"
"May I ask their names?"
"Why not?" said I, "I know a little French."
"Anything else?"
"Yes, a little Welsh, and a little Haik."
"What is Haik?"
"Armenian."
"I am glad to see you in my house," said the old man, shaking me by
the hand; "how singular that one coming as you did should know
Armenian!"
"Not more singular," said I, "than that one living in such a place
as this should know Chinese. How came you to acquire it?"
The old man looked at me, and sighed. "I beg pardon," said I, "for
asking what is, perhaps, an impertinent question; I have not
imitated your own delicacy; you have never asked me a question
without first desiring permission, and here I have been days and
nights in your house an intruder on your hospitality, and you have
never so much as asked me who I am."
"In forbearing to do that," said the old man, "I merely obeyed the
Chinese precept, 'Ask no questions of a guest;' it is written on
both sides of the teapot out of which you have had your tea."
"I wish I knew Chinese," said I. "Is it a difficult language to
acquire?"
"I have reason to think so," said the old man. "I have been
occupied upon it five-and-thirty years, and I am still very
imperfectly acquainted with it; at least, I frequently find upon my
crockery sentences the meaning of which to me is very dark, though
it is true these sentences are mostly verses, which are, of course,
more difficult to understand than mere prose.
Pages:
288
289
290
291
292
293
294
295
296
297
298
299
300
301
302
303
304
305
306
307
308
309
310
311
312