“Hah, hah,” roared the Taoist Chang, “just see how my eyes must have grown dim! I didn’t notice that you, my lady, were in here; nor did I express one word of thanks to you! The talisman of ‘Recorded Name’ is ready long ago. I meant to have sent it over the day before yesterday, but the unforeseen visit of the Empress to perform meritorious deeds upset my equilibrium, and made me quite forget it. But it’s still placed before the gods, and if you will wait I’ll go and fetch it.”
Saying this, he rushed into the main hall. Presently, he returned with a tea-tray in hand, on which was spread a deep red satin cover, brocaded with dragons. In this, he presented the charm. Ta Chieh-erh’s nurse took it from him.
But just as the Taoist was on the point of taking Ta Chieh-erh in his embrace, lady Feng remarked with a smile: “It would have been sufficient if you’d carried it in your hand! And why use a tray to lay it on?”
“My hands aren’t clean,” replied the Taoist Chang, “so how could I very well have taken hold of it? A tray therefore made things much cleaner!”
“When you produced that tray just now,” laughed lady Feng, “you gave me quite a start; I didn’t imagine that it was for the purpose of bringing the charm in. It really looked as if you were disposed to beg donations of us.”
This observation sent the whole company into a violent fit of laughter. Even Chia Chen could not suppress a smile.
“What a monkey!” dowager lady Chia exclaimed, turning her head round. “What a monkey you are! Aren’t you afraid of going down to that Hell, where tongues are cut off?”
“I’ve got nothing to do with any men whatever,” rejoined lady Feng laughing, “and why does he time and again tell me that it’s my bounden duty to lay up a store of meritorious deeds; and that if I’m remiss, my life will be short?”
Chang, the Taoist, indulged in further laughter. “I brought out,” he explained, “the tray so as to kill two birds with one stone. It wasn’t, however, to beg for donations. On the contrary, it was in order to put in it the jade, which I meant to ask Mr. Pao to take off, so as to carry it outside and let all those Taoist friends of mine, who come from far away, as well as my neophytes and the young apprentices, see what it’s like.”
“Well, since that be the case,” added old lady Chia, “why do you, at your age, try your strength by running about the whole day long? Take him at once along and let them see it! But were you to have called him in there, wouldn’t it have saved a lot of trouble?”
“Your venerable ladyship,” resumed Chang, the Taoist, “isn’t aware that though I be, to look at, a man of eighty, I, after all, continue, thanks to your protection, my dowager lady, quite hale and strong. In the second place, there are crowds of people in the outer rooms; and the smells are not agreeable. Besides it’s a very hot day and Mr. Pao couldn’t stand the heat as he is not accustomed to it. So were he to catch any disease from the filthy odours, it would be a grave thing!”
After these forebodings old lady Chia accordingly desired Pao-yü to unclasp the jade of Spiritual Perception, and to deposit it in the tray. The Taoist, Chang, carefully ensconced it in the folds of the wrapper, embroidered with dragons, and left the room, supporting the tray with both his hands.
During this while, dowager lady Chia and the other inmates devoted more of their time in visiting the various places. But just as they were on the point of going up the two-storied building, they heard Chia Chen shout: “Grandfather Chang has brought back the jade.”
As he spoke, the Taoist Chang was seen advancing up to them, the tray in hand. “The whole company,” he smiled, “were much obliged to me. They think Mr. Pao’s jade really lovely! None of them have, however, any suitable gifts to bestow. These are religious articles, used by each of them in propagating the doctrines of Reason, but they’re all only too ready to give them as congratulatory presents. If, Mr. Pao, you don’t fancy them for anything else, just keep them to play with or to give away to others.”
Dowager lady Chia, at these words, looked into the tray. She discovered that its contents consisted of gold signets, and jade rings, or sceptres, implying: “may you have your wishes accomplished in everything,” or “may you enjoy peace and health from year to year;” that the various articles were strung with pearls or inlaid with precious stones, worked in jade or mounted in gold; and that they were in all from thirty to fifty.
“What nonsense you’re talking!” she then exclaimed. “Those people are all divines, and where could they have rummaged up these things? But what need is there for any such presents? He may, on no account, accept them.”
“These are intended as a small token of their esteem,” responded Chang, the Taoist, smiling, “your servant cannot therefore venture to interfere with them. If your venerable ladyship will not keep them, won’t you make it patent to them that I’m treated contemptuously, and unlike what one should be, who has joined the order through your household?”
Only when old lady Chia heard these arguments did she direct a servant to receive the presents.
“Venerable senior,” Pao-yü smilingly chimed in. “After the reasons advanced by grandfather Chang, we cannot possibly refuse them. But albeit I feel disposed to keep these things, they are of no avail to me; so would it not be well were a servant told to carry the tray and to follow me out of doors, that I may distribute them to the poor?
“You are perfectly right in what you say!” smiled dowager lady Chia.
The Taoist Chang, however, went on speedily to use various arguments to dissuade him. “Mr. Pao,” he observed, “your intention is, it is true, to perform charitable acts; but though you may aver that these things are of little value, you’ll nevertheless find among them several articles you might turn to some account. Were you to let the beggars have them, why they will, first of all, be none the better for them; and, next, it will contrariwise be tantamount to throwing them away! If you want to distribute anything among the poor, why don’t you dole out cash to them?”
“Put them by!” promptly shouted Pao-yü, after this rejoinder, “and when evening comes, take a few cash and distribute them.”
These directions given, Chang, the Taoist, retired out of the place.
Dowager lady Chia and her companions thereupon walked upstairs and sat in the main part of the building. Lady Feng and her friends adjourned into the eastern part, while the waiting-maids and servants remained in the western portion, and took their turns in waiting on their mistresses.
Before long, Chia Chen came back. “The plays,” he announced, “have been chosen by means of slips picked out before the god. The first one on the list is the ‘Record of the White Snake.'”
“Of what kind of old story does ‘the record of the white snake,’ treat?” old lady Chia inquired.
“The story about Han Kao-tsu,” replied Chia Chen, “killing a snake and then ascending the throne. The second play is, ‘the Bed covered with ivory tablets.'”
“Has this been assigned the second place?” asked dowager lady Chia. “Yet never mind; for as the gods will it thus, there is no help than not to demur. But what about the third play?” she went on to inquire.
“The Nan Ko dream is the third,” Chia Chen answered.
This response elicited no comment from dowager lady Chia. Chia Chen therefore withdrew downstairs, and betook himself outside to make arrangements for the offerings to the gods, for the paper money and eatables that had to be burnt, and for the theatricals about to begin. So we will leave him without any further allusion, and take up our narrative with Pao-yü.
Seating himself upstairs next to old lady Chia, he called to a servant-girl to fetch the tray of presents given to him a short while back, and putting on his own trinket of jade, he fumbled about with the things for a bit, and picking up one by one, he handed them to his grandmother to admire. But old lady Chia espied among them a unicorn, made of purplish gold, with kingfisher feathers inserted, and eagerly extending her arm, she took it up. “This object,” she smiled, “seems to me to resemble very much one I’ve seen worn also by the young lady of some household or other of ours.”
“Senior cousin, Shih Hsiang-yün,” chimed in Pao-ch’ai, a smile playing on her lips, “has one, but it’s a trifle smaller than this.”
“Is it indeed Yün-erh who has it?” exclaimed old lady Chia.
“Now that she lives in our house,” remarked Pao-yü, “how is it that even I haven’t seen anything of it?”
“Cousin Pao-ch’ai,” rejoined T’an Ch’un laughingly, “has the power of observation; no matter what she sees, she remembers.”
Lin Tai-yü gave a sardonic smile. “As far as other matters are concerned,” she insinuated, “her observation isn’t worth speaking of; where she’s extra-observant is in articles people may wear about their persons.”
Pao-chai, upon catching this sneering remark, at once turned her head round, and pretended she had not heard. But as soon as Pao-yü learnt that Shih Hsiang-yün possessed a similar trinket, he speedily picked up the unicorn, and hid it in his breast, indulging, at the same time, in further reflection. Yet, fearing lest people might have noticed that he kept back that particular thing the moment he discovered that Shih Hsiang-yün had one identical with it, he fixed his eyes intently upon all around while clutching it. He found however that not one of them was paying any heed to his movements except Lin Tai-yü, who, while gazing at him was, nodding her head, as if with the idea of expressing her admiration. Pao-yü, therefore, at once felt inwardly ill at ease, and pulling out his hand, he observed, addressing himself to Tai-yü with an assumed smile, “This is really a fine thing to play with; I’ll keep it for you, and when we get back home, I’ll pass a ribbon through it for you to wear.” “I don’t care about it,” said Lin Tai-yü, giving her head a sudden twist.
“Well,” continued Pao-yü laughingly, “if you don’t like it, I can’t do otherwise than keep it myself.”
Saying this, he once again thrust it away. But just as he was about to open his lips to make some other observation, he saw Mrs. Yu, the spouse of Chia Chen, arrive along with the second wife recently married by Chia Jung, that is, his mother and her daughter-in-law, to pay their obeisance to dowager lady Chia.
“What do you people rush over here for again?” old lady Chia inquired.
“I came here for a turn, simply because I had nothing to do.”
But no sooner was this inquiry concluded than they heard a messenger announce: “that some one had come from the house of general Feng.”
The family of Feng Tzu-ying had, it must be explained, come to learn the news that the inmates of the Chia mansion were offering a thanksgiving service in the temple, and, without loss of time, they got together presents of pigs, sheep, candles, tea and eatables and sent them over. The moment lady Feng heard about it she hastily crossed to the main part of the two-storied building. “Ai-ya;” she ejaculated, clapping her hands and laughing. “I never expected anything of the sort; we merely said that we ladies were coming for a leisurely stroll and people imagined that we were spreading a sumptuous altar with lenten viands and came to bring us offerings! But it’s all our old lady’s fault for bruiting it about! Why, we haven’t even got any slips of paper with tips ready.”
She had just finished speaking, when she perceived two matrons, who acted as house-keepers in the Feng family, walk upstairs. But before the Feng servants could take their leave, presents likewise arrived, in quick succession, from Chao, the Vice-President of the Board. In due course, one lot of visitors followed another. For as every one got wind of the fact that the Chia family was having thanksgiving services, and that the ladies were in the temple, distant and close relatives, friends, old friends and acquaintances all came to present their contributions. So much so, that dowager lady Chia began at this juncture to feel sorry that she had ever let the cat out of the bag. “This is no regular fasting,” she said, “we simply have come for a little change; and we should not have put any one to any inconvenience!” Although therefore she was to have remained present all day at the theatrical performance, she promptly returned home soon after noon, and the next day she felt very loth to go out of doors again.
“By striking the wall, we’ve also stirred up dust,” lady Feng argued. “Why we’ve already put those people to the trouble so we should only be too glad to-day to have another outing.”
But as when dowager lady Chia interviewed the Taoist Chang, the previous day, he made allusion to Pao-yü and canvassed his engagement, Pao-yü experienced, little as one would have thought it, much secret displeasure during the whole of that day, and on his return home he flew into a rage and abused Chang, the rationalistic priest, for harbouring designs to try and settle a match for him. At every breath and at every word he resolved that henceforward he would not set eyes again upon the Taoist Chang. But no one but himself had any idea of the reason that actuated him to absent himself. In the next place, Lin Tai-yü began also, on her return the day before, to ail from a touch of the sun, so their grandmother was induced by these two considerations to remain firm in her decision not to go. When lady Feng, however, found that she would not join them, she herself took charge of the family party and set out on the excursion.
