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Hung Lou Meng, or, the Dream of the Red Chamber, a Chinese Novel, Book II

by Xueqin Cao · English · Gutenberg #9604 · 1,460,489 chars · public domain (US)

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Title: Hung Lou Meng, or, the Dream of the Red Chamber, a Chinese Novel, Book II

Author: Xueqin Cao

Translator: H. Bencraft Joly


        
Release date: January 1, 2006 [eBook #9604]
                Most recently updated: September 27, 2020

Language: English

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*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK HUNG LOU MENG, OR, THE DREAM OF THE RED CHAMBER, A CHINESE NOVEL, BOOK II ***




Produced by Juliet Sutherland and Project Gutenberg Distributed Proofreaders




Hung Lou Meng, Book II

OR, THE DREAM OF THE RED CHAMBER, A CHINESE NOVEL IN TWO BOOKS

by Cao Xueqin


Translated by H. BENCRAFT JOLY

H.B.M. CONSULAR SERVICE, CHINA.




BOOK II




CHAPTER XXV.


By a demoniacal art, a junior uncle and an elder brother's wife (Pao-yü
and lady Feng) come across five devils.
The gem of Spiritual Perception meets, in a fit of torpor, the two
perfect men.

Hsiao Hung, the story continues, was much unsettled in her mind. Her
thoughts rolled on in one connected string. But suddenly she became
drowsy, and falling asleep, she encountered Chia Yün, who tried to
carry out his intention to drag her near him. She twisted herself
round, and endeavoured to run away; but was tripped over by the
doorstep. This gave her such a start that she woke up. Then, at length,
she realised that it was only a dream. But so restlessly did she, in
consequence of this fright, keep on rolling and tossing that she could
not close her eyes during the whole night. As soon as the light of the
next day dawned, she got up. Several waiting-maids came at once to tell
her to go and sweep the floor of the rooms, and to bring water to wash
the face with. Hsiao Hung did not even wait to arrange her hair or
perform her ablutions; but, turning towards the looking-glass, she
pinned her chevelure up anyhow; and, rinsing her hands, and, tying a
sash round her waist, she repaired directly to sweep the apartments.

Who would have thought it, Pao-yü also had set his heart upon her the
moment he caught sight of her the previous day. Yet he feared, in the
first place, that if he mentioned her by name and called her over into
his service, Hsi Jen and the other girls might feel the pangs of
jealousy. He did not, either in the second place, have any idea what
her disposition was like. The consequence was that he felt downcast; so
much so, that when he got up at an early hour, he did not even comb his
hair or wash, but simply remained seated, and brooded in a state of
abstraction. After a while, he lowered the window. Through the gauze
frame, from which he could distinctly discern what was going on
outside, he espied several servant-girls, engaged in sweeping the
court. All of them were rouged and powdered; they had flowers inserted
in their hair, and were grandly got up. But the only one, of whom he
failed to get a glimpse, was the girl he had met the day before.

Pao-yü speedily walked out of the door with slipshod shoes. Under the
pretence of admiring the flowers, he glanced, now towards the east; now
towards the west. But upon raising his head, he descried, in the
southwest corner, some one or other leaning by the side of the railing
under the covered passage. A crab-apple tree, however, obstructed the
view and he could not see distinctly who it was, so advancing a step
further in, he stared with intent gaze. It was, in point of fact, the
waiting-maid of the day before, tarrying about plunged in a reverie.
His wish was to go forward and meet her, but he did not, on the other
hand, see how he could very well do so. Just as he was cogitating
within himself, he, of a sudden, perceived Pi Hen come and ask him to
go and wash his face. This reminder placed him under the necessity of
betaking himself into his room. But we will leave him there, without
further details, so as to return to Hsiao Hung.

She was communing with her own thoughts. But unawares perceiving Hsi
Jen wave her hand and call her by name, she had to walk up to her.

"Our watering-pot is spoilt," Hsi Jen smiled and said, "so go to Miss
Lin's over there and find one for us to use."

Hsiao Hung hastened on her way towards the Hsiao Hsiang Kuan.

When she got as far as the Ts'ui Yen bridge, she saw, on raising her
head and looking round, the mounds and lofty places entirely shut in by
screens, and she bethought herself that labourers were that day to
plant trees in that particular locality.

At a great distance off, a band of men were, in very deed, engaged in
digging up the soil, while Chia Yün was seated on a boulder on the
hill, superintending the works. The time came for Hsiao Hung to pass
by, but she could not muster the courage to do so. Nevertheless she had
no other course than to quietly proceed to the Hsiao Hsiang Kuan. Then
getting the watering-pot, she sped on her way back again. But being in
low spirits, she retired alone into her room and lay herself down. One
and all, however, simply maintained that she was out of sorts, so they
did not pay any heed to her.

A day went by. On the morrow fell, in fact, the anniversary of the
birth of Wang Tzu-t'eng's spouse, and some one was despatched from his
residence to come and invite dowager lady Chia and Madame Wang. Madame
Wang found out however that dowager lady Chia would not avail herself
of the invitation, and neither would she go. So Mrs. Hsüeh went along
with lady Feng, and the three sisters of the Chia family, and Pao-ch'ai
and Pao-yü, and only returned home late in the evening.

Madame Wang was sitting in Mrs. Hsüeh's apartments, whither she had
just crossed, when she perceived Chia Huan come back from school, and
she bade him transcribe incantations out of the Chin Kang Canon and
intonate them. Chia Huan accordingly came and seated himself on the
stove-couch, occupied by Madame Wang, and, directing a servant to light
the candles, he started copying in an ostentatious and dashing manner.
Now he called Ts'ai Hsia to pour a cup of tea for him. Now he asked Yu
Ch'uan to take the scissors and cut the snuff of the wick. "Chin
Ch'uan!" he next cried, "you're in the way of the rays of the lamp."

The servant-girls had all along entertained an antipathy for him, and
not one of them therefore worried her mind about what he said. Ts'ai
Hsia was the only one who still got on well with him, so pouring a cup
of tea, she handed it to him. But she felt prompted to whisper to him:
"Keep quiet a bit! what's the use of making people dislike you?"

"I know myself how matters stand," Chia Huan rejoined, as he cast a
steady glance at her; "so don't you try and befool me! Now that you are
on intimate terms with Pao-yü, you don't pay much heed to me. I've also
seen through it myself."

Ts'ai Hsiao set her teeth together, and gave him a fillip on the head.
"You heartless fellow!" she cried. "You're like the dog, that bit Lü
T'ung-pin. You have no idea of what's right and what's wrong!"

While these two nagged away, they noticed lady Feng and Madame Wang
cross together over to them. Madame Wang at once assailed him with
questions. She asked him how many ladies had been present on that day,
whether the play had been good or bad, and what the banquet had been
like.

But a brief interval over, Pao-yü too appeared on the scene. After
saluting Madame Wang, he also made a few remarks, with all decorum; and
then bidding a servant remove his frontlet, divest him of his long gown
and pull off his boots, he rushed head foremost, into his mother's lap.

Madame Wang caressed and patted him. But while Pao-yü clung to his
mother's neck, he spoke to her of one thing and then another.

"My child," said Madame Wang, "you've again had too much to drink; your
face is scalding hot, and if you still keep on rubbing and scraping it,
why, you'll by and bye stir up the fumes of wine! Don't you yet go and
lie down quietly over there for a little!"

Chiding him the while, she directed a servant to fetch a pillow. Pao-yü
therefore lay himself down at the back of Madame Wang, and called Ts'ai
Hsia to come and stroke him.

Pao-yü then began to bandy words with Ts'ai Hsia. But perceiving that
Ts'ai Hsia was reserved, and, that instead of paying him any attention,
she kept her eyes fixed upon Chia Huan, Pao-yü eagerly took her hand.
"My dear girl!" he said; "do also heed me a little;" and as he gave
utterance to this appeal, he kept her hand clasped in his.

Ts'ai Hsia, however, drew her hand away and would not let him hold it.
"If you go on in this way," she vehemently exclaimed, "I'll shout out
at once."

These two were in the act of wrangling, when verily Chia Huan overheard
what was going on. He had, in fact, all along hated Pao-yü; so when on
this occasion, he espied him up to his larks with Ts'ai Hsia, he could
much less than ever stifle feelings of resentment in his heart. After
some reflection, therefore, an idea suggested itself to his mind, and
pretending that it was by a slip of the hand, he shoved the candle,
overflowing with tallow, into Pao-yü's face.

"Ai ya!" Pao-yü was heard to exclaim. Every one in the whole room was
plunged in consternation. With precipitate haste, the lanterns,
standing on the floor, were moved over; and, with the first ray of
light, they discovered that Pao-yü's face was one mass of tallow.

Madame Wang gave way to anger as well as anxiety. At one time, she
issued directions to the servants to rub and wash Pao-yü clean. At
another, she heaped abuse upon Chia Huan.

Lady Feng jumped on to the stone-couch by leaps and bounds. But while
intent upon removing the stuff from Pao-yü's face, she simultaneously
ejaculated: "Master Tertius, are you still such a trickster! I'll tell
you what, you'll never turn to any good account! Yet dame Chao should
ever correct and admonish him."

This single remark suggested the idea to Madame Wang, and she lost no
time in sending for Mrs. Chao to come round.

"You bring up," she berated her, "such a black-hearted offspring like
this, and don't you, after all, advise and reprove him? Time and again
I paid no notice whatever to what happened, and you and he have become
more audacious, and have gone from worse to worse!"

Mrs. Chao had no alternative but to suppress every sense of injury,
silence all grumblings, and go herself and lend a hand to the others in
tidying Pao-yü. She then perceived that a whole row of blisters had
risen on the left side of Pao-yü's face, but that fortunately no injury
had been done to his eyes.

When Madame Wang's attention was drawn to them she felt her heart sore.
It fell a prey to fears also lest when dowager lady Chia made any
inquiries about them she should find it difficult to give her any
satisfactory reply. And so distressed did she get that she gave Mrs.
Chao another scolding. But while she tried to comfort Pao-yü, she, at
the same time, fetched some powder for counteracting the effects of the
virus, and applied it on his face.

"It's rather sore," said Pao-yü, "but it's nothing to speak of.
Tomorrow when my old grandmother asks about it, I can simply explain
that I scalded it myself; that will be quite enough to tell her."

"If you say that you scalded it yourself," lady Feng observed, "why,
she'll also call people to task for not looking out; and a fit of rage
will, beyond doubt, be the outcome of it all."

Madame Wang then ordered the servants to take care and escort Pao-yü
back to his room. On their arrival, Hsi Jen and his other attendants
saw him, and they were all in a great state of flurry.

As for Lin Tai-yü, when she found that Pao-yü had gone out of doors,
she continued the whole day a prey to ennui. In the evening, she
deputed messengers two and three times to go and inquire about him. But
when she came to know that he had been scalded, she hurried in person
to come and see him. She then discovered Pao-yü all alone, holding a
glass and scanning his features in it; while the left side of his face
was plastered all over with some medicine.

Lin Tai-yü imagined that the burn was of an extremely serious nature,
and she hastened to approach him with a view to examine it. Pao-yü,
however, screened his face, and, waving his hand, bade her leave the
room; for knowing her usual knack for tidiness he did not feel inclined
to let her get a glimpse of his face. Tai-yü then gave up the attempt,
and confined herself to asking him: "whether it was very painful?"

"It isn't very sore," replied Pao-yü, "if I look after it for a day or
two, it will get all right."

But after another short stay, Lin Tai-yü repaired back to her quarters.

The next day Pao-yü saw dowager lady Chia. But in spite of his
confession that he himself was responsible for the scalding of his
face, his grandmother could not refrain from reading another lecture to
the servants who had been in attendance.

A day after, Ma, a Taoist matron, whose name was recorded as Pao-yü's
godmother, came on a visit to the mansion. Upon perceiving Pao-yü, she
was very much taken aback, and asked all about the circumstances of the
accident. When he explained that he had been scalded, she forthwith
shook her head and heaved a sigh; then while making with her fingers a
few passes over Pao-yü's face, she went on to mutter incantations for
several minutes. "I can guarantee that he'll get all right," she added,
"for this is simply a sadden and fleeting accident!"

Turning towards dowager lady Chia: "Venerable ancestor," she observed,
"Venerable Buddha! how could you ever be aware of the existence of the
portentous passage in that Buddhistic classic, 'to the effect that a
son of every person, who holds the dignity of prince, duke or high
functionary, has no sooner come into the world and reached a certain
age than numerous evil spirits at once secretly haunt him, and pinch
him, when they find an opportunity; or dig their nails into him; or
knock his bowl of rice down, during, meal-time; or give him a shove and
send him over, while he is quietly seated.' So this is the reason why
the majority of the sons and grandsons of those distinguished families
do not grow up to attain manhood."

Dowager lady Chia, upon hearing her speak in this wise, eagerly asked:
"Is there any Buddhistic spell, by means of which to check their
influence or not?"

"This is an easy job!" rejoined the Taoist matron Ma, "all one need do
is to perform several meritorious deeds on his account so as to
counteract the consequences of retribution and everything will then be
put right. That canon further explains: 'that in the western part of
the world there is a mighty Buddha, whose glory illumines all things,
and whose special charge is to cast his lustre on the evil spirits in
dark places; that if any benevolent man or virtuous woman offers him
oblations with sincerity of heart, he is able to so successfully
perpetuate the peace and quiet of their sons and grandsons that these
will no more meet with any calamities arising from being possessed by
malevolent demons.'"

"But what, I wonder," inquired dowager lady Chia, "could be offered to
this god?"

"Nothing of any great value," answered the Taoist matron, Ma.
"Exclusive of offerings of scented candles, several catties of scented
oil can be added, each day, to keep the lantern of the Great Sea
alight. This 'Great Sea' lantern is the visible embodiment and
Buddhistic representation of this divinity, so day and night we don't
venture to let it go out!"

"For a whole day and a whole night," asked dowager lady Chia, "how much
oil is needed, so that I too should accomplish a good action?"

"There is really no limit as to quantity. It rests upon the goodwill of
the donor," Ma, the Taoist matron, put in by way of reply. "In my
quarters, for instance, I have several lanterns, the gifts of the
consorts of princes and the spouses of high officials living in various
localities. The consort of the mansion of the Prince of Nan Au has been
prompted in her beneficence by a liberal spirit; she allows each day
forty-eight catties of oil, and a catty of wick; so that her 'Great
Sea' lamp is only a trifle smaller than a water-jar. The spouse of the
marquis of Chin Hsiang comes next, with no more than twenty catties a
day. Besides these, there are several other families; some giving ten
catties; some eight catties; some three; some five; subject to no fixed
rule; and of course I feel bound to keep the lanterns alight on their
behalf."

Dowager lady Chia nodded her head and gave way to reflection.

"There's still another thing," continued the Taoist matron, Ma. "If it
be on account of father or mother or seniors, any excessive donation
would not matter. But were you, venerable ancestor, to bestow too much
in your offering for Pao-yü, our young master won't, I fear, be equal
to the gift; and instead of being benefited, his happiness will be
snapped. If you therefore want to make a liberal gift seven catties
will do; if a small one, then five catties will even be sufficient."

"Well, in that case," responded dowager lady Chia, "let us fix upon
five catties a day, and every month come and receive payment of the
whole lump sum!"

"O-mi-to-fu!" exclaimed Ma, the Taoist matron, "Oh merciful, and mighty
P'u Sa!"

Dowager lady Chia then called the servants and impressed on their minds
that whenever Pao-yü went out of doors in the future, they should give
several strings of cash to the pages to bestow on charity among the
bonzes and Taoist priests, and the poor and needy they might meet on
the way.

These directions concluded, the Taoist matron trudged into the various
quarters, and paid her respects, and then strolled leisurely about.
Presently, she entered Mrs. Chao's apartments. After the two ladies had
exchanged salutations, Mrs. Chao bade a young servant-girl hand her
guest a cup of tea. While Mrs. Chao busied herself pasting shoes, Ma,
the Taoist matron, espied, piled up in a heap on the stove-couch,
sundry pieces of silks and satins. "It just happens," she consequently
remarked, "that I have no facings for shoes, so my lady do give me a
few odd cuttings of silk and satin, of no matter what colour, to make
myself a pair of shoes with."

Mrs. Chao heaved a sigh. "Look," she said, "whether there be still
among them any pieces good for anything. But anything that's worth
anything doesn't find its way in here. If you don't despise what's
worthless, you're at liberty to select any two pieces and to take them
away, and have done."

The Taoist matron, Ma, chose with alacrity several pieces and shoved
them in her breast.

"The other day," Mrs. Chao went on to inquire, "I sent a servant over
with five hundred cash; have you presented any offerings before the god
of medicine or not?"

"I've offered them long ago for you," the Taoist matron Ma rejoined.

"O-mi-to-fu!" ejaculated Mrs. Chao with a sigh, "were I a little better
off, I'd also come often and offer gifts; but though my will be
boundless, my means are insufficient!"

"Don't trouble your mind on this score," suggested Ma, the Taoist
matron. "By and bye, when Mr. Huan has grown up into a man and obtained
some official post or other, will there be then any fear of your not
being able to afford such offerings as you might like to make?"

At these words Mrs. Chao gave a smile. "Enough, enough!" she cried.
"Don't again refer to such contingencies! the present is a fair
criterion. For up to whom in this house can my son and I come? Pao-yü
is still a mere child; but he is such that he wins people's love. Those
big people may be partial to him, and love him a good deal, I've
nothing to say to it; but I can't eat humble pie to this sort of
mistress!"

While uttering this remark, she stretched out her two fingers.

Ma, the Taoist matron, understood the meaning she desired to convey.
"It's your lady Secunda, Lien, eh?" she forthwith asked.

Mrs. Chao was filled with trepidation. Hastily waving her hand, she got
to her feet, raised the portiere, and peeped outside. Perceiving that
there was no one about, she at length retraced her footsteps.
"Dreadful!" she then said to the Taoist matron. "Dreadful! But speaking
of this sort of mistress, I'm not so much as a human being, if she
doesn't manage to shift over into her mother's home the whole of this
family estate."

"Need you tell me this!" Ma, the Taoist matron, at these words,
remarked with a view to ascertain what she implied. "Haven't I,
forsooth, discovered it all for myself? Yet it's fortunate that you
don't trouble your minds about her; for it's far better that you should
let her have her own way."

"My dear woman," rejoined Mrs. Chao, "Not let her have her own way!
why, is it likely that any one would have the courage to tell her
anything?"

"I don't mean to utter any words that may bring upon me retribution,"
added Ma, the Taoist matron, "but you people haven't got the wits. But
it's no matter of surprise. Yet if you daren't openly do anything, why,
you could stealthily have devised some plan. And do you still tarry up
to this day?"

Mrs. Chao realised that there lurked something in her insinuation, and
she felt an inward secret joy. "What plan could I stealthily devise?"
she asked. "I've got the will right enough, but I'm not a person gifted
with this sort of gumption. So were you to impart to me some way or
other, I would reward you most liberally."

When the Taoist matron, Ma, heard this, she drew near to her.
"O-mi-to-fu! desist at once from asking me!" she designedly exclaimed.
"How can I know anything about such matters, contrary as they are to
what is right?"

"There you are again!" Mrs. Chao replied. "You're one ever most ready
to succour those in distress, and to help those in danger, and is it
likely that you'll quietly look on, while some one comes and compasses
my death as well as that of my son? Are you, pray, fearful lest I
shouldn't give you any reward?"

Ma, the Taoist matron, greeted this remark with a smile. "You're right
enough in what you say," she ventured, "of my being unable to bear the
sight of yourself and son receiving insult from a third party; but as
for your mention of rewards, why, what's there of yours that I still
covet?"

This answer slightly reassured Mrs. Chao's mind. "How is it," she
speedily urged, "that an intelligent person like you should have become
so dense? If, indeed, the spell prove efficacious, and we exterminate
them both, is there any apprehension that this family estate won't be
ours? and when that time comes, won't you get all you may wish?"

At this disclosure, Ma, the Taoist matron, lowered her head for a long
time. "When everything," she observed, "shall have been settled
satisfactorily, and when there'll be, what's more, no proof at all,
will you still pay any heed to me?"

"What's there hard about this?" remarked Mrs. Chao. "I've saved several
taels from my own pin-money, and have besides a good number of clothes
and head-ornaments. So you can first take several of these away with
you. And I'll further write an I.O.U., and entrust it to you, and when
that time does come, I'll pay you in full."

"That will do!" answered the Taoist matron, Ma.

Mrs. Chao thereupon dismissed even a young servant-girl, who happened
to be in the room, and hastily opening a trunk, she produced several
articles of clothing and jewelry, as well as a few odd pieces of silver
from her own pocket-money. Then also writing a promissory note for
fifty taels, she surrendered the lot to Ma, the Taoist matron. "Take
these," she said, "in advance for presents in your temple."

At the sight of the various articles and of the promissory note, the
Taoist matron became at once unmindful of what was right and what was
wrong; and while her mouth was full of assent, she stretched out her
arm, and first and foremost laid hold of the hard cash, and next
clutched the I.O.U. Turning then towards Mrs. Chao, she asked for a
sheet of paper; and taking up a pair of scissors, she cut out two human
beings and gave them to Mrs. Chao, enjoining her to write on the upper
part of them the respective ages of the two persons in question.
Looking further for a sheet of blue paper, she cut out five blue-faced
devils, which she bade her place together side by side with the paper
men, and taking a pin she made them fast. "When I get home," she
remarked, "I'll have recourse to some art, which will, beyond doubt,
prove efficacious."

When she however had done speaking, she suddenly saw Madame Wang's
waiting-maid make her appearance inside the room. "What! my dame, are
you in here!" the girl exclaimed. "Why, our lady is waiting for you!"

The two dames then parted company.

