Li Wen was very eloquent. His tone was never raised,
he never forgot that he was speaking to a being of a superior world. He
had a great deal to say, however, and he was eager to say it. Prince
Shan, as he listened, smoked a long cigarette in a yellow tube. He wore
a ring in which was set an uncut green stone on the fourth finger of his
left hand. Although the hour was barely nine o'clock, he was shaved and
dressed as though for a visit of ceremony. He listened to Li Wen gravely
and critically.
"I am sorry about the little one," he said, looking through the cloud of
tobacco smoke up towards the ceiling. "Nita has been very useful. She
has been as faithful, too, as is possible for a woman."
Li Wen bowed and waited. He knew better than to interrupt.
"It was through the information which Nita brought me," his master went
on, "that I have been able to check the truth of Immelan's statement as
to the French dispositions and the _rapprochement_ with Italy. Nita has
served me very well indeed. What she has done in this matter, she has
done in a moment of caprice."
"My lord," Li Wen ventured, "a woman is of no account in the plans of
the greatest. She is like a leaf blown hither or thither on the winds of
love or jealousy. She may be used, but she must be discarded."
"It is a strange world, this western world," Prince Shan mused. "In our
own country, Li Wen, we plot or we fight, we build the great places,
climb to the lofty heights, and when we rest we pluck flowers, and women
are our flowers.
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