The Season of the Stranger (32 page)

When Mr Girard got home that evening he asked Wen-li to come into the house a minute. There was something he wanted to talk about. Wen-li went into the house and stood in the living room and Mr Girard told him that he had been to the City that day and on the way in the bus had been stopped and everyone had been asked for an identity card, and the same thing had happened on the way out. And the soldiers had poked around in shopping bags and suitcases, and one man had been taken off the bus coming out because he did not have his identity card. Mr Girard said he had asked a soldier if this would be the rule in the future, and the soldier had said that it would and it would be enforced strictly. Mr Girard warned Wen-li never to leave the university without the identity card and without telling him or leaving a note.

Kuo-fan was still excited. He could not keep quiet now and he had several ideas as to what this was all about. Wen-li told him that it was because the fighting was coming nearer and would be here soon, but that was not enough for Kuo-fan. He sat in Wen-li's room drinking wine and saying, “It is a blind. They are going to capture the university, and they want us to think that these troops are for the fighting in the north.”

And Wen-li would say, “There is no need to capture the university. The university belongs to them already.”

So Kuo-fan would say, “Then it is all a bluff. They are hoping that the students will be impressed by this display of power and will send word to the Communists that an attack on the City would be fatal.”

“If it is a bluff the Communists will know it,” he said. “Why can it not be simply that they are preparing to fight?”

Kuo-fan shook his head. “There will be no fighting in the City. A bargain will be struck.”

“Why?”

“Because of the museums and the schools and buildings of importance. No one would dare to damage them. Because of public opinion,” Kuo-fan explained.

“Yes,” he said. “The public is so important. And perhaps for the convenience of the public they will have the fighting take place outside the City, or decide its fate over a chess game.”

“No, no,” Kuo-fan said, and he put his chin on his cupped hands and went on dreaming.

But he was not dreaming when he came the next day. “There is bad news,” he said.

Wen-li looked up. “What is it?”

“There is trouble at the main gate.”

“What kind of trouble?”

“A crowd. Soldiers and civilians. They have refused to let people out of the university.”

“When did it start?”

“At noon.”

Now it was three o'clock in the afternoon. “Has there been violence?”

“Yes.” Kuo-fan was grim. “A teacher of physical education tried to leave and they beat him.”

“And the buses?”

Kuo-fan shook his head. “None have left or entered since this morning.”

Wen-li considered. This was unusual and serious. It was necessary to leave the university to buy food. If they had protested to the officials it had done no good, because the officials would have stopped the trouble before now if they had intended to stop it at all. So the officials did not care. And there were civilians in the crowd, which was worse, because they would not be punished for what they did, but a soldier could always be punished later. Perhaps when it was all over the townspeople would punish them. But that did not help Wen-li to buy food today.

“What are you going to do for food?” he asked.

“I have enough for two days more,” Kuo-fan said. “Perhaps by then the trouble will have stopped.”

“I have not,” he said. “I have not enough for tonight.”

“I could lend you some,” Kuo-fan offered.

“Perhaps,” he said. “If I can do nothing else I will accept the loan. But first I will talk to Mr Girard.”

“All right.”

“You had better go now, and I will talk to him. If I need your help I will come at five o'clock.”

“Fine,” Kuo-fan said. “Good luck and prosperity.”

“Thanks,” he said.

When he went into the house Mr Girard was sitting on the sofa letting a cigarette burn down between his fingers. He was in his gown and his eyes had a far-away worried look in them. He looked up and smiled.

“Have you heard?” Wen-li asked him.

“Yes,” Mr Girard said. “Have we much food?”

“No. Not enough for tonight.”

“Then we will have to go to the village.”

“No,” he said. “If it is too troublesome to leave the university we can borrow for a few days.”

Mr Girard nodded. “I do not like that at the gate,” he said. “Although my not liking it means nothing. But they have beaten one professor. I also do not like the thought that someone high up ordered this.”

He said nothing.

“Tell me,” Mr Girard said, “do you think that my presence would perplex them?”

“At the gate, you mean.”

“Yes, at the gate.”

He considered. “I am sure it would perplex them,” he said. “But I do not know that it would make a difference to them.”

“But they are notoriously afraid of hurting foreigners nowadays.”

“Yes.”

“And part of their political campaign is based on the supposed maltreatment of foreigners by the Communists. They could not fall into the same sin, could they?”

“No,” he said.

“I wonder,” Mr Girard said. He rubbed out his cigarette. “For one thing, I have a great curiosity. For another, we need food. And for a third, we need a gesture.”

Mr Girard stood up. When he stood he was much taller than Wen-li, and Wen-li was fairly tall. Mr Girard went into the bedroom.

“That last,” he called back, “is very dramatic and very vain.” He came out into the living room. Mr Girard always moved quietly, even though he was tall and heavy. “But there is no doubt that a gesture is needed.” He had his hat and gloves in his hands.

He knew what Mr Girard meant and he was not very happy about it, but if Mr Girard wanted to go he could not stop him.

Then Mr Girard said, “Would you like to come with me?”

He looked at the floor. He did not want to go but he could not say so. And if he did not go it would be very embarrassing. He would not lose face among his friends because he was sure that none of them would go either, but he would lose a little face where he worked, and that would be worse. And he was afraid, which was also embarrassing.

“I do not think anything will happen,” Mr Girard said, “because after four hours a mob tends to became tired and to lose its purpose. Nevertheless, I have no right to ask you to go. But I think that the gesture will be more valuable if you are a part of it.”

He knew that was right. If Mr Girard were to go alone it would be a foreigner making use of a foreigner's position. If he went along himself it would be different. He did not see the need for what Mr Girard called a gesture. He thought it would be better to wait a few days and borrow and hope that they all went away. But it was always somehow impossible to argue with Mr Girard.