But passing them over, we will now allude to Lin Tai-yµ. As Pao-yü had
scalded his face, and did not go out of doors very much, she often came
to have a chat with him. On this particular day she took up, after her
meal, some book or other and read a couple of pages out of it. Next,
she busied herself a little with needlework, in company with Tzu Chuan.
She felt however thoroughly dejected and out of sorts. So she strolled
out of doors along with her. But catching sight of the newly sprouted
bamboo shoots, in front of the pavilion, they involuntarily stepped out
of the entrance of the court, and penetrated into the garden. They cast
their eyes on all four quarters; but not a soul was visible. When they
became conscious of the splendour of the flowers and the chatter of the
birds, they, with listless step, turned their course towards the I Hung
court. There they found several servant-girls baling out water; while a
bevy of them stood under the verandah, watching the thrushes having
their bath. They heard also the sound of laughter in the rooms.

The fact is that Li Kung-ts'ai, lady Feng, and Pao-ch'ai were assembled
inside. As soon as they saw them walk in, they with one voice shouted,
smiling: "Now, are not these two more!"

"We are a full company to-day," laughed Tai-yü, "but who has issued the
cards and invited us here?"

"The other day," interposed lady Feng, "I sent servants with a present
of two caddies of tea for you, Miss Lin; was it, after all, good?"

"I had just forgotten all about it," Tai-yü rejoined, "many thanks for
your kind attention!

"I tasted it," observed Pao-yü. "I did not think it anything good. But
I don't know how others, who've had any of it, find it."

"Its flavour," said Tai-yü, "is good; the only thing is, it has no
colour."

"It's tribute tea from the Laos Kingdom," continued lady Feng. "When I
tried it, I didn't either find it anything very fine. It's not up to
what we ordinarily drink."

"To my taste, it's all right," put in Tai-yü. "But what your palates
are like, I can't make out."

"As you say it's good," suggested Pao-yü, "you're quite at liberty to
take all I have for your use."

"I've got a great deal more of it over there," lady Feng remarked.

"I'll tell a servant-girl to go and fetch it," Tai-yü replied.

"No need," lady Feng went on. "I'll send it over with some one. I also
have a favour to ask of you to-morrow, so I may as well tell the
servant to bring it along at the same time."

When Lin Tai-yü heard these words, she put on a smile. "You just mark
this," she observed. "I've had to-day a little tea from her place, and
she at once begins making a tool of me!"

"Since you've had some of our tea," lady Feng laughed, "how is it that
you have not yet become a wife in our household?"

The whole party burst out laughing aloud. So much so, that they found
it difficult to repress themselves. But Tai-yü's face was suffused with
blushes. She turned her head the other way, and uttered not a word.

"Our sister-in-law Secunda's jibes are first-rate!" Pao-ch'ai chimed in
with a laugh.

"What jibes!" exclaimed Tai-yü; "they're purely and simply the prattle
of a mean mouth and vile tongue! They're enough to evoke people's
displeasure!"

Saying this, she went on to sputter in disgust.

"Were you," insinuated lady Feng, "to become a wife in my family, what
is there that you would lack?" Pointing then at Pao-yü, "Look here!"
she cried—"Is not this human being worthy of you? Is not his station in
life good enough for you? Are not our stock and estate sufficient for
you? and in what slight degree can he make you lose caste?"

Tai-yü rose to her feet, and retired immediately. But Pao-ch'ai shouted
out: "Here's P'in Erh in a huff! Don't you yet come back? when you've
gone, there will really be no fun!"

While calling out to her, she jumped up to pull her back. As soon,
however, as she reached the door of the room, she beheld Mrs. Chao,
accompanied by Mrs. Chou; both coming to look up Pao-yü. Pao-yü and his
companions got up in a body and pressed them into a seat. Lady Feng was
the sole person who did not heed them.

But just as Pao-ch'ai was about to open her lips, she perceived a
servant-girl, attached to Madame Wang's apartments, appear on the
scene. "Your maternal uncle's wife has come," she said, "and she
requests you, ladies and young ladies, to come out and see her."

Li Kung-ts'ai hurriedly walked away in company with lady Feng. The two
dames, Mrs. Chao and Mrs. Chou, in like manner took their leave and
quitted the room.

"As for me, I can't go out," Pao-yü shouted. "But whatever you do,
pray, don't ask aunt to come in here." "Cousin Lin," he went on to say,
"do stay on a while; I've got something to tell you."

Lady Feng overheard him. Turning her head towards Lin Tai-yü, "There's
some one," she cried; "who wants to speak to you." And forthwith laying
hold of Lin Tai-yü, she pushed her back and then trudged away, along
with Li Kung-ts'ai.

During this time, Pao-yü clasped Tai-yü's hand in his. He did nothing
than smile. But not a word did he utter. Tai-yü naturally, therefore,
got crimson in the face, and struggled to escape his importunities.

"Ai-ya!" exclaimed Pao-yü. "How my head is sore!"

"It should be!" rejoined Tai-yü. "O-mi-to-fu."

Pao-yü then gave vent to a loud shout. His body bounced three or four
feet high from the ground. His mouth was full of confused shrieks. But
all he said was rambling talk.

Tai-yü and the servant-girls were full of consternation, and, with all
possible haste, they ran and apprised Madame Wang and dowager lady
Chia.

Wang Tzu-t'eng's wife was, at this time, also with them, so they all
came in a body to see him. Pao-yü behaved more and more as if
determined to clutch a sword or seize a spear to put an end to his
existence. He raged in a manner sufficient to subvert the heavens and
upset the earth.

As soon as dowager lady Chia and Madame Wang caught sight of him, they
were struck with terror. They trembled wildly like a piece of clothing
that is being shaken. Uttering a shout of: "My son," and another of:
"My flesh," they burst out into a loud fit of crying. Presently, all
the inmates were seized with fright. Even Chia She, Madame Hsing, Chia
Cheng, Chia Chen, Chia Lien, Chia Jung, Chia Yün, Chia P'ing, Mrs.
Hsüeh, Hsüeh P'an, Chou Jui's wife, and the various members of the
household, whether high or low, and the servant-girls and married women
too, rushed into the garden to see what was up.

The confusion that prevailed was, at the moment, like entangled flax.
Every one was at a loss what to do, when they espied lady Feng dash
into the garden, a glistening sword in hand, and try to cut down
everything that came in her way, ogle vacantly whomsoever struck her
gaze, and make forthwith an attempt to despatch them. A greater panic
than ever broke out among the whole assemblage. But placing herself at
the head of a handful of sturdy female servants, Chou Jui's wife
precipitated herself forward, and clasping her tight, they succeeded in
snatching the sword from her grip, and carrying her back into her room.

P'ing Erh, Feng Erh, and the other girls began to weep. They invoked
the heavens and appealed to the earth. Even Chia Cheng was distressed
at heart. One and all at this stage started shouting, some, one thing;
some, another. Some suggested exorcists. Some cried out for the
posture-makers to attract the devils. Others recommended that Chang,
the Taoist priest, of the Yü Huang temple, should catch the evil
spirits. A thorough turmoil reigned supreme for a long time. The gods
were implored. Prayers were offered. Every kind of remedy was tried,
but no benefit whatever became visible.

After sunset, the spouse of Wang Tzu-t'eng said good-bye and took her
departure. On the ensuing day, Wang Tzu-t'eng himself also came to make
inquiries. Following closely upon him, arrived, in a body, messengers
from the young marquis Shih, Madame Hsing's young brother, and their
various relatives to ascertain for themselves how (lady Feng and
Pao-yü) were progressing. Some brought charm-water. Some recommended
bonzes and Taoist priests. Others spoke highly of doctors. But that
young fellow and his elder brother's wife fell into such greater and
greater stupor that they lost all consciousness. Their bodies were hot
like fire. As they lay prostrate on their beds, they talked
deliriously. With the fall of the shades of night their condition
aggravated. So much so, that the matrons and servant-girls did not
venture to volunteer their attendance. They had, therefore, to be both
moved into Madame Wang's quarters, where servants were told off to take
their turn and watch them.

Dowager lady Chia, Madame Wang, Madame Hsing and Mrs. Hsüeh did not
budge an inch or a step from their side. They sat round them, and did
nothing but cry. Chia She and Chia Cheng too were a prey, at this
juncture, to misgivings lest weeping should upset dowager lady Chia.
Day and night oil was burnt and fires were, mindless of expense, kept
alight. The bustle and confusion was such that no one, either master or
servant, got any rest.

Chia She also sped on every side in search of Buddhist and Taoist
priests. But Chia Cheng had witnessed how little relief these things
could afford, and he felt constrained to dissuade Chia She from his
endeavours. "The destiny," he argued, "of our son and daughter is
entirely dependent upon the will of Heaven, and no human strength can
prevail. The malady of these two persons would not be healed, even were
every kind of treatment tried, and as I feel confident that it is the
design of heaven that things should be as they are, all we can do is to
allow it to carry out its purpose."

Chia She, however, paid no notice to his remonstrances and continued as
hitherto to fuss in every imaginable way. In no time three days
elapsed. Lady Feng and Pao-yü were still confined to their beds. Their
very breaths had grown fainter. The whole household, therefore,
unanimously arrived at the conclusion that there was no hope, and with
all despatch they made every necessary preparation for the subsequent
requirements of both their relatives.

Dowager lady Chia, Madame Wang, Chia Lien, P'ing Erh, Hsi Jen and the
others indulged in tears with keener and keener anguish. They hung
between life and death. Mrs. Chao alone was the one who assumed an
outward sham air of distress, while in her heart she felt her wishes
gratified.

The fourth day arrived. At an early hour Pao-yü suddenly opened his
eyes and addressed himself to his grandmother Chia. "From this day
forward," he said, "I may no longer abide in your house, so you had
better send me off at once!"

These words made dowager lady Chia feel as if her very heart had been
wrenched out of her. Mrs. Chao, who stood by, exhorted her. "You
shouldn't, venerable lady," she said, "indulge in excessive grief. This
young man has been long ago of no good; so wouldn't it be as well to
dress him up and let him go back a moment sooner from this world.
You'll also be thus sparing him considerable suffering. But, if you
persist, in not reconciling yourself to the separation and this breath
of his is not cut off, he will lie there and suffer without any
respite…."

Her arguments were scarcely ended, when she was spat upon by dowager
lady Chia. "You rotten-tongued, good-for-nothing hag!" she cried
abusively. "What makes you fancy him of no good! You wish him dead and
gone; but what benefit will you then derive? Don't give way to any
dreams; for, if he does die, I'll just exact your lives from you! It's
all because you've been continuously at him, inciting and urging him to
read and write, that his spirit has become so intimidated that, at the
sight of his father, he behaves just like a rat trying to get out of
the way of a cat! And is not all this the result of the bullying of
such a mean herd of women as yourselves! Could you now drive him to
death, your wishes would immediately be fulfilled; but which of you
will I let off?"

Now she shed tears; now she gave vent to abuse.

Chia Cheng, who stood by, heard these invectives; and they so enhanced
his exasperation that he promptly shouted out and made Mrs. Chao
withdraw. He then exerted himself for a time to console (his senior) by
using kindly accents. But suddenly some one came to announce that the
two coffins had been completed. This announcement pierced, like a
dagger, dowager lady Chia to the heart; and while weeping with despair
more intense, she broke forth in violent upbraidings.

"Who is it,"—she inquired; "who gave orders to make the coffins? Bring
at once the coffin-makers and beat them to death!"

A stir ensued sufficient to convulse the heavens and to subvert the
earth. But at an unforeseen moment resounded in the air the gentle
rapping of a 'wooden fish' bell. A voice recited the sentence: "Ave!
Buddha able to unravel retribution and dispel grievances! Should any
human being lie in sickness, and his family be solicitous on his
account; or should any one have met with evil spirits and come across
any baleful evils, we have the means to effect a cure."

Dowager lady Chia and Madame Wang at once directed servants to go out
into the street and find out who it was. It turned out to be, in fact,
a mangy-headed bonze and a hobbling Taoist priest. What was the
appearance of the bonze?

  His nose like a suspended gall; his two eyebrows so long,
  His eyes, resembling radiant stars, possessed a precious glow,
  His coat in tatters and his shoes of straw, without a home;
  Rolling in filth, and, a worse fate, his head one mass of boils.

And the Taoist priest, what was he like?

  With one leg perchèd high he comes, with one leg low;
  His whole frame drenching wet, bespattered all with mud.
  If you perchance meet him, and ask him where's his home,
  "In fairyland, west of the 'Weak Water,' he'll say."

Chia Cheng ordered the servants to invite them to walk in. "On what
hill," he asked those two persons, "do you cultivate the principles of
reason?

"Worthy official!" the bonze smiled, "you must not ask too many
questions! It's because we've learnt that there are inmates of your
honourable mansion in a poor state of health that we come with the
express design of working a cure."

"There are," explained Chia Cheng, "two of our members, who have been
possessed of evil spirits. But, is there, I wonder, any remedy by means
of which they could he healed?"

"In your family," laughingly observed the Taoist priest, "you have
ready at hand a precious thing, the like of which is rare to find in
the world. It possesses the virtue of alleviating the ailment, so why
need you inquire about remedies?"

Chia Cheng's mind was forthwith aroused. "It's true," he consequently
rejoined, "that my son brought along with him, at the time of his
birth, a piece of jade, on the surface of which was inscribed that it
had the virtue of dispelling evil influences, but we haven't seen any
efficacy in it."

"There is, worthy officer," said the bonze, "something in it which you
do not understand. That precious jade was, in its primitive state,
efficacious, but consequent upon its having been polluted by music,
lewdness, property and gain it has lost its spiritual properties. But
produce now that valuable thing and wait till I have taken it into my
hands and pronounced incantations over it, when it will become as full
of efficacy as of old!"

Chia Cheng accordingly unclasped the piece of jade from Pao-yü's neck,
and handed it to the two divines. The Buddhist priest held it with
reverence in the palm of his hand and heaving a deep sigh, "Since our
parting," he cried, "at the foot of the Ch'ing Keng peak, about
thirteen years have elapsed. How time flies in the mortal world! Thine
earthly destiny has not yet been determined. Alas, alas! how admirable
were the qualities thou did'st possess in those days!

 "By Heaven unrestrained, without constraint from Earth,
  No joys lived in thy heart, but sorrows none as well;
  Yet when perception, through refinement, thou did'st reach,
  Thou went'st among mankind to trouble to give rise.
  How sad the lot which thou of late hast had to hear!
  Powder prints and rouge stains thy precious lustre dim.
  House bars both day and night encage thee like a duck.
  Deep wilt thou sleep, but from thy dream at length thou'lt wake,
  Thy debt of vengeance, once discharged, thou wilt depart."

At the conclusion of this recital, he again rubbed the stone for a
while, and gave vent to some nonsensical utterances, after which he
surrendered it to Chia Cheng. "This object," he said, "has already
resumed its efficacy; but you shouldn't do anything to desecrate it.
Hang it on the post of the door in his bed-room, and with the exception
of his own relatives, you must not let any outside female pollute it.
After the expiry of thirty-three days, he will, I can guarantee, be all
right."

Chia Cheng then gave orders to present tea; but the two priests had
already walked away. He had, however, no alternative but to comply with
their injunctions, and lady Feng and Pao-yü, in point of fact, got
better from day to day. Little by little they returned to their senses
and experienced hunger. Dowager lady Chia and Madame Wang, at length,
felt composed in their minds. All the cousins heard the news outside.
Tai-yü, previous to anything else, muttered a prayer to Buddha; while
Pao-ch'ai laughed and said not a word.

"Sister Pao," inquired Hsi Ch'un, "what are you laughing for?"

"I laugh," replied Pao-ch'ai, "because the 'Thus-Come' Joss has more to
do than any human being. He's got to see to the conversion of all
mankind, and to take care of the ailments, to which all flesh is heir;
for he restores every one of them at once to health; and he has as well
to control people's marriages so as to bring them about through his
aid; and what do you say, has he ample to do or not? Now, isn't this
enough to make one laugh, eh?"

Lin Tai-yü blushed. "Ts'ui!" she exclaimed; "none of you are good
people. Instead of following the example of worthy persons, you try to
rival the mean mouth of that hussey Feng."

As she uttered these words, she raised the portiere and made her exit.

But, reader, do you want to know any further circumstances? If so, the
next chapter will explain them to you.




CHAPTER XXVI.


  On the Feng Yao bridge, Hsiao Hung makes known sentimental matters in
      equivocal language.
  In the Hsiao Hsiang lodge, Tai-yü gives, while under the effects of
      the spring lassitude, expression to her secret feelings.

After thirty days' careful nursing, Pao-yü, we will now notice, not
only got strong and hale in body, but the scars even on his face
completely healed up; so he was able to shift his quarters again into
the garden of Broad Vista.

But we will banish this topic as it does not deserve any additional
explanations. Let us now turn our attention elsewhere. During the time
that Pao-yü was of late laid up in bed, Chia Yün along with the young
pages of the household sat up on watch to keep an eye over him, and
both day and night, they tarried on this side of the mansion. But Hsiao
Hung as well as all the other waiting-maids remained in the same part
to nurse Pao-yü, so (Chia Yün) and she saw a good deal of each other on
several occasions, and gradually an intimacy sprung up between them.

Hsiao Hung observed that Chia Yün held in his hand a handkerchief very
much like the one she herself had dropped some time ago and was bent
upon asking him for it, but she did, on the other hand, not think she
could do so with propriety. The unexpected visit of the bonze and
Taoist priest rendered, however, superfluous the services of the
various male attendants, and Chia-yün had therefore to go again and
oversee the men planting the trees. Now she had a mind to drop the
whole question, but she could not reconcile herself to it; and now she
longed to go and ask him about it, but fears rose in her mind lest
people should entertain any suspicions as to the relations that existed
between them. But just as she faltered, quite irresolute, and her heart
was thoroughly unsettled, she unawares heard some one outside inquire:
"Sister, are you in the room or not?"

Hsiao Hung, upon catching this question, looked out through a hole in
the window; and perceiving at a glance that it was no one else than a
young servant-girl, attached to the same court as herself, Chia Hui by
name, she consequently said by way of reply: "Yes, I am; come in!"

When these words reached her ear, Chia Hui ran in, and taking at once a
seat on the bed, she observed with a smile: "How lucky I've been! I was
a little time back in the court washing a few things, when Pao-yü cried
out that some tea should be sent over to Miss Lin, and sister Hua
handed it to me to go on the errand. By a strange coincidence our old
lady had presented some money to Miss Lin and she was engaged at the
moment in distributing it among their servant-girls. As soon therefore
as she saw me get there, Miss Lin forthwith grasped two handfuls of
cash and gave them to me; how many there are I don't know, but do keep
them for me!"

Speedily then opening her handkerchief, she emptied the cash. Hsiao
Hung counted them for her by fives and tens at a time. She was
beginning to put them away, when Chia Hui remarked: "How are you, after
all, feeling of late in your mind? I'll tell you what; you should
really go and stay at home for a couple of days. And were you to ask a
doctor round and to have a few doses of medicine you'll get all right
at once!"

"What are you talking about?" Hsiao Hung replied. "What shall I go home
for, when there's neither rhyme nor reason for it!"

"Miss Lin, I remember, is naturally of a weak physique, and has
constantly to take medicines," Chia Hui added, "so were you to ask her
for some and bring them over and take them, it would come to the same
thing."

"Nonsense!" rejoined Hsiao Hung, "are medicines also to be recklessly
taken ?"

"You can't so on for ever like this," continued Chia Hui; "you're
besides loth to eat and loth to drink, and what will you be like in the
long run?"

"What's there to fear?" observed Hsiao Hung; "won't it anyhow be better
to die a little earlier? It would be a riddance!"

"Why do you deliberately come out with all this talk?" Chia Hui
demurred.

"How could you ever know anything of the secrets of my heart?" Hsiao
Hung inquired.

Chia Hui nodded her head and gave way to reflection. "I don't think it
strange on your part," she said after a time; "for it is really
difficult to abide in this place! Yesterday, for instance, our dowager
lady remarked that the servants in attendance had had, during all the
days that Pao-yü was ill, a good deal to put up with, and that now that
he has recovered, incense should be burnt everywhere, and the vows
fulfilled; and she expressed a wish that those in his service should,
one and all, be rewarded according to their grade. I and several others
can be safely looked upon as young in years, and unworthy to presume so
high; so I don't feel in any way aggrieved; but how is it that one like
you couldn't be included in the number? My heart is much annoyed at it!
Had there been any fear that Hsi Jen would have got ten times more, I
could not even then have felt sore against her, for she really deserves
it! I'll just tell you an honest truth; who else is there like her? Not
to speak of the diligence and carefulness she has displayed all along,
even had she not been so diligent and careful, she couldn't have been
set aside! But what is provoking is that that lot, like Ch'ing Wen and
Ch'i Hsia, should have been included in the upper class. Yet it's
because every one places such reliance on the fine reputation of their
father and mother that they exalt them. Now, do tell me, is this
sufficient to anger one or not?"

"It won't do to be angry with them!" Hsiao Hung observed. "The proverb
says: 'You may erect a shed a thousand _li_ long, but there is no
entertainment from which the guests will not disperse!' And who is it
that will tarry here for a whole lifetime? In another three years or
five years every single one of us will have gone her own way; and who
will, when that time comes, worry her mind about any one else?"

These allusions had the unexpected effect of touching Chia Hui to the
heart; and in spite of herself the very balls of her eyes got red. But
so uneasy did she feel at crying for no reason that she had to exert
herself to force a smile. "What you say is true," she ventured. "And
yet, Pao-yü even yesterday explained how the rooms should be arranged
by and bye; and how the clothes should be made, just as if he was bound
to hang on to dear life for several hundreds of years."

Hsiao Hung, at these words, gave a couple of sardonic smiles. But when
about to pass some remark, she perceived a youthful servant-girl, who
had not as yet let her hair grow, walk in, holding in her hands several
patterns and two sheets of paper. "You are asked," she said, "to trace
these two designs!"

As she spoke, she threw them at Hsiao Hung, and twisting herself round,
she immediately scampered away.

"Whose are they, after all?" Hsiao Hung inquired, addressing herself
outside. "Couldn't you wait even so much as to conclude what you had to
say, but flew off at once? Who is steaming bread and waiting for you?
Or are you afraid, forsooth, lest it should get cold?"

"They belong to sister Ch'i," the young servant-girl merely returned
for answer from outside the window; and raising her feet high, she ran
tramp-tramp on her way back again.

