Chapter 23

I have not seen Kinko for two days, and the last was only to exchange a
few words with him to relieve his anxiety.

To-night I will try and visit him. I have taken care to lay in a few
provisions at Sou-Tcheou.

We started at three o'clock. We have got a more powerful engine on.
Across this undulating country the gradients are occasionally rather
steep. Seven hundred kilometres separate us from the important city of
Lan-Tcheou, where we ought to arrive to-morrow morning, running thirty
miles an hour.

I remarked to Pan-Chao that this average was not a high one.

"What would you have?" he replied, crunching the watermelon seeds. "You
will not change, and nothing will change the temperament of the
Celestials. As they are conservatives in all things, so will they be
conservative in this matter of speed, no matter how the engine may be
improved. And, besides, Monsieur Bombarnac, that there are railways at
all in the Middle Kingdom is a wonder to me."

"I agree with you, but where you have a railway you might as well get
all the advantage out of it that you can."

"Bah!" said Pan-Chao carelessly.

"Speed," said I, "is a gain of time--and to gain time--"

"Time does not exist in China, Monsieur Bombarnac, and it cannot exist
for a population of four hundred millions. There would not be enough
for everybody. And so we do not count by days and hours, but always by
moons and watches."

"Which is more poetical than practical," I remark.

"Practical, Mr. Reporter? You Westerners are never without that word in
your mouth. To be practical is to be the slave of time, work, money,
business, the world, everybody else, and one's self included. I confess
that during my stay in Europe--you can ask Doctor Tio-King--I have not
been very practical, and now I return to Asia I shall be less so. I
shall let myself live, that is all, as the cloud floats in the breeze,
the straw on the stream, as the thought is borne away by the
imagination."

"I see," said I, "we must take China as it is."

"And as it will probably always be, Monsieur Bombarnac. Ah! if you knew
how easy the life is--an adorable _dolce far niente_ between folding
screens in the quietude of the yamens. The cares of business trouble us
little; the cares of politics trouble us less. Think! Since Fou Hi, the
first emperor in 2950, a contemporary of Noah, we are in the
twenty-third dynasty. Now it is Manchoo; what it is to be next what
matters? Either we have a government or we have not; and which of its
sons Heaven has chosen for the happiness of four hundred million
subjects we hardly know, and we hardly care to know."

It is evident that the young Celestial is a thousand and ten times
wrong, to use the numerative formula; but it is not for me to tell him
so.

At dinner Mr. and Mrs. Ephrinell, sitting side by side, hardly
exchanged a word. Their intimacy seems to have decreased since they
were married. Perhaps they are absorbed in the calculation of their
reciprocal interests, which are not yet perfectly amalgamated. Ah! they
do not count by moons and watches, these Anglo-Saxons! They are
practical, too practical!

We have had a bad night. The sky of purple sulphury tint became stormy
toward evening, the atmosphere became stifling, the electrical tension
excessive. It meant a "highly successful" storm, to quote Caterna, who
assured me he had never seen a better one except perhaps in the second
act of _Freyschütz_. In truth the train ran through a zone, so to
speak, of vivid lightning and rolling thunder, which the echoes of the
mountains prolonged indefinitely. I think there must have been several
lightning strokes, but the rails acted as conductors, and preserved the
cars from injury. It was a fine spectacle, a little alarming, these
fires in the sky that the heavy rain could not put out--these
continuous discharges from the clouds, in which were mingled the
strident whistlings of our locomotive as we passed through the stations
of Yanlu, Youn Tcheng, Houlan-Sien and Da-Tsching.

By favor of this troubled night I was able to communicate with Kinko,
to take him some provisions and to have a few minutes' conversation
with him.

"Is it the day after to-morrow," he asked, "that we arrive at Pekin?"

"Yes, the day after to-morrow, if the train is not delayed."

"Oh, I am not afraid of delays! But when my box is in the railway
station at Pekin, I have still to get to the Avenue Cha-Coua--"

"What does it matter, will not the fair Zinca Klork come and call for
it?"

"No. I advised her not to do so."

"And why?"

"Women are so impressionable! She would want to see the van in-which I
had come, she would claim the box with such excitement that suspicions
would be aroused. In short, she would run the risk of betraying me."

"You are right, Kinko."

"Besides, we shall reach the station in the afternoon, very late in the
afternoon perhaps, and the unloading of the packages will not take
place until next morning--"

"Probably."

"Well, Monsieur Bombarnac, if I am not taking too great a liberty, may
I ask a favor of you?"

"What is it?"

"That you will be present at the departure of the case, so as to avoid
any mistake."

"I will be there, Kinko, I will be there. Glass fragile, I will see
that they don't handle it too roughly. And if you like I will accompany
the case to Avenue Cha-Coua--"

"I hardly like to ask you to do that--"

"You are wrong, Kinko. You should not stand on ceremony with a friend,
and I am yours, Kinko. Besides, it will be a pleasure to me to make the
acquaintance of Mademoiselle Zinca Klork. I will be there when they
deliver the box, the precious box. I will help her to get the nails out
of it--"

"The nails out of it, Monsieur Bombarnac? My panel? Ah, I will jump
through my panel!"

A terrible clap of thunder interrupted our conversation. I thought the
train had been thrown off the line by the commotion of the air. I left
the young Roumanian and regained my place within the car.

In the morning--26th of May, 7 A.M.--we arrived at Lan-Tcheou. Three
hours to stop, three hours only.

"Come, Major Noltitz, come, Pan-Chao, come, Caterna, we have not a
minute to spare."