But without descending to particulars, let us advert to Pao-yü. Seeing that Lin Tai-yü had fallen ill, he was so full of solicitude on her account that he even had little thought for any of his meals, and not long elapsed before he came to inquire how she was.
Tai-yü, on her part, gave way to fear lest anything should happen to him, (and she tried to re-assure him). “Just go and look at the plays,” she therefore replied, “what’s the use of boxing yourself up at home?”
Pao-yü was, however, not in a very happy frame of mind on account of the reference to his marriage made by Chang, the Taoist, the day before, so when he heard Lin Tai-yü’s utterances: “If others don’t understand me;” he mused, “it’s anyhow excusable; but has she too begun to make fun of me?” His heart smarted in consequence under the sting of a mortification a hundred times keener than he had experienced up to that occasion. Had he been with any one else, it would have been utterly impossible for her to have brought into play feelings of such resentment, but as it was no other than Tai-yü who spoke the words, the impression produced upon him was indeed different from that left in days gone by, when others employed similar language. Unable to curb his feelings, he instantaneously lowered his face. “My friendship with you has been of no avail” he rejoined. “But, never mind, patience!”
This insinuation induced Lin Tai-yü to smile a couple of sarcastic smiles. “Yes, your friendship with me has been of no avail,” she repeated; “for how can I compare with those whose manifold qualities make them fit matches for you?”
As soon as this sneer fell on Pao-yü’s ear he drew near to her. “Are you by telling me this,” he asked straight to her face, “deliberately bent upon invoking imprecations upon me that I should be annihilated by heaven and extinguished by earth?”
Lin Tai-yü could not for a time fathom the import of his remarks. “It was,” Pao-yü then resumed, “on account of this very conversation that I yesterday swore several oaths, and now would you really make me repeat another one? But were the heavens to annihilate me and the earth to extinguish me, what benefit would you derive?”
This rejoinder reminded Tai-yü of the drift of their conversation on the previous day. And as indeed she had on this occasion framed in words those sentiments, which should not have dropped from her lips, she experienced both annoyance and shame, and she tremulously observed: “If I entertain any deliberate intention to bring any harm upon you, may I too be destroyed by heaven and exterminated by earth! But what’s the use of all this! I know very well that the allusion to marriage made yesterday by Chang, the Taoist, fills you with dread lest he might interfere with your choice. You are inwardly so irate that you come and treat me as your malignant influence.”
Pao-yü, the fact is, had ever since his youth developed a peculiar kind of mean and silly propensity. Having moreover from tender infancy grown up side by side with Tai-Yü, their hearts and their feelings were in perfect harmony. More, he had recently come to know to a great extent what was what, and had also filled his head with the contents of a number of corrupt books and licentious stories. Of all the eminent and beautiful girls that he had met too in the families of either distant or close relatives or of friends, not one could reach the standard of Lin Tai-yü. Hence it was that he commenced, from an early period of his life, to foster sentiments of love for her; but as he could not very well give utterance to them, he felt time and again sometimes elated, sometimes vexed, and wont to exhaust every means to secretly subject her heart to a test.
Lin Tai-yü happened, on the other hand, to possess in like manner a somewhat silly disposition; and she too frequently had recourse to feigned sentiments to feel her way. And as she began to conceal her true feelings and inclinations and to simply dissimulate, and he to conceal his true sentiments and wishes and to dissemble, the two unrealities thus blending together constituted eventually one reality. But it was hardly to be expected that trifles would not be the cause of tiffs between them. Thus it was that in Pao-yü’s mind at this time prevailed the reflection: “that were others unable to read my feelings, it would anyhow be excusable; but is it likely that you cannot realise that in my heart and in my eyes there is no one else besides yourself. But as you were not able to do anything to dispel my annoyance, but made use, instead, of the language you did to laugh at me, and to gag my mouth, it’s evident that though you hold, at every second and at every moment, a place in my heart, I don’t, in fact, occupy a place in yours.” Such was the construction attached to her conduct by Pao-yü, yet he did not have the courage to tax her with it.
“If, really, I hold a place in your heart,” Lin Tai-yü again reflected, “why do you, albeit what’s said about gold and jade being a fit match, attach more importance to this perverse report and think nothing of what I say? Did you, when I so often broach the subject of this gold and jade, behave as if you, verily, had never heard anything about it, I would then have seen that you treat me with preference and that you don’t harbour the least particle of a secret design. But how is it that the moment I allude to the topic of gold and jade, you at once lose all patience? This is proof enough that you are continuously pondering over that gold and jade, and that as soon as you hear me speak to you about them, you apprehend that I shall once more give way to conjectures, and intentionally pretend to be quite out of temper, with the deliberate idea of cajoling me!”
These two cousins had, to all appearances, once been of one and the same mind, but the many issues, which had sprung up between them, brought about a contrary result and made them of two distinct minds.
“I don’t care what you do, everything is well,” Pao-yü further argued, “so long as you act up to your feelings; and if you do, I shall be ever only too willing to even suffer immediate death for your sake. Whether you know this or not, doesn’t matter; it’s all the same. Yet were you to just do as my heart would have you, you’ll afford me a clear proof that you and I are united by close ties and that you are no stranger to me!”
“Just you mind your own business,” Lin Tai-yü on her side cogitated. “If you will treat me well, I’ll treat you well. And what need is there to put an end to yourself for my sake? Are you not aware that if you kill yourself, I’ll also kill myself? But this demonstrates that you don’t wish me to be near to you, and that you really want that I should be distant to you.”
It will thus be seen that the desire, by which they were both actuated, to strive and draw each other close and ever closer became contrariwise transformed into a wish to become more distant. But as it is no easy task to frame into words the manifold secret thoughts entertained by either, we will now confine ourselves to a consideration of their external manner.
The three words “a fine match,” which Pao-yü heard again Lin Tai-yü pronounce proved so revolting to him that his heart got full of disgust and he was unable to give utterance to a single syllable. Losing all control over his temper, he snatched from his neck the jade of Spiritual Perception and, clenching his teeth, he spitefully dashed it down on the floor. “What rubbishy trash!” he cried. “I’ll smash you to atoms and put an end to the whole question!”
The jade, however, happened to be of extraordinary hardness, and did not, after all, sustain the slightest injury from this single fall. When Pao-yü realised that it had not broken, he forthwith turned himself round to get the trinket with the idea of carrying out his design of smashing it, but Tai-yü divined his intention, and soon started crying. “What’s the use of all this!” she demurred, “and why, pray, do you batter that dumb thing about? Instead of smashing it, wouldn’t it be better for you to come and smash me!”
But in the middle of their dispute, Tzu Chüan, Hsüeh Yen and the other maids promptly interfered and quieted them. Subsequently, however, they saw how deliberately bent Pao-yü was upon breaking the jade, and they vehemently rushed up to him to snatch it from his hands. But they failed in their endeavours, and perceiving that he was getting more troublesome than he had ever been before, they had no alternative but to go and call Hsi Jen. Hsi Jen lost no time in running over and succeeded, at length, in getting hold of the trinket.
“I’m smashing what belongs to me,” remarked Pao-yü with a cynical smile, “and what has that to do with you people?”
Hsi Jen noticed that his face had grown quite sallow from anger, that his eyes had assumed a totally unusual expression, and that he had never hitherto had such a fit of ill-temper and she hastened to take his hand in hers and to smilingly expostulate with him. “If you’ve had a tiff with your cousin,” she said, “it isn’t worth while flinging this down! Had you broken it, how would her heart and face have been able to bear the mortification?”
Lin Tai-yü shed tears and listened the while to her remonstrances. Yet these words, which so corresponded with her own feelings, made it clear to her that Pao-yü could not even compare with Hsi Jen and wounded her heart so much more to the quick that she began to weep aloud. But the moment she got so vexed she found it hard to keep down the potion of boletus and the decoction, for counter-acting the effects of the sun, she had taken only a few minutes back, and with a retch she brought everything up. Tzu Chüan immediately pressed to her side and used her handkerchief to stop her mouth with. But mouthful succeeded mouthful, and in no time the handkerchief was soaked through and through.
Hsüeh Yen then approached in a hurry and tapped her on the back.
“You may, of course, give way to displeasure,” Tzu Chüan argued; “but you should, after all, take good care of yourself Miss. You had just taken the medicines and felt the better for them; and here you now begin vomitting again; and all because you’ve had a few words with our master Secundus. But should your complaint break out afresh how will Mr. Pao bear the blow?”
The moment Pao-yü caught this advice, which accorded so thoroughly with his own ideas, he found how little Tai-yü could hold her own with Tzu Chüan. And perceiving how flushed Tai-yü’s face was, how her temples were swollen, how, while sobbing, she panted; and how, while crying, she was suffused with perspiration, and betrayed signs of extreme weakness, he began, at the sight of her condition, to reproach himself. “I shouldn’t,” he reflected, “have bandied words with her; for now that she’s got into this frame of mind, I mayn’t even suffer in her stead!”
The self-reproaches, however, which gnawed his heart made it impossible for him to refrain from tears, much as he fought against them. Hsi Jen saw them both crying, and while attending to Pao-yü, she too unavoidably experienced much soreness of heart. She nevertheless went on rubbing Pao-yü’s hands, which were icy cold. She felt inclined to advise Pao-yü not to weep, but fearing again lest, in the first place, Pao-yü might be inwardly aggrieved, and nervous, in the next, lest she should not be dealing rightly by Tai-yü, she thought it advisable that they should all have a good cry, as they might then be able to leave off. She herself therefore also melted into tears. As for Tzu-Chüan, at one time, she cleaned the expectorated medicine; at another, she took up a fan and gently fanned Tai-yü. But at the sight of the trio plunged in perfect silence, and of one and all sobbing for reasons of their own, grief, much though she did to struggle against it, mastered her feelings too, and producing a handkerchief, she dried the tears that came to her eyes. So there stood four inmates, face to face, uttering not a word and indulging in weeping.
Shortly, Hsi Jen made a supreme effort, and smilingly said to Pao-yü: “If you don’t care for anything else, you should at least have shown some regard for those tassels, strung on the jade, and not have wrangled with Miss Lin.”
Tai-yü heard these words, and, mindless of her indisposition, she rushed over, and snatching the trinket, she picked up a pair of scissors, lying close at hand, bent upon cutting the tassels. Hsi Jen and Tzu Chüan were on the point of wresting it from her, but she had already managed to mangle them into several pieces.
“I have,” sobbed Tai-yü, “wasted my energies on them for nothing; for he doesn’t prize them. He’s certain to find others to string some more fine tassels for him.”
Hsi Jen promptly took the jade. “Is it worth while going on in this way!” she cried. “But this is all my fault for having blabbered just now what should have been left unsaid.”
“Cut it, if you like!” chimed in Pao-yü, addressing himself to Tai-yü. “I will on no account wear it, so it doesn’t matter a rap.”
But while all they minded inside was to create this commotion, they little dreamt that the old matrons had descried Tai-yü weep bitterly and vomit copiously, and Pao-yü again dash his jade on the ground, and that not knowing how far the excitement might not go, and whether they themselves might not become involved, they had repaired in a body to the front, and reported the occurrence to dowager lady Chia and Madame Wang, their object being to try and avoid being themselves implicated in the matter. Their old mistress and Madame Wang, seeing them make so much of the occurrence as to rush with precipitate haste to bring it to their notice, could not in the least imagine what great disaster might not have befallen them, and without loss of time they betook themselves together into the garden and came to see what the two cousins were up to.