Hsiao Hung lost control over her temper, and snatching the designs, she
flung them on one side. She then rummaged in a drawer for a pencil, but
finding, after a prolonged search, that they were all blunt; "Where did
I," she thereupon ejaculated, "put that brand-new pencil the other day?
How is it I can't remember where it is?"

While she soliloquised, she became wrapt in thought. After some
reflection she, at length, gave a smile. "Of course!" she exclaimed,
"the other evening Ying Erh took it away." And turning towards Chia
Hui, "Fetch it for me," she shouted.

"Sister Hua," Chia Hui rejoined, "is waiting for me to get a box for
her, so you had better go for it yourself!"

"What!" remarked Hsiao Hung, "she's waiting for you, and are you still
squatting here chatting leisurely? Hadn't it been that I asked you to
go and fetch it, she too wouldn't have been waiting for you; you most
perverse vixen!"

With these words on her lips, she herself walked out of the room, and
leaving the I Hung court, she straightway proceeded in the direction of
Pao-ch'ai's court. As soon, however, as she reached the Hsin Fang
pavilion, she saw dame Li, Pao-yü's nurse, appear in view from the
opposite side; so Hsiao Hung halted and putting on a smile, "Nurse Li,"
she asked, "where are you, old dame, bound for? How is it you're coming
this way?"

Nurse Li stopped short, and clapped her hands. "Tell me," she said,
"has he deliberately again gone and fallen in love with that Mr.
something or other like Yun (cloud), or Yü (rain)? They now insist upon
my bringing him inside, but if they get wind of it by and bye in the
upper rooms, it won't again be a nice thing."

"Are you, old lady," replied Hsiao Hung smiling, "taking things in such
real earnest that you readily believe them and want to go and ask him
in here?"

"What can I do?" rejoined nurse Li.

"Why, that fellow," added Hsiao Hung laughingly, "will, if he has any
idea of decency, do the right thing and not come."

"Besides, he's not a fool!" pleaded nurse Li; "so why shouldn't he come
in?"

"Well, if he is to come," answered Hsiao Hung, "it will devolve upon
you, worthy dame, to lead him along with you; for were you by and bye
to let him penetrate inside all alone and knock recklessly about, why,
it won't do at all."

"Have I got all that leisure," retorted nurse Li, "to trudge along with
him? I'll simply tell him to come; and later on I can despatch a young
servant-girl or some old woman to bring him in, and have done."

Saying this, she continued her way, leaning on her staff.

After listening to her rejoinder, Hsiao Hung stood still; and plunging
in abstraction, she did not go and fetch the pencil. But presently, she
caught sight of a servant-girl running that way. Espying Hsiao Hung
lingering in that spot, "Sister Hung," she cried, "what are you doing
in here?"

Hsiao Hung raised her head, and recognised a young waiting-maid called
Chui Erh. "Where are you off too?" Hsiao Hung asked.

"I've been told to bring in master Secundus, Mr. Yün," Chui Erh
replied.
After which answer, she there and then departed with all speed.

Hsiao Hung reached, meanwhile, the Feng Yao bridge. As soon as she
approached the gateway, she perceived Chui Erh coming along with Chia
Yün from the opposite direction. While advancing Chia Yün ogled Hsiao
Hung; and Hsiao Hung too, though pretending to be addressing herself to
Chui Erh, cast a glance at Chia Yün; and their four eyes, as luck would
have it, met. Hsiao Hung involuntarily blushed all over; and turning
herself round, she walked off towards the Heng Wu court. But we will
leave her there without further remarks.

During this time, Chia Yün followed Chui Erh, by a circuitous way, into
the I Hung court. Chui Erh entered first and made the necessary
announcement. Then subsequently she ushered in Chia Yün. When Chia Yün
scrutinised the surroundings, he perceived, here and there in the
court, several blocks of rockery, among which were planted
banana-trees. On the opposite side were two storks preening their
feathers under the fir trees. Under the covered passage were suspended,
in a row, cages of every description, containing all sorts of
fairylike, rare birds. In the upper part were five diminutive
anterooms, uniformly carved with, unique designs; and above the
framework of the door was hung a tablet with the inscription in four
huge characters—"I Hung K'uai Lü, the happy red and joyful green."

"I thought it strange," Chia Yün argued mentally, "that it should be
called the I Hung court; but are these, in fact, the four characters
inscribed on the tablet!"

But while he was communing within himself, he heard some one laugh and
then exclaim from the inner side of the gauze window: "Come in at once!
How is it that I've forgotten you these two or three months?"

As soon as Chia Yün recognised Pao-yü's voice, he entered the room with
hurried step. On raising his head, his eye was attracted by the
brilliant splendour emitted by gold and jade and by the dazzling lustre
of the elegant arrangements. He failed, however, to detect where Pao-yü
was ensconced. The moment he turned his head round, he espied, on the
left side, a large cheval-glass; behind which appeared to view,
standing side by side, two servant-girls of fifteen or sixteen years of
age. "Master Secundus," they ventured, "please take a seat in the inner
room."

Chia Yün could not even muster courage to look at them straight in the
face; but promptly assenting, he walked into a green gauze
mosquito-house, where he saw a small lacquered bed, hung with curtains
of a deep red colour, with clusters of flowers embroidered in gold.
Pao-yü, wearing a house-dress and slipshod shoes, was reclining on the
bed, a book in hand. The moment he perceived Chia Yün walk in, he
discarded his book, and forthwith smiled and raised himself up. Chia
Yün hurriedly pressed forward and paid his salutation. Pao-yü then
offered him a seat; but he simply chose a chair in the lower part of
the apartment.

"Ever since the moon in which I came across you," Pao-yü observed
smilingly, "and told you to come into the library, I've had, who would
have thought it, endless things to continuously attend to, so that I
forgot all about you."

"It's I, indeed, who lacked good fortune!" rejoined Chia Yün, with a
laugh; "particularly so, as it again happened that you, uncle, fell
ill. But are you quite right once more?"

"All right!" answered Pao-yü. "I heard that you've been put to much
trouble and inconvenience on a good number of days!"

"Had I even had any trouble to bear," added Chia Yün, "it would have
been my duty to bear it. But your complete recovery, uncle, is really a
blessing to our whole family."

As he spoke, he discerned a couple of servant-maids come to help him to
a cup of tea. But while conversing with Pao-yü, Chia Yün was intent
upon scrutinising the girl with slim figure, and oval face, and clad in
a silvery-red jacket, a blue satin waistcoat and a white silk petticoat
with narrow pleats.

At the time of Pao-yü's illness, Chia Yün had spent a couple of days in
the inner apartments, so that he remembered half of the inmates of
note, and the moment he set eyes upon this servant-girl he knew that it
was Hsi Jen; and that she was in Pao-yü's rooms on a different standing
to the rest. Now therefore that she brought the tea in herself and that
Pao-yü was, besides, sitting by, he rose to his feet with alacrity and
put on a smile. "Sister," he said, "how is it that you are pouring tea
for me? I came here to pay uncle a visit; what's more I'm no stranger,
so let me pour it with my own hands!"

"Just you sit down and finish!" Pao-yü interposed; "will you also
behave in this fashion with servant-girls?"

"In spite of what you say;" remarked Chia Yün smiling, "they are young
ladies attached to your rooms, uncle, and how could I presume to be
disorderly in my conduct?"

So saying, he took a seat and drank his tea. Pao-yü then talked to him
about trivial and irrelevant matters; and afterwards went on to tell
him in whose household the actresses were best, and whose gardens were
pretty. He further mentioned to him in whose quarters the servant-girls
were handsome, whose banquets were sumptuous, as well as in whose home
were to be found strange things, and what family possessed remarkable
objects. Chia Yün was constrained to humour him in his conversation;
but after a chat, which lasted for some time, he noticed that Pao-yü
was somewhat listless, and he promptly stood up and took his leave. And
Pao-yü too did not use much pressure to detain him. "To-morrow, if you
have nothing to do, do come over!" he merely observed; after which, he
again bade the young waiting-maid, Chui Erh, see him out.

Having left the I Hung court, Chia Yün cast a glance all round; and,
realising that there was no one about, he slackened his pace at once,
and while proceeding leisurely, he conversed, in a friendly way, with
Chui Erh on one thing and another. First and foremost he inquired of
her what was her age; and her name. "Of what standing are your father
and mother?" he said, "How many years have you been in uncle Pao's
apartments? How much money do you get a month? In all how many girls
are there in uncle Pao's rooms?"

As Chui Erh heard the questions set to her, she readily made suitable
reply to each.

"The one, who was a while back talking to you," continued Chia Yün, "is
called Hsiao Hung, isn't she?"

"Yes, her name is Hsiao Hung!" replied Chui Erh smiling; "but why do
you ask about her?"

"She inquired of you just now about some handkerchief or other,"
answered Chia Yün; "well, I've picked one up."

Chui Erh greeted this response with a smile. "Many are the times," she
said; "that she has asked me whether I had seen her handkerchief; but
have I got all that leisure to worry my mind about such things? She
spoke to me about it again to-day; and she suggested that I should find
it for her, and that she would also recompense me. This she told me
when we were just now at the entrance of the Heng Wu court, and you
too, Mr. Secundus, overheard her, so that I'm not lying. But, dear Mr.
Secundus, since you've picked it up, give it to me. Do! And I'll see
what she will give me as a reward."

The truth is that Chia Yün had, the previous moon when he had come into
the garden to attend to the planting of trees, picked up a
handkerchief, which he conjectured must have been dropped by some
inmate of those grounds; but as he was not aware whose it was, he did
not consequently presume to act with indiscretion. But on this
occasion, he overheard Hsiao Hung make inquiries of Chui Erh on the
subject; and concluding that it must belong to her, he felt
immeasurably delighted. Seeing, besides, how importunate Chui Erh was,
he at once devised a plan within himself, and vehemently producing from
his sleeve a handkerchief of his own, he observed, as he turned towards
Chui Erh with a smile: "As for giving it to you, I'll do so; but in the
event of your obtaining any present from her, you mustn't impose upon
me."

Chui Erh assented to his proposal most profusely; and, taking the
handkerchief, she saw Chia Yün out and then came back in search of
Hsiao Hung. But we will leave her there for the present.

We will now return to Pao-yü. After dismissing Chia Yün, he lay in such
complete listlessness on the bed that he betrayed every sign of being
half asleep. Hsi Jen walked up to him, and seated herself on the edge
of the bed, and pushing him, "What are you about to go to sleep again,"
she said. "Would it not do your languid spirits good if you went out
for a bit of a stroll?"

Upon hearing her voice, Pao-yü grasped her hand in his. "I would like
to go out," he smiled, "but I can't reconcile myself to the separation
from you!"

"Get up at once!" laughed Hsi Jen. And as she uttered these words, she
pulled Pao-yü up.

"Where can I go?" exclaimed Pao-yü. "I'm quite surfeited with
everything."

"Once out you'll be all right," Hsi Jen answered, "but if you simply
give way to this languor, you'll be more than ever sick of everything
at heart."

Pao-yü could not do otherwise, dull and out of sorts though he was,
than accede to her importunities. Strolling leisurely out of the door
of the room, he amused himself a little with the birds suspended under
the verandah; then he wended his steps outside the court, and followed
the course of the Hsin Fang stream; but after admiring the golden fish
for a time, he espied, on the opposite hillock, two young deer come
rushing down as swift as an arrow. What they were up to Pao-yü could
not discern; but while abandoning himself to melancholy, he caught
sight of Chia Lan, following behind, with a small bow in his hand, and
hurrying down hill in pursuit of them.

As soon as he realised that Pao-yü stood ahead of him, he speedily
halted. "Uncle Secundus," he smiled, "are you at home? I imagined you
had gone out of doors!"

"You are up to mischief again, eh?" Pao-yü rejoined. "They've done
nothing to you, and why shoot at them with your arrows?"

"I had no studies to attend to just now, so, being free with nothing to
do," Chia Lan replied laughingly, "I was practising riding and
archery."

"Shut up!" exclaimed Pao-yü. "When are you not engaged in practising?"

Saying this, he continued his way and straightway reached the entrance
of a court. Here the bamboo foliage was thick, and the breeze sighed
gently. This was the Hsiao Hsiang lodge. Pao-yü listlessly rambled in.
He saw a bamboo portière hanging down to the ground. Stillness
prevailed. Not a human voice fell on the ear. He advanced as far as the
window. Noticing that a whiff of subtle scent stole softly through the
green gauze casement, Pao-yü applied his face closely against the frame
to peep in, but suddenly he caught the faint sound of a deep sigh and
the words: "Day after day my feelings slumber drowsily!" Upon
overhearing this exclamation, Pao-yü unconsciously began to feel a prey
to inward longings; but casting a second glance, he saw Tai-yü
stretching herself on the bed.

"Why is it," smiled Pao-yü, from outside the window, "that your
feelings day after day slumber drowsily?" So saying, he raised the
portière and stepped in.

The consciousness that she had not been reticent about her feelings
made Tai-yü unwittingly flush scarlet. Taking hold of her sleeve, she
screened her face; and, turning her body round towards the inside, she
pretended to be fast asleep. Pao-yü drew near her. He was about to pull
her round when he saw Tai-yü's nurse enter the apartment, followed by
two matrons.

"Is Miss asleep?" they said. "If so, we'll ask her over, when she wakes
up."

As these words were being spoken, Tai-yü eagerly twisted herself round
and sat up. "Who's asleep?" she laughed.

"We thought you were fast asleep, Miss," smiled the two or three
matrons as soon as they perceived Tai-yü get up. This greeting over,
they called Tzu Chüan. "Your young mistress," they said, "has awoke;
come in and wait on her!"

While calling her, they quitted the room in a body. Tai-yü remained
seated on the bed. Raising her arms, she adjusted her hair, and
smilingly she observed to Pao-yü, "When people are asleep, what do you
walk in for?"

At the sight of her half-closed starlike eyes and of her fragrant
cheeks, suffused with a crimson blush, Pao-yü's feelings were of a
sudden awakened; so, bending his body, he took a seat on a chair, and
asked with a smile: "What were you saying a short while back?"

"I wasn't saying anything," Tai-yü replied.

"What a lie you're trying to ram down my throat!" laughed Pao-yü. "I
heard all."

But in the middle of their colloquy, they saw Tzu Chüan enter. Pao-yü
then put on a smiling face. "Tzu Chüan!" he cried, "pour me a cup of
your good tea!"

"Where's the good tea to be had?" Tzu Chüan answered. "If you want good
tea, you'd better wait till Hsi Jen comes."

"Don't heed him!" interposed Tai-yü. "Just go first and draw me some
water."

"He's a visitor," remonstrated Tzu Chüan, "and, of course, I should
first pour him a cup of tea, and then go and draw the water."

With this answer, she started to serve the tea.

"My dear girl," Pao-yü exclaimed laughingly, "If I could only share the
same bridal curtain with your lovable young mistress, would I ever be
able (to treat you as a servant) by making you fold the covers and make
the beds."

Lin Tai-yü at once drooped her head. "What are you saying?" she
remonstrated.

"What, did I say anything?" smiled Pao-yü.

Tai-yü burst into tears. "You've recently," she observed, "got into a
new way. Whatever slang you happen to hear outside you come and tell
me. And whenever you read any improper book, you poke your fun at me.
What! have I become a laughing-stock for gentlemen!"

As she began to cry, she jumped down from bed, and promptly left the
room. Pao-yü was at a loss how to act. So agitated was he that he
hastily ran up to her, "My dear cousin," he pleaded, "I do deserve
death; but don't go and tell any one! If again I venture to utter such
kind of language, may blisters grow on my mouth and may my tongue waste
away!"

But while appealing to her feelings, he saw Hsi Jen approach him. "Go
back at once," she cried, "and put on your clothes as master wants to
see you."

At the very mention of his father, Pao-yü felt suddenly as if struck by
lightning. Regardless of everything and anything, he rushed, as fast as
possible, back to his room, and changing his clothes, he came out into
the garden. Here he discovered Pei Ming, standing at the second
gateway, waiting for him.

"Do you perchance know what he wants me for?" Pao-yü inquired.

"Master, hurry out at once!" Pei Ming replied. "You must, of course, go
and see him. When you get there, you are sure to find out what it's all
about."

This said, he urged Pao-yü on, and together they turned past the large
pavilion. Pao-yü was, however, still labouring under suspicion, when he
heard, from the corner of the wall, a loud outburst of laughter. Upon
turning his head round, he caught sight of Hsüeh P'an jump out,
clapping his hands. "Hadn't I said that my uncle wanted you?" he
laughed. "Would you ever have rushed out with such alacrity?"

Pei Ming also laughed, and fell on his knees. But Pao-yü remained for a
long time under the spell of utter astonishment, before he, at length,
realised that it was Hsüeh P'au who had inveigled him to come out.

Hsüeh P'an hastily made a salutation and a curtsey, and confessed his
fault. He next gave way to entreaties, saying: "Don't punish the young
servant, for it is simply I who begged him go."

Pao-yü too had then no other alternative but to smile. "I don't mind
your playing your larks on me; but why," he inquired, "did you mention
my father? Were I to go and tell my aunt, your mother, to see to the
rights and the wrongs of the case, how would you like it?"

"My dear cousin," remarked Hsüeh P'an vehemently, "the primary idea I
had in view was to ask you to come out a moment sooner and I forgot to
respectfully shun the expression. But by and bye, when you wish to
chaff me, just you likewise allude to my father, and we'll thus be
square."

"Ai-ya!" exclaimed Pao-yü. "You do more than ever deserve death!!" Then
turning again towards Pei Ming, "You ruffian!" he said, "what are you
still kneeling for?"

Pei Ming began to bump his head on the ground with vehemence.

"Had it been for anything else," Hsüeh P'an chimed in, "I wouldn't have
made bold to disturb you; but it's simply in connection with my
birthday which is to-morrow, the third day of the fifth moon. Ch'eng
Jih-hsing, who is in that curio shop of ours, unexpectedly brought
along, goodness knows where he fished them from, fresh lotus so thick
and so long, so mealy and so crisp; melons of this size; and a Siamese
porpoise, that long and that big, smoked with cedar, such as is sent as
tribute from the kingdom of Siam. Are not these four presents, pray,
rare delicacies? The porpoise is not only expensive, but difficult to
get, and that kind of lotus and melon must have cost him no end of
trouble to grow! I lost no time in presenting some to my mother, and at
once sent some to your old grandmother, and my aunt. But a good many of
them still remain now; and were I to eat them all alone, it would, I
fear, be more than I deserve; so I concluded, after thinking right and
left, that there was, besides myself, only you good enough to partake
of some. That is why I specially invite you to taste them. But, as luck
would have it, a young singing-boy has also come, so what do you say to
you and I having a jolly day of it?"

As they talked, they walked; and, as they walked, they reached the
interior of the library. Here they discovered a whole assemblage
consisting of Tan Kuang, Ch'eng Jih-hsing, Hu Ch'i-lai, Tan T'ing-jen
and others, and the singing-boy as well. As soon as these saw Pao-yü
walk in, some paid their respects to him; others inquired how he was;
and after the interchange of salutations, tea was drunk. Hsüeh P'an
then gave orders to serve the wine. Scarcely were the words out of his
mouth than the servant-lads bustled and fussed for a long while laying
the table. When at last the necessary arrangements had been completed,
the company took their seats.

Pao-yü verily found the melons and lotus of an exceptional description.
"My birthday presents have not as yet been sent round," he felt
impelled to say, a smile on his lips, "and here I come, ahead of them,
to trespass on your hospitality."

"Just so!" retorted Hsüeh P'an, "but when you come to-morrow to
congratulate me we'll consider what novel kind of present you can give
me."

"I've got nothing that I can give you," rejoined Pao-yü. "As far as
money, clothes, eatables and other such articles go, they are not
really mine: all I can call my own are such pages of characters that I
may write, or pictures that I may draw."

"Your reference to pictures," added Hsüeh P'an smiling, "reminds me of
a book I saw yesterday, containing immodest drawings; they were, truly,
beautifully done. On the front page there figured also a whole lot of
characters. But I didn't carefully look at them; I simply noticed the
name of the person, who had executed them. It was, in fact, something
or other like Keng Huang. The pictures were, actually, exceedingly
good!"

This allusion made Pao-yü exercise his mind with innumerable
conjectures.

"Of pictures drawn from past years to the present, I have," he said,
"seen a good many, but I've never come across any Keng Huang."

After considerable thought, he could not repress himself from bursting
out laughing. Then asking a servant to fetch him a pencil, he wrote a
couple of words on the palm of his hand. This done, he went on to
inquire of Hsüeh. P'an: "Did you see correctly that it read Keng
Huang?"

"How could I not have seen correctly?" ejaculated Hsüeh P'an.

Pao-yü thereupon unclenched his hand and allowed him to peruse, what
was written in it. "Were they possibly these two characters?" he
remarked. "These are, in point of fact, not very dissimilar from what
Keng Huang look like?"

On scrutinising them, the company noticed the two words T'ang Yin, and
they all laughed. "They must, we fancy, have been these two
characters!" they cried. "Your eyes, Sir, may, there's no saying, have
suddenly grown dim!"

Hsüeh P'an felt utterly abashed. "Who could have said," he smiled,
"whether they were T'ang Yin or Kuo Yin, (candied silver or fruit
silver)."

As he cracked this joke, however, a young page came and announced that
Mr. Feng had arrived. Pao-yü concluded that the new comer must be Feng
Tzu-ying, the son of Feng T'ang, general with the prefix of Shen Wu."

"Ask him in at once," Hsüeh P'an and his companions shouted with one
voice.

But barely were these words out of their mouths, than they realised
that Feng Tzu-ying had already stepped in, talking and laughing as he
approached.

The company speedily rose from table and offered him a seat.

"That's right!" smiled Feng Tzu-ying. "You don't go out of doors, but
remain at home and go in for high fun!"

Both Pao-yü and Hsüeh P'an put on a smile. "We haven't," they remarked,
"seen you for ever so long. Is your venerable father strong and hale?"

"My father," rejoined Tzu-ying, "is, thanks to you, strong and hale;
but my mother recently contracted a sudden chill and has been unwell
for a couple of days."

