What Victor dubbed the Oriental Room was called “the other room” by Jeanne and Vincent. Vincent brought the proceeds from the fan sales when he came, and Jeanne would carefully put the gold and silver coins in the jewel box with the pine tree engraving.
—There’s also a party tonight, so Victor will be late. You don’t have to make me dinner. Why don’t you go somewhere with Vincent? Stay out as late as you want.
—But are you not going out yourself, Madame?
Jin smiled sadly. Victor must’ve told her that Jin was going to a party that evening and she needed help to prepare. Victor had said he’d go directly to Henri Philippe’s house after work, but Jin was thinking of not going. This had happened several times before, so Victor would likely just accept that she was not coming.
Jin went back to the Oriental Room and shut herself in. She leaned against the door and stood there for a long time. She heard a scratching at her back. Jin rubbed her cheek and opened the door. Quasimodo the cat meowed as he entered the room and jumped to the top of the carved dresser.
—Come here!
Jin held Yeon’s letter in one hand and gestured to the cat with the other. Quasimodo didn’t come. Jin lowered her arm and looked upon the half-embroidered lizard on the fan lying on the cushion. She’d been working on it right up to the moment Jacqueline had arrived. She had finished the last batch of satin Vincent brought her, so to pass the time she put new satin on an old fan she occasionally carried and was embroidering a lizard on it. Jin had learned that Victor had once written a paper on lizards. She found the article in a zoological journal shelved among some old books. The paper described the mating and spawning habits of lizards of France and included illustrations. Reading it, Jin felt as sympathetic to Victor as she had to Yeon when she discovered he was mute. The thought that Victor, who so rigidly followed the rules, was once interested in the free lives of animals living in the wild, was strangely moving.
Quasimodo jumped lightly down to Jin’s feet. Jin remained leaning against the door panel. Quasimodo as a kitten had been as little as a snowball, but now when the cat stretched, he was almost as long as Jin’s arm.
When Jin sat down on the cushion again, Quasimodo leaped into her lap and settled down.
Jin stroked his neck while she read Yeon’s letter again. Indeed, they had not said good-bye when she left. Yeon didn’t want to believe she was leaving for Paris with Victor. He had refused to recognize them as a couple, even when Jin was living in the French legation as if they were married. When Jin said she was Victor’s wife, Yeon had paused for a moment before writing, But you are not married. Jin grimly realized that this observation had been presented to her on two separate occasions: once by Yeon in Korea, and the other by Hong Jong-u in France.
Just before she left Korea, Jin had kept visiting the orphanage by night and Jangakwon by day in the hopes of meeting Yeon. He was nowhere to be found. She soon realized that Yeon was avoiding her on purpose, as he couldn’t possibly be that unavailable. The woman Suh told her to not think too much of it, but Jin determinedly visited both the orphanage and Jangakwon on the day before she was to leave. She couldn’t find him. She had even spent a whole day waiting by the gate of the French legation, sure that he would come and see her.
Someone knocked. Jin didn’t answer, but the door cracked open anyway, and Jeanne’s kerchiefed head peeped in.
—A strange visitor is here.
—What do you mean?
—He says his name is Hong.
Hong? Jin stared back at her.
—He is wearing strange clothes, and he seems very angry, so I did not invite him in. Shall I turn him away?
—Did he say his name was Hong Jong-u, Jeanne?
—I’m not sure . . . he’s rather rude. Should I tell him you’re busy?
—It’s all right. Show him into the salon. I’ll be right there.
Jeanne cocked her head but closed the door carefully behind her. What on earth was Hong Jong-u doing there at that hour? Jin wrapped Yeon’s letter in the linen and slipped it into the carved dresser. She pulled the mirror toward her again and looked at her face. Her eyes were slightly swollen. She blinked twice and opened her eyes wide. She came out to the salon holding Quasimodo in her arms. Hong was standing at the window of the salon, looking out at the beech trees. He was so broad and tall that he covered half the window. Jin took a moment to take in his silhouette. She had seen him many times in Paris, but never, so closely, his back. Oddly enough, he seemed lonelier from the back.
—It’s been a long time.
Hong didn’t immediately turn at Jin’s greeting. When he did, he grimaced and glared at the cat in her arms. Jeanne came in with tea and placed the cups and saucers on the table in the middle of the room. The servant girl openly stared at Hong.
—Why don’t you take a seat?
Hong reluctantly did as Jin suggested and sat down at the tea table. His robes covered the chair and grazed the floor. Jin sat down across from him and placed Quasimodo on the chair next to her.
—They say you never go out?
—. . .
—You will never accomplish anything by being so weak.
Jin was irritated by his rudeness, even when she conceded that his words contained real concern for her.
—Why have you come here?
Hong cleared his throat at her cold reply. Jin was steadfast in her look and wondered what was taking him so long to get to the point.
—I am returning to Korea.
Hong practically spat this out as he lowered his teacup. Jin blinked. She leaned back in her chair and glanced at Jeanne. Jeanne, who had been standing and staring at Hong, took the hint and left, but couldn’t resist looking back as she exited the salon.
—I wasn’t sure if I should, but in the end, I have come to say farewell.
