The Court Dancer by Kyung-Sook Shin
Victor sat up, having listened to the cicada song as if it were joyful music. What should he show the court dancer first? He had thought about it ever since an official visited to inform him of the date of her visit, but he couldn’t decide. Should he show her a painting? A photograph? He smiled at this welcome bit of pleasant worrying.
And should he follow Blanc’s advice and take on a Korean name?
Victor had thought about doing so on his own and smiled when Blanc read his mind. One of the best ways of becoming friends with a Korean, Blanc had said, was to have a Korean name. Blanc’s Korean name was Baek Gyusam. Blanc reasoned that Koreans called their friends by name, and foreign names were probably too difficult to pronounce. Victor decided to follow Blanc’s advice.
His smile faded. He had confessed to Blanc that he was in love with a beautiful Korean woman and wished to learn at least a few Korean expressions for her. Blanc had laughed good-naturedly and agreed to teach him, but his smile had disappeared when he heard that the woman was a court lady of the palace.
One is often forced to decide whether to follow their society or their nature. A diplomat must follow society. Even if the laws of that society are wrong, they need to be upheld.
—Korea has Korean laws.
Blanc, usually of a humorous and genial, even carefree nature, looked worried.
—A woman of the palace may not have a life outside of court without the permission of the King.
Victor’s silence deepened Blanc’s concern.
—We do not live in a republic. There is no knowing what will happen to you if you let a woman of the palace into your heart. And does Your Excellency not represent France in this country? You must never forget that we are not in France.
France.
Blanc’s admonishment that they were not in France cut him to the bone as he waited for the day he would meet the court dancer. Even France did not mean complete freedom. The trials his Irish immigrant father had to endure were also because of the laws that were written for the nobility. His father had to move to Paris, then Belgium, and again to Plancy as a printer to pursue his dreams of becoming a writer and an aristocrat. In the end, his family was prosecuted for illegally using an aristocratic name and banished from the village. But to ask for royal permission if he wanted to see the woman he loved, and to wait an entire month! Such things would never have been tolerated in France.
Victor shook off these thoughts as he rose and dressed. This country tended to dredge up the past at unexpected moments. But perhaps it wasn’t this country but the court dancer, with whom he never so much as had a proper conversation. Victor had attended divinity school in Paris after leaving Plancy. But unlike the rest of his cohort, he then entered university for Eastern languages after graduation. Everyone thought this decision strange, his father especially so. Victor left for Peking after obtaining his degree in Law and Chinese. He wondered if he had chosen the East to get away from his father, the man who stopped at nothing to shed his immigrant status. The man who was obsessed with the idea that becoming a perfect Frenchman meant becoming an aristocrat.
Victor’s life in the East began in Peking. He had no special reason to choose Eastern languages, but he was happy with his choice as it led him to East Asia. China, Japan, and Korea were lands of mystery. The French, and the nobility especially, adored the many objects he brought back from his posts. The books, celadon, and ornaments of the East were coveted items for bored French nobles who amused themselves by curating their collections.
Victor had a leisurely cup of coffee and came out to the courtyard. The Jindo dog circling the phoenix tree came up to greet him. The dog had grown quite dignified in the past two months. Wagging its tail, it sat at Victor’s feet, prompting him to stroke its back. This was how they said hello to each other.
—Today is a very special day!
As if in understanding, the Jindo dog playfully licked the hand that stroked its back. Victor attached a leash to its collar. Knowing that this meant it was being taken out for a walk, the dog leaped up with its front paws in the air. This was the happiest part of the dog’s day. From his experience of the past month, Victor knew just how hard it was to wait for someone. A walk would shave off some of that time.
—Let’s go.
Victor, leash in hand, opened the legation gate.
A day is also a short life. Especially certain days.
It was a little before eleven in the morning when the palanquin carriers deposited Jin at the French legation gate. Her visit had been announced for eleven. It was the first clear day in ages. The world was bathed in sunlight. On the palanquin, Jin had looked out to see the houses putting out anything that needed to be dried.
The rains had washed away the path through the vegetable patch, making it difficult to determine what was the path and what was the patch. Jin watched the palanquin carriers awkwardly tiptoe through the mud before she turned toward the legation gate. Today, she was not the court dancer wearing the silk tunic in the Pavilion of Festivities but a lady attendant of the Embroidery Chamber wearing a dark green jacket and a long indigo skirt. She was as she had been when Victor saw her on the Silk Stream bridge. Her black hair was in a long braid twisted and fastened into a bun. It was the style worn by court ladies of her rank. In her right hand, she held a long outer jacket that was as green as her tunic. There was a hint of curiosity in her peach-colored face as she pushed open the legation gate and looked in.
The first thing that filled her vision was the green leaves of the phoenix tree on the far side. The leaves of the hydrangeas were a deep green where there had once been flowers, the trumpet vine was bursting with blossoms, and the juniper and yew stood in perfect formation at eye level. On one side were peaches and four-o’clocks that resembled a pattern on an engraving, their trunks rising to the same height with rose moss growing below. A brief glance was enough to know that the garden received someone’s constant and devoted care.