Hsüeh P'an discerned on his face a slight bluish wound. "With whom have
you again been boxing," he laughingly inquired, "that you've hung up
this sign board?"

"Since the occasion," laughed Feng Tzu-ying, "on which I wounded
lieutenant-colonel Ch'ou's son, I've borne the lesson in mind, and
never lost my temper. So how is it you say that I've again been boxing?
This thing on my face was caused, when I was out shooting the other day
on the T'ieh Wang hills, by a flap from the wing of the falcon."

"When was that?" asked Pao-yü.

"I started," explained Tzu-ying, "on the 28th of the third moon and
came back only the day before yesterday."

"It isn't to be wondered at then," observed Pao-yü, "that when I went
the other day, on the third and fourth, to a banquet at friend Shen's
house, I didn't see you there. Yet I meant to have inquired about you;
but I don't know how it slipped from my memory. Did you go alone, or
did your venerable father accompany you?"

"Of course, my father went," Tzu-ying replied, "so I had no help but to
go. For is it likely, forsooth, that I've gone mad from lack of
anything to do! Don't we, a goodly number as we are, derive enough
pleasure from our wine-bouts and plays that I should go in quest of
such kind of fatiguing recreation! But in this instance a great piece
of good fortune turned up in evil fortune!"

Hsüeh P'an and his companions noticed that he had finished his tea.
"Come along," they one and all proposed, "and join the banquet; you can
then quietly recount to us all your experiences."

At this suggestion Feng Tzu-ying there and then rose to his feet.
"According to etiquette," he said. "I should join you in drinking a few
cups; but to-day I have still a very urgent matter to see my father
about on my return so that I truly cannot accept your invitation."

Hsüeh P'an, Pao-yü and the other young fellows would on no account
listen to his excuses. They pulled him vigorously about and would not
let him go.

"This is, indeed, strange!" laughed Feng Tzu-ying. "When have you and I
had, during all these years, to have recourse to such proceedings! I
really am unable to comply with your wishes. But if you do insist upon
making me have a drink, well, then bring a large cup and I'll take two
cups full and finish."

After this rejoinder, the party could not but give in. Hsüeh P'an took
hold of the kettle, while Pao-yü grasped the cup, and they poured two
large cups full. Feng Tzu-ying stood up and quaffed them with one
draught.

"But do, after all," urged Pao-yü, "finish this thing about a piece of
good fortune in the midst of misfortune before you go."

"To tell you this to-day," smiled Feng Tzu-ying, "will be no great fun.
But for this purpose I intend standing a special entertainment, and
inviting you all to come and have a long chat; and, in the second
place,
I've also got a favour to ask of you."

Saying this, he pushed his way and was going off at once, when Hsüeh
P'an interposed. "What you've said," he observed, "has put us more than
ever on pins and needles. We cannot brook any delay. Who knows when you
will ask us round; so better tell us, and thus avoid keeping people in
suspense!"

"The latest," rejoined Feng Tzu-ying, "in ten days; the earliest in
eight." With this answer he went out of the door, mounted his horse,
and took his departure.

The party resumed their seats at table. They had another bout, and then
eventually dispersed.

Pao-yü returned into the garden in time to find Hsi Jen thinking with
solicitude that he had gone to see Chia Cheng and wondering whether it
foreboded good or evil. As soon as she perceived Pao-yü come back in a
drunken state, she felt urged to inquire the reason of it all. Pao-yü
told her one by one the particulars of what happened.

"People," added Hsi Jen, "wait for you with lacerated heart and anxious
mind, and there you go and make merry; yet you could very well, after
all, have sent some one with a message."

"Didn't I purpose sending a message?" exclaimed Pao-yü. "Of course, I
did! But I failed to do so, as on the arrival of friend Feng, I got so
mixed up that the intention vanished entirely from my mind."

While excusing himself, he saw Pao-ch'ai enter the apartment. "Have you
tasted any of our new things?" she asked, a smile curling her lips.

"Cousin," laughed Pao-yü, "you must have certainly tasted what you've
got in your house long before us."

Pao-ch'ai shook her head and smiled. "Yesterday," she said, "my brother
did actually make it a point to ask me to have some; but I had none; I
told him to keep them and send them to others, so confident am I that
with my mean lot and scanty blessings I little deserve to touch such
dainties."

As she spoke, a servant-girl poured her a cup of tea and brought it to
her. While she sipped it, she carried on a conversation on irrelevant
matters; which we need not notice, but turn our attention to Lin
Tai-yü.

The instant she heard that Chia Cheng had sent for Pao-yü, and that he
had not come back during the whole day, she felt very distressed on his
account. After supper, the news of Pao-yü's return reached her, and she
keenly longed to see him and ask him what was up. Step by step she
trudged along, when espying Pao-ch'ai going into Pao-yü's garden, she
herself followed close in her track. But on their arrival at the Hsin
Fang bridge, she caught sight of the various kinds of water-fowl,
bathing together in the pond, and although unable to discriminate the
numerous species, her gaze became so transfixed by their respective
variegated and bright plumage and by their exceptional beauty, that she
halted. And it was after she had spent some considerable time in
admiring them that she repaired at last to the I Hung court. The gate
was already closed. Tai-yü, however, lost no time in knocking. But
Ch'ing Wen and Pi Hen had, who would have thought it, been having a
tiff, and were in a captious mood, so upon unawares seeing Pao-ch'ai
step on the scene, Ch'ing Wen at once visited her resentment upon
Pao-ch'ai. She was just standing in the court giving vent to her
wrongs, shouting: "You're always running over and seating yourself
here, whether you've got good reason for doing so or not; and there's
no sleep for us at the third watch, the middle of the night though it
be," when, all of a sudden, she heard some one else calling at the
door. Ch'ing Wen was the more moved to anger. Without even asking who
it was, she rapidly bawled out: "They've all gone to sleep; you'd
better come to-morrow."

Lin Tai-yü was well aware of the natural peculiarities of the
waiting-maids, and of their habit of playing practical jokes upon each
other, so fearing that the girl in the inner room had failed to
recognise her voice, and had refused to open under the misconception
that it was some other servant-girl, she gave a second shout in a
higher pitch. "It's I!" she cried, "don't you yet open the gate?"

Ch'ing Wen, as it happened, did not still distinguish her voice; and in
an irritable strain, she rejoined: "It's no matter who you may be; Mr.
Secundus has given orders that no one at all should be allowed to come
in."

As these words reached Lin Tai-yü's ear, she unwittingly was overcome
with indignation at being left standing outside. But when on the point
of raising her voice to ask her one or two things, and to start a
quarrel with her; "albeit," she again argued mentally, "I can call this
my aunt's house, and it should be just as if it were my own, it's,
after all, a strange place, and now that my father and mother are both
dead, and that I am left with no one to rely upon, I have for the
present to depend upon her family for a home. Were I now therefore to
give way to a regular fit of anger with her, I'll really get no good
out of it."

While indulging in reflection, tears trickled from her eyes. But just
as she was feeling unable to retrace her steps, and unable to remain
standing any longer, and quite at a loss what to do, she overheard the
sound of jocular language inside, and listening carefully, she
discovered that it was, indeed, Pao-yü and Pao-ch'ai. Lin Tai-yü waxed
more wroth. After much thought and cogitation, the incidents of the
morning flashed unawares through her memory. "It must, in fact," she
mused, "be because Pao-yü is angry with me for having explained to him
the true reasons. But why did I ever go and tell you? You should,
however, have made inquiries before you lost your temper to such an
extent with me as to refuse to let me in to-day; but is it likely that
we shall not by and bye meet face to face again?"

The more she gave way to thought, the more she felt wounded and
agitated; and without heeding the moss, laden with cold dew, the path
covered with vegetation, and the chilly blasts of wind, she lingered
all alone, under the shadow of the bushes at the corner of the wall, so
thoroughly sad and dejected that she broke forth into sobs.

Lin Tai-yü was, indeed, endowed with exceptional beauty and with charms
rarely met with in the world. As soon therefore as she suddenly melted
into tears, and the birds and rooks roosting on the neighbouring willow
boughs and branches of shrubs caught the sound of her plaintive tones,
they one and all fell into a most terrific flutter, and, taking to
their wings, they flew away to distant recesses, so little were they
able to listen with equanimity to such accents. But the spirits of the
flowers were, at the time, silent and devoid of feeling, the birds were
plunged in dreams and in a state of stupor, so why did they start? A
stanza appositely assigns the reason:—

  P'in Erh's mental talents and looks must in the world be rare—.
  Alone, clasped in a subtle smell, she quits her maiden room.
  The sound of but one single sob scarcely dies away,
  And drooping flowers cover the ground and birds fly in dismay.

Lin Tai-yü was sobbing in her solitude, when a creaking noise struck
her ear and the door of the court was flung open. Who came out, is not
yet ascertained; but, reader, should you wish to know, the next chapter
will explain.




CHAPTER XXVII


  In the Ti Ts'ui pavilion, Pao-ch'ai diverts herself with the
      multi-coloured butterflies.
  Over the mound, where the flowers had been interred, Tai-yü bewails
      their withered bloom.

Lin Tai-yü, we must explain in taking up the thread of our narrative,
was disconsolately bathed in tears, when her ear was suddenly attracted
by the creak of the court gate, and her eyes by the appearance of
Pao-ch'ai beyond the threshold. Pao-yü, Hsi Jen and a whole posse of
inmates then walked out. She felt inclined to go up to Pao-yü and ask
him a question; but dreading that if she made any inquiries in the
presence of such a company, Pao-yü would be put to the blush and placed
in an awkward position, she slipped aside and allowed Pao-ch'ai to
prosecute her way. And it was only after Pao-yü and the rest of the
party had entered and closed the gate behind them that she at last
issued from her retreat. Then fixing her gaze steadfastly on the
gateway, she dropped a few tears. But inwardly conscious of their utter
futility she retraced her footsteps and wended her way back into her
apartment. And with heavy heart and despondent spirits, she divested
herself of the remainder of her habiliments.

Tzu Chüan and Hsüeh Yen were well aware, from the experience they had
reaped in past days, that Lin Tai-yü was, in the absence of anything to
occupy her mind, prone to sit and mope, and that if she did not frown
her eyebrows, she anyway heaved deep sighs; but they were quite at a
loss to divine why she was, with no rhyme or reason, ever so ready to
indulge, to herself, in inexhaustible gushes of tears. At first, there
were such as still endeavoured to afford her solace; or who, suspecting
lest she brooded over the memory of her father and mother, felt
home-sick, or aggrieved, through some offence given her, tried by every
persuasion to console and cheer her; but, as contrary to all
expectations, she subsequently persisted time and again in this dull
mood, through each succeeding month and year, people got accustomed to
her eccentricities and did not extend to her the least sympathy. Hence
it was that no one (on this occasion) troubled her mind about her, but
letting her sit and sulk to her heart's content, they one and all
turned in and went to sleep.

Lin Tai-yü leaned against the railing of the bed, clasping her knees
with both hands, her eyes suffused with tears. She looked, in very
truth, like a carved wooden image or one fashioned of mud. There she
sat straight up to the second watch, even later, when she eventually
fell asleep.

The whole night nothing remarkable transpired. The morrow was the 26th
day of the fourth moon. Indeed on this day, at one p.m., commenced the
season of the 'Sprouting seeds,' and, according to an old custom, on
the day on which this feast of 'Sprouting seeds' fell, every one had to
lay all kinds of offerings and sacrificial viands on the altar of the
god of flowers. Soon after the expiry of this season of 'Sprouting
seeds' follows summertide, and us plants in general then wither and the
god of flowers resigns his throne, it is compulsory to feast him at
some entertainment, previous to his departure.

In the ladies' apartments this custom was observed with still more
rigour; and, for this reason, the various inmates Of the park of Broad
Vista had, without a single exception, got up at an early hour. The
young people either twisted flowers and willow twigs in such a way as
to represent chairs and horses, or made tufted banners with damask,
brocaded gauze and silk, and bound them with variegated threads. These
articles of decoration were alike attached on every tree and plant; and
throughout the whole expanse of the park, embroidered sashes waved to
and fro, and ornamented branches nodded their heads about. In addition
to this, the members of the family were clad in such fineries that they
put the peach tree to shame, made the almond yield the palm, the
swallow envious and the hawk to blush. We could not therefore
exhaustively describe them within our limited space of time.

Pao-ch'ai, Ying Ch'un, T'an Ch'un, Hsi Ch'un, Li Wan, lady Feng and
other girls, as well as Ta Chieh Erh, Hsiang Ling and the waiting-maids
were, one and all, we will now notice, in the garden enjoying
themselves; the only person who could not be seen was Lin Tai-yü.

"How is it," consequently inquired Ying Ch'un, "that I don't see cousin
Liu? What a lazy girl! Is she forsooth fast asleep even at this late
hour of the day?"

"Wait all of you here," rejoined Pao-ch'ai, "and I'll go and shake her
up and bring her."

With these words, she speedily left her companions and repaired
straightway into the Hsiao Hsiang lodge.

While she was going on her errand, she met Wen Kuan and the rest of the
girls, twelve in all, on their way to seek the party. Drawing near,
they inquired after her health. After exchanging a few commonplace
remarks, Pao-ch'ai turned round and pointing, said: "you will find them
all in there; you had better go and join them. As for me, I'm going to
fetch Miss Lin, but I'll be back soon."

Saying this, she followed the winding path, and came to the Hsiao
Hsiang lodge. Upon suddenly raising her eyes, she saw Pao-yü walk in.
Pao-ch'ai immediately halted, and, lowering her head, she gave way to
meditation for a time. "Pao-yü and Lin Tai-yü," she reflected, "have
grown up together from their very infancy. But cousins, though they be,
there are many instances in which they cannot evade suspicion, for they
joke without heeding propriety; and at one time they are friends and at
another at daggers drawn. Tai-yü has, moreover, always been full of
envy; and has ever displayed a peevish disposition, so were I to follow
him in at this juncture, why, Pao-yü would, in the first place, not
feel at ease, and, in the second, Tai-yü would give way to jealousy.
Better therefore for me to turn back."

At the close of this train of thought, she retraced her steps. But just
as she was starting to join her other cousins, she unexpectedly
descried, ahead of her, a pair of jade-coloured butterflies, of the
size of a circular fan. Now they soared high, now they made a swoop
down, in their flight against the breeze; much to her amusement.

Pao-ch'ai felt a wish to catch them for mere fun's sake, so producing a
fan from inside her sleeve, she descended on to the turfed ground to
flap them with it. The two butterflies suddenly were seen to rise;
suddenly to drop: sometimes to come; at others to go. Just as they were
on the point of flying across the stream to the other side, the
enticement proved too much for Pao-ch'ai, and she pursued them on
tiptoe straight up to the Ti Ts'ui pavilion, nestling on the bank of
the pond; while fragrant perspiration dripped drop by drop, and her
sweet breath panted gently. But Pao-ch'ai abandoned the idea of
catching them, and was about to beat a retreat, when all at once she
overheard, in the pavilion, the chatter of people engaged in
conversation.

This pavilion had, it must be added, a verandah and zig-zag balustrades
running all round. It was erected over the water, in the centre of a
pond, and had on the four sides window-frames of carved wood work,
stuck with paper. So when Pao-ch'ai caught, from without the pavilion,
the sound of voices, she at once stood still and lent an attentive ear
to what was being said.

"Look at this handkerchief," she overheard. "If it's really the one
you've lost, well then keep it; but if it isn't you must return it to
Mr. Yün."

"To be sure it is my own," another party observed, "bring it along and
give it to me."

"What reward will you give me?" she further heard. "Is it likely that
I've searched all for nothing!"

"I've long ago promised to recompense you, and of course I won't play
you false," some one again rejoined.

"I found it and brought it round," also reached her ear, "and you
naturally will recompense me; but won't you give anything to the person
who picked it up?"

"Don't talk nonsense," the other party added, "he belongs to a family
of gentlemen, and anything of ours he may pick up it's his bounden duty
to restore to us. What reward could you have me give him?"

"If you don't reward him," she heard some one continue, "what will I be
able to tell him? Besides, he enjoined me time after time that if there
was to be no recompense, I was not to give it to you."

A short pause ensued. "Never mind!" then came out again to her, "take
this thing of mine and present it to him and have done! But do you mean
to let the cat out of the bag with any one else? You should take some
oath."

"If I tell any one," she likewise overheard, "may an ulcer grow on my
mouth, and may I, in course of time, die an unnatural death!"

"Ai-ya!" was the reply she heard; "our minds are merely bent upon
talking, but some one might come and quietly listen from outside;
wouldn't it be as well to push all the venetians open. Any one seeing
us in here will then imagine that we are simply chatting about
nonsense. Besides, should they approach, we shall be able to observe
them, and at once stop our conversation!"

Pao-ch'ai listened to these words from outside, with a heart full of
astonishment. "How can one wonder," she argued mentally, "if all those
lewd and dishonest people, who have lived from olden times to the
present, have devised such thorough artifices! But were they now to
open and see me here, won't they feel ashamed. Moreover, the voice in
which those remarks were uttered resembles very much that of Hung Erh,
attached to Pao-yü's rooms, who has all along shown a sharp eye and a
shrewd mind. She's an artful and perverse thing of the first class! And
as I have now overheard her peccadilloes, and a person in despair
rebels as sure as a dog in distress jumps over the wall, not only will
trouble arise, but I too shall derive no benefit. It would be better at
present therefore for me to lose no time in retiring. But as I fear I
mayn't be in time to get out of the way, the only alternative for me is
to make use of some art like that of the cicada, which can divest
itself of its _exuviae_."

She had scarcely brought her reflections to a close before a sound of
'ko-chih' reached her ears. Pao-ch'ai purposely hastened to tread with
heavy step. "P'in Erh, I see where you're hiding!" she cried out
laughingly; and as she shouted, she pretended to be running ahead in
pursuit of her.

As soon as Hsiao Hung and Chui Erh pushed the windows open from inside
the pavilion, they heard Pao-ch'ai screaming, while rushing forward;
and both fell into a state of trepidation from the fright they
sustained.

Pao-ch'ai turned round and faced them. "Where have you been hiding Miss
Lin?" she smiled.

"Who has seen anything of Miss Lin," retorted Chui Erh.

"I was just now," proceeded Pao-ch'ai, "on that side of the pool, and
discerned Miss Lin squatting down over there and playing with the
water. I meant to have gently given her a start, but scarcely had I
walked up to her, when she saw me, and, with a _detour_ towards the
East, she at once vanished from sight. So mayn't she be concealing
herself in there?"

As she spoke, she designedly stepped in and searched about for her.
This over, she betook herself away, adding: "she's certain to have got
again into that cave in the hill, and come across a snake, which must
have bitten her and put an end to her."

So saying, she distanced them, feeling again very much amused. "I have
managed," she thought, "to ward off this piece of business, but I
wonder what those two think about it."

Hsiao Hung, who would have anticipated, readily credited as gospel the
remarks she heard Pao-ch'ai make. But allowing just time enough to
Pao-ch'ai to got to a certain distance, she instantly drew Chui Erh to
her. "Dreadful!" she observed, "Miss Lin was squatting in here and must
for a certainty have overheard what we said before she left."

Albeit Chui Erh listened to her words, she kept her own counsel for a
long time. "What's to be done?" Hsiao Hung consequently exclaimed.

"Even supposing she did overhear what we said," rejoined Chui Erh by
way of answer, "why should she meddle in what does not concern her?
Every one should mind her own business."

"Had it been Miss Pao, it would not have mattered," remarked Hsiao
Hung, "but Miss Lin delights in telling mean things of people and is,
besides, so petty-minded. Should she have heard and anything perchance
comes to light, what will we do?"

During their colloquy, they noticed Wen Kuan, Hsiang Ling, Ssu Ch'i,
Shih Shu and the other girls enter the pavilion, so they were compelled
to drop the conversation and to play and laugh with them. They then
espied lady Feng standing on the top of the hillock, waving her hand,
beckoning to Hsiao Hung. Hurriedly therefore leaving the company, she
ran up to lady Feng and with smile heaped upon smile, "my lady," she
inquired, "what is it that you want?"

Lady Feng scrutinised her for a time. Observing how spruce and pretty
she was in looks, and how genial in her speech, she felt prompted to
give her a smile. "My own waiting-maid," she said, "hasn't followed me
in here to-day; and as I've just this moment bethought myself of
something and would like to send some one on an errand, I wonder
whether you're fit to undertake the charge and deliver a message
faithfully."

"Don't hesitate in entrusting me with any message you may have to
send," replied Hsiao Hung with a laugh. "I'll readily go and deliver
it. Should I not do so faithfully, and blunder in fulfilling your
business, my lady, you may visit me with any punishment your ladyship
may please, and I'll have nothing to say."

"What young lady's servant are you," smiled lady Feng? "Tell me, so
that when she comes back, after I've sent you out, and looks for you, I
may be able to tell her about you."

"I'm attached to our Master Secundus,' Mr. Pao's rooms," answered Hsiao
Hung.

"Ai-ya!" ejaculated lady Feng, as soon as she heard these words. "Are
you really in Pao-yü's rooms! How strange! Yet it comes to the same
thing. Well, if he asks for you, I'll tell him where you are. Go now to
our house and tell your sister P'ing that she'll find on the table in
the outer apartment and under the stand with the plate from the Ju
kiln, a bundle of silver; that it contains the one hundred and twenty
taels for the embroiderers' wages; and that when Chang Ts'ai's wife
comes, the money should be handed to her to take away, after having
been weighed in her presence and been given to her to tally. Another
thing too I want. In the inner apartment and at the head of the bed
you'll find a small purse, bring it along to me."

Hsiao Hung listened to her orders and then started to carry them out.
On her return, in a short while, she discovered that lady Feng was not
on the hillock. But perceiving Ssu Ch'i egress from the cave and stand
still to tie her petticoat, she walked up to her. "Sister, do you know
where our lady Secunda is gone to?" she asked.

"I didn't notice," rejoined Ssu Ch'i.

At this reply, Hsiao Hung turned round and cast a glance on all four
quarters. Seeing T'an Ch'un and Pao-ch'ai standing by the bank of the
pond on the opposite side and looking at the fish, Hsiao Hung advanced
up to them. "Young ladies," she said, straining a smile, "do you
perchance have any idea where our lady Secunda is gone to now?"