Since when had this man been unsure of anything? Jin sighed deeply.
—There is nothing more to learn from France? Did you not wish to use their ways for the benefit of our people back home?
Hong seemed thoughtful.
—I have learned many things here. I want to go back as soon as possible to use the things I’ve learned. I dream of a new Korea. Not through the ways that Kim Okgyun suggests. My thinking is different from his ilk. If Korea is to stand firm among the great powers of the world that threaten us, we need a strong monarchy first and foremost. I hope for the monarchy to lead the way in modernizing our country and leading us to prosperity. And there’s no end to learning. I cannot keep learning indefinitely. I need to contribute to my country.
Hong cleared his throat again at the sight of Jin picking up the cat and holding it in her arms.
—And you shouldn’t waste your time playing with cats!
Jin gave him a hard stare.
—You are always so sure of yourself. Since you’ve been friends with Régamey and the like, you must’ve gained an appreciation for their freedoms as well. Is it not the first rule of the French to respect what others think and not be so quick to pass judgment? Do not judge me by your standards, sir. I am well aware of your passion for our country. But that passion often blinds you.
Hong looked Jin directly in the eye. She had never called him “sir” before and had never expressed herself as clearly to him in so many words. She had always given him the impression that she had nothing to say to him.
—I apologize if I have offended you.
—Just as you have your own rules, I am living my life by my own. I live by my thoughts, not by the thoughts of others. To say that I am wasting my time is simply untrue. In France, I do not fall to my knees before those with power.
Even the sweetest honey will sting when applied to a wound. Hong’s face turned red. He looked more disconcerted than when Jin slapped him for trying to kiss her. He hadn’t forgotten the humiliation he had suffered at the minister’s ball. Red-faced and silent, Hong sat still for a moment before taking out from his robes the photographs of the King and the Regent and pushing the
m toward her.
—I wanted to give you these before I left.
Jin pushed them back.
—I’ve no need of them.
—Do you wish to forget Korea?
—And whether I keep these tokens or not decides that?
Hong leaned back, discomfited by her stare. Hong had been the only other Korean in Paris, the only man with whom Jin could converse in Korean. And now he was going back.
In the face of her adamant refusal, Hong picked up his photographs and stood up from his chair.
He had made to leave immediately but then paused. He took out a large envelope and pushed it toward her across the table.
—These are my translations for the Celestial Almanac and The Story of Shim Cheong. No doubt they require much editing. I chose the first book because the people here are interested in fortunetelling, and so an interest in Korean fortunetelling may lead to an interest in Korea. Put in whatever facts you deem helpful. The Story of Shim Cheong is not just the story itself. I’ve added a long foreword on our country and changed the setting to fit our recent history. My only regret is that I will not be able to see the books published before I leave. They are part of a series planned by the Guimet Museum. Take a look at them as before. And care for them as if they were your own until they are published.
—. . .
—I ask you this as a favor.
Jin didn’t say anything as she regarded the envelope. It had been a long time since she took the French-Korean dictionary out from its drawer in the salon.
—Korea’s geographical location makes it a battlefield between Japan, China, and now, Russia. You’ve served the Queen, so you know what I say is true. The only way for Korea to survive is if we make their ideas ours.
—. . .
—We have to make Koreans understand what is going on in the world. And let the people here know about Korea as well. Do this for us.
—Wait here.
Jin went to the Oriental Room and brought out some books wrapped in linen.
—I also ask a favor of you. I wish to give these to Her Majesty. They are only two books, so it will not be a burden. Give these to Lady Suh at court, and she will pass them on. Or give them to a musician named Kang Yeon at Jangakwon.
—What books are these?
—A translation of some of Maupassant’s stories. And a Korean book.
But it wasn’t the Maupassant translations or the Korean book she wanted to send to the Queen. She had gone into the Oriental Room thinking about the little stack of unsent letters. But after much hesitation, she picked up the translation and the book instead. The more she wrote those letters, the further she felt from the Queen, leaving her with an ache in her heart.
—A Korean book?
—I happened to come across it here. Are you going directly to Korea?
—I have some business in Japan. I was there for two years before coming here. I need to see some people and get some of my old things. I shall return to Korea after a few days.
Jin walked him to the door. She had never made such a friendly gesture to him before. Jeanne watched worriedly as Jin, who had not gone outside for many days now, followed Hong beyond the threshold.
Perhaps they were reluctant to part. Although neither had suggested it, they found themselves walking along the storefronts that lined the square.
—When do you leave for Marseilles?
—It will take a fortnight to take care of affairs at the Guimet Museum. I shall go soon after.
—Where will you stay until then?
—The Serpente.
Hong stopped. He turned to Jin and stood silently for a moment, taking her in. The heads of the cheesemongers popped out of their doors, ogling them.
Once they had made a full circle around the stores, the two said their farewells. Hong said he would not take a carriage. He said he’d begun to walk everywhere once he decided to return to Korea. He walked from the hotel to the Guimet every day. Jin nodded. One did notice more things on foot than in a carriage. Hong plodded away and didn’t look back. Jin watched him disappear into the crowd.
