Hung Lou Meng, Book II by Cao XueqinOr, Dream of the Red Chamber, or, The Story of the Stone (page 5)

the good counsel she gave you has stirred up your monkey instead.”

“From the way you’re now speaking,” Hsüeh P’an rejoined, “it must be you, who said that it was I; no one else but you!”

“You simply know how to feel displeased with me for speaking,” argued Pao-ch’ai, “but you don’t feel displeased with yourself for that reckless way of yours of looking ahead and not minding what is behind!”

“You now bear me a grudge,” Hsüeh P’an added, “for looking to what is ahead and not to what is behind; but how is it you don’t feel indignant with Pao-yü for stirring up strife and provoking trouble outside? Leaving aside everything else, I’ll merely take that affair of Ch’i Kuan-erh’s, which occurred the other day, and recount it to you as an instance. My friends and I came across this Ch’i Kuan-erh, ten times at least, but never has he made a single intimate remark to me, and how is it that, as soon as he met Pao-yü the other day, he at once produced his sash, and gave it to him, though he did not so much as know what his surname and name were? Now is it likely, forsooth, that this too was something that I started?”

“Do you still refer to this?” exclaimed Mrs. Hsüeh and Pao-ch’ai, out of patience. “Wasn’t it about this that he was beaten? This makes it clear enough that it’s you who gave the thing out.”

“Really, you’re enough to exasperate one to death!” Hsüeh P’an exclaimed. “Had you confined yourselves to saying that I had started the yarn, I wouldn’t have lost my temper; but what irritates me is that such a fuss should be made for a single Pao-yü, as to subvert heaven and earth!”

“Who fusses?” shouted Pao-ch’ai. “You are the first to arm yourself to the teeth and start a row, and then you say that it’s others who are up to mischief!”

Hsüeh P’an, seeing that every remark, made by Pao-ch’ai, contained so much reasonableness that he could with difficulty refute it, and that her words were even harder for him to reply to than were those uttered by his mother, he was consequently bent upon contriving a plan to make use of such language as could silence her and compel her to return to her room, so as to have no one bold enough to interfere with his speaking; but, his temper being up, he was not in a position to weigh his speech. “Dear Sister!” he readily therefore said, “you needn’t be flying into a huff with me! I’ve long ago divined your feelings. Mother told me some time back that for you with that gold trinket, must be selected some suitor provided with a jade one; as such a one will be a suitable match for you. And having treasured this in your mind, and seen that Pao-yü has that rubbishy thing of his, you naturally now seize every occasion to screen him….”

However, before he could finish, Pao-ch’ai trembled with anger, and clinging to Mrs. Hsüeh, she melted into tears. “Mother,” she observed, “have you heard what brother says, what is it all about?”

Hsüeh P’an, at the sight of his sister bathed in tears, became alive to the fact that he had spoken inconsiderately, and, flying into a rage, he walked away to his own quarters and retired to rest. But we can well dispense with any further comment on the subject.

Pao-ch’ai was, at heart, full of vexation and displeasure. She meant to give vent to her feelings in some way, but the fear again of upsetting her mother compelled her to conceal her tears. She therefore took leave of her parent, and went back all alone. On her return to her chamber, she sobbed and sobbed throughout the whole night. The next day, she got out of bed, as soon as it dawned; but feeling even no inclination to comb her chevelure or perform her ablutions, she carelessly adjusted her clothes and came out of the garden to see her mother.

As luck would have it, she encountered Tai-yü standing alone under the shade of the trees, who inquired of her: “Where she was off to?”

“I’m going home,” Hsüeh Pao-ch’ai replied. And as she uttered these words, she kept on her way.

But Tai-yü perceived that she was going off in a disconsolate mood; and, noticing that her eyes betrayed signs of crying, and that her manner was unlike that of other days, she smilingly called out to her from behind: “Sister, you should take care of yourself a bit. Were you even to cry so much as to fill two water jars with tears, you wouldn’t heal the wounds inflicted by the cane.”

But as what reply Hsüeh Pao-ch’ai gave is not yet known to you, reader, lend an ear to the explanation contained in the next chapter.

CHAPTER XXXV.

Pai Yü-ch’uan tastes too the lotus-leaf soup. Huang Chin-ying skilfully plaits the plum-blossom-knotted nets.

Pao ch’ai had, our story goes, distinctly heard Lin Tai-yü’s sneer, but in her eagerness to see her mother and brother, she did not so much as turn her head round, but continued straight on her way.

During this time, Lin Tai-yü halted under the shadow of the trees. Upon casting a glance, in the distance towards the I Hung Yüan, she observed Li Kung-ts’ai, Ying Ch’un, T’an Ch’un, Hsi Ch’un and various inmates wending their steps in a body in the direction of the I Hung court; but after they had gone past, and company after company of them had dispersed, she only failed to see lady Feng come. “How is it,” she cogitated within herself, “that she doesn’t come to see Pao-yü? Even supposing that there was some business to detain her, she should also have put in an appearance, so as to curry favour with our venerable senior and Madame Wang. But if she hasn’t shown herself at this hour of the day, there must certainly be some cause or other.”

While preoccupied with conjectures, she raised her head. At a second glance, she discerned a crowd of people, as thick as flowers in a bouquet, pursuing their way also into the I Hung court. On looking fixedly, she recognised dowager lady Chia, leaning on lady Feng’s arm, followed by Mesdames Hsing and Wang, Mrs. Chou and servant-girls, married women and other domestics. In a body they walked into the court. At the sight of them, Tai-yü unwittingly nodded her head, and reflected on the benefit of having a father and mother; and tears forthwith again bedewed her face. In a while, she beheld Pao-ch’ai, Mrs. Hsüeh and the rest likewise go in.

But at quite an unexpected moment she became aware that Tzu Chüan was approaching her from behind. “Miss,” she said, “you had better go and take your medicine! The hot water too has got cold.”

“What do you, after all, mean by keeping on pressing me so?” inquired Tai-yü. “Whether I have it or not, what’s that to you?”

“Your cough,” smiled Tzu Chüan, “has recently got a trifle better, and won’t you again take your medicine? This is, it’s true, the fifth moon, and the weather is hot, but you should, nevertheless, take good care of yourself a bit! Here you’ve been at this early hour of the morning standing for ever so long in this damp place; so you should go back and have some rest!”

This single hint recalled Tai-yü to her senses. She at length realised that her legs felt rather tired. After lingering about abstractedly for a long while, she quietly returned into the Hsiao Hsiang lodge, supporting herself on Tzu Chüan. As soon as they stepped inside the entrance of the court, her gaze was attracted by the confused shadows of the bamboos, which covered the ground, and the traces of moss, here thick, there thin, and she could not help recalling to mind those two lines of the passage in the Hsi Hsiang Chi:

“In that lone nook some one saunters about, White dew coldly bespecks the verdant moss.”

“Shuang Wen,” she consequently secretly communed within herself, as she sighed, “had of course a poor fate; but she nevertheless had a widowed mother and a young brother; but in the unhappy destiny, to which I, Tai-yü, am at present doomed, I have neither a widowed mother nor a young brother.”

