Chinese Literature

ed from the room, now reappeared, and Mr. Li’s face darkened and brightened, too, at intervals.

He rubbed his hands. He intended to write a short article and deal old Mr. Chang’s ideas a telling blow; yet he did not take up his brush. and did not even begin to think out what he wanted to say because he suddenly felt that it was somehow not quite the thing for him to write such an article. Perhaps he felt this way because he had not written anything for a long time and might not put his thoughts as well as he should. Or perhaps it was just because he was in such a bad mood? No, probably it was because he feared people might discover from his article that the ideas he attacked were exactly those unconsciously he had adopted himself.

He took his handkerchief out of his sleeve, wiped his lips and sighed gloomily.

“Really, he who has too cool a head and too analytical a mind is often unhappy.”

Yes, he had gone too far in analysing himself. He was not writing this article, so he tried to convince himself, simply because of the black mood he was in.

“Oh, what a rotten mood I’m in!” he repeated, firmly. “Unless I join the guerillas, there is no point in my going back to my native place. But I can’t join the guerillas. Artists are useless. I can’t help it.”

He sighed in relief. And since he could not find a way out of this dilemma, he decided to take a stroll to the principal’s office. He had to amuse himself somehow in order to while away the time. He could not stay in this rotten mood all day long.

But Old Pan was talking to a visitor, obviously a stranger, for the two of them faced each other very solemnly. Business again! Evidently they were discussing problems of war-time education.

When Mr. Li sauntered in, the formality in the air disconcerted him. He felt that his whole body congealed, and he was in despair.

“What am I here for?” And then he scolded himself. “They are discussing important matters. Did you have to break in like this? Do you mean to ask Old Pan again to go to have a drink with you?.. .”

He made a meaningless gesture to Old Pan, turned around and went out. He walked very fast but he didn’t know where he was going. His quick steps sounded on the pebbly lane. His shadow quivered and jerked on the ground as if it had great difficulty to catch up with him.

It was no fun, really, to continue with Old Pan as a boon companion. He did not take a single drop and worried all the time that Mr. Li was drinking too much, probably because he was unwilling to spend that much money !

Mr. Li walked out of the gate of the school. He remembered his drinking alone the evening before and drew a deep breath, allowing his feet to move towards the house of his other drinking companion.

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