Jin was about to take a red-slippered step into the courtyard when a glass window of the legation building slid open. Victor peered out. When he spotted Jin, he quickly slipped on his leather shoes and came out of the building.
—I was about to come greet you at the gate.
Her arrival had been so abrupt that his words came out in French. What he said was true. He was about to go to the gate with his interpreter and Guérin. There was some time remaining, but he had been glancing out the window since early morning and had spotted her red shoe poking into the courtyard.
—I arrived a bit early.
Jin drew the jacket over her arm toward her body and bowed from the waist. Victor stared for a moment at Jin, who had just spoken to him in effortless French.
Welcome. I’m glad to meet you. Hello.
He hadn’t had a chance to use these few Korean expressions he’d learned for her. Instead, he had burst out with “I was about to come greet you at the gate” in French and ended up hearing Jin speak French instead.
—It is an honor to have you here.
Victor bowed to Jin, just as she had done. Jin smiled faintly at Victor. Those eyes. Those dark eyes were again not hostile but friendly, and she was smiling. Her pupils were even darker up close. Without realizing what he was doing, Victor opened his arms and gave Jin a hug and a kiss on the cheek. It happened before Jin could do anything about it. She stood frozen and gave Victor a hard stare.
Oh.
He sighed as he saw Jin, the friendliness gone from her eyes, staring up at him like a stranger. Her posture was stiff with dismay.
—I’ve forgotten we’re in Korea. How strange. You are not unfamiliar to me. I keep wanting to act in the French manner with you. This is how we say hello. Please understand, it is only a sign of friendliness.
Jin’s expression turned cold, and she looked away.
Victor remembered a piece of advice he had heard in England, that one should ask for forgiveness if one had done wrong to a man, and even if one hadn’t done wrong to a woman.
—. . .
—Please forgive me.
The cicadas on the phoenix tree amplified their cries. Jin, who seemed unassuaged by Victor’s repeated entreaties for forgiveness, suddenly turned her dark eyes toward him.
—Would you grant me one request, sir?
Her voice was clear and calm.
—If you forgive my offense first. Then I shall grant you any request that is in my power to grant.
A thin smile appeared on Jin’s lips. Victor felt relieved.
—What is your request?
—Please let me visit Gondangol.
The Gondangol neighborhood? That was where Bishop Blanc had his orphanage.
—The lady who raised me lives in Gondangol, but as I am a court lady of the palace, it is difficult for me to see her when I wish. It is only because I wish, with all my heart, to see her before I return to the palace that I make this request. Please refuse if it is too difficult.
Jin demurely lowered her head, wondering if she had perhaps spoken too soon, seeing as she had just stepped into the courtyard. Guérin in his Western suit and the Korean interpreter in his Korean robes were walking toward them in quick steps from the door of the legation offices.
Victor’s answer was immediate.
—We shall do so. Come in, for now.
—Do you mean it?
—Do I mean what?
—I can visit Gondangol?
—We shall leave as soon as we finish lunch.
—Together?
—Yes. Did I not tell you back then, that I wanted to see more of the capital? Gondangol is one of the places I wanted to visit.
Jin’s face was now awash with happiness. She was going to see the woman Suh, whom she had not yet had the chance to visit since Suh’s move from Banchon to Blanc’s orphanage in Gondangol.
—This shall be an unforgettable day for me.
Guérin’s eyes widened at how Jin and Victor were conversing with each other without the aid of the interpreter. The Jindo dog came up to Victor and sat next to where he stood. Two Korean men who worked at the legation paused on their way through the courtyard and peered at Jin.
—I’m Secretary Guérin. We met before, at the banquet.
Understanding his words, Jin bowed her head at him as the interpreter looked at her with a surprised expression.
—Do you understand the language of France?
—Only just enough to converse.
—Can you speak it?
—Only just enough to converse.
Having given the same answer to both of the interpreter’s questions, Jin politely bowed her head at him.
—I am Choi Ga, the legation’s interpreter. My Christian name is Paul. They call me Paul Choi here. I am pleased to make your acquaintance, my lady.
Two people born in different countries but speaking the same language is as refreshing as striking water in the middle of a desert.
The three men led Jin into the legation offices. Victor could not help thinking she was like an armful of flowers sparkling with droplets on a summer day after rain, but he dared not look back, and instead listened to the conversation Jin and the interpreter were having.
—How did you get here?
—The Queen loaned me a palanquin.
—A palanquin?
—Yes.
Jin’s face had lit up at the prospect of seeing the woman Suh, but now she was lost in thought. She had hardly seen the Queen since the evening of the banquet. It was the longest time she had ever gone without talking to her since entering the palace. Even her roommate Soa was worried. Jin looked for Lady Suh whenever she wanted to ask after the Queen, but once she had Lady Suh’s attention, she found herself unable to ask. The two were used to frank and lengthy discussions of the Queen’s welfare, as they were senior and junior lady attendants affiliated with the Queen. But Jin felt a strange coldness from Lady Suh. While she had always been strict with her underlings, Jin was able to sense Lady Suh’s affection underneath it all. But now Lady Suh all but refused to bring up the Queen. She did visit Jin the day before to inform her that she was to visit the French legation the next day. The events of the banquet a month ago had crossed Jin’s mind when she caught Lady Suh’s concerned gaze.