At this point in her reflections, she was about to melt into another fit of crying, when of a sudden, the parrot under the verandah caught sight of Tai-yü approaching, and, with a shriek, he jumped down from his perch, and made her start with fright.

“Are you bent upon compassing your own death!” she exclaimed. “You’ve covered my head all over with dust again!”

The parrot flew back to his perch. “Hsüeh Yen,” he kept on shouting, “quick, raise the portiere! Miss is come!”

Tai-yü stopped short and rapped on the frame with her hand. “Have his food and water been replenished?” she asked.

The parrot forthwith heaved a deep sigh, closely resembling, in sound, the groans usually indulged in by Tai-yü, and then went on to recite:

“Here I am fain these flowers to inter, but humankind will laugh me as a fool.”
Who knows who will in years to come commit me to my grave.

As soon as these lines fell on the ear of Tai-yü and Tzu Chüan, they blurted out laughing.

“This is what you were repeating some time back, Miss.” Tzu Chüan laughed, “How did he ever manage to commit it to memory?”

Tai-yü then directed some one to take down the frame and suspend it instead on a hook, outside the circular window, and presently entering her room, she seated herself inside the circular window. She had just done drinking her medicine, when she perceived that the shade cast by the cluster of bamboos, planted outside the window, was reflected so far on the gauze lattice as to fill the room with a faint light, so green and mellow, and to impart a certain coolness to the teapoys and mats. But Tai-yü had no means at hand to dispel her ennui, so from inside the gauze lattice, she instigated the parrot to perform his pranks; and selecting some verses, which had ever found favour with her, she tried to teach them to him.

But without descending to particulars, let us now advert to Hsüeh Pao-ch’ai. On her return home, she found her mother alone combing her hair and having a wash. “Why do you run over at this early hour of the morning?” she speedily inquired when she saw her enter.

“To see,” replied Pao-ch’ai, “whether you were all right or not, mother. Did he come again, I wonder, after I left yesterday and make any more trouble or not?”

As she spoke, she sat by her mother’s side, but unable to curb her tears, she began to weep.

Seeing her sobbing, Mrs. Hsüeh herself could not check her feelings, and she, too, burst out into a fit of crying. “My child,” she simultaneously exhorted her, “don’t feel aggrieved! Wait, and I’ll call that child of wrath to order; for were anything to happen to you, from whom will I have anything to hope?”

Hsüeh P’an was outside and happened to overhear their conversation, so with alacrity he ran over, and facing Pao-ch’ai he made a bow, now to the left and now to the right, observing the while: “My dear sister, forgive me this time. The fact is that I took some wine yesterday; I came back late, as I met a few friends on the way. On my return home, I hadn’t as yet got over the fumes, so I unintentionally talked a lot of nonsense. But I don’t so much as remember anything about all I said. It isn’t worth your while, however, losing your temper over such a thing!”

Pao-ch’ai was, in fact, weeping, as she covered her face, but the moment this language fell on her ear, she could scarcely again refrain from laughing. Forthwith raising her head, she sputtered contemptuously on the ground. “You can well dispense with all this sham!” she exclaimed, “I’m well aware that you so dislike us both, that you’re anxious to devise some way of inducing us to part company with you, so that you may be at liberty.”

Hsüeh P’an, at these words, hastened to smile. “Sister,” he argued, “what makes you say so? once upon a time, you weren’t so suspicious and given to uttering anything so perverse!”

Mrs. Hsüeh hurriedly took up the thread of the conversation. “All you know,” she interposed, “is to find fault with your sister’s remarks as being perverse; but can it be that what you said last night was the proper thing to say? In very truth, you were drunk!”

“There’s no need for you to get angry, mother!” Hsüeh P’an rejoined, “nor for you sister either; for from this day, I shan’t any more make common cause with them nor drink wine or gad about. What do you say to that?”

“That’s equal to an acknowledgment of your failings,” Pao-ch’ai laughed.

“Could you exercise such strength of will,” added Mrs. Hsüeh, “why, the dragon too would lay eggs.”

“If I again go and gad about with them,” Hsüeh P’an replied, “and you, sister, come to hear of it, you can freely spit in my face and call me a beast and no human being. Do you agree to that? But why should you two be daily worried; and all through me alone? For you, mother, to be angry on my account is anyhow excusable; but for me to keep on worrying you, sister, makes me less then ever worthy of the name of a human being! If now that father is no more, I manage, instead of showing you plenty of filial piety, mamma, and you, sister, plenty of love, to provoke my mother to anger, and annoy my sister, why I can’t compare myself to even a four-footed creature!”

While from his mouth issued these words, tears rolled down from his eyes; for he too found it hard to contain them.

Mrs. Hsüeh had not at first been overcome by her feelings; but the moment his utterances reached her ear, she once more began to experience the anguish, which they stirred in her heart.

Pao-ch’ai made an effort to force a smile. “You’ve already,” she said, “been the cause of quite enough trouble, and do you now provoke mother to have another cry?”

Hearing this, Hsüeh P’an promptly checked his tears. As he put on a smiling expression, “When did I,” he asked, “make mother cry? But never mind; enough of this! let’s drop the matter, and not allude to it any more! Call Hsiang Ling to come and give you a cup of tea, sister!”

“I don’t want any tea.” Pao-ch’ai answered. “I’ll wait until mother has finished washing her hands and then go with her into the garden.”

“Let me see your necklet, sister,” Hsüeh P’an continued. “I think it requires cleaning.”

“It is so yellow and bright,” rejoined Pao-ch’ai, “and what’s the use of cleaning it again?”

“Sister,” proceeded Hsüeh P’an, “you must now add a few more clothes to your wardrobe, so tell me what colour and what design you like best.”

“I haven’t yet worn out all the clothes I have,” Pao-ch’ai explained, “and why should I have more made?”

But, in a little time, Mrs. Hsüeh effected the change in her costume, and hand in hand with Pao-ch’ai, she started on her way to the garden.

Hsüeh P’an thereupon took his departure. During this while, Mrs. Hsüeh and Pao-ch’ai trudged in the direction of the garden to look up Pao-yü. As soon as they reached the interior of the I Hung court, they saw a large concourse of waiting-maids and matrons standing inside as well as outside the antechambers and they readily concluded that old lady Chia and the other ladies were assembled in his rooms. Mrs. Hsüeh and her daughter stepped in. After exchanging salutations with every one present, they noticed that Pao-yü was reclining on the couch and Mrs. Hsüeh inquired of him whether he felt any better.

Pao-yü hastily attempted to bow. “I’m considerably better;” he said. “All I do,” he went on, “is to disturb you, aunt, and you, my cousin, but I don’t deserve such attentions.”

Mrs. Hsüeh lost no time in supporting and laying him down. “Mind you tell me whatever may take your fancy!” she proceeded.

“If I do fancy anything,” retorted Pao-yü smilingly, “I shall certainly send to you, aunt, for it.”

“What would you like to eat,” likewise inquired Madame Wang, “so that I may, on my return, send it round to you?”