Hsi Jen felt irritated and harboured resentment against Tzu Chüan, unable to conceive what business she had to go and disturb their old mistress and Madame Wang. But Tzu Chüan, on the other hand, presumed that it was Hsi Jen, who had gone and reported the matter to them, and she too cherished angry feelings towards Hsi Jen.
Dowager lady Chia and Madame Wang walked into the apartment. They found Pao-yü on one side saying not a word. Lin Tai-yü on the other uttering not a sound. “What’s up again?” they asked. But throwing the whole blame upon the shoulders of Hsi Jen and Tzu Chüan, “why is it,” they inquired, “that you were not diligent in your attendance on them. They now start a quarrel, and don’t you exert yourselves in the least to restrain them?”
Therefore with obloquy and hard words they rated the two girls for a time in such a way that neither of them could put in a word by way of reply, but felt compelled to listen patiently. And it was only after dowager lady Chia had taken Pao-yü away with her that things quieted down again.
One day passed. Then came the third of the moon. This was Hsüeh Pan’s birthday, so in their house a banquet was spread and preparations made for a performance; and to these the various inmates of the Chia mansion went. But as Pao-yü had so hurt Tai-yü’s feelings, the two cousins saw nothing whatever of each other, and conscience-stricken, despondent and unhappy, as he was at this time could he have had any inclination to be present at the plays? Hence it was that he refused to go on the pretext of indisposition.
Lin Tai-yü had got, a couple of days back, but a slight touch of the sun and naturally there was nothing much the matter with her. When the news however reached her that he did not intend to join the party, “If with his weakness for wine and for theatricals,” she pondered within herself, “he now chooses to stay away, instead of going, why, that quarrel with me yesterday must be at the bottom of it all. If this isn’t the reason, well then it must be that he has no wish to attend, as he sees that I’m not going either. But I should on no account have cut the tassels from that jade, for I feel sure he won’t wear it again. I shall therefore have to string some more on to it, before he puts it on.”
On this account the keenest remorse gnawed her heart.
Dowager lady Chia saw well enough that they were both under the influence of temper. “We should avail ourselves of this occasion,” she said to herself, “to go over and look at the plays, and as soon as the two young people come face to face, everything will be squared.” Contrary to her expectations neither of them would volunteer to go. This so exasperated their old grandmother that she felt vexed with them. “In what part of my previous existence could an old sufferer like myself,” she exclaimed, “have incurred such retribution that my destiny is to come across these two troublesome new-fledged foes! Why, not a single day goes by without their being instrumental in worrying my mind! The proverb is indeed correct which says: ‘that people who are not enemies are not brought together!’ But shortly my eyes shall be closed, this breath of mine shall be snapped, and those two enemies will be free to cause trouble even up to the very skies; for as my eyes will then loose their power of vision, and my heart will be void of concern, it will really be nothing to me. But I couldn’t very well stifle this breath of life of mine!”
While inwardly a prey to resentment, she also melted into tears.
These words were brought to the ears of Pao-yü and Tai-yü. Neither of them had hitherto heard the adage: “people who are not enemies are not brought together,” so when they suddenly got to know the line, it seemed as if they had apprehended abstraction. Both lowered their heads and meditated on the subtle sense of the saying. But unconsciously a stream of tears rolled down their cheeks. They could not, it is true, get a glimpse of each other; yet as the one was in the Hsiao Hsiang lodge, standing in the breeze, bedewed with tears, and the other in the I Hung court, facing the moon and heaving deep sighs, was it not, in fact, a case of two persons living in two distinct places, yet with feelings emanating from one and the same heart?
Hsi Jen consequently tendered advice to Pao-yü. “You’re a million times to blame,” she said, “it’s you who are entirely at fault! For when some time ago the pages in the establishment, wrangled with their sisters, or when husband and wife fell out, and you came to hear anything about it, you blew up the lads, and called them fools for not having the heart to show some regard to girls; and now here you go and follow their lead. But to-morrow is the fifth day of the moon, a great festival, and will you two still continue like this, as if you were very enemies? If so, our venerable mistress will be the more angry, and she certainly will be driven sick! I advise you therefore to do what’s right by suppressing your spite and confessing your fault, so that we should all be on the same terms as hitherto. You here will then be all right, and so will she over there.”
Pao-yü listened to what she had to say; but whether he fell in with her views or not is not yet ascertained; yet if you, reader, choose to know, we will explain in the next chapter.
CHAPTER XXX.
Pao-ch’ai avails herself of the excuse afforded her by a fan to administer a couple of raps.
While Ch’un Ling traces, in a absent frame of mind, the outlines of the character Ch’iang, a looker-on appears on the scene.
Lin Tai-yü herself, for we will now resume our narrative, was also, ever since her tiff with Pao-yü, full of self-condemnation, yet as she did not see why she should run after him, she continued, day and night, as despondent as she would have been had she lost some thing or other belonging to her.
Tzu Chüan surmised her sentiments. “As regards what happened the other day,” she advised her, “you were, after all, Miss, a little too hasty; for if others don’t understand that temperament of Pao-yü’s, have you and I, surely, also no idea about it? Besides, haven’t there been already one or two rows on account of that very jade?”
“Ts’ui!” exclaimed Tai-yü. “Have you come, on behalf of others, to find fault with me? But how ever was I hasty?”
“Why did you,” smiled Tzu Chüan, “take the scissors and cut that tassel when there was no good reason for it? So isn’t Pao-yü less to blame than yourself, Miss? I’ve always found his behaviour towards you, Miss, without a fault. It’s all that touchy disposition of yours, which makes you so often perverse, that induces him to act as he does.”
Lin Tai-yü had every wish to make some suitable reply, when she heard some one calling at the door. Tzu Chüan discerned the tone of voice. “This sounds like Pao-yü’s voice,” she smiled. “I expect he’s come to make his apologies.”
“I won’t have any one open the door,” Tai-yü cried at these words.
“Here you are in the wrong again, Miss,” Tzu Chüan observed. “How will it ever do to let him get a sunstroke and come to some harm on a day like this, and under such a scorching sun?”
Saying this, she speedily walked out and opened the door. It was indeed Pao-yü. While ushering him in, she gave him a smile. “I imagined,” she said, “that you would never again put your foot inside our door, Master Secundus. But here you are once more and quite unexpectedly!”
“You have by dint of talking,” Pao-yü laughed, “made much ado of nothing; and why shouldn’t I come, when there’s no reason for me to keep away? Were I even to die, my spirit too will come a hundred times a day! But is cousin quite well?”
“She is,” replied Tzu Chüan, “physically all right; but, mentally, her resentment is not quite over.”
“I understand,” continued Pao-yü with a smile. “But resentment, for what?”
With this inquiry, he wended his steps inside the apartment. He then caught sight of Lin Tai-yü reclining on the bed in the act of crying. Tai-yü had not in fact shed a tear, but hearing Pao-yü break in upon her, she could not help feeling upset. She found it impossible therefore to prevent her tears from rolling down her cheeks.
Pao-yü assumed a smiling expression and drew near the bed. “Cousin, are you quite well again?” he inquired.
Tai-yü simply went on drying her tears, and made no reply of any kind.
Pao-yü approached the bed, and sat on the edge of it. “I know,” he smiled, “that you’re not vexed with me. But had I not come, third parties would have been allowed to notice my absence, and it would have appeared to them as if we had had another quarrel. And had I to wait until they came to reconcile us, would we not by that time become perfect strangers? It would be better, supposing you wish to beat me or blow me up, that you should please yourself and do so now; but whatever you do, don’t give me the cold shoulder!”
Continuing, he proceeded to call her “my dear cousin” for several tens of times.
Tai-yü had resolved not to pay any more heed to Pao-yü. When she, however, now heard Pao-yü urge: “don’t let us allow others to know anything about our having had a quarrel, as it will look as if we had become thorough strangers,” it once more became evident to her, from this single remark, that she was really dearer and nearer to him than any of the other girls, so she could not refrain from saying sobbingly: “You needn’t have come to chaff me! I couldn’t presume henceforward to be on friendly terms with you, Master Secundus! You should treat me as if I were gone!”
At these words, Pao-yü gave way to laughter. “Where are you off to?” he inquired.
“I’m going back home,” answered Tai-yü.
“I’ll go along with you then,” smiled Pao-yü.
“But if I die?” asked Tai-yü.
“Well, if you die,” rejoined Pao-yü, “I’ll become a bonze.”
The moment Tai-yü caught this reply, she hung down her head. “You must, I presume, be bent upon dying?” she cried. “But what stuff and nonsense is this you’re talking? You’ve got so many beloved elder and younger cousins in your family, and how many bodies will you have to go and become bonzes, when by and bye they all pass away! But to-morrow I’ll tell them about this to judge for themselves what your motives are!”
Pao-yü was himself aware of the fact that this rejoinder had been recklessly spoken, and he was seized with regret. His face immediately became suffused with blushes. He lowered his head and had not the courage to utter one word more. Fortunately, however, there was no one present in the room.
Tai-yü stared at him for ever so long with eyes fixed straight on him, but losing control over her temper, “Ai!” she shouted, “can’t you speak?” Then when she perceived Pao-yü reduced to such straits as to turn purple, she clenched her teeth and spitefully gave him, on the forehead, a fillip with her finger. “Heug!” she cried gnashing her teeth, “you, this……” But just as she had pronounced these two words, she heaved another sigh, and picking up her handkerchief, she wiped her tears.
Pao-yü treasured at one time numberless tender things in his mind, which he meant to tell her, but feeling also, while he smarted under the sting of self-reproach (for the indiscretion he had committed), Tai-yü give him a rap, he was utterly powerless to open his lips, much though he may have liked to speak, so he kept on sighing and snivelling to himself. With all these things therefore to work upon his feelings, he unwillingly melted into tears. He tried to find his handkerchief to dry his face with, but unexpectedly discovering that he had again forgotten to bring one with him, he was about to make his coat-sleeve answer the purpose, when Tai-yü, albeit her eyes were watery, noticed at a glance that he was going to use the brand-new coat of grey coloured gauze he wore, and while wiping her own, she turned herself round, and seized a silk kerchief thrown over the pillow, and thrust it into Pao-yü’s lap. But without saying a word, she screened her face and continued sobbing.
Pao-yü saw the handkerchief she threw, and hastily snatching it, he wiped his tears. Then drawing nearer to her, he put out his hand and clasped her hand in his, and smilingly said to her: “You’ve completely lacerated my heart, and do you still cry? But let’s go; I’ll come along with you and see our venerable grandmother.”
Tai-yü thrust his hand aside. “Who wants to go hand in hand with you?” she cried. “Here we grow older day after day, but we’re still so full of brazen-faced effrontery that we don’t even know what right means?”
But scarcely had she concluded before she heard a voice say aloud: “They’re all right!”
Pao-yü and Tai-yü were little prepared for this surprise, and they were startled out of their senses. Turning round to see who it was, they caught sight of lady Feng running in, laughing and shouting. “Our old lady,” she said, “is over there, giving way to anger against heaven and earth. She would insist upon my coming to find out whether you were reconciled or not. ‘There’s no need for me to go and see,’ I told her, ‘they will before the expiry of three days, be friends again of their own accord.’ Our venerable ancestor, however, called me to account, and maintained that I was lazy; so here I come! But my words have in very deed turned out true. I don’t see why you two should always be wrangling! For three days you’re on good terms and for two on bad. You become more and more like children. And here you are now hand in hand blubbering! But why did you again yesterday become like black-eyed fighting cocks? Don’t you yet come with me to see your grandmother and make an old lady like her set her mind at ease a bit?”
