"Well, chère madame!" he said softly, and then she looked up and saw him and his relentless purpose, and shrank back with a little moan.
Wu smiled and drew nearer. "Do I now find favor in your eyes?" he murmured wickedly—insinuation and masterly in his honeyed tone. "No? Oh! unhappy Wu Li Chang! My heart bleeds, stabbed by your coldness, you lovely and oh! so desired English creature, you fair, fair rose of English womanhood. Ah! well—I have no vanity, luckily for me, and so that is not hurt also, since it does not exist. One important matter," he said, almost at his side, drawing slowly nearer still, "I did not mention. It is only fair that you should understand fully my terms—only fair to say that your son knows that your sacrifice will set him free"
Florence Gregory rose to her feet. She searched his face. "You—you will set him free?"
Wu Li Chang bowed his head in promise. And she did not for one instant doubt his word. It was her unconscious tribute paid to his individuality—and, too, it was tribute of Christian Europe to heathen China. Undeserved? That's as you read history and the sorry story of the treaty ports. Verdicts differ.
"That, of course, is understood—and pledged," the mandarin said quietly, "when—you—have paid—his debt."
She shuddered sickly. Wu smiled, and then his choler broke a little through its smooth veneer. "It is just payment I exact—no jot of usury: virtue for virtue. I might have seized your daughter—for myself, or to toss to one of my servants—but that could not have been payment in full. You, you in your country, you of your race, prize virginity above all else; we hold maternity to be the highest expression of human