“There’s nothing that I care for,” smiled Pao-yü, “though the soup made for me the other day, with young lotus leaves, and small lotus cores was, I thought, somewhat nice.”

“From what I hear, its flavour is nothing very grand,” lady Feng chimed in laughingly, from where she stood on one side. “It involves, however, a good deal of trouble to concoct; and here you deliberately go and fancy this very thing.”

“Go and get it ready!” cried dowager lady Chia several successive times.

“Venerable ancestor,” urged lady Feng with a smile, “don’t you bother yourself about it! Let me try and remember who can have put the moulds away!” Then turning her head round, “Go and bid,” she enjoined an old matron, “the chief in the cook-house go and apply for them!”

After a considerable lapse of time, the matron returned. “The chief in the cook-house,” she explained, “says that the four sets of moulds for soups have all been handed up.”

Upon hearing this, lady Feng thought again for a while. “Yes, I remember,” she afterwards remarked, “they were handed up, but I can’t recollect to whom they were given. Possibly they’re in the tea-room.”

Thereupon, she also despatched a servant to go and inquire of the keeper of the tea-room about them; but he too had not got them; and it was subsequently the butler, entrusted with the care of the gold and silver articles, who brought them round.

Mrs. Hsüeh was the first to take them and examine them. What, in fact, struck her gaze was a small box, the contents of which were four sets of silver moulds. Each of these was over a foot long, and one square inch (in breadth). On the top, holes were bored of the size of beans. Some resembled chrysanthemums, others plum blossom. Some were in the shape of lotus seed-cases, others like water chestnuts. They numbered in all thirty or forty kinds, and were ingeniously executed.

“In your mansion,” she felt impelled to observe smilingly to old lady Chia and Madame Wang, “everything has been amply provided for! Have you got all these things to prepare a plate of soup with! Hadn’t you told me, and I happened to see them, I wouldn’t have been able to make out what they were intended for!”

Lady Feng did not allow time to any one to put in her word. “Aunt,” she said, “how could you ever have divined that these were used last year for the imperial viands! They thought of a way by which they devised, somehow or other, I can’t tell how, some dough shapes, which borrow a little of the pure fragrance of the new lotus leaves. But as all mainly depends upon the quality of the soup, they’re not, after all, of much use! Yet who often goes in for such soup! It was made once only, and that at the time when the moulds were brought; and how is it that he has come to think of it to-day?” So speaking, she took (the moulds), and handed them to a married woman, to go and issue directions to the people in the cook-house to procure at once several fowls, and to add other ingredients besides and prepare ten bowls of soup.

“What do you want all that lot for?” observed Madame Wang.

“There’s good reason for it,” answered lady Feng. “A dish of this kind isn’t, at ordinary times, very often made, and were, now that brother Pao-yü has alluded to it, only sufficient prepared for him, and none for you, dear senior, you, aunt, and you, Madame Wang, it won’t be quite the thing! So isn’t it better that this opportunity should be availed of to get ready a whole supply so that every one should partake of some, and that even I should, through my reliance on your kind favour, taste this novel kind of relish.”

“You are sharper than a monkey!” Dowager lady Chia laughingly exclaimed in reply to her proposal. “You make use of public money to confer boons upon people.”

This remark evoked general laughter.

“This is a mere bagatelle!” eagerly laughed lady Feng. “Even I can afford to stand you such a small treat!” Then turning her head round, “Tell them in the cook-house,” she said to a married woman, “to please make an extra supply, and that they’ll get the money from me.”

The matron assented and went out of the room.

Pao-ch’ai, who was standing near, thereupon interposed with a smile. “During the few years that have gone by since I’ve come here, I’ve carefully noticed that sister-in-law Secunda, cannot, with all her acumen, outwit our venerable ancestor.”

“My dear child!” forthwith replied old lady Chia at these words. “I’m now quite an old woman, and how can there still remain any wit in me! When I was, long ago, of your manlike cousin Feng’s age, I had far more wits about me than she has! Albeit she now avers that she can’t reach our standard, she’s good enough; and compared with your aunt Wang, why, she’s infinitely superior. Your aunt, poor thing, won’t speak much! She’s like a block of wood; and when with her father and mother-in-law, she won’t show herself off to advantage. But that girl Feng has a sharp tongue, so is it a wonder if people take to her.”

“From what you say,” insinuated Pao-yü with a smile, “those who don’t talk much are not loved.”

“Those who don’t speak much,” resumed dowager lady Chia, “possess the endearing quality of reserve. But among those, with glib tongues, there’s also a certain despicable lot; thus it’s better, in a word, not to have too much to say for one’s self.”

“Quite so,” smiled Pao-yü, “yet though senior sister-in-law Chia Chu doesn’t, I must confess, talk much, you, venerable ancestor, treat her just as you do cousin Feng. But if you maintain that those alone, who can talk, are worthy of love, then among all these young ladies, sister Feng and cousin Lin are the only ones good enough to be loved.”

“With regard to the young ladies,” remarked dowager lady Chia, “it isn’t that I have any wish to flatter your aunt Hsüeh in her presence, but it is a positive and incontestable fact that there isn’t, beginning from the four girls in our household, a single one able to hold a candle to that girl Pao-ch’ai.”

At these words, Mrs. Hsüeh promptly smiled. “Dear venerable senior!” she said, “you’re rather partial in your verdict.”

“Our dear senior,” vehemently put in Madame Wang, also smiling, “has often told me in private how nice your daughter Pao-ch’ai is; so this is no lie.”

Pao-yü had tried to lead old lady Chia on, originally with the idea of inducing her to speak highly of Lin Tai-yü, but when unawares she began to eulogise Pao-ch’ai instead the result exceeded all his thoughts and went far beyond his expectations. Forthwith he cast a glance at Pao-chai, and gave her a smile, but Pao-chai at once twisted her head round and went and chatted with Hsi Jen. But of a sudden, some one came to ask them to go and have their meal. Dowager lady Chia rose to her feet, and enjoined Pao-yü to be careful of himself. She then gave a few directions to the waiting-maids, and resting her weight on lady Feng’s arm, and pressing Mrs. Hsüeh to go out first, she, and all with her, left the apartment in a body. But still she kept on inquiring whether the soup was ready or not. “If there’s anything you might fancy to eat,” she also said to Mrs. Hsüeh and the others, “mind you, come and tell me, and I know how to coax that hussey Feng to get it for you as well as me.”

“My venerable senior!” rejoined Mrs. Hsüeh, “you do have the happy knack of putting her on her mettle; but though she has often got things ready for you, you’ve, after all, not eaten very much of them.”

“Aunt,” smiled lady Feng, “don’t make such statements! If our worthy senior hasn’t eaten me up it’s purely and simply because she dislikes human flesh as being sour. Did she not look down upon it as sour, why, she would long ago have gobbled me up!”

This joke was scarcely ended, when it so tickled the fancy of old lady Chia and all the inmates that they broke out with one voice in a boisterous fit of laughter. Even Pao-yü, who was inside the room, could not keep quiet.

“Really,” Hsi Jen laughed, “the mouth of our mistress Secunda is enough to terrify people to death!”