While reproaching them, she clutched Tai-yü’s hand and was trudging away, when Tai-yü turned her head round and called out for her servant-girls. But not one of them was in attendance.
“What do you want them for again?” lady Feng asked. “I am here to wait on you!”
Still speaking, she pulled her along on their way, with Pao-yü following in their footsteps. Then making their exit out of the garden gate, they entered dowager lady Chia’s suite of rooms. “I said that it was superfluous for any one to trouble,” lady Feng smiled, “as they were sure of themselves to become reconciled; but you, dear ancestor, so little believed it that you insisted upon my going to act the part of mediator. Yet when I got there, with the intention of inducing them to make it up, I found them, though one did not expect it, in each other’s company, confessing their faults, and laughing and chatting. Just like a yellow eagle clutching the feet of a kite were those two hanging on to each other. So where was the necessity for any one to go?”
These words evoked laughter from every one in the room. Pao-ch’ai, however, was present at the time so Lin Tai-yü did not retort, but went and ensconced herself in a seat near her grandmother.
When Pao-yü noticed that no one had anything to say, he smilingly addressed himself to Pao-ch’ai. “On cousin Hsüeh P’an’s birth-day,” he remarked, “I happened again to be unwell, so not only did I not send him any presents, but I failed to go and knock my head before him. Yet cousin knows nothing about my having been ill, and it will seem to him that I had no wish to go, and that I brought forward excuses so as to avoid paying him a visit. If to-morrow you find any leisure, cousin, do therefore explain matters for me to him.”
“This is too much punctiliousness!” smiled Pao-ch’ai. “Even had you insisted upon going, we wouldn’t have been so arrogant as to let you put yourself to the trouble, and how much less when you were not feeling well? You two are cousins and are always to be found together the whole day; if you encourage such ideas, some estrangement will, after all, arise between you.”
“Cousin,” continued Pao-yü smilingly, “you know what to say; and so long as you’re lenient with me all will be all right. But how is it,” he went on to ask, “that you haven’t gone over to see the theatricals?”
“I couldn’t stand the heat” rejoined Pao-ch’ai. “I looked on while two plays were being sung, but I found it so intensely hot, that I felt anxious to retire. But the visitors not having dispersed, I had to give as an excuse that I wasn’t feeling up to the mark, and so came away at once.”
Pao-yü, at these words, could not but feel ill at ease. All he could do was to feign another smile. “It’s no wonder,” he observed, “that they compare you, cousin, to Yang Kuei-fei; for she too was fat and afraid of hot weather.”
Hearing this, Pao-ch’ai involuntarily flew into a violent rage. Yet when about to call him to task, she found that it would not be nice for her to do so. After some reflection, the colour rushed to her cheeks. Smiling ironically twice, “I may resemble,” she said, “Yang Kuei-fei, but there’s not one of you young men, whether senior or junior, good enough to play the part of Yang Kuo-chung.”
While they were bandying words, a servant-girl Ch’ing Erh, lost sight of her fan and laughingly remarked to Pao-ch’ai: “It must be you, Miss Pao, who have put my fan away somewhere or other; dear mistress, do let me have it!”
“You’d better be mindful!” rejoined Pao-ch’ai, shaking her finger at her. “With whom have I ever been up to jokes, that you come and suspect me? Have I hitherto laughed and smirked with you? There’s that whole lot of girls, go and ask them about it!”
At this suggestion, Ch’ing Erh made her escape.
The consciousness then burst upon Pao-yü, that he had again been inconsiderate in his speech, in the presence of so many persons, and he was overcome by a greater sense of shame than when, a short while back, he had been speaking with Lin Tai-yü. Precipitately turning himself round, he went, therefore, and talked to the others as well.
The sight of Pao-yü poking fun at Pao-ch’ai gratified Tai-yü immensely. She was just about to put in her word and also seize the opportunity of chaffing her, but as Ch’ing Erh unawares asked for her fan and Pao-ch’ai added a few more remarks, she at once changed her purpose. “Cousin Pao-ch’ai,” she inquired, “what two plays did you hear?”
Pao-ch’ai caught the expression of gratification in Tai-yü’s countenance, and concluded that she had for a certainty heard the raillery recently indulged in by Pao-yü and that it had fallen in with her own wishes; and hearing her also suddenly ask the question she did, she answered with a significant laugh: “What I saw was: ‘Li Kuei blows up Sung Chiang and subsequently again tenders his apologies’.”
Pao-yü smiled. “How is it,” he said, “that with such wide knowledge of things new as well as old; and such general information as you possess, you aren’t even up to the name of a play, and that you’ve come out with such a whole string of words. Why, the real name of the play is: ‘Carrying a birch and begging for punishment'”.
“Is it truly called: ‘Carrying a birch and begging for punishment'”? Pao-ch’ai asked with laugh. “But you people know all things new and old so are able to understand the import of ‘carrying a birch and begging for punishment.’ As for me I’ve no idea whatever what ‘carrying a birch and begging for punishment’ implies.”
One sentence was scarcely ended when Pao-yü and Tai-yü felt guilty in their consciences; and by the time they heard all she said, they were quite flushed from shame. Lady Feng did not, it is true, fathom the gist of what had been said, but at the sight of the expression betrayed on the faces of the three cousins, she readily got an inkling of it. “On this broiling hot day,” she inquired laughing also; “who still eats raw ginger?”
None of the party could make out the import of her insinuation. “There’s no one eating raw ginger,” they said.
Lady Feng intentionally then brought her hands to her cheeks, and rubbing them, she remarked with an air of utter astonishment, “Since there’s no one eating raw ginger, how is it that you are all so fiery in the face?”
Hearing this, Pao-yü and Tai-yü waxed more uncomfortable than ever. So much so, that Pao-ch’ai, who meant to continue the conversation, did not think it nice to say anything more when she saw how utterly abashed Pao-yü was and how changed his manner. Her only course was therefore to smile and hold her peace. And as the rest of the inmates had not the faintest notion of the drift of the remarks exchanged between the four of them, they consequently followed her lead and put on a smile.
In a short while, however, Pao-ch’ai and lady Feng took their leave.
“You’ve also tried your strength with them,” Tai-yü said to Pao-yü laughingly. “But they’re far worse than I. Is every one as simple in mind and dull of tongue as I am as to allow people to say whatever they like.”
Pao-yü was inwardly giving way to that unhappiness, which had been occasioned by Pao-ch’ai’s touchiness, so when he also saw Tai-yü approach him and taunt him, displeasure keener than ever was aroused in him. A desire then asserted itself to speak out his mind to her, but dreading lest Tai-yü should he in one of her sensitive moods, he, needless to say, stifled his anger and straightway left the apartment in a state of mental depression.
It happened to be the season of the greatest heat. Breakfast time too was already past, and masters as well as servants were, for the most part, under the influence of the lassitude felt on lengthy days. As Pao-yü therefore strolled, from place to place, his hands behind his back he heard not so much as the caw of a crow. Issuing out of his grandmother’s compound on the near side, he wended his steps westwards, and crossed the passage, on which lady Feng’s quarters gave. As soon as he reached the entrance of her court, he perceived the door ajar. But aware of lady Feng’s habit of taking, during the hot weather, a couple of hours’ siesta at noon, he did not feel it a convenient moment to intrude. Walking accordingly through the corner door, he stepped into Madame Wang’s apartment. Here he discovered several waiting-maids, dosing with their needlework clasped in their hands. Madame Wang was asleep on the cool couch in the inner rooms. Chin Ch’uan-erh was sitting next to her massaging her legs. But she too was quite drowsy, and her eyes wore all awry. Pao-yü drew up to her with gentle tread. The moment, however, that he unfastened the pendants from the earrings she wore, Chin Ch’uan opened her eyes, and realised that it was no one than Pao-yü.
“Are you feeling so worn out!” he smilingly remarked in a low tone of voice.
Chin Ch’uan pursed up her lips and gave him a smile. Then waving her hand so as to bid him quit the room, she again closed her eyes.
Pao-yü, at the sight of her, felt considerable affection for her and unable to tear himself away, so quietly stretching his head forward, and noticing that Madame Wang’s eyes were shut, he extracted from a purse, suspended about his person, one of the ‘scented-snow-for-moistening-mouth pills,’ with which it was full, and placed it on Chin Ch’uan-erh’s lips. Chin Ch’uan-erh, however, did not open her eyes, but simply held (the pill) in her mouth. Pao-yü then approached her and took her hand in his. “I’ll ask you of your mistress,” he gently observed smiling, “and you and I will live together.”
To this Chin Ch’uan-erh said not a word.
“If that won’t do,” Pao-yü continued, “I’ll wait for your mistress to wake and appeal to her at once.”
Chin Ch’uan-erh distended her eyes wide, and pushed Pao-yü off. “What’s the hurry?” she laughed. “‘A gold hair-pin may fall into the well; but if it’s yours it will remain yours only.’ Is it possible that you don’t even see the spirit of this proverb? But I’ll tell you a smart thing. Just you go into the small court, on the east side, and you’ll find for yourself what Mr. Chia Huau and Ts’ai Yun are up to!”
“Let them be up to whatever they like,” smiled Pao-yü, “I shall simply stick to your side!”
But he then saw Madame Wang twist herself round, get up, and give a slap to Chin Ch’uan-erh on her mouth. “You mean wench!” she exclaimed, abusing her, while she pointed her finger at her, “it’s you, and the like of you, who corrupt these fine young fellows with all the nice things you teach them!”
The moment Pao-yü perceived Madame Wang rise, he bolted like a streak of smoke. Chin Ch’uan-erh, meanwhile, felt half of her face as hot as fire, yet she did not dare utter one word of complaint. The various waiting-maids soon came to hear that Madame Wang had awoke and they rushed in in a body.
“Go and tell your mother,” Madame Wang thereupon said to Yü Ch’uan-erh, “to fetch your elder sister away.”
Chin Ch’uan-erh, at these words, speedily fell on her knees. With tears in her eyes: “I won’t venture to do it again,” she pleaded. “If you, Madame, wish to flog me, or to scold me do so at once, and as much as you like but don’t send me away. You will thus accomplish an act of heavenly grace! I’ve been in attendance on your ladyship for about ten years, and if you now drive me away, will I be able to look at any one in the face?”
Though Madame Wang was a generous, tender-hearted person, and had at no time raised her hand to give a single blow to any servant-girl, she, however, when she accidentally discovered Chin Ch’uan-erh behave on this occasion in this barefaced manner, a manner which had all her lifetime been most reprehensible to her, was so overcome by passion that she gave Chin Ch’uan-erh just one slap and spoke to her a few sharp words. And albeit Chin Ch’uan-erh indulged in solicitous entreaties, she would not on any account keep her in her service. At length, Chin Ch’uan-erh’s mother, Dame Pao, was sent for to take her away. Chin Ch’uan-erh therefore had to conceal her disgrace, suppress her resentment, and quit the mansion.