But as we are leaving the station we are stopped by the appearance of a
tall, fat, gray, solemn personage. It is the governor of the town in a
double robe of white and yellow silk, fan in hand, buckled belt, and a
mantilla--a black mantilla which would have looked much better on the
shoulders of a manola. He is accompanied by a certain number of
globular mandarins, and the Celestials salute him by holding out their
two fists, which they move up and down as they nod their heads.

"Ah! What is this gentleman going to do? Is it some Chinese formality?
A visit to the passengers and their baggage? And Kinko, what about him?"

Nothing alarming, after all. It is only about the treasure of the Son
of Heaven. The governor and his suite have stopped before the precious
van, bolted and sealed, and are looking at it with that respectful
admiration which is experienced even in China before a box containing
many millions.

I ask Popof what is meant by the governor's presence, has it anything
to do with us?

"Not at all," says Popof; "the order has come from Pekin to telegraph
the arrival of the treasure. The governor has done so, and he is
awaiting a reply as to whether he is to send it on to Pekin or keep it
provisionally at Lan-Tcheou."

"That will not delay us?"

"I don't think so."

"Then come on," said I to my companions. But if the imperial treasure
was a matter of indifference to us, it did not seem to be so to
Faruskiar. But whether this van started or did not start, whether it
was attached to our train or left behind, what could it matter to him?
Nevertheless, he and Ghangir seemed to be much put about regarding it,
although they tried to hide their anxiety, while the Mongols, talking
together in a low tone, gave the governor anything but friendly glances.

Meanwhile the governor had just heard of the attack on the train and of
the part that our hero had taken in defence of the treasure, with what
courage he had fought, and how he had delivered the country from the
terrible Ki-Tsang. And then in laudatory terms, which Pan-Chao
translated to us, he thanked Faruskiar, complimented him, and gave him
to understand that the Son of Heaven would reward him for his services.

The manager of the Grand Transasiatic listened with that tranquil air
that distinguished him, not without impatience, as, I could clearly
see. Perhaps he felt himself superior to praises as well as
recompenses, no matter from how great a height they might come. In that
I recognized all the Mongol pride.

But we need not wait. The treasure van may remain here or go on to
Pekin, but it makes no difference to us! Our business is to visit
Lan-Tcheou.

What we did briefly I will more briefly tell.

There is an outer town and an inner one. No ruins this time. A very
lively city, population swarming like ants and very active,
familiarized by the railway with the presence of strangers whom they do
not follow about with indiscreet curiosity as they used to do. Huge
quarters occupy the right of the Hoang Ho, two kilometres wide. This
Hoang Ho is the yellow river, the famous yellow river, which, after a
course of four thousand four hundred kilometres, pours its muddy waters
into the Gulf of Petchili.

"Is not its mouth near Tien Tsin, where the baron thinks of catching
the mail for Yokohama?" asks the major.

"That is so," I reply.

"He will miss it," says the actor.

"Unless he trots, our globe-trotter."

"A donkey's trot does not last long," says Caterna, "and he will not
catch the boat."

"He will catch it if the train is no later," said the major. "We shall
be at Tien Tsin on the 23d at six o'clock in the morning, and the
steamer leaves at eleven."

"Whether he misses the boat or not, my friends, do not let us miss our
walk."

A bridge of boats crosses the river, and the stream is so swift that
the footway rises and falls like the waves of the sea. Madame Caterna,
who had ventured on it, began to turn pale.

"Caroline, Caroline," said her husband, "you will be seasick! Pull
yourself together; pull yourself together!"

She "pulled herself together," and we went up towards a pagoda which
rises over the town.

Like all the monuments of this kind, the pagoda resembles a pile of
dessert dishes placed one on the other, but the dishes are of graceful
form, and if they are in Chinese porcelain it is not astonishing.

We get an outside view of a cannon foundry, a rifle factory, the
workmen being natives. Through a fine garden we reach the governor's
house, with a capricious assemblage of bridges, kiosks, fountains and
doors like vases. There are more pavilions and upturned roofs than
there are trees and shady walks. Then there are paths paved with
bricks, among them the remains of the base of the Great Wall.

It is ten minutes to ten when we return to the station, absolutely
tired out; for the walk has been a rough one, and almost suffocating,
for the heat is very great.

My first care is to look after the van with the millions. It is there
as usual behind the train under the Chinese guard.

The message expected by the governor has arrived; the order to forward
on the van to Pekin, where the treasure is to be handed over to the
finance minister.

Where is Faruskiar? I do not see him. Has he given us the slip?

No! There he is on one of the platforms, and the Mongols are back in
the car.

Ephrinell has been off to do a round of calls--with his samples, no
doubt--and Mrs. Ephrinell has also been out on business, for a deal in
hair probably. Here they come, and without seeming to notice one
another they take their seats.

The other passengers are only Celestials. Some are going to Pekin; some
have taken their tickets for intermediate stations like Si-Ngan, Ho
Nan. Lou-Ngan, Tai-Youan. There are a hundred passengers in the train.
All my numbers are on board. There is not one missing. Thirteen, always
thirteen!

We were still on the platform, just after the signal of departure had
been given, when Caterna asked his wife what was the most curious thing
she had seen at Lan-Tcheou.

"The most curious thing, Adolphe? Those big cages, hung on to the walls
and trees, which held such curious birds--"

"Very curious, Madame Caterna," said Pan-Chao. "Birds that talk--"

"What--parrots?"

"No; criminals' heads."

"Horrible!" said the actress, with a most expressive grimace.

"What would you have, Caroline?" said Caterna. "It is the custom of the
country."

Chapter 23

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