The Red Gods

This is the door, here, in front of me! A heavy door of teak, black and shiny. However, with my hand on the iron latch, I hesitate, fighting the subtle uneasiness and irritation which I feel rising in me. At the back of my mind a question forms: why do I come here, to the bottom of this hidden alley at night, I, who seldom or never touch the opium pipe? Hardly at all: perhaps five or six pipes now and again on Sundays at the hour of siesta! Six little pipes, that's nothing! Any regular opium-smoker will tell you so. Then, why have I come here tonight? Why? As a matter of fact I feel that my presence here, behind this back-shop in the heart of the Chinese town of Cho-lon is silly and without excuse.... So silly and aimless that already I have withdrawn my hand, with my mind made up to retrace my steps along the sombre corridor and back through the sumptuous mart of the worthy Tsen-Tac, who sells to knowing connoisseurs precious silks and out-of-the-way curiosities brought by the big-bellied junks from China ... and who in addition dispenses, with discretion, to a few genuine and carefully chosen smokers, the priceless calm of opium.