“I was born with this language,” I replied, my cuny wits running rashly to the first madness that prompted.  “I spoke it at my mother’s breast.  I was the marvel of my land.  Wise men journeyed far to see me and to hear.  But no man knew the words I spoke.  In the many years since I have forgotten much, but now, in Cho-Sen, the words come back like long-lost friends.”

An impression I certainly made.  The Emperor swallowed and his lips twitched ere he asked: 

“How explain you this?”

“I am an accident,” I answered, following the wayward lead my wit had opened.  “The gods of birth were careless, and I was mislaid in a far land and nursed by an alien people.  I am Korean, and now, at last, I have come to my home.”

What an excited whispering and conferring took place.  The Emperor himself interrogated Kim.

“He was always thus, our speech in his mouth, from the time he came out of the sea,” Kim lied like the good fellow he was.

“Bring me yang-ban’s garments as befits me,” I interrupted, “and you shall see.”  As I was led away in compliance, I turned on the ki-sang.  “And leave my slaves alone.  They have journeyed far and are weary.  They are my faithful slaves.”

In another room Kim helped me change, sending the lackeys away; and quick and to the point was the dress-rehearsal he gave me.  He knew no more toward what I drove than did I, but he was a good fellow.

The funny thing, once back in the crowd and spouting Korean which I claimed was rusty from long disuse, was that Hendrik Hamel and the rest, too stubborn-tongued to learn new speech, did not know a word I uttered.

“I am of the blood of the house of Koryu,” I told the Emperor, “that ruled at Songdo many a long year agone when my house arose on the ruins of Silla.”

Ancient history, all, told me by Kim on the long ride, and he struggled with his face to hear me parrot his teaching.

“These,” I said, when the Emperor had asked me about my company, “these are my slaves, all except that old churl there”—­I indicated Johannes Maartens—­“who is the son of a freed man.”  I told Hendrik Hamel to approach.  “This one,” I wantoned on, “was born in my father’s house of a seed slave who was born there before him.  He is very close to me.  We are of an age, born on the same day, and on that day my father gave him me.”

Afterwards, when Hendrik Hamel was eager to know all that I had said, and when I told him, he reproached me and was in a pretty rage.

“The fat’s in the fire, Hendrik,” quoth I.  “What I have done has been out of witlessness and the need to be saying something.  But done it is.  Nor you nor I can pluck forth the fat.  We must act our parts and make the best of it.”

Taiwun, the Emperor’s brother, was a sot of sots, and as the night wore on he challenged me to a drinking.  The Emperor was delighted, and commanded a dozen of the noblest sots to join in the bout.  The women were dismissed, and we went to it, drink for drink, measure for measure.  Kim I kept by me, and midway along, despite Hendrik Hamel’s warning scowls, dismissed him and the company, first requesting, and obtaining, palace lodgment instead of the inn.