—There can be no mistakes. The Queen has many worries.
Jin was unable to discern what exactly Lady Suh was talking about. Was Her Majesty worried about the country, or was she worried about Jin?
—Since Her Majesty had no messages for you, she will be talking to you directly.
Jin wanted to ask what the Queen was worried about but Lady Suh had already walked off. Jin was tense all day, waiting to be summoned. Not until the middle of the night was she told to go to the Queen’s Chambers. The Queen was in her bedclothes with her hair down as if she were just about to go to sleep. She silently looked at Jin standing at her bedchamber door. After about five minutes, the Queen spoke only a few words.
—You must visit the French legation in the morning.
—Yes, Your Majesty.
—I shall lend you a palanquin.
—Yes, Your Majesty.
—Tell me everything you remember once you return.
—Yes, Your Majesty.
—That is all. Leave.
Despite having heard the Queen say “Leave,” Jin found herself unable to comply. It was too empty a meeting after an entire month of not seeing the Queen. She hoped that she would say something more, but the Queen was silent. Jin softly bit her lip as she left the Queen’s Chambers. Why? Why was the Queen so cold to her? Jin could not fall asleep that night as she tossed and turned next to Soa.
Her spirits lowered, Jin began taking in her surroundings.
She had never seen glass windows on a pagoda-tile house before. She had also never seen an oil streetlamp such as the one that stood in front of the French legation’s courtyard. Guérin explained that the inner part of the compound was the legation office and the back part a dining room, library, and bedroom. Here and there on the porch, facing the courtyard, were chairs brought from France. To the right was a Western-style annex with a large parasol out front. Its windows were all glass and in the Western style, with curtains.
—These are part of the legation offices.
Jin looked in. She saw a wide wall made of brick. There were wooden desks and chairs with gently curved backs. Jin turned to Victor, who stood there without speaking.
They say that whoever keeps you awake at night is the woman you love. You are she. Victor had written this in a letter to Jin the night before. There were several such unsent letters inside his desk.
—I still do not know your name.
—Ah, that’s true!
Victor almost burst out laughing. Neither of them had asked the other’s name. He had written love letters deep into the night to a woman whose name he didn’t know. All that had inspired him were her dark eyes.
—Victor Augustus Collin . . .
He stopped in the act of saying his full name. Victor Augustus Collin de Plancy. He did not want to give such a long name to her. The de in his name was given only to nobility. His father had endeavored his whole life for that article. And that was why Lord Plancy had accused his father of misappropriating his title and sent him to court. Victor’s father defended himself by saying how his fame as a writer had honored the village of Plancy and how much he had contributed to the village over the years. He even brought up the fact of his blood relation with Georges-Jacques Danton several times. Losing the trial and being banished from Plancy did not dampen his efforts. His father managed to change their family registry not a year since relocating to Paris. And he was finally able to affix upon his son all the aristocratic names that he so longed to say. At one point, this desire to belong to higher circles turned Victor’s name into Victor Emile Marie Joseph Collin de Plancy.
Victor stopped and spoke again.
—My name is Victor.
—. . .
&nb
It was a long time since anyone had asked her this question.
The woman Suh had called her Baby, Yeon called her Silverbell, and her roommate Soa called her Jinjin. The Queen called her Lady Attendant Suh. According to the woman Suh, Jin’s mother had called her Ewha. There were so many pear flowers in front of your house. When they bloomed, the blossoms made it impossible to see your house. Jin couldn’t remember the woman whom Suh referred to as her birth mother. Nor being called Ewha. Jin would have believed the woman Suh was her mother, but Suh was always adamant that Jin honor her birth mother. Suh was sorry that she did not know whether Jin’s family name was Park or Yu or anything else and blamed herself for this. She said these unknown parents had hidden their name for some mysterious reason. That they never uttered it, even after years of hiding in Banchon. Sometimes, Suh would sigh deeply in the middle of Jin reading aloud to her. I don’t know where you are from, but it is surely a household with many books. You are such a quick learner.
Later, Jin’s name became a problem when the Queen ordered her to enter the palace as a court lady. They decided to enter her as the adopted daughter of Lady Suh’s younger sister. Jin asked, then, why they never formally gave her a name. The woman Suh replied, “We thought someone would surely come to my house one day to claim you. And that someone would give you your rightful name.”
—I am not important . . . What name would a lady of the court possibly have?
—. . .
—Lady Attendant Suh is fine.
Jin’s face darkened as she examined the pictures on the legation office walls.
Because he couldn’t think of a single witty thing that might lift her seemingly sad mood, Victor ended up blurting out a suggestion he had planned to keep only in his heart.