When Kubla Khan dismissed the assembly, and he took Marco Polo into a
sitting-room, and Golden Bells came with them.
"And what did you think, sir, of what I said? And can you not see,
sir, the truth that's in me?"
"Well, now, laddie," said the great Khan, "when we come to examine this
sermon you quoted to us, what is there in it but the rule of the
righteous man? We've had a great thinker and pious man of our own,
Confucius. I'm not a reading man," says he, "but I've got an idea,"
says he, "that there isn't a thing you said but is embraced in the
Analects. And if it isn't it'll be in the teachings of the Lord
Buddha."
"Ah, but, sir," Marco Polo said, "You'll have to admit that He of Whom
I speak was the true God made man."
"Now, laddie, remember I'm an old man, set in my head and my ways, and
I've been used to one belief so long it would be hard changing. So
don't press me now; don't press me, I ask you."
"Ah, sir," pleaded Marco Polo, "it's terrible to think of, as great a
prince as you to be in the black spaces outside of heaven because you
wouldn't accept the truth."
"Well, maybe they won't be so hard on one, my dear lad. When my time
comes and I rap on the gate of your heaven, maybe they'll say: 'It's
only old Kubla, the soldier, is in it. He knows devil and all about
religion, but his fights were fair fights, and he never hit a man when
he was down. He had a soft heart for wee children and he was easy on
horses. Sure, what's the difference? Let him in!' And if they say
no, I'll tuck the old nicked claymore under my arm, and be off to where
the other old fighters are."
"I see, sir, that there was little success to my message."
"I wouldn't say that," said Kubla Khan. "Wait a little until you
perform miracles before the people to prove your truth. You'll know
better then."
"Ah, sir," said Marco Polo, "I can perform no miracles. 'Tis only a
saint can perform miracles, and I couldn't lace a saint's shoes. I have
no miracles."
"Oh, well, now, my dear boy," said Kubla Khan, "I hate to tell you, but
there's no use going further. Sure you'd be up against the sorcerers
of the world. They'd ask you for a sign, and you'd have no sign, and
they'd have signs in abundance. I wouldn't think of letting you go
against them. Fair play's a jewel, and you wouldn't have a chance.
There's the Red Pope from Tibet and there's the Black Magician from
Korea and a hundred minor ones, and the Warlock of the North, from the
Islands of Ice, who governs the hail and the snow. Child, I wouldn't
let you get into the same ring with them. They'd ruin you."
"But, sir, wasn't it a great miracle of the Lord's, my rescue in the
Gobi Desert?"
"A miracle of the Lord's! A miracle of Golden Bells here. It was her
magician saw you, and she had the message put on the drums, and the
desert patrols went to seek you. It was herself here, wee Golden
Bells." And Golden Bells' mouth gave a smile of shame that his thought
should be broken in his mind.
"A long way I'm after coming," said Marco Polo, "and when I set out my
heart was high."
"Now, don't be taking it too hard," says the khan, kindly. "Sure,
there's a power of good you can be doing here. Maybe you can do
something with Li Po," says he. "I'd like fine for you to try. The man
is worrying the life out of me with his drinking. I never know when he
goes out whether he'll come back all right or feet foremost on a door.
For he's got the bitter tongue when the drink's in him, and China could
ill afford to lose him. And there are some of my captains, and the
tune they're always piping is 'War! War! War! And let's show up this
Alexander who said he conquered the world.' And I'm past the age when
you make war for devilment. So let you be helping me out with them,
Marco Polo."
But Marco Polo knew this was only meant in kindness, and his heart was
broken.
"Ah, wee lady,"--he turned to Golden Bells,--"wee lady, wee lady, why
didn't you let me die in the desert? Why didn't I die?"
"And why should you die, Marco Polo?" Her low, sweet voice rang in the
heart of him. "Didn't you come here to give your message? And to make
converts? And didn't I hear your message? And am n't I your convert,
Marco Polo?"