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- Джек Лондон
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Thus
it
was
that
I
was
able
to
do
what
I
shall
now
relate
.
It
was
a
spring
morning
on
the
cliffs
of
Fusan
,
hard
by
the
highway
,
that
the
Lady
Om
and
I
sat
warming
in
the
sun
.
We
were
in
the
rags
of
beggary
,
prideless
in
the
dust
,
and
yet
I
was
laughing
heartily
at
some
mumbled
merry
quip
of
the
Lady
Om
when
a
shadow
fell
upon
us
.
It
was
the
great
litter
of
Chong
Mong-ju
,
borne
by
eight
coolies
,
with
outriders
before
and
behind
and
fluttering
attendants
on
either
side
.
Two
emperors
,
civil
war
,
famine
,
and
a
dozen
palace
revolutions
had
come
and
gone
;
and
Chong
Mong-ju
remained
,
even
then
the
great
power
at
Keijo
.
He
must
have
been
nearly
eighty
that
spring
morning
on
the
cliffs
when
he
signalled
with
palsied
hand
for
his
litter
to
be
rested
down
that
he
might
gaze
upon
us
whom
he
had
punished
for
so
long
.
"
Now
,
O
my
king
,
"
the
Lady
Om
mumbled
low
to
me
,
then
turned
to
whine
an
alms
of
Chong
Mong-ju
,
whom
she
affected
not
to
recognize
.
And
I
knew
what
was
her
thought
.
Had
we
not
shared
it
for
forty
years
?
And
the
moment
of
its
consummation
had
come
at
last
.
So
I
,
too
,
affected
not
to
recognize
my
enemy
,
and
,
putting
on
an
idiotic
senility
,
I
,
too
,
crawled
in
the
dust
toward
the
litter
whining
for
mercy
and
charity
.
The
attendants
would
have
driven
me
back
,
but
with
age-quavering
cackles
Chong
Mong-ju
restrained
them
.
He
lifted
himself
on
a
shaking
elbow
,
and
with
the
other
shaking
hand
drew
wider
apart
the
silken
curtains
.
His
withered
old
face
was
transfigured
with
delight
as
he
gloated
on
us
.
"
O
my
king
,
"
the
Lady
Om
whined
to
me
in
her
beggar
's
chant
;
and
I
knew
all
her
long-tried
love
and
faith
in
my
emprise
were
in
that
chant
And
the
red
wrath
was
up
in
me
,
ripping
and
tearing
at
my
will
to
be
free
.
Small
wonder
that
I
shook
with
the
effort
to
control
.
The
shaking
,
happily
,
they
took
for
the
weakness
of
age
.
I
held
up
my
brass
begging
bowl
,
and
whined
more
dolefully
,
and
bleared
my
eyes
to
hide
the
blue
fire
I
knew
was
in
them
,
and
calculated
the
distance
and
my
strength
for
the
leap
.
Then
I
was
swept
away
in
a
blaze
of
red
.
There
was
a
crashing
of
curtains
and
curtain-poles
and
a
squawking
and
squalling
of
attendants
as
my
hands
closed
on
Chong
Mong-ju
's
throat
.
The
litter
overturned
,
and
I
scarce
knew
whether
I
was
heads
or
heels
,
but
my
clutch
never
relaxed
.
In
the
confusion
of
cushions
and
quilts
and
curtains
,
at
first
few
of
the
attendants
'
blows
found
me
.
But
soon
the
horsemen
were
in
,
and
their
heavy
whip-butts
began
to
fall
on
my
head
,
while
a
multitude
of
hands
clawed
and
tore
at
me
.
I
was
dizzy
,
but
not
unconscious
,
and
very
blissful
with
my
old
fingers
buried
in
that
lean
and
scraggly
old
neck
I
had
sought
for
so
long
.
The
blows
continued
to
rain
on
my
head
,
and
I
had
whirling
thoughts
in
which
I
likened
myself
to
a
bulldog
with
jaws
fast-locked
.
Chong
Mong-ju
could
not
escape
me
,
and
I
know
he
was
well
dead
ere
darkness
,
like
that
of
an
anæsthetic
,
descended
upon
me
there
on
the
cliffs
of
Fusan
by
the
Yellow
Sea
.
