With due tact and some excitability, I protested vigorously
against his coming out. He insisted. Smiling upon him with grave
benignity, I said that I would take a smaller room, and gave orders to
that effect to my man, adding that my whole sense of right and justice
towards fellow-travelers revolted against such self-sacrifice on his
part. He still insisted. Smiling again, this time the timid smile of the
commoner looking up into the face of the great, I allowed myself
reluctantly to be pushed bodily into the best apartment.
This was my intention from the first. Although not too familiar with
it, I allowed the Chinese to imagine that I was well grounded in the
absurdities of his national etiquette; whilst he, observing, too, the
outrageous routine of common politeness, probably went away swearing
that he had been turned out. He had cut off his nose to spite his face.
I cannot truthfully deny, however, that the fellow was very kind, but he
would persist in the belief that it was an impossibility for me to tell
the truth. Later, pointing at me and eyeing me up and down as I shaved
in the twilight, he sneered, "Engleeshman! Engleeshman!" and scooting
with an armful of clothing, small pots of eatables, official documents
and other sundries, told me point-blank that he did not believe that
such a noble person could not speak such a contemptible language as
Chinese.
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