China -- Fiction; Communism -- Fiction; Women peasants -- Fiction
So the cousin took it and being a righteous honest man he changed it
into silver, good and sound in every piece, and when he was back at
her door again he struck each piece upon another to show how sound
all were. The mother was grateful to him and she said, although half
unwillingly too, except she did not wish to be thought small in mind,
“Take a piece of it for your trouble, cousin, and for your help in
harvest, for well I know you need it and your wife swelling with
another child.”
But though he stared hard at the silver and sucked his breath in
without knowing he did and blinked his eyes once or twice with longing
he would not take it and he said quickly before his longing grew
too much for him, because indeed he was a good and honest man, “No,
cousin’s wife, for you are a lone woman and I am able to work yet.”
“Well, if you need to borrow then,” she said and quickly took the
silver out of sight, for well she knew no man can look at silver long,
however good he is, and not grow weak with longing.
In that night while the children and the old woman slept the mother
rose and lit the candle and dug a hole with her hoe into the hard earth
of the floor and there she hid the ten pieces of silver, but first she
wrapped them in a bit of rag to keep the earth from them. The buffalo
turned and stared with its great dull eyes, and the fowls woke under
the bed and looked out at her with this eye and then with that and
clucked faintly, astonished at this strange thing in the night. But the
woman filled the hole and walked a while on it to make it beaten smooth
and like the rest. Then she laid herself down again in the darkness.
It was the strangest thing, but as she lay there awake and yet half
dreaming, almost she forgot it was her own silver she had buried and
silver she gained from the harvest she had cut herself, bending her
back in weariness to every handful of the grain. Yes, she forgot this,
and it seemed to her almost that the man had truly sent it to her,
and that it was a something over and beyond her own, and she murmured
to her heart, “It is in place of the silver bits he took and spent for
that blue gown, and better, for it is more,” and she forgave him for
that thing he had done, and so she fell into sleep.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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