But without any further reference to her, we will now take up our story with Pao-yü. As soon as he saw Madame Wang awake, his spirits were crushed. All alone he hastily made his way into the Ta Kuan garden. Here his attention was attracted by the ruddy sun, shining in the zenith, the shade of the trees extending far and wide, the song of the cicadas, filling the ear; and by a perfect stillness, not even broken by the echo of a human voice. But the instant he got near the trellis, with the cinnamon roses, the sound of sobs fell on his ear. Doubts and surmises crept into Pao-yü’s mind, so halting at once, he listened with intentness. Then actually he discerned some one on the off-side of the trellis. This was the fifth moon, the season when the flowers and foliage of the cinnamon roses were in full bloom. Furtively peeping through an aperture in the fence, Pao-yü saw a young girl squatting under the flowers and digging the ground with a hair-pin she held in her hand. As she dug, she silently gave way to tears.
“Can it be possible,” mused Pao-yü, “that this girl too is stupid? Can she also be following P’in Erh’s example and come to inter flowers? Why if she’s likewise really burying flowers,” he afterwards went on to smilingly reflect, “this can aptly be termed: ‘Tung Shih tries to imitate a frown.’ But not only is what she does not original, but it is despicable to boot. You needn’t,” he meant to shout out to the girl, at the conclusion of this train of thought, “try and copy Miss Lin’s example.” But before the words had issued from his mouth, he luckily scrutinised her a second time, and found that the girl’s features were quite unfamiliar to him, that she was no menial, and that she looked like one of the twelve singing maids, who were getting up the plays. He could not, however, make out what _rôles_ she filled: scholars, girls, old men, women, or buffoons. Pao-yü quickly put out his tongue and stopped his mouth with his hand. “How fortunate,” he inwardly soliloquised, “that I didn’t make any reckless remark! It was all because of my inconsiderate talk on the last two occasions, that P’in Erh got angry with me, and that Pao-ch’ai felt hurt. And had I now given them offence also, I would have been in a still more awkward fix!”
While wrapt in these thoughts, he felt much annoyance at not being able to recognise who she was. But on further minute inspection, he noticed that this maiden, with contracted eyebrows, as beautiful as the hills in spring, frowning eyes as clear as the streams in autumn, a face, with transparent skin, and a slim waist, was elegant and beautiful and almost the very image of Lin Tai-yü. Pao-yü could not, from the very first, make up his mind to wrench himself away. But as he stood gazing at her in a doltish mood, he realised that, although she was tracing on the ground with the gold hair-pin, she was not digging a hole to bury flowers in, but was merely delineating characters on the surface of the soil. Pao-yü’s eyes followed the hair-pin from first to last, as it went up and as it came down. He watched each dash, each dot and each hook. He counted the strokes. They numbered eighteen. He himself then set to work and sketched with his finger on the palm of his hand, the lines, in their various directions, and in the order they had been traced a few minutes back, so as to endeavour to guess what the character was. On completing the sketch, he discovered, the moment he came to reflect, that it was the character “Ch’iang,” in the combination, ‘Ch’iang Wei,’ representing cinnamon roses.
“She too,” pondered Pao-yü, “must have been bent upon writing verses, or supplying some line or other, and at the sight now of the flowers, the idea must have suggested itself to her mind. Or it may very likely be that having spontaneously devised a couplet, she got suddenly elated and began, for fear it should slip from her memory, to trace it on the ground so as to tone the rhythm. Yet there’s no saying. Let me see, however, what she’s going to write next.”
While cogitating, he looked once more. Lo, the girl was still tracing. But tracing up or tracing down, it was ever the character “Ch’iang.” When he gazed again, it was still the self-same Ch’iang.
The one inside the fence fell, in fact, from an early stage, into a foolish mood, and no sooner was one ‘Ch’iang,’ finished than she started with another; so that she had already written several tens of them. The one outside gazed and gazed, until he unwittingly also got into the same foolish mood. Intent with his eyes upon following the movements of the pin, in his mind, he communed thus with his own thoughts: “This girl must, for a certainty, have something to say, or some unspeakable momentous secret that she goes on like this. But if outwardly she behaves in this wise, who knows what anguish she mayn’t suffer at heart? And yet, with a frame to all appearances so very delicate, how could she ever resist much inward anxiety! Woe is me that I’m unable to transfer some part of her burden on to my own shoulders!”
In midsummer, cloudy and bright weather are uncertain. A few specks of clouds suffice to bring about rain. Of a sudden, a cold blast swept by, and tossed about by the wind fell a shower of rain. Pao-yü perceived that the water trickling down the girl’s head saturated her gauze attire in no time. “It’s pouring,” Pao-yü debated within himself, “and how can a frame like hers resist the brunt of such a squall.” Unable therefore to restrain himself, he vehemently shouted: “Leave off writing! See, it’s pouring; you’re wet through!”
The girl caught these words, and was frightened out of her wits. Raising her head, she at once descried some one or other standing beyond the flowers and calling out to her: “Leave off writing. It’s pouring!” But as Pao-yü was, firstly, of handsome appearance, and as secondly the luxuriant abundance of flowers and foliage screened with their boughs, thick-laden with leaves, the upper and lower part of his person, just leaving half of his countenance exposed to view, the maiden simply jumped at the conclusion that he must be a servant girl, and never for a moment dreamt that it might be Pao-yü. “Many thanks, sister, for recalling me to my senses,” she consequently smiled. “Yet is there forsooth anything outside there to protect you from the rain?”
This single remark proved sufficient to recall Pao-yü to himself. With an exclamation of “Ai-yah,” he at length became conscious that his whole body was cold as ice. Then drooping his head, he realised that his own person too was drenched. “This will never do,” he cried, and with one breath he had to run back into the I Hung court. His mind, however, continued much exercised about the girl as she had nothing to shelter her from the rain.
As the next day was the dragon-boat festival, Wen Kuan and the other singing girls, twelve in all, were given a holiday, so they came into the garden and amused themselves by roaming everywhere and anywhere. As luck would have it, the two girls Pao-Kuan, who filled the _rôle_ of young men and Yü Kuan, who represented young women, were in the I Hung court enjoying themselves with Hsi Jen, when rain set in and they were prevented from going back, so in a body they stopped up the drain to allow the water to accumulate in the yard. Then catching those that could be caught, and driving those that had to be driven, they laid hold of a few of the green-headed ducks, variegated marsh-birds and coloured mandarin-ducks, and tying their wings they let them loose in the court to disport themselves. Closing the court Hsi Jen and her playmates stood together under the verandah and enjoyed the fun. Pao-yü therefore found the entrance shut. He gave a rap at the door. But as every one inside was bent upon laughing, they naturally did not catch the sound; and it was only after he had called and called, and made a noise by thumping at the door, that they at last heard. Imagining, however, that Pao-yü could not be coming back at that hour, Hsi Jen shouted laughing: “who’s it now knocking at the door? There’s no one to go and open.”
“It’s I,” rejoined Pao-yü.
“It’s Miss Pao-ch’ai’s tone of voice,” added She Yüeh.
“Nonsense!” cried Ch’ing Wen. “What would Miss Pao-ch’ai come over to do at such an hour?”
“Let me go,” chimed in Hsi Jen, “and see through the fissure in the door, and if we can open, we’ll open; for we mustn’t let her go back, wet through.”
With these words, she came along the passage to the doorway. On looking out, she espied Pao-yü dripping like a chicken drenched with rain.
Seeing him in this plight, Hsi Jen felt solicitous as well as amused. With alacrity, she flung the door wide open, laughing so heartily that she was doubled in two. “How could I ever have known,” she said, clapping her hands, “that you had returned, Sir! Yet how is it that you’ve run back in this heavy rain?”
Pao-yü had, however, been feeling in no happy frame of mind. He had fully resolved within himself to administer a few kicks to the person, who came to open the door, so as soon as it was unbarred, he did not try to make sure who it was, but under the presumption that it was one of the servant-girls, he raised his leg and give her a kick on the side.
“Ai-yah!” ejaculated Hsi Jen.
Pao-yü nevertheless went on to abuse. “You mean things!” he shouted. “It’s because I’ve always treated you so considerately that you don’t respect me in the least! And you now go to the length of making a laughing-stock of me!”
As he spoke, he lowered his head. Then catching sight of Hsi Jen, in tears, he realised that he had kicked the wrong person. “Hallo!” he said, promptly smiling, “is it you who’ve come? Where did I kick you?”
Hsi Jen had never, previous to this, received even a harsh word from him. When therefore she on this occasion unexpectedly saw Pao-yü gave her a kick in a fit of anger and, what made it worse, in the presence of so many people, shame, resentment, and bodily pain overpowered her and she did not, in fact, for a time know where to go and hide herself. She was then about to give rein to her displeasure, but the reflection that Pao-yü could not have kicked her intentionally obliged her to suppress her indignation. “Instead of kicking,” she remarked, “don’t you yet go and change your clothes?”
Pao-yü walked into the room. As he did so, he smiled. “Up to the age I’ve reached,” he observed, “this is the first instance on which I’ve ever so thoroughly lost control over my temper as to strike any one; and, contrary to all my thoughts, it’s you that happened to come in my way?”
Hsi Jen, while patiently enduring the pain, effected the necessary change in his attire. “I’ve been here from the very first,” she simultaneously added, smilingly, “so in all things, whether large or small, good or bad, it has naturally fallen to my share to bear the brunt. But not to say another word about your assault on me, why, to-morrow you’ll indulge your hand and star-beating others!”
“I did not strike you intentionally just now,” retorted Pao-yü.
“Who ever said,” rejoined Hsi Jen, “that you did it intentionally! It has ever been the duty of that tribe of servant-girls to open and shut the doors, yet they’ve got into the way of being obstinate, and have long ago become such an abomination that people’s teeth itch to revenge themselves on them. They don’t know, besides, what fear means. So had you first assured yourself that it was they and given them a kick, a little intimidating would have done them good. But I’m at the bottom of the mischief that happened just now, for not calling those, upon whom it devolves, to come and open for you.”
During the course of their conversation, the rain ceased, and Pao Kuan and Yü Kuan had been able to take their leave. Hsi Jen, however, experienced such intense pain in her side, and felt such inward vexation, that at supper she could not put a morsel of anything in her mouth. When in the evening, the time came for her to have her bath, she discovered, on divesting herself of her clothes, a bluish bruise on her side of the size of a saucer and she was very much frightened. But as she could not very well say anything about it to any one, she presently retired to rest. But twitches of pain made her involuntarily moan in her dreams and groan in her sleep.
Pao-yü did, it is true, not hurt her with any malice, but when he saw Hsi Jen so listless and restless, and suddenly heard her groan in the course of the night, he realised how severely he must have kicked her. So getting out of bed, he gently seized the lantern and came over to look at her. But as soon as he reached the side of her bed, he perceived Hsi Jen expectorate, with a retch, a whole mouthful of phlegm. “Oh me!” she gasped, as she opened her eyes. The presence of Pao-yü startled her out of her wits. “What are you up to?” she asked.
“You groaned in your dreams,” answered Pao-yü, “so I must have kicked you hard. Do let me see!”
“My head feels giddy,” said Hsi Jen. “My throat foul and sweet; throw the light on the floor!”
At these words, Pao-yü actually raised the lantern. The moment he cast the light below, he discerned a quantity of fresh blood on the floor.
Pao-yü was seized with consternation. “Dreadful!” was all he could say. At the sight of the blood, Hsi Jen’s heart too partly waxed cold.
But, reader, the next chapter will reveal the sequel, if you really have any wish to know more about them.
CHAPTER XXXI.
Pao-yü allows the girl Ch’ing Wen to tear his fan so as to afford her amusement.
