, the man following, and she went hers.
“Let me carry the burden,” Liu Ma said.
But Mayli shook her head. “I am younger than you,” she said, “and I am stronger.”
And so she carried the child home, and there the house was as they had left it, though on the south side ten houses had fallen in a row, and a cloud of dust was everywhere. Inside the court her little dog stood trembling and waiting, and when she came in it smelled the dead child and lifted its head and whimpered. But she went on without speaking and laid the child on her own bed.
He was a fair little boy, about three years old, and his face was round and smooth. So far as eye could see there was nothing injured in him, and she took the little fat hand, wondering if by some chance there was still life in it. But no, she could feel the stiffening of death begun already in the delicate fingers, dimpled at the knuckles. So she laid it down again and sat there a while, not able to take her eyes from this child whom she had never seen alive. And for the first time it came to her what this war was and what it meant in the world when a child could be murdered and none could stay the murderer. Anger grew in her like a weed.
“I wish I could put out my hands and feel an enemy’s throat,” she muttered.
At this moment Liu Ma put aside the red satin door curtain and peered in because she heard nothing so long but silence. There she saw her young mistress sitting on the bed, gazing at the child.
“Shall I go and buy the coffin?” she asked.
“Yes,” Mayli said.
“But where shall we put the grave?” Liu Ma asked.
“We will find a little land outside the city,” Mayli said. “A farmer will sell me a few feet somewhere for the body of a child.”
“To rent it will be enough,” Liu Ma said. “A child’s body does not last long, and this child is not even your own blood.”
“Every child whom the enemy kills is my own blood!” Mayli cried with such passion that the old woman hid herself quickly behind the curtain.
So Liu Ma went away and after a while Mayli rose and drew the curtains about the bed and she went out into the court and lay down in a long rattan chair that she had bought and kept under the eaves of the house. She lay with her hands over her eyes and
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