Pao-yü put out his arm and pulled Hsi Jen. “You’ve been standing for so long,” he smiled, “that you must be feeling tired.”

Saying this, he dragged her down and made her take a seat next to him.

“Here you’ve again forgotten!” laughingly exclaimed Hsi Jen. “Avail yourself now that Miss Pao-ch’ai is in the court to tell her to kindly bid their Ying Erh come and plait a few girdles with twisted cords.”

“How lucky it is you’ve reminded me?” Pao-yü observed with a smile. And putting, while he spoke, his head out of the window: “Cousin Pao-ch’ai,” he cried, “when you’ve had your repast, do tell Ying Erh to come over. I would like to ask her to plait a few girdles for me. Has she got the time to spare?”

Pao-ch’ai heard him speak; and turning round: “How about no time?” she answered. “I’ll tell her by and bye to come; it will be all right.”

Dowager lady Chia and the others, however, failed to catch distinctly the drift of their talk; and they halted and made inquiries of Pao-ch’ai what it was about. Pao-ch’ai gave them the necessary explanations.

“My dear child,” remarked old lady Chia, “do let her come and twist a few girdles for your cousin! And should you be in need of any one for anything, I have over at my place a whole number of servant-girls doing nothing! Out of them, you are at liberty to send for any you like to wait on you!”

“We’ll send her to plait them!” Mrs. Hsüeh and Pao-ch’ai observed smilingly with one consent. “What can we want her for? she also daily idles her time way and is up to every mischief!”

But chatting the while, they were about to proceed on their way when they unexpectedly caught sight of Hsiang-yün, P’ing Erh, Hsiang Lin and other girls picking balsam flowers near the rocks; who, as soon as they saw the company approaching, advanced to welcome them.

Shortly, they all sallied out of the garden. Madame Wang was worrying lest dowager lady Chia’s strength might be exhausted, and she did her utmost to induce her to enter the drawing room and sit down. Old lady Chia herself was feeling her legs quite tired out, so she at once nodded her head and expressed her assent. Madame Wang then directed a waiting-maid to hurriedly precede them, and get ready the seats. But as Mrs. Chao had, about this time, pleaded indisposition, there was only therefore Mrs. Chou, with the matrons and servant-girls at hand, so they had ample to do to raise the portières, to put the back-cushions in their places, and to spread out the rugs.

Dowager lady Chia stepped into the room, leaning on lady Feng’s arm. She and Mrs. Hsüeh took their places, with due regard to the distinction between hostess and visitors; and Hsüeh Pao-ch’ai and Shih Hsiang-yün seated themselves below. Madame Wang then came forward, and presented with her own hands tea to old lady Chia, while Li Kung-ts’ai handed a cup to Mrs. Hsüeh.

“You’d better let those young sisters-in law do the honours,” remonstrated old lady Chia, “and sit over there so that we may be able to have a chat.”

Madame Wang at length sat on a small bench. “Let our worthy senior’s viands,” she cried, addressing herself to lady Feng, “be served here. And let a few more things be brought!”

Lady Feng acquiesced without delay, and she told a servant to cross over to their old mistress’ quarters and to bid the matrons, employed in that part of the household, promptly go out and summon the waiting-girls. The various waiting-maids arrived with all despatch. Madame Wang directed them to ask their young ladies round. But after a protracted absence on the errand, only two of the girls turned up: T’an Ch’un and Hsi Ch’un. Ying Ch’un, was not, in her state of health, equal to the fatigue, or able to put anything in her mouth, and Lin Tai-yü, superfluous to add, could only safely partake of five out of ten meals, so no one thought anything of their non-appearance. Presently the eatables were brought, and the servants arranged them in their proper places on the table.

Lady Feng took a napkin and wrapped a bundle of chopsticks in it. “Venerable ancestor and you, Mrs. Hsüeh,” she smiled, standing the while below, “there’s no need of any yielding! Just you listen to me and I’ll make things all right.”

“Let’s do as she wills!” old lady Chia remarked to Mrs. Hsüeh laughingly.

Mrs. Hsüeh signified her approval with a smile; so lady Feng placed, in due course, four pairs of chopsticks on the table; the two pairs on the upper end for dowager lady Chia and Mrs. Hsüeh; those on the two sides for Hsüeh Pao-ch’ai and Shih Hsiang-yün. Madame Wang, Li Kung-ts’ai and a few others, stood together below and watched the attendants serve the viands. Lady Feng first and foremost hastily asked for clean utensils, and drew near the table to select some eatables for Pao-yü. Presently, the soup _à la_ lotus leaves arrived. After old lady Chia had well scrutinised it, Madame Wang turned her head, and catching sight of Yü Ch’uan-erh, she immediately commissioned her to take some over to Pao-yü.

“She can’t carry it single-handed,” demurred lady Feng.

But by a strange coincidence, Ying Erh then walked into the room along with Hsi Erh, and Pao-ch’ai knowing very well that they had already had their meal forthwith said to Ying Erh: “Your Master Secundus, Mr. Pao-yü, just asked that you should go and twist a few girdles for him; so you two might as well proceed together!”

Ying Erh expressed her readiness and left the apartment, in company with Yü Ch’uan-erh.

“How can you carry it, so very hot as it is, the whole way there?” observed Ying Erh.

“Don’t distress yourself!” rejoined Yü Ch’uan smiling. “I know how to do it.”

Saying this, she directed a matron to come and place the soup, rice and the rest of the eatables in a present box; and bidding her lay hold of it and follow them, the two girls sped on their way with empty hands, and made straight for the entrance of the I Hung court. Here Yü Ch’uan-erh at length took the things herself, and entered the room in company with Ying Erh. The trio, Hsi Jen, She Yüeh and Ch’iu Wen were at the time chatting and laughing with Pao-yü; but the moment they saw their two friends arrive they speedily jumped to their feet. “How is it,” they exclaimed laughingly, “that you two drop in just the nick of time? Have you come together?”

With these words on their lips, they descended to greet them. Yü Ch’uan took at once a seat on a small stool. Ying Erh, however, did not presume to seat herself; and though Hsi Jen was quick enough in moving a foot-stool for her, Ying Erh did not still venture to sit down.

Ying Erh’s arrival filled Pao-yü with intense delight. But as soon as he noticed Yü Ch’uan-erh, he recalled to memory her sister Chin Ch’uan-erh, and he felt wounded to the very heart, and overpowered with shame. And, without troubling his mind about Ying Erh, he addressed his remarks to Yü Ch’uan-erh.

Hsi Jen saw very well that Ying Erh failed to attract his attention and she began to fear lest she felt uncomfortable; and when she further realised that Ying Erh herself would not take a seat, she drew her out of the room and repaired with her into the outer apartment, where they had a chat over their tea.

She Yüeh and her companions had, in the meantime, got the bowls and chopsticks ready and came to wait upon (Pao-yü) during his meal. But Pao-yü would not have anything to eat. “Is your mother all right,” he forthwith inquired of Yü Ch’uan-erh.