"Go into your senior lady's court and look for her!" T'an Ch'un
answered.

Hearing this, Hsiao Hung was proceeding immediately towards the Tao
Hsiang village, when she caught sight, just ahead of her, of Ch'ing
Wen,
Ch'i Hsia, Pi Hen, Ch'iu Wen, She Yüeh, Shih Shu, Ju Hua, Ying Erh and
some other girls coming towards her in a group.

The moment Ch'ing Wen saw Hsiao Hung, she called out to her. "Are you
gone clean off your head?" she exclaimed. "You don't water the flowers,
nor feed the birds or prepare the tea stove, but gad about outside!"

"Yesterday," replied Hsiao Hung, "Mr. Secundus told me that there was
no need for me to water the flowers to-day; that it was enough if they
were watered every other day. As for the birds, you're still in the
arms of Morpheus, sister, when I give them their food."

"And what about the tea-stove?" interposed Pi Hen.

"To-day," retorted Hsiao Hung, "is not my turn on duty, so don't ask me
whether there be any tea or not!"

"Do you listen to that mouth of hers!" cried Ch'i Hsia, "but don't you
girls speak to her; let her stroll about and have done!"

"You'd better all go and ask whether I've been gadding about or not,"
continued Hsiao Hung. "Our lady Secunda has just bidden me go and
deliver a message, and fetch something."

Saying this, she raised the purse and let them see it; and they,
finding they could hit upon nothing more to taunt her with, trudged
along onwards.

Ch'ing Wen smiled a sarcastic smile. "How funny!" she cried. "Lo, she
climbs up a high branch and doesn't condescend to look at any one of
us! All she told her must have been just some word or two, who knows!
But is it likely that our lady has the least notion of her name or
surname that she rides such a high horse, and behaves in this manner!
What credit is it in having been sent on a trifling errand like this!
Will we, by and bye, pray, hear anything more about you? If you've got
any gumption, you'd better skedaddle out of this garden this very day.
For, mind, it's only if you manage to hold your lofty perch for any
length of time that you can be thought something of!"

As she derided her, she continued on her way.

During this while, Hsiao Hung listened to her, but as she did not find
it a suitable moment to retaliate, she felt constrained to suppress her
resentment and go in search of lady Feng.

On her arrival at widow Li's quarters, she, in point of fact,
discovered lady Feng seated inside with her having a chat. Hsiao Hung
approached her and made her report. "Sister P'ing says," she observed,
"that as soon as your ladyship left the house, she put the money by,
and that when Chang Ts'ai's wife went in a little time to fetch it, she
had it weighed in her presence, after which she gave it to her to take
away."

With these words, she produced the purse and presented it to her.
"Sister P'ing bade me come and tell your ladyship," she added,
continuing, "that Wang Erh came just now to crave your orders, as to
who are the parties from whom he has to go and (collect interest on
money due) and sister P'ing explained to him what your wishes were and
sent him off."

"How could she tell him where I wanted him to go?" Lady Feng laughed.

"Sister P'ing says," Hsiao Hung proceeded, "that our lady presents her
compliments to your ladyship (widow Li) here-(_To lady Feng_) that our
master Secundus has in fact not come home, and that albeit a delay of
(a day) or two will take place (in the collection of the money), your
ladyship should, she begs, set your mind at ease. (_To Li Wan_). That
when lady Quinta is somewhat better, our lady will let lady Quinta know
and come along with her to see your ladyship. (_To lady Feng_). That
lady Quinta sent a servant the day before yesterday to come over and
say that our lady, your worthy maternal aunt, had despatched a letter
to inquire after your ladyship's health; that she also wished to ask
you, my lady, her worthy niece in here, for a couple of
'long-life-great-efficacy-full-of-every-virtue' pills; and that if you
have any, they should, when our lady bids a servant come over, be
simply given her to bring to our lady here, and that any one bound
to-morrow for that side could then deliver them on her way to her
ladyship, your aunt yonder, to take along with her."

"Ai-yo-yo!" exclaimed widow Li, before the close of the message. "It's
impossible for me to make out what you're driving at! What a heap of
ladyships and misters!"

"It's not to be wondered at that you can't make them out," interposed
lady Feng laughing. "Why, her remarks refer to four or five distinct
families."

While speaking, she again faced Hsiao Hung. "My dear girl," she smiled,
"what a trouble you've been put to! But you speak decently, and unlike
the others who keep on buzz-buzz-buzz, like mosquitoes! You're not
aware, sister-in-law, that I actually dread uttering a word to any of
the girls outside the few servant-girls and matrons in my own immediate
service; for they invariably spin out, what could be condensed in a
single phrase, into a long interminable yarn, and they munch and chew
their words; and sticking to a peculiar drawl, they groan and moan; so
much so, that they exasperate me till I fly into a regular rage. Yet
how are they to know that our P'ing Erh too was once like them. But
when I asked her: 'must you forsooth imitate the humming of a mosquito,
in order to be accounted a handsome girl?' and spoke to her, on several
occasions, she at length improved considerably."

"What a good thing it would be," laughed Li Kung-ts'ai, "if they could
all be as smart as you are."

"This girl is first-rate!" rejoined lady Feng, "she just now delivered
two messages. They didn't, I admit, amount to much, yet to listen to
her, she spoke to the point."

"To-morrow," she continued, addressing herself to Hsiao Hung smilingly,
"come and wait on me, and I'll acknowledge you as my daughter; and the
moment you come under my control, you'll readily improve."

At this news, Hsiao Hung spurted out laughing aloud.

"What are you laughing for?" Lady Feng inquired. "You must say to
yourself that I am young in years and that how much older can I be than
yourself to become your mother; but are you under the influence of a
spring dream? Go and ask all those people older than yourself. They
would be only too ready to call me mother. But snapping my fingers at
them, I to-day exalt you."

"I wasn't laughing about that," Hsiao Hung answered with a smiling
face.
"I was amused by the mistake your ladyship made about our generations.
Why, my mother claims to be your daughter, my lady, and are you now
going to recognise me too as your daughter?"

"Who's your mother?" Lady Feng exclaimed.

"Don't you actually know her?" put in Li Kung-ts'ai with a smile.
"She's
Lin Chih-hsiao's child."

This disclosure greatly surprised lady Feng. "What!" she consequently
cried, "is she really his daughter?"

"Why Lin Chih-hsiao and his wife," she resumed smilingly, "couldn't
either of them utter a sound if even they were pricked with an awl.
I've always maintained that they're a well-suited couple; as the one is
as deaf as a post, and the other as dumb as a mute. But who would ever
have expected them to have such a clever girl! By how much are you in
your teens?"

"I'm seventeen," replied Hsia Hung.

"What is your name?" she went on to ask.

"My name was once Hung Yü." Hsiao Hung rejoined. "But as it was a
duplicate of that of Master Secundus, Mr. Pao-yü, I'm now simply called
Hsiao Hung."

Upon hearing this explanation, lady Feng raised her eyebrows into a
frown, and turning her head round: "It's most disgusting!" she
remarked, "Those bearing the name Yü would seem to be very cheap; for
your name is Yü, and so is also mine Yü. Sister-in-law," she then
observed; "I never let you know anything about it, but I mentioned to
her mother that Lai Ta's wife has at present her hands quite full, and
that she hasn't either any notion as to who is who in this mansion.
'You had better,' (I said), 'carefully select a couple of girls for my
service.' She assented unreservedly, but she put it off and never chose
any. On the contrary, she sent this girl to some other place. But is it
likely that she wouldn't have been well off with me?"

"Here you are again full of suspicion!" Li Wan laughed. "She came in
here long before you ever breathed a word to her! So how could you bear
a grudge against her mother?"

"Well, in that case," added lady Feng, "I'll speak to Pao-yü to-morrow,
and induce him to find another one, and to allow this girl to come
along with me. I wonder, however, whether she herself is willing or
not?"

"Whether willing or not," interposed Hsiao Hung smiling, "such as we
couldn't really presume to raise our voices and object. We should feel
it our privilege to serve such a one as your ladyship, and learn a
little how to discriminate when people raise or drop their eyebrows and
eyes (with pleasure or displeasure), and reap as well some experience
in such matters as go out or come in, whether high or low, great and
small."

But during her reply, she perceived Madame Wang's waiting-maid come and
invite lady Feng to go over. Lady Feng bade good-bye at once to Li
Kung-ts'ai and took her departure.

Hsiao Hung then returned into the I Hung court, where we will leave her
and devote our attention for the present to Lin Tai-yü.

As she had had but little sleep in the night, she got up the next day
at a late hour. When she heard that all her cousins were collected in
the park, giving a farewell entertainment for the god of flowers, she
hastened, for fear people should laugh at her for being lazy, to comb
her hair, perform her ablutions, and go out and join them. As soon as
she reached the interior of the court, she caught sight of Pao-yü,
entering the door, who speedily greeted her with a smile. "My dear
cousin," he said, "did you lodge a complaint against me yesterday? I've
been on pins and needles the whole night long."

Tai-yü forthwith turned her head away. "Put the room in order," she
shouted to Tzu Chüan, "and lower one of the gauze window-frames. And
when you've seen the swallows come back, drop the curtain; keep it down
then by placing the lion on it, and after you have burnt the incense,
mind you cover the censer."

So saying she stepped outside.

Pao-yü perceiving her manner, concluded again that it must be on
account of the incident of the previous noon, but how could he have had
any idea about what had happened in the evening? He kept on still
bowing and curtseying; but Lin Tai-yü did not even so much as look at
him straight in the face, but egressing alone out of the door of the
court, she proceeded there and then in search of the other girls.

Pao-yü fell into a despondent mood and gave way to conjectures.

"Judging," he reflected, "from this behaviour of hers, it would seem as
if it could not be for what transpired yesterday. Yesterday too I came
back late in the evening, and, what's more, I didn't see her, so that
there was no occasion on which I could have given her offence."

As he indulged in these reflections, he involuntarily followed in her
footsteps to try and catch her up, when he descried Pao-ch'ai and
T'an-ch'un on the opposite side watching the frolics of the storks.

As soon as they saw Tai-yü approach, the trio stood together and
started a friendly chat. But noticing Pao-yü also come up, T'an Ch'un
smiled. "Brother Pao," she said, "are you all right. It's just three
days that I haven't seen anything of you?"

"Are you sister quite well?" Pao-yü rejoined, a smile on his lips. "The
other day, I asked news of you of our senior sister-in-law."

"Brother Pao," T'an Ch'un remarked, "come over here; I want to tell you
something."

The moment Pao-yü heard this, he quickly went with her. Distancing
Pao-ch'ai and Tai-yü, the two of them came under a pomegranate tree.
"Has father sent for you these last few days?" T'an Ch'un then asked.

"He hasn't," Pao-yü answered laughingly by way of reply.

"Yesterday," proceeded T'an Ch'un, "I heard vaguely something or other
about father sending for you to go out."

"I presume," Pao-yü smiled, "that some one must have heard wrong, for
he never sent for me."

"I've again managed to save during the last few months," added T'an
Ch'un with another smile, "fully ten tiaos, so take them and bring me,
when at any time you stroll out of doors, either some fine writings or
some ingenious knicknack."

"Much as I have roamed inside and outside the city walls," answered
Pao-yü, "and seen grand establishments and large temples, I've never
come across anything novel or pretty. One simply sees articles made of
gold, jade, copper and porcelain, as well as such curios for which we
could find no place here. Besides these, there are satins, eatables,
and wearing apparel."

"Who cares for such baubles!" exclaimed T'an Ch'un. "How could they
come up to what you purchased the last time; that wee basket, made of
willow twigs, that scent-box, scooped out of a root of real bamboo,
that portable stove fashioned of glutinous clay; these things were, oh,
so very nice! I was as fond of them as I don't know what; but, who'd
have thought it, they fell in love with them and bundled them all off,
just as if they were precious things."

"Is it things of this kind that you really want?" laughed Pao-yü. "Why,
these are worth nothing! Were you to take a hundred cash and give them
to the servant-boys, they could, I'm sure, bring two cart-loads of
them."

"What do the servant-boys know?" T'an Ch'un replied. "Those you chose
for me were plain yet not commonplace. Neither were they of coarse
make. So were you to procure me as many as you can get of them, I'll
work you a pair of slippers like those I gave you last time, and spend
twice as much trouble over them as I did over that pair you have. Now,
what do you say to this bargain?"

"Your reference to this," smiled Pao-yü, "reminds me of an old
incident. One day I had them on, and by a strange coincidence, I met
father, whose fancy they did not take, and he inquired who had worked
them. But how could I muster up courage to allude to the three words:
my sister Tertia, so I answered that my maternal aunt had given them to
me on the recent occasion of my birthday. When father heard that they
had been given to me by my aunt, he could not very well say anything.
But after a while, 'why uselessly waste,' he observed, 'human labour,
and throw away silks to make things of this sort!' On my return, I told
Hsi Jen about it. 'Never mind,' said Hsi Jen; but Mrs. Chao got angry.
'Her own brother,' she murmured indignantly, 'wears slipshod shoes and
socks in holes, and there's no one to look after him, and does she go
and work all these things!'"

T'an Ch'un, hearing this, immediately lowered her face. "Now tell me,
aren't these words utter rot!" she shouted. "What am I that I have to
make shoes? And is it likely that Huan Erh hasn't his own share of
things! Clothes are clothes, and shoes and socks are shoes and socks;
and how is it that any grudges arise in the room of a mere servant-girl
and old matron? For whose benefit does she come out with all these
things! I simply work a pair or part of a pair when I am at leisure,
with time on my hands. And I can give them to any brother, elder or
younger, I fancy; and who has a right to interfere with me? This is
just another bit of blind anger!"

After listening to her, Pao-yü nodded his head and smiled. "Yet," he
said, "you don't know what her motives may be. It's but natural that
she should also cherish some expectations."

This apology incensed T'an Ch'un more than ever, and twisting her head
round, "Even you have grown dull!" she cried. "She does, of course,
indulge in expectations, but they are actuated by some underhand and
paltry notion! She may go on giving way to these ideas, but I, for my
part, will only care for Mr. Chia Cheng and Madame Wang. I won't care a
rap for any one else. In fact, I'll be nice with such of my sisters and
brothers, as are nice to me; and won't even draw any distinction
between those born of primary wives and those of secondary ones.
Properly speaking, I shouldn't say these things about her, but she's
narrow-minded to a degree, and unlike what she should be. There's
besides another ridiculous thing. This took place the last time I gave
you the money to get me those trifles. Well, two days after that, she
saw me, and she began again to represent that she had no money and that
she was hard up. Nevertheless, I did not worry my brain with her goings
on. But as it happened, the servant-girls subsequently quitted the
room, and she at once started finding fault with me. 'Why,' she asked,
'do I give you my savings to spend and don't, after all, let Huan Erh
have them and enjoy them?' When I heard these reproaches, I felt both
inclined to laugh, and also disposed to lose my temper; but I there and
then skedaddled out of her quarters, and went over to our Madame Wang."

As she was recounting this incident, "Well," she overheard Pao-ch'ai
sarcastically observe from the opposite direction, "have you done
spinning your yarns? If you have, come along! It's quite evident that
you are brother and sister, for here you leave every one else and go
and discuss your own private matters. Couldn't we too listen to a
single sentence of what you have to say?"

While she taunted them, T'an Ch'un and Pao-yü eventually drew near her
with smiling faces.

Pao-yü, however, failed to see Lin Tai-yü and he concluded that she had
dodged out of the way and gone elsewhere. "It would be better," he
muttered, after some thought, "that I should let two days elapse, and
give her temper time to evaporate before I go to her." But as he
drooped his head, his eye was attracted by a heap of touch-me-nots,
pomegranate blossom and various kinds of fallen flowers, which covered
the ground thick as tapestry, and he heaved a sigh. "It's because," he
pondered, "she's angry that she did not remove these flowers; but I'll
take them over to the place, and by and bye ask her about them."

As he argued to himself, he heard Pao-ch'ai bid them go out. "I'll join
you in a moment," Pao-yü replied; and waiting till his two cousins had
gone some distance, he bundled the flowers into his coat, and ascending
the hill, he crossed the stream, penetrated into the arbour, passed
through the avenues with flowers and wended his way straight for the
spot, where he had, on a previous occasion, interred the peach-blossoms
with the assistance of Lin Tai-yü. But scarcely had he reached the
mound containing the flowers, and before he had, as yet, rounded the
brow of the hill, than he caught, emanating from the off side, the
sound of some one sobbing, who while giving way to invective, wept in a
most heart-rending way.

"I wonder," soliloquised Pao-yü, "whose servant-girl this is, who has
been so aggrieved as to run over here to have a good cry!"

While speculating within himself, he halted. He then heard, mingled
with wails:—

  Flowers wither and decay; and flowers do fleet; they fly all o'er the
      skies;
  Their bloom wanes; their smell dies; but who is there with them to
      sympathise?
  While vagrant gossamer soft doth on fluttering spring-bowers bind its
      coils,
  And drooping catkins lightly strike and cling on the embroidered
      screens,
  A maiden in the inner rooms, I sore deplore the close of spring.
  Such ceaseless sorrow fills my breast, that solace nowhere can I
  find.
  Past the embroidered screen I issue forth, taking with me a hoe,
  And on the faded flowers to tread I needs must, as I come and go.
  The willow fibres and elm seeds have each a fragrance of their own.
  What care I, peach blossoms may fall, pear flowers away be blown;
  Yet peach and pear will, when next year returns, burst out again in
      bloom,
  But can it e'er be told who will next year dwell in the inner room?
  What time the third moon comes, the scented nests have been already
      built.
  And on the beams the swallows perch, excessive spiritless and staid;
  Next year, when the flowers bud, they may, it's true, have ample to
      feed on:
  But they know not that when I'm gone beams will be vacant and nests
      fall!
  In a whole year, which doth consist of three hundred and sixty days,
  Winds sharp as swords and frost like unto spears each other rigorous
      press,
  So that how long can last their beauty bright; their fresh charm how
      long stays?
  Sudden they droop and fly; and whither they have flown, 'tis hard to
      guess.
  Flowers, while in bloom, easy the eye attract; but, when they wither,
      hard they are to find.
  Now by the footsteps, I bury the flowers, but sorrow will slay me.
  Alone I stand, and as I clutch the hoe, silent tears trickle down,
  And drip on the bare twigs, leaving behind them the traces of blood.
  The goatsucker hath sung his song, the shades lower of eventide,
  So with the lotus hoe I return home and shut the double doors.
  Upon the wall the green lamp sheds its rays just as I go to sleep.
  The cover is yet cold; against the window patters the bleak rain.
  How strange! Why can it ever be that I feel so wounded at heart!
  Partly, because spring I regret; partly, because with spring I'm
      vexed!
  Regret for spring, because it sudden comes; vexed, for it sudden
  goes.
  For without warning, lo! it comes; and without asking it doth fleet.
  Yesterday night, outside the hall sorrowful songs burst from my
  mouth,
  For I found out that flowers decay, and that birds also pass away.
  The soul of flowers, and the spirit of birds are both hard to
      restrain.
  Birds, to themselves when left, in silence plunge; and flowers,
  alone,
      they blush.
  Oh! would that on my sides a pair of wings could grow,
  That to the end of heaven I may fly in the wake of flowers!
  Yea to the very end of heaven,
  Where I could find a fragrant grave!
  For better, is it not, that an embroidered bag should hold my
      well-shaped bones,
  And that a heap of stainless earth should in its folds my winsome
      charms enshroud.
  For spotless once my frame did come, and spotless again it will go!
  Far better than that I, like filthy mire, should sink into some
  drain!
  Ye flowers are now faded and gone, and, lo, I come to bury you.
  But as for me, what day I shall see death is not as yet divined!
  Here I am fain these flowers to inter; but humankind will laugh me as
      a fool.
  Who knows, who will, in years to come, commit me to my grave!
  Mark, and you'll find the close of spring, and the gradual decay of
      flowers,
  Resemble faithfully the time of death of maidens ripe in years!
  In a twinkle, spring time draws to a close, and maidens wax in age.
  Flowers fade and maidens die; and of either nought any more is known.

After listening to these effusions, Pao-yü unconsciously threw himself
down in a wandering frame of mind.

But, reader, do you feel any interest in him? If you do, the subsequent
chapter contains further details about him.




CHAPTER XXVIII.


  Chiang Yü-han lovingly presents a rubia-scented silk sash.
  Hsüeh Pao-ch'ai blushingly covers her musk-perfumed string of red
      beads.

Lin Tai-yü, the story goes, dwelt, after Ch'ing Wen's refusal, the
previous night, to open the door, under the impression that the blame
lay with Pao-yü. The following day, which by another remarkable
coincidence, happened to correspond with the season, when the god of
flowers had to be feasted, her total ignorance of the true
circumstances, and her resentment, as yet unspent, aroused again in her
despondent thoughts, suggested by the decline of spring time. She
consequently gathered a quantity of faded flowers and fallen petals,
and went and interred them. Unable to check the emotion, caused by the
decay of the flowers, she spontaneously recited, after giving way to
several loud lamentations, those verses which Pao-yü, she little
thought, overheard from his position on the mound. At first, he did no
more than nod his head and heave sighs, full of feeling. But when
subsequently his ear caught:

  "Here I am fain these flowers to inter, but humankind will laugh me
  as
      a fool;
  Who knows who will, in years to come, commit me to my grave!
  In a twinkle springtime draws to an end, and maidens wax in age.
  Flowers fade and maidens die; and of either naught any more is
  known."

he unconsciously was so overpowered with grief that he threw himself on
the mound, bestrewing the whole ground with the fallen flowers he
carried in his coat, close to his chest. "When Tai-yü's flowerlike
charms and moon-like beauty," he reflected, "by and bye likewise reach
a time when they will vanish beyond any hope of recovery, won't my
heart be lacerated and my feelings be mangled! And extending, since
Tai-yü must at length some day revert to a state when it will be
difficult to find her, this reasoning to other persons, like Pao-ch'ai,
Hsiang Ling, Hsi Jen and the other girls, they too are equally liable
to attain a state beyond the reach of human search. But when Pao-ch'ai
and all the rest have ultimately reached that stage when no trace will
be visible of them, where shall I myself be then? And when my own human
form will have vanished and gone, whither I know not yet, to what
person, I wonder, will this place, this garden and these plants,
revert?"