A wedding proves to be the result of the descent of a unicorn.
But to proceed. When she saw on the floor the blood, she had brought up, Hsi Jen immediately grew partly cold. What she had often heard people mention in past days ‘that the lives of young people, who expectorate blood, are uncertain, and that although they may live long, they are, after all, mere wrecks,’ flashed through her mind. The remembrance of this saying at once completely scattered to the winds the wish, she had all along cherished, of striving for honour and of being able to boast of glory; and from her eyes unwittingly ran down streams of tears.
When Pao-yü saw her crying, his heart was seized with anguish. “What’s it that preys on your mind?” he consequently asked her.
Hsi Jen strained every nerve to smile. “There’s no rhyme or reason for anything,” she replied, “so what can it be?”
Pao-yü’s intention was to there and then give orders to the servant to warm some white wine and to ask them for a few ‘Li-T’ung’ pills compounded with goat’s blood, but Hsi Jen clasped his hand tight. “My troubling you is of no matter,” she smiled, “but were I to put ever so many people to inconvenience, they’ll bear me a grudge for my impudence. Not a soul, it’s clear enough, knows anything about it now, but were you to make such a bustle as to bring it to people’s notice, you’ll be in an awkward fix, and so will I. The proper thing, therefore, is for you to send a page to-morrow to request Dr. Wang to prepare some medicine for me. When I take this I shall be all right. And as neither any human being nor spirit will thus get wind of it, won’t it be better?”
Pao-yü found her suggestion so full of reason that he thought himself obliged to abandon his purpose; so approaching the table, he poured a cup of tea, and came over and gave it to Hsi Jen to rinse her mouth with. Aware, however, as Hsi Jen was that Pao-yü himself was not feeling at ease in his mind, she was on the point of bidding him not wait upon her; but convinced that he would once more be certain not to accede to her wishes, and that the others would, in the second place, have to be disturbed, she deemed it expedient to humour him. Leaning on the couch, she consequently allowed Pao-yü to come and attend to her.
As soon as the fifth watch struck, Pao-yü, unmindful of combing or washing, hastily put on his clothes and left the room; and sending for Wang Chi-jen, he personally questioned him with all minuteness about her ailment.
Wang Chi-jen asked how it had come about. “It’s simply a bruise; nothing more,” (he said), and forthwith he gave him the names of some pills and medicines, and told him how they were to be taken, and how they were to be applied.
Pao-yü committed every detail to memory, and on his return into the garden, the treatment was, needless for us to explain, taken in hand in strict compliance with the directions.
This was the day of the dragon-boat festival. Cat-tail and artemisia were put over the doors. Tiger charms were suspended on every back. At noon, Madame Wang got a banquet ready, and to this midday feast, she invited the mother, daughter and the rest of the members of the Hsüeh household.
Pao-yü noticed that Pao-ch’ai was in such low spirits that she would not even speak to him, and concluded that the reason was to be sought in the incident of the previous day. Madame Wang seeing Pao-yü in a sullen humour jumped at the surmise that it must be due to Chin Ch’uan’s affair of the day before; and so ill at ease did she feel that she heeded him less than ever. Lin Tai-yü, detected Pao-yü’s apathy, and presumed that he was out of sorts for having given umbrage to Pao-ch’ai, and her manner likewise assumed a listless air. Lady Feng had, in the course of the previous evening, been told by Madame Wang what had taken place between Pao-yü and Chin Ch’uan, and when she came to know that Madame Wang was in an unhappy frame of mind she herself did not venture to chat or laugh, but at once regulated her behaviour to suit Madame Wang’s mood. So the lack of animation became more than ever perceptible; for the good cheer of Ying Ch’un and her sisters was also damped by the sight of all of them down in the mouth. The natural consequence therefore was that they all left after a very short stay.
Lin Tai-yü had a natural predilection for retirement. She did not care for social gatherings. Her notions, however, were not entirely devoid of reason. She maintained that people who gathered together must soon part; that when they came together, they were full of rejoicing, but did they not feel lonely when they broke up? That since this sense of loneliness gave rise to chagrin, it was consequently preferable not to have any gatherings. That flowers afforded an apt example. When they opened, they won people’s admiration; but when they faded, they added to the feeling of vexation; so that better were it if they did not blossom at all! To this cause therefore must be assigned the fact that when other people were glad, she, on the contrary, felt unhappy.
Pao-yü’s disposition was such that he simply yearned for frequent gatherings, and looked forward with sorrow to the breaking up which must too soon come round. As for flowers, he wished them to bloom repeatedly and was haunted with the dread of their dying in a little time. Yet albeit manifold anguish fell to his share when banquets drew to a close and flowers began to fade, he had no alternative but to practice resignation.
On this account was it that, when the company cheerlessly broke up from the present feast, Lin Tai-yü did not mind the separation; and that Pao-yü experienced such melancholy and depression, that, on his return to his apartments, he gave way to deep groans and frequent sighs.
Ch’ing Wen, as it happened, came to the upper quarters to change her costume. In an unguarded moment, she let her fan slip out of her hand and drop on the ground. As it fell, the bones were snapped. “You stupid thing!” Pao-yü exclaimed, sighing, “what a dunce! what next will you be up to by and bye? When, in a little time, you get married and have a home of your own, will you, forsooth, still go on in this happy-go-lucky careless sort of way?”
“Master Secundus,” replied Ch’ing Wen with a sardonic smile, “your temper is of late dreadfully fiery, and time and again it leaks out on your very face! The other day you even beat Hsi Jen and here you are again now finding fault with us! If you feel disposed to kick or strike us, you are at liberty, Sir, to do so at your pleasure; but for a fan to slip on the ground is an everyday occurrence! How many of those crystal jars and cornelian bowls were smashed the other time, I don’t remember, and yet you were not seen to fly into a tantrum; and now, for a fan do you distress yourself so? What’s the use of it? If you dislike us, well pack us off and select some good girls to serve you, and we will quietly go away. Won’t this be better?”
This rejoinder so exasperated Pao-yü that his whole frame trembled violently. “You needn’t be in a hurry!” he then shouted. “There will be a day of parting by and bye.”
Hsi Jen was on the other side, and from an early period she listened to the conversation between them. Hurriedly crossing over, “what are you up to again?” she said to Pao-yü, “why, there’s nothing to put your monkey up! I’m perfectly right in my assertion that when I’m away for any length of time, something is sure to happen.”
Ch’ing Wen heard these remarks. “Sister,” she interposed smiling ironically, “since you’ve got the gift of the gab, you should have come at once; you would then have spared your master his fit of anger. It’s you who have from bygone days up to the present waited upon master; we’ve never had anything to do with attending on him; and it’s because you’ve served him so faithfully that he repaid you yesterday with a kick on the stomach. But who knows what punishment mayn’t be in store for us, who aren’t fit to wait upon him decently!”
At these insinuations, Hsi Jen felt both incensed and ashamed. She was about to make some response but Pao-yü had worked himself into such another passion as to get quite yellow in the face, and she was obliged to rein in her temper. Pushing Ch’ing Wen, “Dear sister,” she cried, “you had better be off for a stroll! it’s really we, who are to blame!”
The very mention of the word “we” made it certain to Ch’ing Wen that she implied herself and Pao-yü, and thus unawares more fuel was added again to her jealous notions. Giving way to several loud smiles, full of irony: “I can’t make out,” she insinuated, “who you may mean. But don’t make me blush on your account! Even those devilish pranks of yours can’t hoodwink me! How and why is it that you’ve started styling yourself as ‘we?’ Properly speaking, you haven’t as yet so much as attained the designation of ‘Miss!’ You’re simply no better than I am, and how is it then that you presume so high as to call yourself ‘we.'”
Hsi Jen’s face grew purple from shame. “The fact is,” she reflected, “that I’ve said more than I should.”
“As one and all of you are ever bearing her malice,” Pao-yü simultaneously observed, “I’ll actually raise her to-morrow to a higher status!”
Hsi Jen quickly snatched Pao-yü’s hand. “She’s a stupid girl,” she said, “what’s the use of arguing with her? What’s more, you’ve so far borne with them and overlooked ever, so many other things more grievous than this; and what are you up to to-day?”
“If I’m really a stupid girl,” repeated Ch’ing Wen, smiling sarcastically, “am I a fit person for you to hold converse with? Why, I’m purely and simply a slave-girl; that’s all.”
“Are you, after all,” cried Hsi Jen, at these words, “bickering with me, or with Master Secundus? If you bear me a grudge, you’d better then address your remarks to me alone; albeit it isn’t right that you should kick up such a hullaballoo in the presence of Mr. Secundus. But if you have a spite against Mr. Secundus, you shouldn’t be shouting so boisterously as to make thousands of people know all about it! I came in, a few minutes back, merely for the purpose of setting matters right, and of urging you to make up your quarrels so that we should all be on the safe side; and here I have the unlucky fate of being set upon by you, Miss! Yet you neither seem to be angry with me, nor with Mr. Secundus! But armed _cap-à-pie_ as you appear to be, what is your ultimate design? I won’t utter another word, but let you have your say!”
While she spoke, she was hurriedly wending her way out.
“You needn’t raise your dander.” Pao-yü remarked to Ch’ing Wen. “I’ve guessed the secret of your heart, so I’ll go and tell mother that as you’ve also attained a certain age, she should send you away. Will this please you, yes or no?”
This allusion made Ch’ing Wen unwittingly feel again wounded at heart. She tried to conceal her tears. “Why should I go away?” she asked. “If even you be so prejudiced against me as to try and devise means to pack me off, you won’t succeed.”
“I never saw such brawling!” Pao-yü exclaimed. “You’re certainly bent upon going! I might as well therefore let mother know so as to bundle you off!”
While addressing her, he rose to his feet and was intent upon trudging off at once. Hsi Jen lost no time in turning round and impeding his progress. “Where are you off to?” she cried.
“I’m going to tell mother,” answered Pao-yü.
“It’s no use whatever!” Hsi Jen smiled, “you may be in real earnest to go and tell her, but aren’t you afraid of putting her to shame? If even she positively means to leave, you can very well wait until you two have got over this bad blood. And when everything is past and gone, it won’t be any too late for you to explain, in the course of conversation, the whole case to our lady, your mother. But if you now go in hot haste and tell her, as if the matter were an urgent one, won’t you be the means of making our mistress give way to suspicion?”
“My mother,” demurred Pao-yü, “is sure not to entertain any suspicions, as all I will explain to her is that she insists upon leaving.”
“When did I ever insist upon going?” sobbed Ch’ing Wen. “You fly into a rage, and then you have recourse to threats to intimidate me. But you’re at liberty to go and say anything you like; for as I’ll knock my brains out against the wall, I won’t get alive out of this door.”
“This is, indeed, strange!” exclaimed Pao-yü. “If you won’t go, what’s the good of all this fuss? I can’t stand this bawling, so it will be a riddance if you would get out of the way!”
Saying this, he was resolved upon going to report the matter. Hsi Jen found herself powerless to dissuade him. She had in consequence no other resource but to fall on her knees.
Pi Hen, Ch’iu Wen, She Yüeh and the rest of the waiting-maids had realised what a serious aspect the dispute had assumed, and not a sound was to be heard to fall from their lips. They remained standing outside listening to what was going on. When they now overheard Hsi Jen making solicitous entreaties on her knees, they rushed into the apartment in a body; and with one consent they prostrated themselves on the floor.