An angry scowl crept over Yü Ch’uan-erh’s face. She did not even look straight at Pao-yü. And only after a long pause was it that she at last uttered merely the words, “all right,” by way of reply. Pao-yü, therefore, found talking to her of little zest. But after a protracted silence he felt impelled to again force a smile, and to ask: “Who told you to bring these things over to me?”

“The ladies,” answered Yü Chuan-erh.

Pao-yü discerned the mournful expression, which still beclouded her countenance and he readily jumped at the conclusion that it must be entirely occasioned by the fate which had befallen Chin Ch’uan-erh, but when fain to put on a meek and unassuming manner, and endeavour to cheer her, he saw how little he could demean himself in the presence of so many people, and consequently he did his best and discovered the means of getting every one out of the way. Afterwards, straining another smile, he plied her with all sorts of questions.

Yü Ch’uan-erh, it is true, did not at first choose to heed his advances, yet when she observed that Pao-yü did not put on any airs, and, that in spite of all her querulous reproaches, he still continued pleasant and agreeable, she felt disconcerted and her features at last assumed a certain expression of cheerfulness. Pao-yü thereupon smiled. “My dear girl,” he said, as he gave way to entreaties, “bring that soup and let me taste it!”

“I’ve never been in the habit of feeding people,” Yü Ch’uan-erh replied. “You’d better wait till the others return; you can have some then.”

“I don’t want you to feed me,” laughed Pao-yü. “It’s because I can’t move about that I appeal to you. Do let me have it! You’ll then get back early and be able, when you’ve handed over the things, to have your meal. But were I to go on wasting your time, won’t you feel upset from hunger? Should you be lazy to budge, well then, I’ll endure the pain and get down and fetch it myself.”

As he spoke, he tried to alight from bed. He strained every nerve, and raised himself, but unable to stand the exertion, he burst out into groans. At the sight of his anguish, Yü Ch’uan-erh had not the heart to refuse her help. Springing up, “Lie down!” she cried. “In what former existence did you commit such evil that your retribution in the present one is so apparent? Which of my eyes however can brook looking at you going on in that way?”

While taunting him, she again blurted out laughing, and brought the soup over to him.

“My dear girl;” smiled Pao-yü, “if you want to show temper, better do so here! When you see our venerable senior and madame, my mother, you should be a little more even-tempered, for if you still behave like this, you’ll at once get a scolding!”

“Eat away, eat away!” urged Yü Ch’uan-erh. “There’s no need for you to be so sweet-mouthed and honey-tongued with me. I don’t put any faith in such talk!”

So speaking, she pressed Pao-yü until he had two mouthfuls of soup. “It isn’t nice, it isn’t nice!” Pao-yü purposely exclaimed.

“Omi-to-fu!” ejaculated Yü Ch’uan-erh. “If this isn’t nice, what’s nice?”

“There’s no flavour about it at all,” resumed Pao-yü. “If you don’t believe me taste it, and you’ll find out for yourself.”

Yü Ch’uan-erh in a tantrum actually put some of it to her lips.

“Well,” laughed Pao-yü, “it is nice!”

This exclamation eventually enabled Yü Ch’uan to see what Pao-yü was driving at, for Pao-yü had in fact been trying to beguile her to have a mouthful.

“As, at one moment, you say you don’t want any,” she forthwith observed, “and now you say it is nice, I won’t give you any.”

While Pao-yü returned her smiles, he kept on earnestly entreating her to let him have some.

Yü Ch’uan-erh however would still not give him any; and she, at the same time, called to the servants to fetch what there was for him to eat. But the instant the waiting-maid put her foot into the room, servants came quite unexpectedly to deliver a message.

“Two nurses,” they said, “have arrived from the household of Mr. Fu, Secundus, to present his compliments. They have now come to see you, Mr. Secundus.” As soon as Pao-yü heard this report, he felt sure that they must be nurses sent over from the household of Deputy Sub-Prefect, Fu Shih.

This Fu Shih had originally been a pupil of Chia Cheng, and had, indeed, had to rely entirely upon the reputation enjoyed by the Chia family for the realisation of his wishes. Chia Cheng had, likewise, treated him with such genuine regard, and so unlike any of his other pupils, that he (Fu Shih) ever and anon despatched inmates from his mansion to come and see him so as to keep up friendly relations.

Pao-yü had at all times entertained an aversion for bold-faced men and unsophisticated women, so why did he once more, on this occasion, issue directions that the two matrons should be introduced into his presence? There was, in fact, a reason for his action. It was simply that Pao-yü had come to learn that Fu Shih had a sister, Ch’iu-fang by name, a girl as comely as a magnificent gem, and perfection itself, the report of outside people went, as much in intellect as in beauty. He had, it is true, not yet seen anything of her with his own eyes, but the sentiments, which made him think of her and cherish her, from a distance, were characterised by such extreme sincerity, that dreading lest he should, by refusing to admit the matrons, reflect discredit upon Fu Ch’iu-fang, he was prompted to lose no time in expressing a wish that they should be ushered in.

This Fu Shih had really risen from the vulgar herd, so seeing that Ch’iu-fang possessed several traits of beauty and exceptional intellectual talents, Fu Shih arrived at the resolution of making his sister the means of joining relationship with the influential family of some honourable clan. And so unwilling was he to promise her lightly to any suitor that things were delayed up to this time. Therefore Fu Ch’iu-fang, though at present past her twentieth birthday, was not as yet engaged. But the various well-to-do families, belonging to honourable clans, looked down, on the other hand, on her poor and mean extraction, holding her in such light esteem, as not to relish the idea of making any offer for her hand. So if Fu Shih cultivated intimate terms with the Chia household, he, needless to add, did so with an interested motive.

The two matrons, deputed on the present errand, completely lacked, as it happened, all knowledge of the world, and the moment they heard that Pao-yü wished to see them, they wended their steps inside. But no sooner had they inquired how he was, and passed a few remarks than Yü Ch’uan-erh, becoming conscious of the arrival of strangers, did not bandy words with Pao-yü, but stood with the plate of soup in her hands, engrossed in listening to the conversation. Pao-yü, again, was absorbed in speaking to the matrons; and, while eating some rice, he stretched out his arm to get at the soup; but both his and her (Yü Ch’uan-erh’s) eyes were rivetted on the women, and as he thoughtlessly jerked out his hand with some violence, he struck the bowl and turned it clean over. The soup fell over Pao-yü’s hand. But it did not hurt Yü Ch’uan-erh. She sustained, however, such a fright that she gave a start.

“How did this happen!” she smilingly shouted with vehemence to the intense consternation of the waiting-maids, who rushed up and clasped the bowl. But notwithstanding that Pao-yü had scalded his own hand, he was quite unconscious of the accident; so much so, that he assailed Yü Ch’uan-erh with a heap of questions, as to where she had been burnt, and whether it was sore or not.

Yü Ch’uan-erh and every one present were highly amused.

“You yourself,” observed Yü Ch’uan-erh, “have been scalded, and do you keep on asking about myself?”