From one to a second, and from a second to a third, he thus pursued his
reflections, backwards and forwards, until he really did not know how
he could best, at this time and at such a juncture, dispel his fit of
anguish. His state is adequately described by:

  The shadow of a flower cannot err from the flower itself to the left
      or the right.
  The song of birds can only penetrate into the ear from the east or
  the
      west.

Lin Tai-yü was herself a prey to emotion and agitation, when unawares
sorrowful accents also struck her ear, from the direction of the mound.
"Every one," she cogitated, "laughs at me for labouring under a foolish
mania, but is there likely another fool besides myself?" She then
raised her head, and, casting a glance about her, she discovered that
it was Pao-yü. "Ts'ui!" eagerly cried Tai-yü, "I was wondering who it
was; but is it truly this ruthless-hearted and short-lived fellow!"

But the moment the two words "short-lived" dropped from her mouth, she
sealed her lips; and, heaving a deep sigh, she turned herself round and
hurriedly walked off.

Pao-yü, meanwhile, remained for a time a prey to melancholy. But
perceiving that Tai-yü had retired, he at once realised that she must
have caught sight of him and got out of his way; and, as his own
company afforded him no pleasure, he shook the dust off his clothes,
rose to his feet and descending the hill, he started for the I Hung
court by the path by which he had come. But he espied Tai-yü walking in
advance of him, and with rapid stride, he overtook her. "Stop a
little!" he cried. "I know you don't care a rap for me; but I'll just
make one single remark, and from this day forward we'll part company."

Tai-yü looked round. Observing that it was Pao-yü, she was about to
ignore him; hearing him however mention that he had only one thing to
say, "Please tell me what it is," she forthwith rejoined.

Pao-yü smiled at her. "If I pass two remarks will you listen to me; yes
or no?" he asked.

At these words, Tai-yü twisted herself round and beat a retreat. Pao-yü
however followed behind.

"Since this is what we've come to now," he sighed, "what was the use of
what existed between us in days gone by?"

As soon as Tai-yü heard his exclamation, she stopped short impulsively.
Turning her face towards him, "what about days gone by," she remarked,
"and what about now?"

"Ai!" ejaculated Pao-yü, "when you got here in days gone by, wasn't I
your playmate in all your romps and in all your fun? My heart may have
been set upon anything, but if you wanted it you could take it away at
once. I may have been fond of any eatable, but if I came to learn that
you too fancied it, I there and then put away what could be put away,
in a clean place, to wait, Miss, for your return. We had our meals at
one table; we slept in one and the same bed; whatever the servant-girls
could not remember, I reminded them of, for fear lest your temper,
Miss, should get ruffled. I flattered myself that cousins, who have
grown up together from their infancy, as you and I have, would have
continued, through intimacy or friendship, either would have done, in
peace and harmony until the end, so as to make it palpable that we are
above the rest. But, contrary to all my expectations, now that you,
Miss, have developed in body as well as in mind, you don't take the
least heed of me. You lay hold instead of some cousin Pao or cousin
Feng or other from here, there and everywhere and give them a place in
your affections; while on the contrary you disregard me for three days
at a stretch and decline to see anything of me for four! I have besides
no brother or sister of the same mother as myself. It's true there are
a couple of them, but these, are you not forsooth aware, are by another
mother! You and I are only children, so I ventured to hope that you
would have reciprocated my feelings. But, who'd have thought it, I've
simply thrown away this heart of mine, and here I am with plenty of
woes to bear, but with nowhere to go and utter them!"

While expressing these sentiments, tears, unexpectedly, trickled from
his eyes.

When Lin Tai-yü caught, with her ears, his protestations, and noticed
with her eyes his state of mind, she unconsciously experienced an
inward pang, and, much against her will, tears too besprinkled her
cheeks; so, drooping her head, she kept silent.

Her manner did not escape Pao-yü's notice. "I myself am aware," he
speedily resumed, "that I'm worth nothing now; but, however imperfect I
may be, I could on no account presume to become guilty of any
shortcoming with you cousin. Were I to ever commit the slightest fault,
your task should be either to tender me advice and warn me not to do it
again, or to blow me up a little, or give me a few whacks; and all this
reproof I wouldn't take amiss. But no one would have ever anticipated
that you wouldn't bother your head in the least about me, and that you
would be the means of driving me to my wits' ends, and so much out of
my mind and off my head, as to be quite at a loss how to act for the
best. In fact, were death to come upon me, I would be a spirit driven
to my grave by grievances. However much exalted bonzes and eminent
Taoist priests might do penance, they wouldn't succeed in releasing my
soul from suffering; for it would still be needful for you to clearly
explain the facts, so that I might at last be able to come to life."

After lending him a patient ear, Tai-yü suddenly banished from her
memory all recollection of the occurrences of the previous night.
"Well, in that case," she said, "why did you not let a servant-girl
open the door when I came over?"

This question took Pao-yü by surprise. "What prompts you to say this?"
he exclaimed. "If I have done anything of the kind, may I die at once."

"Psha!" cried Tai-yü, "it's not right that you-should recklessly broach
the subject of living or dying at this early morn! If you say yea, it's
yea; and nay, it's nay; what use is there to utter such oaths!"

"I didn't really see you come over," protested Pao-yü. "Cousin
Pao-ch'ai it was, who came and sat for a while and then left."

After some reflection, Lin Tai-yü smiled. "Yes," she observed, "your
servant-girls must, I fancy, have been too lazy to budge, grumpy and in
a cross-grained mood; this is probable enough."

"This is, I feel sure, the reason," answered Pao-yü, "so when I go
back,
I'll find out who it was, call them to task and put things right."

"Those girls of yours;" continued Tai-yü, "should be given a lesson,
but properly speaking it isn't for me to mention anything about it.
Their present insult to me is a mere trifle; but were to-morrow some
Miss Pao (precious) or some Miss Pei (jewel) or other to come, and were
she to be subjected to insult, won't it be a grave matter?"

While she taunted him, she pressed her lips, and laughed sarcastically.

Pao-yü heard her remarks and felt both disposed to gnash his teeth with
rage, and to treat them as a joke; but in the midst of their colloquy,
they perceived a waiting-maid approach and invite them to have their
meal.

Presently, the whole body of inmates crossed over to the front.

"Miss," inquired Madame Wang at the sight of Tai-yü, "have you taken
any of Dr. Pao's medicines? Do you feel any better?"

"I simply feel so-so," replied Lin Tai-yü, "but grandmother Chia
recommended me to go on taking Dr. Wang's medicines."

"Mother," Pao-yü interposed, "you've no idea that cousin Lin's is an
internal derangement; it's because she was born with a delicate
physique that she can't stand the slightest cold. All she need do is to
take a couple of closes of some decoction to dispel the chill; yet it's
preferable that she should have medicine in pills."

"The other day," said Madame Wang, "the doctor mentioned the name of
some pills, but I've forgotten what it is."

"I know something about pills," put in Pao-yü; "he merely told her to
take some pills or other called 'ginseng
as-a-restorative-of-the-system.'"

"That isn't it," Madame Wang demurred.

"The 'Eight-precious-wholesome-to-mother' pills," Pao-yü proceeded, "or
the 'Left-angelica' or 'Right-angelica;' if these also aren't the ones,
they must be the 'Eight-flavour Rehmannia-glutinosa' pills."

"None of these," rejoined Madame Wang, "for I remember well that there
were the two words chin kang (guardians in Buddhistic temples)."

"I've never before," observed Pao-yü, clapping his hands, "heard of the
existence of chin kang pills; but in the event of there being any chin
kang pills, there must, for a certainty, be such a thing as P'u Sa
(Buddha) powder."

At this joke, every one in the whole room burst out laughing. Pao-ch'ai
compressed her lips and gave a smile. "It must, I'm inclined to think,"
she suggested, "be the 'lord-of-heaven-strengthen-the-heart' pills!"

"Yes, that's the name," Madame Wang laughed, "why, now, I too have
become muddle-headed."

"You're not muddle-headed, mother," said Pao-yü, "it's the mention of
Chin kangs and Buddhas which confused you."

"Stuff and nonsense!" ejaculated Madame Wang. "What you want again is
your father to whip you!"

"My father," Pao-yü laughed, "wouldn't whip me for a thing like this."

"Well, this being their name," resumed Madame Wang, "you had better
tell some one to-morrow to buy you a few."

"All these drugs," expostulated Pao-yü, "are of no earthly use. Were
you, mother, to give me three hundred and sixty taels, I'll concoct a
supply of pills for my cousin, which I can certify will make her feel
quite herself again before she has finished a single supply."

"What trash!" cried Madame Wang. "What kind of medicine is there so
costly!"

"It's a positive fact," smiled Pao-yü. "This prescription of mine is
unlike all others. Besides, the very names of those drugs are quaint,
and couldn't be enumerated in a moment; suffice it to mention the
placenta of the first child; three hundred and sixty ginseng roots,
shaped like human beings and studded with leaves; four fat tortoises;
full-grown polygonum multiflorum; the core of the Pachyma cocos, found
on the roots of a fir tree of a thousand years old; and other such
species of medicines. They're not, I admit, out-of-the-way things; but
they are the most excellent among that whole crowd of medicines; and
were I to begin to give you a list of them, why, they'd take you all
quite aback. The year before last, I at length let Hsüeh P'an have this
recipe, after he had made ever so many entreaties during one or two
years. When, however, he got the prescription, he had to search for
another two or three years and to spend over and above a thousand taels
before he succeeded in having it prepared. If you don't believe me,
mother, you are at liberty to ask cousin Pao-ch'ai about it."

At the mention of her name, Pao-ch'ai laughingly waved her hand. "I
know nothing about it," she observed. "Nor have I heard anything about
it, so don't tell your mother to ask me any questions."

"Really," said Madame Wang smiling, "Pao-ch'ai is a good girl; she does
not tell lies."

Pao-yü was standing in the centre of the room. Upon hearing these
words, he turned round sharply and clapped his hands. "What I stated
just now," he explained, "was the truth; yet you maintain that it was
all lies."

As he defended himself, he casually looked round, and caught sight of
Lin Tai-yü at the back of Pao-ch'ai laughing with tight-set lips, and
applying her fingers to her face to put him to shame.

But Lady Feng, who had been in the inner rooms overseeing the servants
laying the table, came out at once, as soon as she overheard the
conversation. "Brother Pao tells no lies," she smilingly chimed in,
"this is really a fact. Some time ago cousin Hsüeh P'an came over in
person and asked me for pearls, and when I inquired of him what he
wanted them for, he explained that they were intended to compound some
medicine with; adding, in an aggrieved way, that it would have been
better hadn't he taken it in hand for he never had any idea that it
would involve such a lot of trouble! When I questioned him what the
medicine was, he returned for answer that it was a prescription of
brother Pao's; and he mentioned ever so many ingredients, which I don't
even remember. 'Under other circumstances,' he went on to say, 'I would
have purchased a few pearls, but what are absolutely wanted are such
pearls as have been worn on the head; and that's why I come to ask you,
cousin, for some. If, cousin, you've got no broken ornaments at hand,
in the shape of flowers, why, those that you have on your head will do
as well; and by and bye I'll choose a few good ones and give them to
you, to wear.' I had no other course therefore than to snap a couple of
twigs from some flowers I have, made of pearls, and to let him take
them away. One also requires a piece of deep red gauze, three feet in
length of the best quality; and the pearls must be triturated to powder
in a mortar."

After each sentence expressed by lady Feng, Pao-yü muttered an
invocation to Buddha. "The thing is as clear as sunlight now," he
remarked.

The moment lady Feng had done speaking, Pao-yü put in his word.
"Mother," he added, "you should know that this is a mere makeshift, for
really, according to the letter of the prescription, these pearls and
precious stones should, properly speaking, consist of such as had been
obtained from, some old grave and been worn as head-ornaments by some
wealthy and honourable person of bygone days. But how could one go now
on this account and dig up graves, and open tombs! Hence it is that
such as are simply in use among living persons can equally well be
substituted."

"O-mi-to-fu!" exclaimed Madame Wang, after listening to him throughout.
"That will never do, and what an arduous job to uselessly saddle one's
self with; for even though there be interred in some graves people,
who've been dead for several hundreds of years, it wouldn't be a
propitious thing were their corpses turned topsy-turvey now and the
bones abstracted; just for the sake of preparing some medicine or
other."

Pao-yü thereupon addressed himself to Tai-yü. "Have you heard what was
said or not?" he asked. "And is there, pray, any likelihood that cousin
Secunda would also follow in my lead and tell lies?"

While saying this, his eyes were, albeit his face was turned towards
Lin
Tai-yü, fixed upon Pao-ch'ai.

Lin Tai-yü pulled Madame Wang. "You just listen to him, aunt," she
observed. "All because cousin Pao-ch'ai would not accommodate him by
lying, he appeals to me."

"Pao-yü has a great knack," Madame Wang said, "of dealing
contemptuously with you, his cousin."

"Mother," Pao-yü smilingly protested, "you are not aware how the case
stands. When cousin Pao-ch'ai lived at home, she knew nothing whatever
about my elder cousin Hsüeh P'an's affairs, and how much less now that
she has taken up her quarters inside the garden? She, of course, knows
less than ever about them! Yet, cousin Lin just now stealthily treated
my statements as lies, and put me to the blush."

These words were still on his lips, when they perceived a waiting-maid,
from dowager lady Chia's apartments, come in quest of Pao-yü and Lin
Tai-yü to go and have their meal. Lin Tai-yü, however, did not even
call Pao-yü, but forthwith rising to her feet, she went along, dragging
the waiting-maid by the hand.

"Let's wait for master Secundus, Mr. Pao, to go along with us,"
demurred the girl.

"He doesn't want anything to eat," Lin Tai-yü replied; "he won't come
with us, so I'll go ahead." So saying she promptly left the room.

"I'll have my repast with my mother to-day," Pao-yü said.

"Not at all," Madame Wang remarked, "not at all. I'm going to fast
to-day, so it's only right and proper that you should go and have your
own."

"I'll also fast with you then," Pao-yü retorted.

As he spoke, he called out to the servant to go back, and rushing up to
the table, he took a seat.

Madame Wang faced Pao-ch'ai and her companions. "You, girls," she
observed, "had better have your meal, and let him have his own way!"

"It's only right that you should go," Pao-ch'ai smiled. "Whether you
have anything to eat or not, you should go over for a while to keep
company to cousin Lin, as she will be quite distressed and out of
spirits."

"Who cares about her!" Pao-yü rejoined, "she'll get all right again
after a time."

Shortly, they finished their repast. But Pao-yü apprehended, in the
first place, that his grandmother Chia, would be solicitous on his
account, and longed, in the second, to be with Lin Tai-yü, so he
hurriedly asked for some tea to rinse his mouth with.

"Cousin Secundus," T'an Ch'un and Hsi Ch'un interposed with an ironic
laugh, "what's the use of the hurry-scurry you're in the whole day
long! Even when you're having your meals, or your tea, you're in this
sort of fussy helter-skelter!"

"Make him hurry up and have his tea," Pao-ch'ai chimed in smiling, "so
that he may go and look up his cousin Lin. He'll be up to all kinds of
mischief if you keep him here!"

Pao-yü drank his tea. Then hastily leaving the apartment, he proceeded
straightway towards the eastern court. As luck would have it, the
moment he got near lady Feng's court, he descried lady Feng standing at
the gateway. While standing on the step, and picking her teeth with an
ear-cleaner, she superintended about ten young servant-boys removing
the flower-pots from place to place. As soon as she caught sight of
Pao-yü approaching, she put on a smiling face. "You come quite
opportunely," she said; "walk in, walk in, and write a few characters
for me."

Pao-yü had no option but to follow her in. When they reached the
interior of her rooms, lady Feng gave orders to a servant to fetch a
pen, inkslab and paper.

"Forty rolls of deep red ornamented satin," she began, addressing
herself to Pao-yü, "forty rolls of satin with dragons; a hundred rolls
of gauzes of every colour, of the finest quality; four gold
necklaces…."

"What's this?" Pao-yü shouted, "it is neither a bill; nor is it a list
of presents, and in what style shall I write it?"

Lady Feng remonstrated with him. "Just you go on writing," she said,
"for, in fact, as long as I can make out what it means, it's all that
is needed."

Pao-yü at this response felt constrained to proceed with the writing.

This our lady Feng put the paper by. As she did so, "I've still
something more to tell you," she smilingly pursued, "but I wonder
whether you will accede to it or not. There is in your rooms a
servant-maid, Hsiao Hung by name, whom I would like to bring over into
my service, and I'll select several girls to-morrow to wait on you;
will this do?"

"The servants in my quarters," answered Pao-yü, "muster a large crowd,
so that, cousin, you are at perfect liberty to send for any one of
them, who might take your fancy; what's the need therefore of asking me
about it?"

"If that be so," continued lady Feng laughingly, "I'll tell some one at
once to go and bring her over."

"Yes, she can go and fetch her," acquiesced Pao-yü.

While replying, he made an attempt to take his leave. "Come back,"
shouted lady Feng, "I've got something more to tell you."

"Our venerable senior has sent for me," Pao-yü rejoined; "if you have
anything to tell me you must wait till my return."

After this explanation, he there and then came over to his grandmother
Chia's on this side, where he found that they had already got through
their meal.

"Have you had anything nice to eat with your mother?" old lady Chia
asked.

"There was really nothing nice," Pao-yü smiled. "Yet I managed to have
a bowl of rice more than usual."

"Where's cousin Lin?" he then inquired.

"She's in the inner rooms," answered his grandmother.

Pao-yü stepped in. He caught sight of a waiting-maid, standing below,
blowing into an iron, and two servant-girls seated on the stove-couch
making a chalk line. Tai-yü with stooping head was cutting out
something or other with a pair of scissors she held in her hand.

Pao-yü advanced further in. "O! what's this that you are up to!" he
smiled. "You have just had your rice and do you bob your head down in
this way! Why, in a short while you'll be having a headache again!"

Tai-yü, however, did not heed him in the least, but busied herself
cutting out what she had to do.

"The corner of that piece of satin is not yet right," a servant-girl
put in. "You had better iron it again!"

Tai-yü threw down the scissors. "Why worry yourself about it?" she
said; "it will get quite right after a time."

But while Pao-yü was listening to what was being said, and was inwardly
feeling in low spirits, he became aware that Pao-ch'ai, T'an Ch'un and
the other girls had also arrived. After a short chat with dowager lady
Chia, Pao-ch'ai likewise entered the apartment to find out what her
cousin Lin was up to. The moment she espied Lin Tai-yü engaged in
cutting out something: "You have," she cried, "attained more skill than
ever; for there you can even cut out clothes!"

"This too," laughed Tai-yü sarcastically, "is a mere falsehood, to
hoodwink people with, nothing more."

"I'll tell you a joke," replied Pao-ch'ai smiling, "when I just now
said that I did not know anything about that medicine, cousin Pao-yü
felt displeased." "Who cares!" shouted Lin Tai-yü. "He'll get all right
shortly."

"Our worthy grandmother wishes to play at dominoes," Pao-yü thereupon
interposed directing his remarks to Pao-ch'ai; "and there's no one
there at present to have a game with her; so you'd better go and play
with her."

"Have I come over now to play dominoes!" promptly smiled Pao-ch'ai when
she heard his suggestion. With this remark, she nevertheless at once
quitted the room.

"It would be well for you to go," urged Lin Tai-yü, "for there's a
tiger in here; and, look out, he might eat you up."

As she spoke, she went on with her cutting.

Pao-yü perceived how loath she was to give him any of her attention,
and he had no alternative but to force a smile and to observe: "You
should also go for a stroll! It will be time enough by and bye to
continue your cutting."

But Tai-yü would pay no heed whatever to him. Pao-yü addressed himself
therefore to the servant-girls. "Who has taught her how to cut out
these things?" he asked.

"What does it matter who taught me how to cut?" Tai-yü vehemently
exclaimed, when she realised that he was speaking to the maids. "It's
no business of yours, Mr. Secundus."

Pao-yü was then about to say something in his defence when he saw a
servant come in and report that there was some one outside who wished
to see him. At this announcement, Pao-yü betook himself with alacrity
out of the room.

"O-mi-to-fu!" observed Tai-yü, turning outwards, "it wouldn't matter to
you if you found me dead on your return!"

On his arrival outside, Pao-yü discovered Pei Ming. "You are invited,"
he said, "to go to Mr. Feng's house."

Upon hearing this message, Pao-yü knew well enough that it was about
the project mooted the previous day, and accordingly he told him to go
and ask for his clothes, while he himself wended his steps into the
library.

Pei Ming came forthwith to the second gate and waited for some one to
appear. Seeing an old woman walk out, Pei Ming went up to her. "Our
Master Secundus, Mr. Pao," he told her, "is in the study waiting for
his out-door clothes; so do go in, worthy dame, and deliver the
message."

"It would be better," replied the old woman, "if you did not echo your
mother's absurdities! Our Master Secundus, Mr. Pao, now lives in the
garden, and all the servants, who attend on him, stay in the garden;
and do you again come and bring the message here?"

At these words, Pei Ming smiled. "You're quite right," he rejoined, "in
reproving me, for I've become quite idiotic."

So saying, he repaired with quick step to the second gate on the east
side, where, by a lucky hit, the young servant-boys on duty, were
kicking marbles on the raised road. Pei Ming explained to them the
object of his coming. A young boy thereupon ran in. After a long
interval, he, at length, made his appearance, holding, enfolded in his
arms, a bundle of clothes, which he handed to Pei Ming, who then
returned to the library. Pao-yü effected a change in his costume, and
giving directions to saddle his horse, he only took along with him the
four servant-boys, Pei Ming, Chu Lo, Shuang Jui and Shou Erh, and
started on his way. He reached Feng Tzu-ying's doorway by a short cut.
A servant announced his arrival, and Feng Tzu-ying came out and ushered
him in. Here he discovered Hsüeh P'an, who had already been waiting a
long time, and several singing-boys besides; as well as Chiang Yü-han,
who played female roles, and Yün Erh, a courtesan in the Chin Hsiang
court. The whole company exchanged salutations. They next had tea.
"What you said the other day," smiled Pao-yü, raising his cup, "about
good fortune coming out of evil fortune has preyed so much upon my
mind, both by day and night, that the moment I received your summons I
hurried to come immediately."