6
At the Bois de Boulogne
Your Majesty,
I heard of an astounding event today. A colleague of Victor’s returned from America and spoke of a massacre of hundreds of indigenous people who were resisting the American government. They say there were once 850,000 natives living in North America. Not even 40,000 remain, and they face extinction. The cavalry is said to have charged when the natives objected to the oppression of their peoples and the assassination of a leader named Sitting Bull. The natives, armed with arrows, could not have been well-matched against the cavalry with their guns and cannons. Countless fell. They say the snow-covered plains were red with their blood. I prayed for them, a people I’ve never met who lived in a land I’ve never seen. I prayed for the native women and children buried in that frozen ground.
This morning, I read in the newspaper that women in a British colony called New Zealand were given the right to vote. They say its legislature bowed down to constant pressure from their women . . . but I shall stop writing. What would be the point of writing to you about these things? The pile of letters I could never send to you continue to mount.
I do not even know what the date is today.
From Paris,
Yi Jin
Victor was stirred awake when Jin sat up in bed.
She seemed unaware that Victor was also sitting up and looking at her. She put on a coat over her bedclothes, opened the bedroom door, and walked out. Victor slid out of bed, threw on some clothes, and followed suit. Jeanne had told him that Madame was acting strangely. That Jin would leave the house in her bedclothes each dawn, barefoot. Victor didn’t believe her at first. The servant told him that she didn’t know where Jin would go except she always returned exhausted, swaddled in cold air, to go lie down in the Oriental Room.
—She’s like that ever since that day at the Bois de Boulogne. Did something happen in the forest?
Only then did Victor stare at Jeanne.
—It’s been a month now.
Jeanne looked uncomfortable talking about Jin behind her back. “Surely she’s going for a walk,” Victor had said, to which Jeanne replied, “Who goes for a walk before sunrise?” Her eyes pleaded for Victor to intervene on her mistress’s behalf.
Victor could see from Jeanne’s expression that the girl was sincere. Jin had treated her more like a friend than a servant, which Jeanne found fascinating and endearing at the same time. Victor understood that Jeanne was berating him. How could his wife be slipping away from their bed and wandering outside the house for almost a whole month without him knowing?
Jin reached the bottom of the stairs and unhesitatingly walked through the salon. She opened the door and paused for a moment, seemingly looking back. A wind came through, making her clothes flutter. It was the beginning of summer. If she had gone out in those clothes in the winter, she would have fallen ill. Despite Victor standing in the salon, her eyes passed over him as she gave the room a final look before pushing the door wide open and leaving. Victor was dismayed. The same as yesterday and the day before. At least she had thrown on a coat this time. She seemed to have forgotten that one must put on shoes before leaving or to lock the door. She simply left. And walked, as if leaving it to the wind to determine her direction. Victor followed her, holding Jin’s leather shoes with the laces that came up to her ankles. This was the fourth time he’d done this.
Jin walked around the storefronts, closed at this early hour of 4 A.M., and walked into the beech grove. Two days ago, she’d walked to the Paris Foreign Missions Society. She had stared up at its shadowy façade for a long time. She walked around the courtyard of the five-story stone building before standing absolutely still in the middle of it. There, she raised an arm. Her body arched. She made a turn. From these awkward movements, she gradually fell into the steps of a Korean dance. Victor watched her, holding her shoes, until the dance petered out
to a halt. Victor had approached her to put the shoes on her feet, but Jin passed right by him and walked back, retracing her steps to the house. Yesterday, Jin had awoken at the same hour and this time went past the Paris Foreign Missions Society to the plaza at Les Invalides. Having walked a long way through the empty streets at dawn, Jin leaned against a wall to rest. Victor came to her. He put the shoes on her feet and stood leaning next to her, but Jin seemed oblivious to him and her surroundings. Then, just as she had at the Paris Foreign Missions Society, she started dancing in the plaza at Les Invalides. Fear rose in Victor as he watched Jin dance with the birds and the trees and the litter of the plaza. He no longer recognized her as the woman he had fallen in love with. Had she really wandered the streets at dawn like this, for a whole month? Jin would retrace her steps back to the house and collapse into a fitful sleep in the Oriental Room. She seemed unaware of Victor sweeping the strands of hair from her forehead as she slept.
Often the sight of someone being alone is eloquent with the words they’re unable to say. Victor watched Jin standing beside the carousel in the square. Carousels were a new fad taking over the streets of Paris. The Champs-Élysées and the Tuileries were noisy with them being ridden by children and hatted ladies. Did Jin want to ride the carousel? She stroked one of the wooden horses. Victor approached her and put her shoes on.
—I’m sorry, Victor!
Victor looked up from his crouched position as Jin whispered to him. It was the first time in the four days he had been following her that he heard her speak. But Jin’s face became expressionless again. She turned to the beech tree grove. Gathering her coat around her as if chilled, she slowly began to walk. Victor sprang up and embraced Jin from the back.
—Jin!
Jin continued to head forward.
—Where are you going?
When Victor loosened his grip, Jin tried to walk away again. Victor tightened his hold.
—Where are you going to? I’ll take you there instead.
Jin turned and looked up at Victor. Her face was full of clarity.