At these words, Pao-yü became at last aware of the injury he had received. The servants rushed with all promptitude and cleared the mess. But Pao-yü was not inclined to touch any more food. He washed his hands, drank a cup of tea, and then exchanged a few further sentences with the two matrons. But subsequently, the two women said good-bye and quitted the room. Ch’ing Wen and some other girls saw them as far as the bridge, after which, they retraced their steps.

The two matrons perceived, that there was no one about, and while proceeding on their way, they started a conversation.

“It isn’t strange,” smiled the one, “if people say that this Pao-yü of theirs is handsome in appearance, but stupid as far as brains go. Nice enough a thing to look at but not to put to one’s lips; rather idiotic in fact; for he burns his own hand, and then he asks some one else whether she’s sore or not. Now, isn’t this being a regular fool?”

“The last time I came,” the other remarked, also smiling, “I heard that many inmates of his family feel ill-will against him. In real truth he is a fool! For there he drips in the heavy downpour like a water fowl, and instead of running to shelter himself, he reminds other people of the rain, and urges them to get quick out of the wet. Now, tell me, isn’t this ridiculous, eh? Time and again, when no one is present, he cries to himself, then laughs to himself. When he sees a swallow, he instantly talks to it; when he espies a fish, in the river, he forthwith speaks to it. At the sight of stars or the moon, if he doesn’t groan and sigh, he mutters and mutters. Indeed, he hasn’t the least bit of character; so much so, that he even puts up with the temper shown by those low-bred maids. If he takes a fancy to a thing, it’s nice enough even though it be a bit of thread. But as for waste, what does he mind? A thing may be worth a thousand or ten thousand pieces of money, he doesn’t worry his mind in the least about it.”

While they talked, they reached the exterior of the garden, and they betook themselves back to their home; where we will leave them.

As soon as Hsi Jen, for we will return to her, saw the women leave the room, she took Ying Erh by the hand and led her in, and they asked Pao-yü what kind of girdle he wanted made.

“I was just now so bent upon talking,” Pao-yü smiled to Ying Erh, “that I forgot all about you. I put you to the trouble of coming, not for anything else, but that you should also make me a few nets.”

“Nets! To put what in?” Ying Erh inquired.

Pao-yü, at this question, put on a smile. “Don’t concern yourself about what they are for!” he replied. “Just make me a few of each kind!”

Ying Erh clapped her hand and laughed. “Could this ever be done!” she cried, “If you want all that lot, why, they couldn’t be finished in ten years time.”

“My dear girl,” smiled Pao-yü, “work at them for me then whenever you are at leisure, and have nothing better to do.”

“How could you get through them all in a little time?” Hsi Jen interposed smilingly. “First choose now therefore such as are most urgently needed and make a couple of them.”

“What about urgently needed?” Ying-Erh exclaimed, “They are merely used for fans, scented pendants and handkerchiefs.”

“Nets for handkerchiefs will do all right.” Pao-yü answered.

“What’s the colour of your handkerchief?” inquired Ying Erh.

“It’s a deep red one.” Pao-yü rejoined.

“For a deep red one,” continued Ying Erh, “a black net will do very nicely, or one of dark green. Both these agree with the colour.”

“What goes well with brown?” Pao-yü asked.

“Peach-red goes well with brown.” Ying Erh added.

“That will make them look gaudy!” Pao-yü observed. “Yet with all their plainness, they should be somewhat gaudy.”

“Leek-green and willow-yellow are what are most to my taste,” Ying Erh pursued.

“Yes, they’ll also do!” Pao-yü retorted. “But make one of peach-red too and then one of leek-green.”

“Of what design?” Ying Erh remarked.

“How many kinds of designs are there?” Pao-yü said.

“There are ‘the stick of incense,’ ‘stools upset towards heaven,’ ‘part of elephant’s eyes,’ ‘squares,’ ‘chains,’ ‘plum blossom,’ and ‘willow leaves.” Ying Erh answered.

“What was the kind of design you made for Miss Tertia the other day?” Pao-yü inquired.

“It was the ‘plum blossom with piled cores,'” Ying Erh explained in reply.

“Yes, that’s nice.” Pao-yü rejoined.

As he uttered this remark, Hsi Jen arrived with the cords. But no sooner were they brought than a matron cried, from outside the window: “Girls, your viands are ready!”

“Go and have your meal,” urged Pao-yü, “and come back quick after you’ve had it.”

“There are visitors here,” Hsi Jen smiled, “and how can I very well go?”

“What makes you say so?” Ying Erh laughed, while adjusting the cords. “It’s only right and proper that you should go and have your food at once and then return.”

Hearing this, Hsi Jen and her companions went off, leaving behind only two youthful servant-girls to answer the calls.

Pao-yü watched Ying Erh make the nets. But, while keeping his eyes intent on her, he talked at the same time of one thing and then another, and next went on to ask her how far she was in her teens.

Ying Erh continued plaiting. “I’m sixteen,” she simultaneously rejoined.

“What was your original surname?” Pao-yü added.

“It was Huang;” answered Ying Erh.

“That’s just the thing,” Pao-yü smiled; “for in real truth there’s the ‘Huang Ying-erh;’ (oriole).”

“My name, at one time, consisted of two characters,” continued Ying Erh. “I was called Chin Ying; but Miss Pao-ch’ai didn’t like it, as it was difficult to pronounce, and only called me Ying Erh; so now I’ve come to be known under that name.”

“One can very well say that cousin Pao-ch’ai is fond of you!” Pao-yü pursued. “By and bye, when she gets married, she’s sure to take you along with her.”

Ying Erh puckered up her lips, and gave a significant smile.

“I’ve often told Hsi Jen,” Pao-yü smiled, “that I can’t help wondering who’ll shortly be the lucky ones to win your mistress and yourself.”

“You aren’t aware,” laughed Ying Erh, “that our young mistress possesses several qualities not to be found in a single person in this world; her face is a second consideration.”

Pao-yü noticed how captivating Ying Erh’s tone of voice was, how complaisant she was, and how simpleton-like unaffected in her language and smiles, and he soon felt the warmest affection for her; and particularly so, when she started the conversation about Pao-ch’ai. “Where do her qualities lie?” he readily inquired. “My dear girl, please tell me!”

“If I tell you,” said Ying Erh, “you must, on no account, let her know anything about it again.”

“This goes without saying,” smiled Pao-yü.

But this answer was still on his lips, when they overheard some one outside remark: “How is it that everything is so quiet?”

Both gazed round to see who possibly it could be. They discovered, strange enough, no one else than Pao-ch’ai herself.

Pao-yü hastily offered her a seat. Pao-ch’ai seated herself, and then wanted to know what Ying Erh was busy plaiting. Inquiring the while, she approached her and scrutinised what she held in her hands, half of which had by this time been done. “What’s the fun of a thing like this?” she said. “Wouldn’t it be preferable to plait a net, and put the jade in it?”

This allusion suggested the idea to Pao-yü. Speedily clapping his hands, he smiled and exclaimed: “Your idea is splendid, cousin. I’d forgotten all about it! The only thing is what colour will suit it best?”