"My worthy cousins," rejoined Feng Tzu-ying smiling. "You're all far
too credulous! It's a mere hoax that I made use of the other day. For
so much did I fear that you would be sure to refuse if I openly asked
you to a drinking bout, that I thought it fit to say what I did. But
your attendance to-day, so soon after my invitation, makes it clear,
little though one would have thought it, that you've all taken it as
pure gospel truth."

This admission evoked laughter from the whole company. The wines were
afterwards placed on the table, and they took the seats consistent with
their grades. Feng Tzu-ying first and foremost called the singing-boys
and offered them a drink. Next he told Yün Erh to also approach and
have a cup of wine.

By the time, however, that Hsüeh P'an had had his third cup, he of a
sudden lost control over his feelings, and clasping Yün Erh's hand in
his: "Do sing me," he smiled, "that novel ballad of your own
composition; and I'll drink a whole jar full. Eh, will you?"

This appeal compelled Yün Erh to take up the guitar. She then sang:

  Lovers have I two.
  To set aside either I cannot bear.
  When my heart longs for thee to come,
  It also yearns for him.
  Both are in form handsome and fair.
  Their beauty to describe it would be hard.
  Just think, last night, when at a silent hour, we met in secret, by
      the trellis
  frame laden with roses white,
  One to his feelings stealthily was giving vent,
  When lo, the other caught us in the act,
  And laying hands on us; there we three stood like litigants before
  the
      bar.
  And I had, verily, no word in answer for myself to give.

At the close of her song, she laughed. "Well now," she cried, "down
with that whole jar!"

"Why, it isn't worth a jarful," smiled Hsüeh P'an at these words.
"Favour us with some other good song!"

"Listen to what I have to suggest," Pao-yü interposed, a smile on his
lips. "If you go on drinking in this reckless manner, we will easily
get drunk and there will be no fun in it. I'll take the lead and
swallow a large cupful and put in force a new penalty; and any one of
you who doesn't comply with it, will be mulcted in ten large cupfuls,
in quick succession!"

Speedily rising from the banquet, he poured the wine for the company.
Feng Tzu-ying and the rest meanwhile exclaimed with one voice: "Quite
right! quite right!"

Pao-yü then lifted a large cup and drained it with one draught. "We
will now," he proposed, "dilate on the four characters, 'sad, wounded,
glad and joyful.' But while discoursing about young ladies, we'll have
to illustrate the four states as well. At the end of this recitation,
we'll have to drink the 'door cup' over the wine, to sing an original
and seasonable ballad, while over the heel taps, to make allusion to
some object on the table, and devise something with some old poetical
lines or ancient scrolls, from the Four Books or the Five Classics, or
with some set phrases."

Hsüeh P'an gave him no time to finish. He was the first to stand up and
prevent him from proceeding. "I won't join you, so don't count me; this
is, in fact, done in order to play tricks upon me."

Yün Erh, however, also rose to her feet and shoved him down into his
seat.

"What are you in such a funk for?" she laughed. "You're fortunate
enough to be able to drink wine daily, and can't you, forsooth, even
come up to me? Yet I mean to recite, by and bye, my own share. If you
say what's right, well and good; if you don't, you will simply have to
swallow several cups of wine as a forfeit, and is it likely you'll die
from drunkenness? Are you, pray, going now to disregard this rule and
to drink, instead, ten large cups; besides going down to pour the
wine?"

One and all clapped in applause. "Well said!" they shouted.

After this, Hüeh P'an had no way out of it and felt compelled to resume
his seat.

They then heard Pao-yü recite:

  A girl is sad,
  When her spring-time of life is far advanced and she still occupies a
      vacant inner-room.
  A girl feels wounded in her heart,
  When she regrets having allowed her better half to go abroad and win
  a
      marquisdom.
  A girl is glad,
  When looking in the mirror, at the time of her morning toilette, she
      finds her colour fair.
  A girl is joyful,
  What time she sits on the frame of a gallows-swing, clad in a thin
      spring gown.

Having listened to him, "Capital!" one and all cried out in a chorus.
Hsüeh P'an alone raised his face, shook his head and remarked: "It
isn't good, he must be fined."

"Why should he be fined?" demurred the party.

"Because," retorted Hsüeh P'an, "what he says is entirely
unintelligible to me. So how can he not be fined?"

Yün Erh gave him a pinch.—"Just you quietly think of yours," she
laughed; "for if by and bye you are not ready you'll also have to bear
a fine."

In due course Pao-yü took up the guitar. He was heard to sing:

  "When mutual thoughts arise, tears, blood-stained, endless drop, like
      lentiles sown broadcast.
  In spring, in ceaseless bloom nourish willows and flowers around the
      painted tower.
  Inside the gauze-lattice peaceful sleep flies, when, after dark, come
      wind and rain.
  Both new-born sorrows and long-standing griefs cannot from memory
  ever
      die!
  E'en jade-fine rice, and gold-like drinks they make hard to go down;
      they choke the throat.
  The lass has not the heart to desist gazing in the glass at her wan
      face.
  Nothing can from that knitted brow of hers those frowns dispel;
  For hard she finds it patient to abide till the clepsydra will have
      run its course.
  Alas! how fitly like the faint outline of a green hill which nought
      can screen;
  Or like a green-tinged stream, which ever ceaseless floweth onward
  far
      and wide!"

When the song drew to an end, his companions with one voice cried out:
"Excellent!"

Hsüeh P'an was the only one to find fault. "There's no metre in them,"
he said.

Pao-yü quaffed the "opening cup," then seizing a pear, he added:

"While the rain strikes the pear-blossom I firmly close the door,"

and thus accomplished the requirements of the rule.

Feng Tzu-ying's turn came next.

"A maid is glad."

he commenced:

  When at her first confinement she gives birth to twins, both sons.
  A maid is joyful,
  When on the sly she to the garden creeps crickets to catch.
  A maid is sad,
  When her husband some sickness gets and lies in a bad state.
  A maiden is wounded at heart,
  When a fierce wind blows down the tower, where she makes her
  toilette.

Concluding this recitation, he raised the cup and sang:

  "Thou art what one could aptly call a man.
  But thou'rt endowed with somewhat too much heart!
  How queer thou art, cross-grained and impish shrewd!
  A spirit too, thou couldst not be more shrewd.
  If all I say thou dost not think is true,
  In secret just a minute search pursue;
  For then thou'lt know if I love thee or not."

His song over, he drank the "opening cup" and then observed:

"The cock crows when the moon's rays shine upon the thatchèd inn."

After his observance of the rule followed Yün Erh's turn.

A girl is sad,

Yün Erh began,

  When she tries to divine on whom she will depend towards the end of
      life.

"My dear child!" laughingly exclaimed Hsüeh P'an, "your worthy Mr.
Hsüeh still lives, and why do you give way to fears?"

"Don't confuse her!" remonstrated every one of the party, "don't muddle
her!"

"A maiden is wounded at heart."

Yün Erh proceeded:

  "When her mother beats and scolds her and never for an instant doth
       desist."

"It was only the other day," interposed Hsüeh P'an, "that I saw your
mother and that I told her that I would not have her beat you."

"If you still go on babbling," put in the company with one consent,
"you'll be fined ten cups."

Hsüeh P'an promptly administered himself a slap on the mouth. "How you
lack the faculty of hearing!" he exclaimed. "You are not to say a word
more!"

"A girl is glad,"

Yün Erh then resumed:

  When her lover cannot brook to leave her and return home.
  A maiden is joyful,
  When hushing the pan-pipe and double pipe, a stringed instrument she
      thrums.

At the end of her effusion, she at once began to sing:

  "T'is the third day of the third moon, the nutmegs bloom;
  A maggot, lo, works hard to pierce into a flower;
  But though it ceaseless bores it cannot penetrate.
  So crouching on the buds, it swing-like rocks itself.
  My precious pet, my own dear little darling,
  If I don't choose to open how can you steal in?"

Finishing her song, she drank the "opening cup," after which she added:
"the delicate peach-blossom," and thus complied with the exigencies of
the rule.

Next came Hsüeh P'an. "Is it for me to speak now?" Hsüeh P'an asked.

"A maiden is sad…"

But a long time elapsed after these words were uttered and yet nothing
further was heard.

"Sad for what?" Feng Tzu-ying laughingly asked. "Go on and tell us at
once!"

Hsüeh P'an was much perplexed. His eyes rolled about like a bell.

"A girl is sad…"

he hastily repeated. But here again he coughed twice before he
proceeded.

"A girl is sad."

he said:

"When she marries a spouse who is a libertine."

This sentence so tickled the fancy of the company that they burst out
into a loud fit of laughter.

"What amuses you so?" shouted Hsüeh P'an, "is it likely that what I say
is not correct? If a girl marries a man, who chooses to forget all
virtue, how can she not feel sore at heart?"

But so heartily did they all laugh that their bodies were bent in two.
"What you say is quite right," they eagerly replied. "So proceed at
once with the rest."

Hsüeh P'an thereupon stared with vacant gaze.

"A girl is grieved…."

he added:

But after these few words he once more could find nothing to say.

"What is she grieved about?" they asked.

"When a huge monkey finds its way into the inner room."

Hsüeh P'an retorted.

This reply set every one laughing. "He must be mulcted," they cried,
"he must be mulcted. The first one could anyhow be overlooked; but this
line is more unintelligible."

As they said this, they were about to pour the wine, when Pao-yü
smilingly interfered. "The rhyme is all right," he observed.

"The master of the rules," Hsüeh P'an remarked, "approves it in every
way, so what are you people fussing about?"

Hearing this, the company eventually let the matter drop.

"The two lines, that follow, are still more difficult," suggested Yün
Erh with a smile, "so you had better let me recite for you."

"Fiddlesticks!" exclaimed Hsüeh P'an, "do you really fancy that I have
no good ones! Just you listen to what I shall say.

 "A girl is glad,
  When in the bridal room she lies, with flowery candles burning, and
      she is loth to rise at morn."

This sentiment filled one and all with amazement. "How supremely
excellent this line is!" they ejaculated.

"A girl is joyful,"

Hsüeh P'an resumed,

"During the consummation of wedlock."

Upon catching this remark, the party turned their heads away, and
shouted: "Dreadful! Dreadful! But quick sing your song and have done."

Forthwith Hsüeh P'an sang:

"A mosquito buzzes heng, heng, heng!"

Every one was taken by surprise. "What kind of song is this?" they
inquired.

But Hsüeh P'an went on singing:

"Two flies buzz weng, weng, weng."

"Enough," shouted his companions, "that will do, that will do!"

"Do you want to hear it or not?" asked Hsüeh P'an, "this is a new kind
of song, called the 'Heng, heng air,' but if you people are not
disposed to listen, let me off also from saying what I have to say over
the heel-taps and I won't then sing."

"We'll let you off! We'll let you off," answered one and all, "so don't
be hindering others."

"A maiden is sad,"

Chiang Yü-han at once began,

  When her husband leaves home and never does return.
  A maiden is disconsolate,
  When she has no money to go and buy some _olea frangrans_ oil.
  A maiden is glad,
  When the wick of the lantern forms two heads like twin flowers on one
      stem.
  A maiden is joyful,
  When true conjugal peace prevails between her and her mate.

His recital over, he went on to sing:

  "How I love thee with those seductive charms of thine, heaven-born!
  In truth thou'rt like a living fairy from the azure skies!
  The spring of life we now enjoy; we are yet young in years.
  Our union is, indeed, a happy match!
  But. lo! the milky way doth at its zenith soar;
  Hark to the drums which beat around in the watch towers;
  So raise the silver lamp and let us soft under the nuptial curtain
      steal."

Finishing the song, he drank the "opening cup." "I know," he smiled,
"few poetical quotations bearing on this sort of thing. By a stroke of
good fortune, however, I yesterday conned a pair of antithetical
scrolls; of these I can only remember just one line, but lucky enough
for me the object it refers to figures as well on this festive board."

This said he forthwith drained the wine, and, picking up a bud of a
diminutive variety of _olea fragrans_, he recited:

  "When the perfume of flowers wafts (hsi jen) itself into a man, he
      knows the day is warm."

The company unanimously conceded that the rule had been adhered to. But
Hsüeh P'an once again jumped up. "It's awful, awful!" he bawled out
boisterously; "he should be fined, he should be made to pay a forfeit;
there's no precious article whatever on this table; how is it then that
you introduce precious things?"

"There was nothing about precious things!" Chiang Yü-han vehemently
explained.

"What I are you still prevaricating?" Hsüeh P'an cried, "Well, repeat
it again!"

Chiang Yü-han had no other course but to recite the line a second time.
"Now is not Hsi Jen a precious thing?" Hsüeh P'an asked. "If she isn't,
what is she? And if you don't believe me, you ask him about it,"
pointing, at the conclusion of this remark, at Pao-yü.

Pao-yü felt very uncomfortable. Rising to his feet, "Cousin," he
observed, "you should be fined heavily."

"I should be! I should be!" Hsüeh P'an shouted, and saying this, he
took up the wine and poured it down his throat with one gulp.

Feng Tzu-ying, Chiang Yü-han and their companions thereupon asked him
to explain the allusion. Yün Erh readily told them, and Chiang Yü-han
hastily got up and pleaded guilty.

"Ignorance," the party said with one consent, "does not amount to
guilt."

But presently Pao-yü quitted the banquet to go and satisfy a natural
want and Chiang Yü-han followed him out. The two young fellows halted
under the eaves of the verandah, and Chiang Yü-han then recommenced to
make ample apologies. Pao-yü, however, was so attracted by his handsome
and genial appearance, that he took quite a violent fancy to him; and
squeezing his hand in a firm grip. "If you have nothing to do," he
urged, "do let us go over to our place. I've got something more to ask
you. It's this, there's in your worthy company some one called Ch'i
Kuan, with a reputation extending at present throughout the world; but,
unfortunately, I alone have not had the good luck of seeing him even
once."

"This is really," rejoined Chiang Yü-han with a smile, "my own infant
name."

This disclosure at once made Pao-yü quite exuberant, and stamping his
feet he smiled. "How lucky! I'm in luck's way!" he exclaimed. "In very
truth your reputation is no idle report. But to-day is our first
meeting, and what shall I do?"

After some thought, he produced a fan from his sleeve, and, unloosening
one of the jade pendants, he handed it to Ch'i Kuan. "This is a mere
trifle," he said. "It does not deserve your acceptance, yet it will be
a small souvenir of our acquaintance to-day."

Ch'i Kuan received it with a smile. "I do not deserve," he replied,
"such a present. How am I worthy of such an honour! But never mind,
I've also got about me here a strange thing, which I put on this
morning; it is brand-new yet, and will, I hope, suffice to prove to you
a little of the feeling of esteem which I entertain for you."

With these protestations, he raised his garment, and, untying a deep
red sash, with which his nether clothes were fastened, he presented it
to Pao-yü. "This sash," he remarked, "is an article brought as tribute
from the Queen of the Hsi Hsiang Kingdom. If you attach this round you
in summer, your person will emit a fragrant perfume, and it will not
perspire. It was given to me yesterday by the Prince of Pei Ching, and
it is only to-day that I put it on. To any one else, I would certainly
not be willing to present it. But, Mr. Secundus, please do unfasten the
one you have on and give it to me to bind round me."

This proposal extremely delighted Pao-yü. With precipitate haste, he
accepted his gift, and, undoing the dark brown sash he wore, he
surrendered it to Ch'i Kuan. But both had just had time to adjust their
respective sashes when they heard a loud voice say: "Oh! I've caught
you!" And they perceived Hsüeh P'an come out by leaps and bounds.
Clutching the two young fellows, "What do you," he exclaimed, "leave
your wine for and withdraw from the banquet. Be quick and produce those
things, and let me see them!"

"There's nothing to see!" rejoined the two young fellows with one
voice.

Hsüeh P'an, however, would by no means fall in with their views. And it
was only Feng Tzu-ying, who made his appearance on the scene, who
succeeded in dissuading him. So resuming their seats, they drank until
dark, when the company broke up.

Pao-yü, on his return into the garden, loosened his clothes, and had
tea. But Hsi Jen noticed that the pendant had disappeared from his fan
and she inquired of him what had become of it.

"I must have lost it this very moment," Pao-yü replied.

At bedtime, however, descrying a deep red sash, with spots like specks
of blood, attached round his waist, Hsi Jen guessed more or less the
truth of what must have transpired. "As you have such a nice sash to
fasten your trousers with," Hsi Jen consequently said, "you'd better
return that one of mine."

This reminder made the fact dawn upon Pao-yü that the sash had
originally been the property of Hsi Jen, and that he should by rights
not have parted with it; but however much he felt his conscience
smitten by remorse, he failed to see how he could very well disclose
the truth to her. He could therefore only put on a smiling expression
and add, "I'll give you another one instead."

Hsi Jen was prompted by his rejoinder to nod her head and sigh. "I felt
sure;" she observed; "that you'd go again and do these things! Yet you
shouldn't take my belongings and bestow them on that low-bred sort of
people. Can it be that no consideration finds a place in your heart?"

She then felt disposed to tender him a few more words of admonition,
but dreading, on the other hand, lest she should, by irritating him,
bring the fumes of the wine to his head, she thought it best to also
retire to bed.

Nothing worth noticing occurred during that night. The next day, when
she woke up at the break of day, she heard Pao-yü call out laughingly:
"Robbers have been here in the night; are you not aware of it? Just you
look at my trousers."

Hsi Jen lowered her head and looked. She saw at a glance that the sash,
which Pao-yü had worn the previous day, was bound round her own waist,
and she at once realised that Pao-yü must have effected the change
during the night; but promptly unbinding it, "I don't care for such
things!" she cried, "quick, take it away!"

At the sight of her manner, Pao-yü had to coax her with gentle terms.
This so disarmed Hsi Jen, that she felt under the necessity of putting
on the sash; but, subsequently when Pao-yü stepped out of the
apartment, she at last pulled it off, and, throwing it away in an empty
box, she found one of hers and fastened it round her waist.

Pao-yü, however, did not in the least notice what she did, but inquired
whether anything had happened the day before.

"Lady Secunda," Hsi Jen explained, "dispatched some one and fetched
Hsiao Hung away. Her wish was to have waited for your return; but as I
thought that it was of no consequence, I took upon myself to decide,
and sent her off."

"That's all right!" rejoined Pao-yü. "I knew all about it, there was no
need for her to wait."

"Yesterday," resumed Hsi Jen, "the Imperial Consort deputed the Eunuch
Hsia to bring a hundred and twenty ounces of silver and to convey her
commands that from the first to the third, there should be offered, in
the Ch'ing Hsu temple, thanksgiving services to last for three days and
that theatrical performances should be given, and oblations presented:
and to tell our senior master, Mr. Chia Chen, to take all the
gentlemen, and go and burn incense and worship Buddha. Besides this,
she also sent presents for the dragon festival."

Continuing, she bade a young servant-maid produce the presents, which
had been received the previous day. Then he saw two palace fans of the
best quality, two strings of musk-scented beads, two rolls of silk, as
fine as the phoenix tail, and a superior mat worked with hibiscus. At
the sight of these things, Pao-yü was filled with immeasurable
pleasure, and he asked whether the articles brought to all the others
were similar to his.

"The only things in excess of yours that our venerable mistress has,"
Hsi Jen explained, "consist of a scented jade sceptre and a pillow made
of agate. Those of your worthy father and mother, our master and
mistress, and of your aunt exceed yours by a scented sceptre of jade.
Yours are the same as Miss Pao's. Miss Lin's are like those of Misses
Secunda, Tertia and Quarta, who received nothing beyond a fan and
several pearls and none of all the other things. As for our senior
lady, Mrs. Chia Chu, and lady Secunda, these two got each two rolls of
gauze, two rolls of silk, two scented bags, and two sticks of
medicine."

After listening to her enumeration, "What's the reason of this?" he
smiled. "How is it that Miss Lin's are not the same as mine, but that
Miss Pao's instead are like my own? May not the message have been
wrongly delivered?"

"When they were brought out of the palace yesterday," Hsi Jen rejoined,
"they were already divided in respective shares, and slips were also
placed on them, so that how could any mistake have been made? Yours
were among those for our dowager lady's apartments. When I went and
fetched them, her venerable ladyship said that I should tell you to go
there to-morrow at the fifth watch to return thanks.

"Of course, it's my duty to go over," Pao-yü cried at these words, but
forthwith calling Tzu Chüan: "Take these to your Miss Lin," he told
her, "and say that I got them, yesterday, and that she is at liberty to
keep out of them any that take her fancy."

Tzu Chüan expressed her obedience and took the things away. After a
short time she returned. "Miss Lin says," she explained, "that she also
got some yesterday, and that you, Master Secundus, should keep yours."

Hearing this reply, Pao-yü quickly directed a servant to put them away.
But when he had washed his face and stepped out of doors, bent upon
going to his grandmother's on the other side, in order to pay his
obeisance, he caught sight of Lin Tai-yü coming along towards him, from
the opposite direction. Pao-yü hurriedly walked up to her, "I told
you," he smiled, "to select those you liked from my things; how is it
you didn't choose any?"

Lin Tai-yü had long before banished from her recollection the incident
of the previous day, which had made her angry with Pao-yü, and was only
exercised about the occurrence of this present occasion. "I'm not
gifted with such extreme good fortune," she consequently answered, "as
to be able to accept them. I can't compete with Miss Pao, in connection
with whom something or other about gold or about jade is mentioned. We
are simply beings connected with the vegetable kingdom."

The allusion to the two words "gold and jade," aroused, of a sudden,
much emotion in the heart of Pao-yü. "If beyond what people say about
gold or jade," he protested, "the idea of any such things ever crosses
my mind, may the heavens annihilate me, and may the earth extinguish
me, and may I for ten thousand generations never assume human form!"

