e humor in his eyes... And Marco Polo helped the
old khan to sit down.

"Oh, sir, why did you come to me? Sure I was going to you the moment I
had changed my riding-clothes... Sir, you should have stayed in your
bed..."

"There was something on my mind, Marco, and the old do be thinking long
to get things off their mind."

"What can I do sir?"

"Marco, my child, you mustn't take what I say amiss. But I want you to
be going back, to be going back to Venice."

"Sir, what have I done to dissatisfy you? In all my embassies have I
been weak to the strong or bullying toward the weak? Does an oppressed
man complain of injustice, does a merchant complain of being cheated,
or a woman say she was wronged?"

"Now, Marco of my heart, didn't I say not to be taking it amiss? Is
there any one closer to me nor you, or is it likely I'd be listening to
stories brought against you? It's just this. I'm an old and tired
man, Marco Beag, and in a week or a moon at most I'm due to die, so the
Sanang tells me. Don't be sorry, son. Be glad for me. Life has been
a wee bit too long.

"And now, son dear, I want to tell you. You've been closer to me than
my own sons, and you've been the dear lad. And there's not one man in
all China can say you did a harsh or an unjust thing; but, my dear son,
'tis just the way of people; there's a power of hard feeling against
you in this land, you being a stranger and having stood so high.

"So when I'm dead, dear son, there's many would do you an injury, and
treat you badly; aye, in our family itself, though they smile on you
now. Let you be going now, Marco. I'll miss you to close my eyes for
me, but my heart will be lighter. It will so. I couldn't sleep easy,
and you ill treated in this land of mine. You ask him, too, Li Po."

"Ah, sir," Marco laughed,--"and, Li Po, what is ill treatment to me?
Sorrow's my blood brother. What I've suffered! Do you think I could
suffer more?"

"I know, Marco, I know."

"Don't you think I suffer now, sir? Fourteen years she's dead now, the
wee one who lay by my side in sleep. And never a word and never a
sign. In the house where we were married I can see the pool and the
willows and the hibiscus, but there is never a token of her," he broke
out. "The leaves of trees cover the pavilion, the hair of the
musicians is silver, and dust is on the blue and white tiles. And she
never comes to comfort pie. I can't sleep with waiting. The stars
neve