“It will never do to use mixed colours,” Pao-ch’ai rejoined. “Deep red will, on one hand, clash with the colour; while yellow is not pleasing to the eye; and black, on the other hand, is too sombre. But wait, I’ll try and devise something. Bring that gold cord and use it with the black beaded cord; and if you twist one of each together, and make a net with them, it will look very pretty!”

Upon hearing this, Pao-yü was immeasurably delighted, and time after time he shouted to the servants to fetch the gold cord. But just at that moment Hsi Jen stepped in, with two bowls of eatables. “How very strange this is to-day!” she said to Pao-yü. “Why, a few minutes back, my mistress, your mother, sent some one to bring me two bowls of viands.”

“The supply,” replied Pao-yü smiling, “must have been so plentiful to-day, that they’ve sent some to every one of you.”

“It isn’t that,” continued Hsi Jen, “for they were distinctly given to me by name. What’s more, I wasn’t bidden go and knock my head; so this is indeed remarkable!”

“If they’re given to you,” Pao-yü smiled, “why, you had better go and eat them. What’s there in this to fill you with conjectures?”

“There’s never been anything like this before,” Hsi Jen added, “so, it makes me feel uneasy.”

Pao-ch’ai compressed her lips. “If this,” she laughed; “makes you fell uneasy, there will be by and bye other things to make you far more uneasy.”

Hsi Jen realised that she implied something by her insinuations, as she knew from past experience that Pao-ch’ai was not one given to lightly and contemptuously poking fun at people; and, remembering the notions entertained by Madame Wang on the last occasion she had seen her, she dropped at once any further allusions to the subject and brought the eatables up to Pao-yü for his inspection. “I shall come and hold the cords,” she observed, “as soon as I’ve rinsed my hands.”

This said, she immediately quitted the apartment. After her meal, she washed her hands and came inside to hold the gold cords for Ying Erh to plait the net with.

By this time, Pao-ch’ai had been called away by a servant, despatched by Hsüeh P’an. But while Pao-yü was watching the net that was being made he caught sight, at a moment least expected, of two servant-girls, who came from the part of Madame Hsing of the other mansion, to bring him a few kinds of fruits, and to inquire whether he was able to walk. “If you can go about,” they told him, “(our mistress) desires you, Mr. Pao-yü, to cross over to-morrow and have a little distraction. Her ladyship really longs to see you.”

“Were I able to walk,” Pao-yü answered with alacrity, “I would feel it my duty to go and pay my respects to your mistress! Anyhow, the pain is better than before, so request your lady to allay her solicitude.”

As he bade them both sit down, he, at the same time, called Ch’iu Wen. “Take,” he said to her, “half of the fruits, just received, to Miss Lin as a present.”

Ch’iu Wen signified her obedience, and was about to start on her errand, when she heard Tai-yü talking in the court, and Pao-yü eagerly shout out: “Request her to walk in at once!”

But should there be any further particulars, which you, reader, might feel disposed to know, peruse the details given in the following chapter.

CHAPTER XXXVI.

While Hsi Jen is busy embroidering mandarin ducks, Pao-yü receives, in the Chiang Yün Pavilion, an omen from a dream. Pao-yü apprehends that there is a destiny in affections, when his feelings are aroused to a sense of the situation in the Pear Fragrance court.

Ever since dowager lady Chia’s return from Madame Wang’s quarters, for we will now take up the string of our narrative, she naturally felt happier in her mind as she saw that Pao-yü improved from day to day; but nervous lest Chia Cheng should again in the future send for him, she lost no time in bidding a servant summon a head-page, a constant attendant upon Chia Cheng, to come to her, and in impressing upon him various orders. “Should,” she enjoined him, “anything turn up henceforward connected with meeting guests, entertaining visitors and other such matters, and your master mean to send for Pao-yü, you can dispense with going to deliver the message. Just you tell him that I say that after the severe thrashing he has had, great care must be first taken of him during several months before he can be allowed to walk; and that, secondly, his constellation is unpropitious and that he could not see any outsider, while sacrifices are being offered to the stars; that I won’t have him therefore put his foot beyond the second gate before the expiry of the eighth moon.”

The head-page listened patiently to her instructions, and, assenting to all she had to say, he took his leave.

Old lady Chia thereupon also sent for nurse Li, Hsi Jen and the other waiting-maids and recommended them to tell Pao-yü about her injunctions so that he might be able to quiet his mind.

Pao-yü had always had a repugnance for entertaining high officials and men in general, and the greatest horror of going in official hat and ceremonial dress, to offer congratulations, or express condolences, to pay calls, return visits, or perform other similar conventionalities, but upon receipt on the present occasion of this message, he became so much the more confirmed in his dislikes that not only did he suspend all intercourse with every single relative and friend, but even went so far as to study more than he had ever done before, his own caprices in the fulfilment of those morning and evening salutations due to the senior members of his family. Day after day he spent in the garden, doing nothing else than loafing about, sitting down here, or reclining there. Of a morning, he would, as soon as it was day, stroll as far as the quarters of dowager lady Chia and Madame Wang, to repair back, however, in no time. Yet ever ready was he every day that went by to perform menial services for any of the waiting-maids. He, in fact, wasted away in the most complete _dolce far niente_ days as well as months. If perchance Pao-ch’ai or any other girl of the same age as herself found at any time an opportunity to give him advice, he would, instead of taking it in good part, fly into a huff. “A pure and spotless maiden,” he would say, “has likewise gone and deliberately imitated those persons, whose aim is to fish for reputation and to seek praise; that set of government thieves and salaried devils. This result entirely arises from the fact that there have been people in former times, who have uselessly stirred up trouble and purposely fabricated stories with the primary object of enticing the filthy male creatures, who would spring up in future ages, to follow in their steps! And who would have thought it, I have had the misfortune of being born a masculine being! But, even those beautiful girls, in the female apartments, have been so contaminated by this practice that verily they show themselves ungrateful for the virtue of Heaven and Earth, in endowing them with perception, and in rearing them with so much comeliness.”

Seeing therefore what an insane mania possessed him, not one of his cousins came forward to tender him one proper word of counsel. Lin Tai-yü was the only one of them, who, from his very infancy, had never once admonished him to strive and make a position and attain fame, so thus it was that he entertained for Tai-yü profound consideration. But enough of minor details.

We will now turn our attention to lady Feng. Soon after the news of Chin Ch’uan-erh’s death reached her, she saw that domestics from various branches of the family paid her frequent visits at most unexpected hours, and presented her a lot of things, and that they courted her presence at most unseasonable moments, to pay their compliments and adulate her, and she begun to harbour suspicions, in her own mind, as she little knew what their object could possibly be. On this date, she again noticed that some of them had brought their gifts, so, when evening arrived, and no one was present, she felt compelled to inquire jocosely of P’ing Erh what their aim could be.

“Can’t your ladyship fathom even this?” P’ing Erh answered with a sardonic smile. “Why, their daughters must, I fancy, be servant-girls in Madame Wang’s apartments! For her ladyship’s rooms four elderly girls are at present allotted with a monthly allowance of one tael; the rest simply receiving several hundreds of cash each month; so now that Chin Ch’uan-erh is dead and gone, these people must, of course, be anxious to try their tricks and get this one-tael job!”

