friends, you must call me Kai-rong. I’d be honored if you’d take tea with me.”
And that, Mama, is how I’ve come to know about Chinese tea!
I receded to my deck chair. Mr. Chen Kai-rong settled himself also and spoke to a steward. As we awaited our tea he glanced at my book. I’d been reading Thomas Hardy, to improve my English; he asked whether the author was a favorite of mine. When I told him Mr. Hardy was rather dark for my taste, he agreed, and asked what writer in that language I enjoyed.
And Mama, now you’ll laugh, because what popped from my mouth was “William Shakespeare.” All the times you despaired of me, devouring Wilkie Collins while King Lear gathered dust, and now to a stranger on the deck of a ship I tell such a fib! But this gentleman holds himself with such grace, Mama, his English is so good and his manners so refined! I wanted him to think well of me.
I then asked if there was an English author he particularly admired, and he responded with P. G. Wodehouse. Do you know this writer, Mama? I don’t, and I told him so. His answer: “Well, I commend him to you. I think you’ll find him compatible.” Later, I sought out the works of Mr. Wodehouse in the ship’s library, but they are not carried.
Our tea tray arrived, bare of milk, sugar, or lemon. The accompanying cakes were entirely unfamiliar. Mr. Chen Kai-rong instructed me to swirl the teacup to release the scent, as we do with wine. I found the tea’s golden color and sweet fragrance appealing, and discovered it to be delicious, though I was less successful in enjoying the cakes.
“Never mind,” he said. “At least now the very food of China isn’t wholly new to you.” At that I couldn’t contain a smile, though I tried to conceal it. He continued, “I confess to a weakness for linzer torte, myself. Tell me, Miss Gilder, are all Jews as firm in their opinions and as outspoken as yourself? If so, Shanghai can look forward to some excitement.”
“We are indeed firm in our opinions,” I replied. “Though I think you and Shanghai will find most of my fellow refugees more capable of holding their tongues than I. Please accept my apology; I had no right to speak to you that way. But if we are to continue speaking, and even, as you hinted, to be friends, and if I’m to call you Kai-rong, you must call me Rosalie.”
He nodded gravely, as though I had proposed terms for a political treaty. “Well, Rosalie,” said he, “it seems I’m indebted to those young hooligans. If they hadn’t tried to trample me, I’d not have discovered the pleasure of your company. To my regret, though, I now have an appointment to keep.” He stood and bowed in farewell.
“Please wait, sir,” I said before he could take two steps. My boldness makes me blush, thinking of it now, but Mama, the half hour we’d spent over tea was the only half hour since the train pulled out of Salzburg that I haven’t been afraid. Can you understand that? I’ve been trying so hard to be brave, to look after Paul and be responsible, and really, Mama, I’ve been managing, please don’t think I haven’t. But this brief time spent with someone who is neither a frightened refugee, nor in the business of frightening refugees—I’d nearly forgotten what it was to converse, to speak of things beyond fear and loneliness and the horrors of our situation. So I called after Mr. Chen Kai-rong, and when he quickly turned back to me, I had to have something to say! I blurted, “Sir? My young brother and I go to China alone, with no more knowledge than we could glean from a children’s poetry book. If you’d care to educate me about your country, so I’m not a total dunce when we arrive, I should like that very much.”
He smiled. “I think, Rosalie, you stand no chance of being a dunce. But I’d be honored to talk with you about my country. Will you take tea with me again tomorrow afternoon? I can arrange for a group of rowdy children with dangerous toys, if that will entice you.”
“I need no enticing,” I told him, and the deal was struck.
So, Mama, soon I’ll be what the British call an “old China hand.” I’m looking forward to my education, but more than that, to another