Peony: A Novel of China

Peony: A Novel of China

Pearl S. Buck

Language: English

Pages: 352

ISBN: 1559213388

Format: PDF / Kindle (mobi) / ePub

Peony: A Novel of China

Pearl S. Buck

Language: English

Pages: 352

ISBN: 1559213388

Format: PDF / Kindle (mobi) / ePub


Young Peony is sold into a rich Chinese household as a bondmaid -- an awkward role in which she is more than a servant, but less than a daughter. As she grows into a lovely, provocative young woman, Peony falls in love with the family's only son. However, tradition forbids them to wed. How she resolves her love for him and her devotion to her adoptive family unfolds in this profound tale, based on true events in China over a century ago. The conflicts inherent in the Chinese and Jewish temperament are delicately and intricately traced with profound wisdom and delicate understanding in this tale... This is an enchanting story, the theme of which is tolerance. Highly recommended. --Library Journal

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distress. “Let me go.” “Sell you?” David exclaimed. His voice was so hot that Peony took heart. “I could run away,” she said. “You could run away!” he repeated. “And what would become of me, Peony? Could I forgive myself?” “If I ran away I might be able to find my way to you again,” Peony faltered. They looked at one another and it was a strange long look. Peony was humble and trembling and frightened and David was fearful not only at what he saw in her face but at what he now perceived in

“I grow old,” the Rabbi went on, “and my son is too young to take my place. Where is Aaron, Leah?” “He went out early this morning, Father, and he has not come back,” Leah replied. “Did he say where he was going?” the Rabbi asked. “No, Father.” “But you should have asked,” the Rabbi insisted. “He did not want to tell me, Father,” Leah said gently. Against the spare faded figure of the old man, the beauty of Leah was startling. The pure spring sunshine fell upon the tile floor in a square

perhaps he would grow better than she feared, and all would be well—with everybody, she thought fervently. Somewhere on the edge of her dreams there stood the shadow of a young Chinese girl, the little girl who had played near David, a pretty child with big almond-shaped eyes and a small red mouth. This child gradually became a slender young girl, still more pretty, who served David and her with tea and plied them with cakes, and was always near. Peony—Peony! But Peony, Leah reminded herself,

the fault of the Chinese,” Leah said doubtfully. “It is, it is,” Madame Ezra insisted. “They pretend they like us—they are always ready to laugh, to invite us to their feasts, to do business with us. They keep telling us there is no difference between our people and theirs. Now, Leah, you know there is unchangeable difference between them and us. We are the children of the true God, and they are heathen. They worship images of clay. Have you ever looked into a Chinese temple?” “Yes,” Leah

she told herself that when she needed solitude very much she could sit outside the windows of the saloon, where the deck was so narrow that the children could not come and where her mistress would not dare to walk. This place then became her own. In front of the saloon there was a wide deck, and the floors were of fine varnished wood, which neither sun nor rain could spoil. This varnish came from Ningpo, whose people are famous for their junks and seagoing ships. Thus began the journey that was

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