Pao-yü at once pulled Hsi Jen up. Then with a sigh, he took a seat on the bed. “Get up,” he shouted to the body of girls, “and clear out! What would you have me do?” he asked, addressing himself to Hsi Jen. “This heart of mine has been rent to pieces, and no one has any idea about it!”
While speaking, tears of a sudden rolled down his cheek. At the sight of Pao-yü weeping, Hsi Jen also melted into a fit of crying. Ch’ing Wen was standing by them, with watery eyes. She was on the point of reasoning with them, when espying Lin Tai-yü step into the room, she speedily walked out.
“On a grand holiday like this,” remonstrated Lin Tai-yü smiling, “how is it that you’re snivelling away, and all for nothing? Is it likely that high words have resulted all through that ‘dumpling’ contest?”
Pao-yü and Lin Tai-yü blurted out laughing.
“You don’t tell me, cousin Secundus,” Lin Tai-yü put in, “but I know all about it, even though I have asked no questions.”
Now she spoke, and now she patted Hsi Jen on the shoulder. “My dear sister-in-law,” she smiled, “just you tell me! It must surely be that you two have had a quarrel. Confide in me, your cousin, so that I might reconcile you.”
“Miss Lin,” rejoined Hsi Jen, pushing her off, “what are you fussing about? I am simply one of our servant-girls; you’re therefore rather erratic in your talk!”
“You say that you’re only a servant-girl,” smilingly replied Tai-yü, “and yet I treat you like a sister-in-law.”
“Why do you,” Pao-yü chimed in, “give her this abusive epithet? But however much she may make allowance for this, can she, when there are so many others who tell idle tales on her account, put up with your coming and telling her all you’ve said?”
“Miss Lin,” smiled Hsi Jen, “you’re not aware of the purpose of my heart. Unless my breath fails and I die, I shall continue in his service.”
“If you die,” remarked Lin Tai-yü smiling, “what will others do, I wonder? As for me, I shall be the first to die from crying.”
“Were you to die,” added Pao-yü laughingly, “I shall become a bonze.”
“You’d better be a little more sober-minded!” laughed Hsi Jen. “What’s the good of coming out with all these things?”
Lin Tai-yü put out two of her fingers, and puckered up her lips. “Up to this,” she laughed, “he’s become a bonze twice. Henceforward, I’ll try and remember how many times you make up your mind to become a Buddhist priest!”
This reminded Pao-yü that she was referring to a remark he had made on a previous occasion, but smiling to himself, he allowed the matter to drop.
After a short interval, Lin Tai-yü went away. A servant then came to announce that Mr. Hsüeh wanted to see him, and Pao-yü had to go. The purpose of this visit was in fact to invite him to a banquet, and as he could not very well put forward any excuse to refuse, he had to remain till the end of the feast before he was able to take his leave. The result was that, on his return, in the evening, he was to a great extent under the effect of wine. With bustling step, he wended his way into his own court. Here he perceived that the cool couch with a back to it, had already been placed in the yard, and that there was some one asleep on it. Prompted by the conviction that it must be Hsi Jen, Pao-yü seated himself on the edge of the couch. As he did so, he gave her a push, and inquired whether her sore place was any better. But thereupon he saw the occupant turn herself round, and exclaim: “What do you come again to irritate me for?”
Pao-yü, at a glance, realised that it was not Hsi Jen, but Ch’ing Wen. Pao-yü then clutched her and compelled her to sit next to him. “Your disposition,” he smiled, “has been more and more spoilt through indulgence. When you let the fan drop this morning, I simply made one or two remarks, and out you came with that long rigmarole. Had you gone for me it wouldn’t have mattered; but you also dragged in Hsi Jen, who only interfered with every good intention of inducing us to make it up again. But, ponder now, ought you to have done it; yes or no?”
“With this intense heat,” remonstrated Ch’ing Wen, “why do you pull me and toss me about? Should any people see you, what will they think? But this person of mine isn’t meet to be seated in here.”
“Since you yourself know that it isn’t meet,” replied Pao-yü with a smile, “why then were you sleeping here?”
To this taunt Ch’ing Wen had nothing to say. But she spurted out into fresh laughter. “It was all right,” she retorted, “during your absence; but the moment you come, it isn’t meet for me to stay! Get up and let me go and have my bath. Hsi Jen and She Yüeh have both had theirs, so I’ll call them here!”
“I’ve just had again a good deal of wine,” remarked Pao-yü, laughingly; “so a wash will be good for me. And since you’ve not had your bath, you had better bring the water and let’s both have it together.”
“No, no!” smiled Ch’ing Wen, waving her hand, “I cannot presume to put you to any trouble, Sir. I still remember how when Pi Hen used to look after your bath you occupied fully two or three hours. What you were up to during that time we never knew. We could not very well walk in. When you had however done washing, and we entered your room, we found the floor so covered with water that the legs of the bed were soaking and the matting itself a regular pool. Nor could we make out what kind of washing you’d been having; and for days afterwards we had a laugh over it. But I’ve neither any time to get the water ready; nor do I see the need for you to have a wash along with me. Besides, to-day it’s chilly, and as you’ve had a bath only a little while back, you can very well just now dispense with one. But I’ll draw a basin of water for you to wash your face, and to shampoo your head with. Not long ago, Yüan Yang sent you a few fruits; they were put in that crystal bowl, so you’d better tell them to bring them to you to taste.”
“Well, in that case.” laughed Pao-yü, “you needn’t also have a bath. Just simply wash your hands, and bring the fruit and let’s have some together.”
“I’m so shaky,” smiled Ch’ing Wen “that even fans slip out of my hands, and how could I fetch the fruit for you. Were I also to break the dish, it will be still more dreadful!”
“If you want to break it, break it!” smiled Pao-yü. “These things are only intended for general use. You like this thing; I fancy that; our respective tastes are not identical. The original use of that fan, for instance, was to fan one’s self with; but if you chose to break it for fun, you were quite at liberty to do so. The only thing is, when you get angry don’t make it the means of giving vent to your temper! Just like those salvers. They are really meant for serving things in. But if you fancy that kind of sound, then deliberately smash them, that will be all right. But don’t, when you are in high dudgeon avail yourself of them to air your resentment! That’s what one would call having a fancy for a thing!”
Ch’ing Wen greeted his words with a smile.
“Since that be so,” she said, “bring me your fan and let me tear it. What most takes my fancy is tearing!”
Upon hearing this Pao-yü smilingly handed it to her. Ch’ing Wen, in point of fact, took it over, and with a crash she rent it in two. Close upon this, the sound of crash upon crash became audible.
Pao-yü was standing next to her. “How nice the noise is!” he laughed. “Tear it again and make it sound a little more!”
But while he spoke, She Yüeh was seen to walk in. “Don’t,” she smiled, “be up to so much mischief!” Pao-yü, however, went up to her and snatching her fan also from her hand, he gave it to Ch’ing Wen. Ch’ing Wen took it and there and then likewise broke it in two. Both he and she then had a hearty laugh.
“What do you call this?” She Yüeh expostulated. “Do you take my property and make it the means of distracting yourselves!”
“Open the fan-box,” shouted Pao-yü, “and choose one and take it away! What, are they such fine things!”
“In that case,” ventured She Yüeh, “fetch the fans and let her break as many as she can. Won’t that be nice!”
“Go and bring them at once!” Pao-yü laughed.
“I won’t be up to any such tomfoolery!” She Yüeh demurred. “She hasn’t snapped her hands, so bid her go herself and fetch them!”
“I’m feeling tired,” interposed Ch’ing Wen, as she laughingly leant on the bed. “I’ll therefore tear some more to-morrow again.”
“An old writer says,” added Pao-yü with a smile, “‘that a thousand ounces of gold cannot purchase a single laugh’! What can a few fans cost?”
After moralising, he went on to call Hsi Jen. Hsi Jen had just finished the necessary change in her dress so she stepped in; and a young servant-girl, Chiao Hui, crossed over and picked up the broken fans. Then they all sat and enjoyed the cool breeze. But we can well dispense with launching into any minute details.
On the morrow, noon found Madame Wang, Hsüeh Pao-ch’ai, Lin Tai-yü, and the rest of the young ladies congregated in dowager lady Chia’s suite of rooms. Some one then brought the news that: “Miss Shih had arrived.” In a little time they perceived Shih Hsiang-yun make her appearance in the court, at the head of a bevy of waiting-maids and married women. Pao-ch’ai, Tai-yu and her other cousins, quickly ran down the steps to meet her and exchange greetings. But with what fervour girls of tender years re-unite some day after a separation of months need not, of course, be explained. Presently, she entered the apartments, paid her respects and inquired how they all were. But after this conventional interchange of salutations, old lady Chia pressed her to take off her outer garments as the weather was so close. Shih Hsiang-yün lost no time in rising to her feet and loosening her clothes. “I don’t see why,” Madame Wang thereupon smiled, “you wear all these things!’
“It’s entirely at aunt Secunda’s bidding,” retorted Shih Hsiang-yün, “that I put them on. Why, would any one of her own accord wear so many things!”
“Aunt,” interposed Pao-ch’ai, who stood by, with a smile, “you’re not aware that what most delights her in the matter of dress is to don other people’s clothes! Yes, I remember how, during her stay here in the third and fourth moons of last year, she used to wear cousin Pao’s pelisses. She even put on his shoes, and attached his frontlets as well round her head. At a casual glance, she looked the very image of cousin Pao; what was superfluous was that pair of earrings of hers. As she stood at the back of that chair she so thoroughly took in our venerable ancestor that she kept on shouting: ‘Pao-yü, come over! Mind the tassels suspended on that lamp; for if you shake the dust off, it may get into your eyes!’ But all she did was to laugh; she did not budge; and it was only after every one found it hard to keep their countenance that our worthy senior also started laughing. ‘You do look well in male habiliments!’ she said to her.”
“What about that!” cried Lin Tai-yü, “why, she had scarcely been here with us a couple of days in the first moon of last year, when we sent and fetched her, that we had a fall of snow. You, venerable senior, and her maternal aunt had on that day, I remember so well, just returned from worshipping the images of our ancestors, and a brand-new deep red felt wrapper of yours, dear grandmother, had been lying over there, when suddenly it disappeared. But, lo, she it was who had put it on! Being, however, too large and too long for her, she took a couple of handkerchiefs, and fastened them round her waist. She was then trudging into the back court with the servant-girls to make snow men when she tripped and fell flat in front of the drain, and got covered all over with mud.”
As she narrated this incident, every one recalled the circumstances to mind, and had a good laugh.
“Dame Chou,” Pao-ch’ai smilingly inquired of nurse Chou, “is your young lady always as fond of pranks as ever or not?”
Nurse Chou then also gave a laugh.
“Pranks are nothing,” Ying Ch’un smiled. “What I do detest is her fondness for tittle-tattle! I’ve never seen any one who, even when asleep, goes on chatter-chatter; now laughing, and now talking, as she does. Nor can I make out where she gets all those idle yarns of hers.”
“I think she’s better of late,” interposed Madame Wang. “The other day some party or other came and they met; so she’s to have a mother-in-law very soon; and can she still be comporting herself like that!”
“Are you going to stay to-day,” dowager lady Chia then asked, “or going back home?”
Nurse Chou smiled. “Your venerable ladyship has not seen what an amount of clothes we’ve brought,” she replied. “We mean, of course, to stay a couple of days.”
“Is cousin Pao-yü not at home?” inquired Hsiang-yün.”
