“Of course it’s true,” Q. had replied gloomily. “That mad wife of mine has inveigled the poor old mandarin into inviting her. She insists upon going, and I am going along to chaperon her.”
The Q.’s had been living in China for almost a year. They had known Ja Hong Ting when he had been the Chinese minister at one of the European capitals. Indeed, an uncle of Mrs. Q.’s (she was not unmixedly English) had been the European secretary of the legation of which Ja Hong Ting had been the head. The acquaintance that had begun on the continent of Europe (and which between the then-girl and the Chinaman had been rather a friendly acquaintance) had developed in Pekin, as friendships between Chinese and Europeans don’t often develop. Mr. Q., who alternately laughed and grumbled at his wife’s odd tastes, secretly shared them. He was a grave, quiet man; as a rule, almost taciturn. He was a deal of a philosopher, though no one but his wife ever suspected it, and he had become very much interested in Ja Hong Ting and the glimpses of real China and of real Chinese life which had been afforded him through his acquaintance with the mandarin.
When Ja Hong Ting and the Q.’s had first met in the drawing-room of one of the European Legations at Pekin, Ja Hong Ting had exclaimed, as he bowed over and over Mrs. Q.’s hand, “I am so glad you are here. Now you shall know my wife.” (His wife had not been with him in Europe.) “You shall teach her English, and she shall teach you Chinese. I entreat you and your husband to come to my yamun to-morrow, and there you and she shall be made great friends.”
Ja Hong Ting had not spoken in English, of course.
The Q.’s had gone to the yamun the next day, but Ja Hong Ting’s programme had not been altogether carried out. His wife had been obedient, as most Chinese wives are, but she had taken a dislike to the Englishman, and a most violent dislike to the Englishwoman. She was civil then and afterwards (at least, in the mandarin’s presence), but she never warmed to her husband’s European friends, most especially not to the lady. She taught Mrs. Q. no Chinese, at least not voluntarily; and from Mrs. Q. she learned no English.
Some months after, Ja Hong Ting had called upon the Q.’s in Shanghai. He stayed to dinner, and as they sat down, said to Mrs. Q., “Do you know where Korea is?”
“Of course I know where Korea is,” replied his hostess.
“Yes,” interrupted Q., “so do I. It is one of the few places that my wife has not dragged me to yet.”
“Ah, yes! I forgot,” said the mandarin, turning again to his hostess. “Yes, I remember, you are a great geographer and a traveller. But I do not suppose you will ever go to Korea. I should think it the last place pleasant for you to visit. I have been there a number of times, and I am going next month. The Emperor is sending me with a message to the King of Korea.”
Mrs. Q. pushed her plate of untasted soup from her, and cried, “Oh!” Mr. Q. knitted his brows and sighed. He saw trouble in the distance.