These protestations convinced Lin Tai-yü that suspicion had been
aroused in him. With all promptitude, she smiled and observed, "They're
all to no use! Why utter such oaths, when there's no rhyme or reason!
Who cares about any gold or any jade of yours!"

"It would be difficult for me to tell you, to your face, all the
secrets of my heart," Pao-yü resumed, "but by and bye you'll surely
come to know all about them! After the three—my old grandmother, my
father and my mother—you, my cousin, hold the fourth place; and, if
there be a fifth, I'm ready to swear another oath."

"You needn't swear any more," Lin Tai-yü replied, "I'm well aware that
I, your younger cousin, have a place in your heart; but the thing is
that at the sight of your elder cousin, you at once forget all about
your younger cousin."

"This comes again from over-suspicion!" ejaculated Pao; "for I'm not at
all disposed that way."

"Well," resumed Lin Tai-yü, "why did you yesterday appeal to me when
that hussey Pao-ch'ai would not help you by telling a story? Had it
been I, who had been guilty of any such thing, I don't know what you
wouldn't have done again."

But during their _tête-a-tête_, they espied Pao-ch'ai approach from the
opposite direction, so readily they beat a retreat. Pao-ch'ai had
distinctly caught sight of them, but pretending she had not seen them,
she trudged on her way, with lowered head, and repaired into Madame
Wang's apartments. After a short stay, she came to this side to pay
dowager lady Chia a visit. With her she also found Pao-yü.

Pao-ch'ai ever made it a point to hold Pao-yü aloof as her mother had
in days gone by mentioned to Madame Wang and her other relatives that
the gold locket had been the gift of a bonze, that she had to wait
until such time as some suitor with jade turned up before she could be
given in marriage, and other similar confidences. But on discovery the
previous day that Yüan Ch'un's presents to her alone resembled those of
Pao-yü, she began to feel all the more embarrassed. Luckily, however,
Pao-yü was so entangled in Lin Tai-yü's meshes and so absorbed in heart
and mind with fond thoughts of his Lin Tai-yü that he did not pay the
least attention to this circumstance. But she unawares now heard Pao-yü
remark with a smile: "Cousin Pao, let me see that string of scented
beads of yours!"

By a strange coincidence, Pao-ch'ai wore the string of beads round her
left wrist so she had no alternative, when Pao-yü asked her for it,
than to take it off. Pao-ch'ai, however, was naturally inclined to
embonpoint, and it proved therefore no easy matter for her to get the
beads off; and while Pao-yü stood by watching her snow-white arm,
feelings of admiration were quickly stirred up in his heart. "Were this
arm attached to Miss Lin's person," he secretly pondered, "I might,
possibly have been able to caress it! But it is, as it happens, part
and parcel of her body; how I really do deplore this lack of good
fortune."

Suddenly he bethought himself of the secret of gold and jade, and he
again scanned Pao-ch'ai's appearance. At the sight of her countenance,
resembling a silver bowl, her eyes limpid like water and almond-like in
shape, her lips crimson, though not rouged, her eyebrows jet-black,
though not pencilled, also of that fascination and grace which
presented such a contrast to Lin Tai-yü's style of beauty, he could not
refrain from falling into such a stupid reverie, that though Pao-ch'ai
had got the string of beads off her wrist, and was handing them to him,
he forgot all about them and made no effort to take them. Pao-ch'ai
realised that he was plunged in abstraction, and conscious of the
awkward position in which she was placed, she put down the string of
beads, and turning round was on the point of betaking herself away,
when she perceived Lin Tai-yü, standing on the door-step, laughing
significantly while biting a handkerchief she held in her mouth. "You
can't resist," Pao-ch'ai said, "a single puff of wind; and why do you
stand there and expose yourself to the very teeth of it?"

"Wasn't I inside the room?" rejoined Lin Tai-yü, with a cynical smile.
"But I came out to have a look as I heard a shriek in the heavens; it
turned out, in fact, to be a stupid wild goose!"

"A stupid wild goose!" repeated Pao-ch'ai. "Where is it, let me also
see it!"

"As soon as I got out," answered Lin Tai-yü, "it flew away with a
't'e-rh' sort of noise."

While replying, she threw the handkerchief, she was holding, straight
into Pao-yü's face. Pao-yü was quite taken by surprise. He was hit on
the eye. "Ai-yah!" he exclaimed.

But, reader, do you want to hear the sequel? In that case, listen to
the circumstances, which will be disclosed in the next chapter.




CHAPTER XXIX.


  A happy man enjoys a full measure of happiness, but still prays for
      happiness.
  A beloved girl is very much loved, but yet craves for more love.

Pao-yü, so our story runs, was gazing vacantly, when Tai-yü, at a
moment least expected, flung her handkerchief at him, which just hit
him on the eyes, and frightened him out of his wits. "Who was it?" he
cried.

Lin Tai-yü nodded her head and smiled. "I would not venture to do such
a thing," she said, "it was a mere slip of my hand. As cousin Pao-ch'ai
wished to see the silly wild goose, I was pointing it out to her, when
the handkerchief inadvertently flew out of my grip."

Pao-yü kept on rubbing his eyes. The idea suggested itself to him to
make some remonstrance, but he could not again very well open his lips.

Presently, lady Feng arrived. She then alluded, in the course of
conversation, to the thanksgiving service, which was to be offered on
the first, in the Ch'ing Hsü temple, and invited Pao-ch'ai, Pao-yü,
Tai-yü and the other inmates with them to be present at the
theatricals.

"Never mind," smiled Pao-ch'ai, "it's too hot; besides, what plays
haven't I seen? I don't mean to come."

"It's cool enough over at their place," answered lady Feng. "There are
also two-storied buildings on either side; so we must all go! I'll send
servants a few days before to drive all that herd of Taoist priests
out, to sweep the upper stories, hang up curtains, and to keep out
every single loafer from the interior of the temple; so it will be all
right like that. I've already told our Madame Wang that if you people
don't go, I mean to go all alone, as I've been again in very low
spirits these last few days, and as when theatricals come off at home,
it's out of the question for me to look on with any peace and quiet."

When dowager lady Chia heard what she said, she smiled. "Well, in that
case," she remarked, "I'll go along with you."

Lady Feng, at these words, gave a smile. "Venerable ancestor," she
replied, "were you also to go, it would be ever so much better; yet I
won't feel quite at my ease!"

"To-morrow," dowager lady Chia continued, "I can stay in the
two-storied building, situated on the principal site, while you can go
to the one on the side. You can then likewise dispense with coming over
to where I shall be to stand on any ceremonies. Will this suit you or
not?"

"This is indeed," lady Feng smiled, "a proof of your regard for me, my
worthy senior."

Old lady Chia at this stage faced Pao-ch'ai. "You too should go," she
said, "so should your mother; for if you remain the whole day long at
home, you will again sleep your head off."

Pao-ch'ai felt constrained to signify her assent. Dowager lady Chia
then also despatched domestics to invite Mrs. Hsüeh; and, on their way,
they notified Madame Wang that she was to take the young ladies along
with her. But Madame Wang felt, in the first place, in a poor state of
health, and was, in the second, engaged in making preparations for the
reception of any arrivals from Yüan Ch'un, so that she, at an early
hour, sent word that it was impossible for her to leave the house. Yet
when she received old lady Chia's behest, she smiled and exclaimed:
"Are her spirits still so buoyant!" and transmitted the message into
the garden that any, who had any wish to avail themselves of the
opportunity, were at liberty to go on the first, with their venerable
senior as their chaperonne. As soon as these tidings were spread
abroad, every one else was indifferent as to whether they went or not;
but of those girls who, day after day, never put their foot outside the
doorstep, which of them was not keen upon going, the moment they heard
the permission conceded to them? Even if any of their respective
mistresses were too lazy to move, they employed every expedient to
induce them to go. Hence it was that Li Kung-ts'ai and the other
inmates signified their unanimous intention to be present. Dowager lady
Chia, at this, grew more exultant than ever, and she issued immediate
directions for servants to go and sweep and put things in proper order.
But to all these preparations, there is no necessity of making detailed
reference; sufficient to relate that on the first day of the moon,
carriages stood in a thick maze, and men and horses in close concourse,
at the entrance of the Jung Kuo mansion.

When the servants, the various managers and other domestics came to
learn that the Imperial Consort was to perform good deeds and that
dowager lady Chia was to go in person and offer incense, they arranged,
as it happened that the first of the moon, which was the principal day
of the ceremonies, was, in addition, the season of the dragon-boat
festival, all the necessary articles in perfect readiness and with
unusual splendour. Shortly, old lady Chia and the other inmates started
on their way. The old lady sat in an official chair, carried by eight
bearers: widow Li, lady Feng and Mrs. Hsüeh, each in a four-bearer
chair. Pao-ch'ai and Tai-yü mounted together a curricle with green
cover and pearl tassels, bearing the eight precious things. The three
sisters, Ying Ch'un, T'an Ch'un, and Hsi Ch'un got in a carriage with
red wheels and ornamented hood. Next in order, followed dowager lady
Chia's waiting-maids, Yüan Yang, Ying Wu, Hu Po, Chen Chu; Lin Tai-yü's
waiting-maids Tzu Chüan, Hsüeh Yen, and Ch'un Ch'ien; Pao-ch'ai's
waiting-maids Ying Erh and Wen Hsing; Ying Ch'un's servant-girls Ssu
Ch'i and Hsiu Chü; T'an Ch'un's waiting-maids Shih Shu and Ts'ui Mo;
Hsi Ch'un's servant-girls Ju Hua and Ts'ai P'ing; and Mrs. Hsüeh's
waiting-maids T'ung Hsi, and T'ung Kuei. Besides these, were joined to
their retinue: Hsiang Ling and Hsiang Ling's servant-girl Ch'in Erh;
Mrs. Li's waiting-maids Su Yün and Pi Yüeh; lady Feng's servant-girls
P'ing Erh, Feng Erh and Hsiao Hung, as well as Madame Wang's two
waiting-maids Chin Ch'uan and Ts'ai Yün. Along with lady Feng, came a
nurse carrying Ta Chieh Erh. She drove in a separate carriage, together
with a couple of servant-girls. Added also to the number of the suite
were matrons and nurses, attached to the various establishments, and
the wives of the servants of the household, who were in attendance out
of doors. Their carriages, forming one black solid mass, therefore,
crammed the whole extent of the street.

Dowager lady Chia and other members of the party had already proceeded
a considerable distance in their chairs, and yet the inmates at the
gate had not finished mounting their vehicles. This one shouted: "I
won't sit with you." That one cried: "You've crushed our mistress'
bundle." In the carriages yonder, one screamed: "You've pulled my
flowers off." Another one nearer exclaimed: "You've broken my fan." And
they chatted and chatted, and talked and laughed with such incessant
volubility, that Chou Jui's wife had to go backward and forward calling
them to task. "Girls," she said, "this is the street. The on-lookers
will laugh at you!" But it was only after she had expostulated with
them several times that any sign of improvement became at last visible.

The van of the procession had long ago reached the entrance of the
Ch'ing Hsü Temple. Pao-yü rode on horseback. He preceded the chair
occupied by his grandmother Chia. The throngs that filled the streets
ranged themselves on either side.

On their arrival at the temple, the sound of bells and the rattle of
drums struck their ear. Forthwith appeared the head-bonze Chang, a
stick of incense in hand; his cloak thrown over his shoulders. He took
his stand by the wayside at the head of a company of Taoist priests to
present his greetings. The moment dowager lady Chia reached, in her
chair, the interior of the main gate, she descried the lares and
penates, the lord presiding over that particular district, and the clay
images of the various gods, and she at once gave orders to halt. Chia
Chen advanced to receive her acting as leader to the male members of
the family. Lady Feng was well aware that Yüan Yang and the other
attendants were at the back and could not overtake their old mistress,
so she herself alighted from her chair to volunteer her services. She
was about to hastily press forward and support her, when, by a strange
accident, a young Taoist neophyte, of twelve or thirteen years of age,
who held a case containing scissors, with which he had been snuffing
the candles burning in the various places, just seized the opportunity
to run out and hide himself, when he unawares rushed, head foremost,
into lady Feng's arms. Lady Feng speedily raised her hand and gave him
such a slap on the face that she made the young fellow reel over and
perform a somersault. "You boorish young bastard!" she shouted, "where
are you running to?"

The young Taoist did not even give a thought to picking up the
scissors, but crawling up on to his feet again, he tried to scamper
outside. But just at that very moment Pao-ch'ai and the rest of the
young ladies were dismounting from their vehicles, and the matrons and
women-servants were closing them in so thoroughly on all sides that not
a puff of wind or a drop of rain could penetrate, and when they
perceived a Taoist neophyte come rushing headlong out of the place,
they, with one voice, exclaimed: "Catch him, catch him! Beat him, beat
him!"

Old lady Chia overheard their cries. She asked with alacrity what the
fuss was all about. Chia Chen immediately stepped outside to make
inquiries. Lady Feng then advanced and, propping up her old senior, she
went on to explain to her that a young Taoist priest, whose duties were
to snuff the candles, had not previously retired out of the compound,
and that he was now endeavouring to recklessly force his way out."

"Be quick and bring the lad here," shouted dowager lady Chia, as soon
as she heard her explanation, "but, mind, don't frighten him. Children
of mean families invariably get into the way of being spoilt by
over-indulgence. How ever could he have set eyes before upon such
display as this! Were you to frighten him, he will really be much to be
pitied; and won't his father and mother be exceedingly cut up?"

As she spoke, she asked Chia Chen to go and do his best to bring him
round. Chia Chen felt under the necessity of going, and he managed to
drag the lad into her presence. With the scissors still clasped in his
hand, the lad fell on his knees, and trembled violently.

Dowager lady Chia bade Chia Chen raise him up. "There's nothing to
fear!" she said reassuringly. Then she asked him how old he was.

The boy, however, could on no account give vent to speech.

"Poor boy!" once more exclaimed the old lady. And continuing: "Brother
Chen," she added, addressing herself to Chia Chen, "take him away, and
give him a few cash to buy himself fruit with; and do impress upon
every one that they are not to bully him."

Chia Chen signified his assent and led him off.

During this time, old lady Chia, taking along with her the whole family
party, paid her devotions in storey after storey, and visited every
place.

The young pages, who stood outside, watched their old mistress and the
other inmates enter the second row of gates. But of a sudden they
espied Chia Chen wend his way outwards, leading a young Taoist priest,
and calling the servants to come, say; "Take him and give him several
hundreds of cash and abstain from ill-treating him." At these orders,
the domestics approached with hurried step and led him off.

Chia Chen then inquired from the terrace-steps where the majordomo was.
At this inquiry, the pages standing below, called out in chorus,
"Majordomo!"

Lin Chih-hsiao ran over at once, while adjusting his hat with one hand,
and appeared in the presence of Chia Chen.

"Albeit this is a spacious place," Chia Chen began, "we muster a good
concourse to-day, so you'd better bring into this court those servants,
who'll be of any use to you, and send over into that one those who
won't. And choose a few from among those young pages to remain on duty,
at the second gate and at the two side entrances, so as to ask for
things and deliver messages. Do you understand me, yes or no? The young
ladies and ladies have all come out of town to-day, and not a single
outsider must be permitted to put his foot in here."

"I understand," replied Lin Chih-hsiao hurriedly signifying his
obedience. Next he uttered several yes's.

"Now," proceeded Chia Chen; "you can go on your way. But how is it, I
don't see anything of Jung Erh?" he went on to ask.

This question was barely out of his lips, when he caught sight of Jung
Erh running out of the belfry. "Look at him," shouted Chia Chen. "Look
at him! I don't feel hot in here, and yet he must go in search of a
cool place. Spit at him!" he cried to the family servants.

The young pages were fully aware that Chia Chen's ordinary disposition
was such that he could not brook contradiction, and one of the lads
speedily came forward and sputtered in Chia Jung's face. But Chia Chen
still kept his gaze fixed on him, so the young page had to inquire of
Chia Jung: "Master doesn't feel hot here, and how is it that you, Sir,
have been the first to go and get cool?"

Chia Jung however dropped his arms, and did not venture to utter a
single sound. Chia Yün, Chia P'ing, Chia Ch'in and the other young
people overheard what was going on and not only were they scared out of
their wits, but even Chia Lien, Chia Pin, Chia Ch'ung and their
companions were stricken with intense fright and one by one they
quietly slipped down along the foot of the wall.

"What are you standing there for?" Chia Chen shouted to Chia Jung.
"Don't you yet get on your horse and gallop home and tell your mother
that our venerable senior is here with all the young ladies, and bid
them come at once and wait upon them?"

As soon as Chia Jung heard these words, he ran out with hurried stride
and called out repeatedly for his horse. Now he felt resentment,
arguing within himself: "Who knows what he has been up to the whole
morning, that he now finds fault with me!" Now he went on to abuse the
young servants, crying: "Are your hands made fast, that you can't lead
the horse round?" And he felt inclined to bid a servant-boy go on the
errand, but fearing again lest he should subsequently be found out, and
be at a loss how to account for his conduct he felt compelled to
proceed in person; so mounting his steed, he started on his way.

But to return to Chia Chen. Just as he was about to be take himself
inside, he noticed the Taoist Chang, who stood next to him, force a
smile. "I'm not properly speaking," he remarked, "on the same footing
as the others and should be in attendance inside, but as on account of
the intense heat, the young ladies have come out of doors, I couldn't
presume to take upon myself to intrude and ask what your orders, Sir,
are. But the dowager lady may possibly inquire about me, or may like to
visit any part of the temple, so I shall wait in here."

Chia Chen was fully cognisant that this Taoist priest, Chang, had, it
is true, in past days, stood as a substitute for the Duke of the Jung
Kuo mansion, but that the former Emperor had, with his own lips,
conferred upon him the appellation of the 'Immortal being of the Great
Unreal,' that he held at present the seal of 'Taoist Superior,' that
the reigning Emperor had raised him to the rank of the 'Pure man,' that
the princes, now-a-days, dukes, and high officials styled him the
"Supernatural being," and he did not therefore venture to treat him
with any disrespect. In the second place, (he knew that) he had paid
frequent visits to the mansions, and that he had made the acquaintance
of the ladies and young ladies, so when he heard his present remark he
smilingly rejoined. "Do you again make use of such language amongst
ourselves? One word more, and I'll take that beard of yours, and
outroot it! Don't you yet come along with me inside?"

"Hah, hah," laughed the Taoist Chang aloud, as he followed Chia Chen
in. Chia Chen approached dowager lady Chia. Bending his body he
strained a laugh. "Grandfather Chang," he said, "has come in to pay his
respects."

"Raise him up!" old lady Chia vehemently called out.

Chia Chen lost no time in pulling him to his feet and bringing him
over.

The Taoist Chang first indulged in loud laughter. "Oh Buddha of
unlimited years!" he then observed. "Have you kept all right and in
good health, throughout, venerable Senior? Have all the ladies and
young ladies continued well? I haven't been for some time to your
mansion to pay my obeisance, but you, my dowager lady, have improved
more and more."

"Venerable Immortal Being!" smiled old lady Chia, "how are you; quite
well?"

"Thanks to the ten thousand blessings he has enjoyed from your hands,"
rejoined Chang the Taoist, "your servant too continues pretty strong
and hale. In every other respect, I've, after all, been all right; but
I have felt much concern about Mr. Pao-yü. Has he been all right all
the time? The other day, on the 26th of the fourth moon, I celebrated
the birthday of the 'Heaven-Pervading-Mighty-King;' few people came and
everything went off right and proper. I told them to invite Mr. Pao to
come for a stroll; but how was it they said that he wasn't at home?"

"It was indeed true that he was away from home," remarked dowager lady
Chia. As she spoke, she turned her head round and called Pao-yü.

Pao-yü had, as it happened, just returned from outside where he had
been to make himself comfortable, and with speedy step, he came
forward. "My respects to you, grandfather Chang," he said.

The Taoist Chang eagerly clasped him in his arms and inquired how he
was getting on. Turning towards old lady Chia, "Mr. Pao," he observed,
"has grown fatter than ever."

"Outwardly, his looks," replied dowager lady Chia, "may be all right,
but, inwardly, he is weak. In addition to this, his father presses him
so much to study that he has again and again managed, all through this
bullying, to make his child fall sick."

"The other day," continued Chang the Taoist, "I went to several places
on a visit, and saw characters written by Mr. Pao and verses composed
by him, all of which were exceedingly good; so how is it that his
worthy father still feels displeased with him, and maintains that Mr.
Pao is not very fond of his books? According to my humble idea, he
knows quite enough. As I consider Mr. Pao's face, his bearing, his
speech and his deportment," he proceeded, heaving a sigh, "what a
striking resemblance I find in him to the former duke of the Jung
mansion!" As he uttered these words, tears rolled down his cheeks.

At these words, old lady Chia herself found it hard to control her
feelings. Her face became covered with the traces of tears. "Quite so,"
she assented, "I've had ever so many sons and grandsons, and not one of
them betrayed the slightest resemblance to his grandfather; and this
Pao-yü turns out to be the very image of him!"

"What the former duke of Jung Kuo was like in appearance," Chang, the
Taoist went on to remark, addressing himself to Chia Chen, "you
gentlemen, and your generation, were, of course, needless to say, not
in time to see for yourselves; but I fancy that even our Senior master
and our Master Secundus have but a faint recollection of it."

This said, he burst into another loud fit of laughter. "The other day,"
he resumed, "I was at some one's house and there I met a young girl,
who is this year in her fifteenth year, and verily gifted with a
beautiful face, and I bethought myself that Mr. Pao must also have a
wife found for him. As far as looks, intelligence and mental talents,
extraction and family standing go, this maiden is a suitable match for
him. But as I didn't know what your venerable ladyship would have to
say about it, your servant did not presume to act recklessly, but
waited until I could ascertain your wishes before I took upon myself to
open my mouth with the parties concerned."

"Some time ago," responded dowager lady Chia, "a bonze explained that
it was ordained by destiny that this child shouldn't be married at an
early age, and that we should put things off until he grew somewhat in
years before anything was settled

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