At last, with hope almost given up, we turned toward the Chinese quarter.
The odour of incense floating from joss-houses, the fumes from opium-joints, made us faint and sick. But we went on, searching through thin-walled, whitewashed houses, and climbing narrow ladders to rooms that Miss Hobbs, in her work of mercy, had earned the right to enter.
Again and again, outside closed doors, Miss Hobbs stood calling “Polly! Polly!” No answer came. We heard the pattering feet of Chinamen, who swarmed around us like rats; we saw their sneering faces, and heard their chuckling laughter....
At last we came away, discouraged.
Nearly all night our weary pilgrimage lasted. When, in the early morning, my companion said that we must give up the search, we found ourselves down close by the water. It was dark and sullen: the great bridges overhead looked black and unholy. Even the moonlight seemed stained with sin. I reflected with bitterness that it was Easter Eve,—Easter Eve in a world that was only one great, hideous carousal.
Then, glancing up, I saw the look on Miss Hobbs’s face, and my ears rang with triumphant music:—
“Christ ist erstanden!
Freude dem sterblichen,
Den die verderblichen
Schleichenden, erblichen