“But surely,” he said, “the Empress really cannot believe in the ridiculous image of the Boxers?”
Tseng-Wen shook his head in anguish.
“I am told by one who knows,” he replied, “that she repeats the Boxer charm seventy times a day.”
“What is that?” Stanton Ware asked.
The old Mandarin hesitated as if he could not soil his lips with the words, then he recited in a low voice,
“I am the Spirit of the cold cloud, behind me lies the Deity of fire. Invoke the black Gods of pestilence.”
I am the Spirit of the cold cloud, behind me lies the Deity of fire. Invoke the black Gods of pestilenceHe looked at Stanton Ware with darkness in his eyes as he added,
“Every time Her Majesty repeats it, her Chief Attendant shouts,
“There goes one more foreign devil!”
“It is very childish,” Stanton Ware
