of tea in front of him. With trembling hand, he filled a fragile cup. Lifting it to his lips, he drank eagerly. Though the tea was hot it cooled his dry, scalding lips.
Finally, he turned to Yang Kuei-fei. "Princess, a moment ago you said I was frightened. Well, I am frightened, frightened for you."
She laughed softly and her voice rippled about the room like temple bells in the morning breeze.
"For me, Kao?" she asked. "Speak, what is it? I am not afraid."
Now that he had arrived at the dreaded moment when he must proclaim the nauseating demands of the rabble, he found himself unable to go on.
"Speak," Ming Huang commanded, and there was pride in his tone. "My beloved is without fear."
But Kao sparred for time. Turning to Yang Kuei-fei, he asked, and his voice trembled, "How great is your love for China?"
His question surprised her, but she smiled wistfully, as she answered, "You might as well ask if I love the moon and the wind, the flowers, the trees and the sun. To me, China represents all living things. Beyond her borders is a void in which I hope I need never set foot. China is a vast pool of learning to which for countless ages men have come to drink. It is more than an Empire, it is the center of all culture, all poetry, all art and all tolerance."
"True, the world is fed from the cultural roots of China," Kao said slowly, falteringly, "but tell me, how
much of a sacrifice would you be prepared to make in