“There she’s again! She doesn’t think of others,” remarked Pao-ch’ai smiling significantly. “She only thinks of her cousin Pao-yü. They’re both so fond of larks! This proves that she hasn’t yet got rid of that spirit of mischief.”
“You’re all now grown up,” observed old lady Chia; “and you shouldn’t allude to infant names.”
But while she was chiding them, they noticed Pao-yü arrive.
“Cousin Yün, have you come?” he smiled. “How is it that you wouldn’t come the other day when some one was despatched to fetch you?”
“It’s only a few minutes,” Madame Wang said, “since our venerable senior called that one to task, and now here he comes and refers to names and surnames!”
“Your cousin Pao,” ventured Lin Tai-yü, “has something good, which he has been waiting to give you.”
“What good thing is it?” asked Hsiang-yün.
“Do you believe what she says?” observed Pao-yü laughingly. “But how many days is it that I have not seen you, and you’ve grown so much taller!”
“Is cousin Hsi Jen all right?” inquired Hsiang-yün.
“She’s all right,” answered Pao-yü. “Many thanks for your kind thought of her.”
“I’ve brought something nice for her,” resumed Hsiang-yün.
Saying this, she produced her handkerchief, tied into a knot.
“What’s this something nice?” asked Pao-yü. “Wouldn’t it have been better if you’d brought her a couple of those rings with streaked stones of the kind you sent the other day?”
“Why, what’s this?” exclaimed Hsiang-yün laughing, opening, as she spoke, the handkerchief.
On close scrutiny, they actually found four streaked rings, similar to those she had previously sent, tied up in the same packet.
“Look here!” Lin Tai-yü smiled, “what a girl she is! Had you, when sending that fellow the other day to bring ours, given him these also to bring along with him, wouldn’t it have saved trouble? Instead of that, here you fussily bring them yourself to-day! I presumed that it was something out of the way again; but is it really only these things? In very truth, you’re a mere dunce!”
“It’s you who behave like a dunce now!” Shih Hsiang-yün smiled.
“I’ll speak out here and let every one judge for themselves who is the dunce. The servant, deputed to bring the things to you, had no need to open his mouth and say anything; for, as soon as they were brought in, it was of course evident, at a glance, that they were to be presented to you young ladies. But had he been the bearer of these things for them, I would have been under the necessity of explaining to him which was intended for this servant-girl, and which for that. Had the messenger had his wits about him, well and good; but had he been at all stupid he wouldn’t have been able to remember so much as the names of the girls! He would have made an awful mess of it, and talked a lot of nonsense. So instead of being of any use he would have even muddled, hickledy-pickledy, your things. Had a female servant been despatched, it would have been all right. But as it happened, a servant-boy was again sent the other day, so how could he have mentioned the names of the waiting-girls? And by my bringing them in person to give them to them, doesn’t it make things clearer?”
As she said this, she put down the four rings. “One is for sister Hsi Jen,” she continued, “one is for sister Yüan Yang. One for sister Chin Ch’uan-erh, and one for sister P’ing Erh. They are only for these four girls; but would the servant-boys too forsooth have remembered them so clearly!”
At these words, the whole company smiled. “How really clear!” they cried.
“This is what it is to be able to speak!” Pao-yü put in. “She doesn’t spare any one!”
Hearing this, Lin Tai-yü gave a sardonic smile. “If she didn’t know how to use her tongue,” she observed, “would she deserve to wear that unicorn of gold!”
While speaking, she rose and walked off.
Luckily, every one did not hear what she said. Only Hsüeh Pao-ch’ai pursed up her lips and laughed. Pao-yü, however, had overheard her remark, and he blamed himself for having once more talked in a heedless manner. Unawares his eye espied Pao-ch’ai much amused, and he too could not suppress a smile. But at the sight of Pao-yü in laughter, Pao-ch’ai hastily rose to her feet and withdrew. She went in search of Tai-yü, to have a chat and laugh with her.
“After you’ve had tea,” old lady Chia thereupon said to Hsiang-yün, “you’d better rest a while and then go and see your sisters-in-law. Besides, it’s cool in the garden, so you can walk about with your cousins.”
Hsiang-yün expressed her assent, and, collecting the three rings, she wrapped them up, and went and lay down to rest. Presently, she got up with the idea of paying visits to lady Feng and her other relatives. Followed by a whole bevy of nurses and waiting-maids, she repaired into lady Feng’s quarters on the off side. She bandied words with her for a while and then coming out she betook herself into the garden of Broad Vista, and called on Li Kung-ts’ai. But after a short visit, she turned her steps towards the I Hung court to look up Hsi Jen. “You people needn’t,” she said, turning her head round, “come along with me! You may go and see your friends and relatives. It will be quite enough if you simply leave Ts’ui Lü to wait upon me.”
Hearing her wishes, each went her own way in quest of aunts, or sisters-in-law. There only remained but Hsiang-yün and Ts’ui Lü.
“How is it,” inquired Ts’ui Lü, “that these lotus flowers have not yet opened?”
“The proper season hasn’t yet arrived,” rejoined Shih Hsiang-yün.
“They too,” continued Ts’ui Lü, “resemble those in our pond; they are double flowers.”
“These here,” remarked Hsiang-yün, “are not however up to ours.”
“They have over there,” observed Ts’ui Lü, “a pomegranate tree, with four or five branches joined one to another, just like one storey raised above another storey. What trouble it must have cost them to rear!”
“Flowers and plants,” suggested Shih Hsiang-yün, “are precisely like the human race. With sufficient vitality, they grow up in a healthy condition.”
“I can’t credit these words,” replied Ts’ui Lü, twisting her face round. “If you maintain that they are like human beings, how is it that I haven’t seen any person, with one head growing over another.”
This rejoinder evoked a smile from Hsiang-yün. “I tell you not to talk,” she cried, “but you will insist upon talking! How do you expect people to be able to answer every thing you say! All things, whether in heaven or on earth come into existence by the co-operation of the dual powers, the male and female. So all things, whether good or bad, novel or strange, and all those manifold changes and transformations arise entirely from the favourable or adverse influence exercised by the male and female powers. And though some things seldom seen by mankind might come to life, the principle at work is, after all, the same.”
“In the face of these arguments,” laughed Ts’ui Lü, “everything, from old till now, from the very creation itself, embodies a certain proportion of the Yin and Yang principles.”
“You stupid thing!” exclaimed Hsiang-yün smiling, “the more you talk, the more stuff and nonsense falls from your lips! What about everything embodying a certain proportion of the principles Yin and Yang! Besides, the two words Yin and Yang are really one word; for when the Yang principle is exhausted, it becomes the Yin; and when the Yin is exhausted, it becomes Yang. And it isn’t that, at the exhaustion of the Yin, another Yang comes into existence; and that, at the exhaustion of the Yang, a second Yin arises.”
“This trash is sufficient to kill me!” ejaculated Ts’ui Lü. “What are the Yin and Yang? Why, they are without substance or form! But pray, Miss, tell me what sort of things these Yin and Yang can be!”
“The Yin and Yang,” explained Hsiang-yün, “are no more than spirits, but anything affected by their influence at once assumes form. The heavens, for instance, are Yang, and the earth is Yin; water is Yin and fire is Yang; the sun is Yang and the moon Yin.”
“Quite so! quite so!” cried out Ts’ui Lü, much amused by these explanations, “I’ve at length attained perception! It isn’t strange then that people invariably call the sun ‘T’ai-yang.’ While astrologers keep on speaking of the moon as ‘T’ai-yin-hsing,’ or something like it. It must be on account of this principle.”
“O-mi-to-fu!” laughed Hsiang-yün, “you have at last understood!”
“All these things possess the Yin and Yang; that’s all right.” T’sui Lü put in. “But is there any likelihood that all those mosquitoes, flees and worms, flowers, herbs, bricks and tiles have, in like manner, anything to do with the Yin and Yang?”
“How don’t they!” exclaimed Hsiang-yün. “For example, even the leaves of that tree are distinguished by Yin and Yang. The side, which looks up and faces the sun, is called Yang; while that in the shade and looking downwards, is called Yin.”
“Is it really so!” ejaculated T’sui Lü, upon hearing this; while she smiled and nodded her head. “Now I know all about it! But which is Yang and which Yin in these fans we’re holding.”
“This side, the front, is Yang,” answered Hsiang-yün; “and that, the reverse, is Yin.”
Ts’ui Lü went on to nod her head, and to laugh. She felt inclined to apply her questions to several other things, but as she could not fix her mind upon anything in particular, she, all of a sudden, drooped her head. Catching sight of the pendant in gold, representing a unicorn, which Hsiang-yün had about her person, she forthwith made allusion to it. “This, Miss,” she said smiling, “cannot likely also have any Yin and Yang!”
“The beasts of the field and the birds of the air,” proceeded Hsiang-yün, “are, the cock birds, Yang, and the hen birds, Yin. The females of beasts are Yin; and the males, Yang; so how is there none?”
“Is this male, or is this female?” inquired Ts’ui Lü.
“Ts’ui!” exclaimed Hsiang-yün, “what about male and female! Here you are with your nonsense again.”
“Well, never mind about that,” added Ts’ui Lü, “But how is it that all things have Yin and Yang, and that we human beings have no Yin and no Yang?”
Hsiang-yün then lowered her face. “You low-bred thing!” she exclaimed. “But it’s better for us to proceed on our way, for the more questions you ask, the nicer they get.”
“What’s there in this that you can’t tell me?” asked Ts’ui Lü, “But I know all about it, so there’s no need for you to keep me on pins and needles.”
Hsiang-yün blurted out laughing. “What do you know?” she said.
“That you, Miss, are Yang, and that I’m Yin,” answered Ts’ui Lü.
Hsiang-yün produced her handkerchief, and, while screening her mouth with it, burst out into a loud fit of laughter.
“What I say must be right for you to laugh in this way,” Ts’ui Lü observed.
“Perfectly right, perfectly right!” acquiesced Hsiang-yün.
“People say,” continued Ts’ui Lü, “that masters are Yang, and that servant-girls are Yin; don’t I even apprehend this primary principle?”
“You apprehend it thoroughly,” responded Hsiang-yün laughingly. But while she was speaking, she espied, under the trellis with the cinnamon roses, something glistening like gold. “Do you see that? What is it?” Hsiang-yün asked pointing at it.
Hearing this, Ts’ui Lü hastily went over and picked up the object. While scrutinising it, she observed with a smile, “Let us find out whether it’s Yin or Yang!”
So saying, she first laid hold of the unicorn, belonging to Shih Hsiang-yün, and passed it under inspection.
Shih Hsiang-yün longed to be shown what she had picked up, but Ts’ui Lü would not open her hand.
“It’s a precious gem,” she smiled. “You mayn’t see it, Miss. Where can it be from? How very strange it is! I’ve never seen any one in here with anything of the kind.”
“Give it to me and let me look at it,” retorted Hsiang-yün.
Ts’ui Lü stretched out her hand with a dash. “Yes, Miss, please look at it!” she laughed.
Hsiang-yün raised her eyes. She perceived, at a glance, that it was a golden unicorn, so beautiful and so bright; and so much larger and handsomer than the one she had on. Hsiang-yün put out her arm and, taking the gem in the palm of her hand, she fell into a silent reverie and uttered not a word. She was quite absent-minded when suddenly Pao-yü appeared in the opposite direction.
“What are you two,” he asked smiling, “doing here in the sun? How is it you don’t go and find Hsi Jen?”