“That’s interesting! did you ever see it done, Mr. Thomasz?”
“Oh yes, madam, very frequently.”
“Do tell us all about it,” cried Henriette, “how is it done?”
“It is as simple a ceremony as possible, ladies. The witness who is about to be sworn, accompanied by a Chinese interpreter, and one of the members of the court, walks up to a block of wood. Then the gollokh is placed into his hand and with it he chops off the head of a black chicken. Nothing more, and nothing less. It is an utterly meaningless performance, and, at first sight, it is simply ludicrous.”
“But why must the chicken be black, Mr. Thomasz?” asked Henriette.
“That is more than I can tell you, madam,” replied he. “You are aware, I suppose, that white is the mourning colour in China.”
“Oh, yes, I know that; but—a black chicken? There must be some hidden meaning in that,” mused Henriette.
“There may be, madam,” replied Thomasz; “but I have never been able to discover any, though I have frequently asked interpreters and even Chinese chiefs about it. There exists, however,” he continued, “in China another manner of taking an oath, the significance of which is, perhaps, more obvious. But it is used only on special and very important occasions.”
“Can there be any question of greater moment,” asked Henriette, somewhat sharply, “than that of speaking the truth before a judge?”
“Certainly there may be, madam,” was the reply.