“If you think it is right,” he said.

Mr Girard looked at him, very serious. “I think it is right,” Mr Girard said.

He nodded.

“Do not forget the shopping bag.”

He got the shopping bag and put on his hat and gloves. He started to lock the doors. “Wait,” Mr Girard said. “She may come back while we are gone. I will leave a note inside.” He went inside. When he came out Wen-li locked the doors and they started toward the village.

When they were almost to the gate Mr Girard spoke. “I will talk,” he said, “and whatever happens do not lose your temper or strike anyone.” He smiled. “They may even be gone by now.”

Then they were at the gate. One of the gate guards came out of his office to meet them. “How are you,” he said.

“How are you,” Mr Girard said.

“You are not planning to go out?”

“Yes,” Mr Girard said. “They are still there?” He offered the guard a cigarette. The guard took it and Mr Girard held a match for him.

“They are still there,” the guard said. “The university has ordered me to allow no one out. The officials are in a panic.”

Mr Girard smiled. After a minute he said, “What do you think about it?”

The guard shook his head. “I do not know,” he said. “They are quieter now. But I do not know.”

It was cold and the sky was still grey.

“It would do good if I went,” Mr Girard said.

“There is no doubt of that,” the guard said.

“How many remain?” Mr Girard asked.

The guard went to the gate and opened a small peephole. He looked out for a few seconds and then he came back. “About twentyfive,” he said.

That is too many, Wen-li thought. We will go back now.

“All soldiers?”

“No. Six or seven townspeople.”

Mr Girard nodded. “What are they doing?”

“They are sitting beside the road and talking.”

“So,” Mr Girard said, and then: “I think we will go out.”

The guard puffed on his cigarette. He shook his head and said, “I will not stop you. But I do not advise that you go.”

“Nevertheless,” Mr Girard said.

“All right,” the guard said. He moved to the gate. They followed him.

“When we have gone out do not close the gate entirely,” Mr Girard said.

“All right,” the guard said. He pulled back the iron bars. The gate swung open slowly and Mr Girard walked through the opening. Wen-li followed him. They walked quickly.

As soon as they saw the two men come out, the soldiers and townspeople stood up. Even when they saw Mr Girard there was no expression on their faces, except for one man. He was a sergeant and there was an expression on his face. The two had come out walking very quickly and they were almost past them and on the path when the soldiers moved suddenly and made a group between them and the path. The soldiers had rifles and the townspeople had sticks and clubs. When they made the group Mr Girard stopped and Wen-li stopped behind him. It was quiet. They all looked at one another. Then Mr Girard took a step toward them and they grouped closer and one of the townspeople raised his stick and Mr Girard stopped.

The sergeant walked up to Mr Girard and held his rifle crosswise between their chests. He was not touching Mr Girard. The sergeant said: “No one is to leave the university.” He was smiling and he showed all his teeth when he talked. When he said that, the group came closer behind him. Now they were all of them in a small circle.

Mr Girard moved his head as though he were looking at all of them. They all watched him now. No one paid any attention to Wen-li. He had the shopping bag over his shoulder and he was close behind Mr Girard. He wished that he could see Mr Girard's face.

“By whose order?”

When they heard Mr Girard speak they all murmured except the sergeant and they shifted their feet.

“By order of my commanding officer,” the sergeant said.

“You will show me the written order,” Mr Girard said.

“There is no written order. The order was given verbally.” The sergeant raised the rifle higher between them. “You will go back inside the gate.”

“What did the order say?”

The sergeant said: “I have told you.”

“And if I refuse to go back?”

“You will be forced to go back.”

“That was also in the order?”

“That was also in the order.”

“And what else was in the order?”

“Nothing.” The group was quiet now. Some of them were looking at Wen-li. He recognized one of them. He had a spice store in the village.

“And the gentleman who was beaten earlier,” Mr Girard said. “He refused to go back?”

“Yes,” the sergeant said.

“The story did not come to me in that form,” Mr Girard said. “I have heard that he was seized and prevented from going back, and was then beaten.”

“That is not true,” the sergeant said.

“If it were true it would be a violation of the order.”

“Yes.”

“But I do not think you would be punished for it.”

“No.”

Someone in the group said, “Hit him with the rifle, and that one with him.” Wen-li looked down. They should not have come. He looked back at the gate. It was open a short way. His knees hurt.

“But you might be punished for other mistakes,” Mr Girard said.

“I do not think so,” the sergeant said. He and Mr Girard did not seem to know that there was anyone else near them.

“I will tell you what you would be punished for.”

“I would like to know,” the sergeant said.

“They would punish you for molesting a foreigner.”

“The orders did not specify,” the sergeant said.

“Because your rifles and your ammunition and your tanks and your trucks come from foreigners,” Mr Girard said.

“The orders did not specify,” the sergeant said. He wet his lips.

“And if they stopped coming certain questions would be asked. Among the answers would be the actions of a certain sergeant at the gate of a university.”

The sergeant wet his lips again.

“I think you would be punished for that,” Mr Girard said.

The sergeant said, “The orders did not specify.”

“If the orders did not specify, it was intended that you use your discretion. I have heard that a man does not become a sergeant before acquiring great powers of discretion.”

“Perhaps,” the sergeant said. His tongue came out and worked back and forth over his lips. “But the one behind you must go back.”

One of the townspeople raised a cudgel. They were all looking at Wen-li. He suddenly wanted to vomit.

Mr Girard said, “The one behind me works for me. He goes where I tell him to. You understand, Sergeant. He obeys my orders.” Wen-li hardly heard him speaking.

“Then you will order him to go back.” Behind the sergeant the soldiers moved and there were many sharp metallic clicks, one after another. Then they were all quiet and no one moved.