Chapter 17

We are off on a Chinese railway, single line, the train drawn by a
Chinese engine, driven by a Chinese driver. Let us hope we shall not be
telescoped on the road, for among the passengers is one of the chief
functionaries of the company in the person of Faruskiar.

After all, if an accident should happen it will break the monotony of
the journey, and furnish me with an episode. I am forced to admit that
up to the present my personages have not behaved as I expected. The
drama does not run well, the action languishes. We want something
startling to bring all the actors on--what Caterna would call "a good
fourth act."

But then Ephrinell and Miss Bluett are all the time absorbed in their
commercial tête-à-tête. Pan Chao and the doctor amused me for a time,
but they are not equal to it now. The actor and the actress are of no
use without opportunity. Kinko, Kinko himself, on whom I had built such
hopes, has passed the frontier without difficulty, he will reach Pekin,
he will marry Zinca Klork. Decidedly there is a want of excitement. I
cannot get anything out of the corpse of Yen Lou! and the readers of
the _Twentieth Century_ who looked to me for something sensational and
thrilling.

Must I have recourse to the German baron? No! he is merely ridiculous,
stupidly ridiculous, and he has no interest for me.

I return to my idea: I want a hero, and up to the present no hero has
appeared on the scene.

Evidently the moment has come to enter into more intimate relations
with Faruskiar. Perhaps he will not now be so close in his incognito.
We are under his orders, so to say. He is the mayor of our rolling
town, and a mayor owes something to those he governs. Besides, in the
event of Kinko's fraud being discovered I may as well secure the
protection of this high functionary.

Our train runs at only moderate speed since we left Kachgar. On the
opposite horizon we can see the high lands of the Pamir; to the
southwest rises the Bolor, the Kachgarian belt from which towers the
summit of Tagharma lost among the clouds.

I do not know how to spend my time. Major Noltitz has never visited the
territories crossed by the Grand Transasiatic, and I am deprived of the
pleasure of taking notes from his dictation. Dr. Tio-King does not lift
his nose from his Cornaro, and Pan Chao reminds me more of Paris and
France than of Pekin and China; besides, when he came to Europe he came
by Suez, and he knows no more of Oriental Turkestan than he does of
Kamtschatka. All the same, we talk. He is a pleasant companion, but a
little less amiability and a little more originality would suit me
better.

I am reduced to strolling from one car to another, lounging on the