“We will go away very soon, Tai,” Drew said at last.
The Chinese boy did not answer, still fearful of betraying his emotion; but for an instant he hovered over Drew with the same patient love of his own distant gods.
“Master,” he whispered finally, “I have some secret petals from my father. He told—he told me—” Little Tai burst into open tears and kneeling, placed his head upon the floor.
Drew turned around in surprise and seeing the lad prostrated before him, bent his own shoulders lower, the Orient in his eyes. Then, scorning in his tenderness all laws of blood and caste, he picked up the boy and laid him upon the ottoman. Still weeping, Tai lay in a tiny curl, his golden tunic tight against his back. Drew quickly knelt down and whispered to him.
“Were the petals for my bath, little one?” he asked.
“Tai,” said Drew gently, his soft fingers brushing the tears away, “they were given to you for a time when I should be very sick. Is that not so?”
“It is so, Master,” whispered the child. He sat up with a cat-like movement. “I have a little golden whip, Master. Will you strike me?”
Drew looked at him strangely. Rio had mentioned that word in a curious fashion only the day before. Could it be that by coincidence?—Drew stopped the course of his reflections and arose. The symbol of the whip was ridiculous!
Tai ran to a wall-cabinet, and from the vase which held his father’s ashes he pulled, coil by coil, a gilded whip and handed it to Drew who took it by its handle looking with intensity at the cruel barbs at the end, and wondering if they were poisonous.
“I shall not beat you, Tai,” he said finally. He looked now at the handle and thong which held his wrist. “Tai,” he said, “are the petals a secret, really?”
“Yes, Master,” said the boy, smiling shyly.
Blushing, and timidly approaching, Tai bowed over his master’s hand; and in his moment of adoration murmured a little prayer his mother had taught him. Then taking a small, scented package from the breast of his tunic, he ran toward the bathroom, turning once in the doorway to bow his devotion.
When he had gone, Drew replaced the whip and laid his arms across his face. And as he heard the sound of small feet on the tile and the water running for his bath, he looked again into the vanity and cried out in a high, soft voice an unintelligible name....