Hearing this, lady Feng smiled a significant smile. “That’s it. Yes, that’s it!” she exclaimed. “You’ve really suggested the idea to my mind! From all appearances, these people are a most insatiable lot; for they make quite enough in the way of money! And as for any business that requires a little exertion, why they are never ready to bear a share of it! They make use of their girls as so many tools to shove their own duties upon. Yet one overlooks that. But must they too have designs upon this job? Never mind! These people cannot easily afford to spend upon me the money they do. But they bring this upon their own selves, so I’ll keep every bit of thing they send. I’ve, after all, resolved how to act in the matter!”

Having arrived at this decision, lady Feng purely and simply protracted the delay until all the women had sent her enough to satisfy her, when she at last suited her own convenience and spoke to Madame Wang (on the subject of the vacant post).

Mrs. Hsüeh and her daughter were sitting one day, at noon, in Madame Wang’s quarters, together with Lin Tai-yü and the other girls, when lady Feng found an opportunity and broached the topic with Madame Wang. “Ever since,” she said, “sister Chin Ch’uan-erh’s death, there has been one servant less in your ladyship’s service. But you may possibly have set your choice upon some girl; if so, do let me know who it is, so that I may be able to pay her her monthly wages.”

This reminder made Madame Wang commune with her own self. “I fancy,” she remarked; “that the custom is that there should be four or five of them; but as long as there are enough to wait upon me, I don’t mind, so we can really dispense with another.”

“What you say is, properly speaking, perfectly correct,” smiled lady Feng; “but it’s an old established custom. There are still a couple to be found in other people’s rooms and won’t you, Madame, conform with the rule? Besides, the saving of a tael is a small matter.”

After this argument, Madame Wang indulged in further thought. “Never mind,” she then observed, “just you bring over this allowance and pay it to me. And there will be no need to supply another girl. I’ll hand over this tael to her younger sister, Yü Ch’uan-erh, and finish with it. Her elder sister came to an unpleasant end, after a long term of service with me; so if the younger sister, she leaves behind in my employ, receives a double share, it won’t be any too excessive.”

Lady Feng expressed her approval and turning round she said smilingly to Yü Ch’uan-erh: “I congratulate you, I congratulate you!”

Yü Ch’uan-erh thereupon crossed over and prostrated herself.

“I just want to ask you,” Madame Wang went on to inquire, “how much Mrs. Chao and Mrs. Chou are allowed monthly?”

“They have a fixed allowance,” answered lady Feng, “each of them draws two taels. But Mrs. Chao gets two taels for cousin Chia Huan, so hers amounts in all to four taels; besides these, four strings of cash.”

“Are they paid in full month after month?” Madame Wang inquired.

Lady Feng thought the question so very strange that she hastened to exclaim by way of reply: “How are they not paid in full?”

“The other day,” Madame Wang proceeded, “I heard a faint rumour that there was some one, who complained in an aggrieved way that she had got a string short. How and why is this?”

“The monthly allowances of the servant-girls, attached to the secondary wives,” lady Feng hurriedly added with a smile, “amounted originally to a tiao each, but ever since last year, it was decided, by those people outside, that the shares of each of those ladies’ girls should be reduced by half, that is, each to five hundred cash; and, as each lady has a couple of servant-girls, they receive therefore a tiao short. But for this, they can’t bear me a grudge. As far as I’m concerned, I would only be too glad to let them have it; but our people outside will again disallow it; so is it likely that I can authorise any increase, pray? In this matter of payments I merely receive the money, and I’ve nothing to do with how it comes and how it goes. I nevertheless recommended, on two or three occasions, that it would be better if these two shares were again raised to the old amount; but they said that there’s only that much money, so that I can’t very well volunteer any further suggestions! Now that the funds are paid into my hands, I give them to them every month, without any irregularity of even so much as a day. When payments hitherto were effected outside, what month were they not short of money? And did they ever, on any single instance, obtain their pay at the proper time and date?”

Having heard this explanation, Madame Wang kept silent for a while. Next, she proceeded to ask, how many girls there were with dowager lady Chia drawing one tael.

“Eight of them,” rejoined lady Feng, “but there are at present only seven; the other one is Hsi Jen.”

“Quite right,” assented Madame Wang. “But your cousin Pao-yü hasn’t any maid at one tael; for Hsi Jen is still a servant belonging to old lady Chia’s household.”

“Hsi Jen,” lady Feng smiled, “is still our dear ancestor’s servant; she’s only lent to cousin Pao-yü; so that she still receives this tael in her capacity of maid to our worthy senior. Any proposal, therefore, that might now be made, that this tael should, as Hsi Jen is Pao-yü’s servant, be curtailed, can, on no account, be entertained. Yet, were it suggested that another servant should be added to our senior’s staff, then in this way one could reduce the tael she gets. But if this be not curtailed, it will be necessary to also add a servant in cousin Chia Huan’s rooms, in order that there should be a fair apportionment. In fact, Ch’ing Wen, She Yüeh and the others, numbering seven senior maids, receive each a tiao a month; and Chiao Hui and the rest of the junior maids, eight in all, get each five hundred cash per mensem; and this was recommended by our venerable ancestor herself; so how can any one be angry and feel displeasure?”

“Just listen,” laughed Mrs. Hsüeh, “to that girl Feng’s mouth! It rattles and rattles like a cart laden with walnuts, which has turned topsy-turvy! Yet, her accounts are, from what one can gather, clear enough, and her arguments full of reason.”

“Aunt,” rejoined lady Feng smiling, “was I likely, pray, wrong in what I said?”

“Who ever said you were wrong?” Mrs. Hsüeh smiled. “But were you to talk a little slower, wouldn’t it be a saving of exertion for you?”

Lady Feng was about to laugh, but hastily checking herself, she lent an ear to what Madame Wang might have to tell her.

Madame Wang indulged in thought for a considerable time. Afterwards, facing lady Feng, “You’d better,” she said, “select a waiting-maid tomorrow and send her over to our worthy senior to fill up Hsi Jen’s place. Then, discontinue that allowance, which Hsi Jen draws, and keep out of the sum of twenty taels, allotted to me monthly, two taels and a tiao, and give them to Hsi Jen. So henceforward what Mrs. Chao and Mrs. Chou will get, Hsi Jen will likewise get, with the only difference that the share granted to Hsi Jen, will be entirely apportioned out of my own allowance. Mind, therefore, there will be no necessity to touch the public funds!”

Lady Feng acquiesced to each one of her recommendations, and, pushing Mrs. Hsüeh, “Aunt,” she inquired, “have you heard her proposal? What have I all along maintained? Well, my words have actually come out true to-day!”

“This should have been accomplished long ago,” Mrs. Hsüeh answered. “For without, of course, making any allusion to her looks, her way of doing business is liberal; her speech and her relations with people are always prompted by an even temper, while inwardly she has plenty of singleness of heart and eagerness to hold her own. Indeed, such a girl is not easy to come across!”

Madame Wang made every effort to conceal her tears. “How could you people ever rightly estimate Hsi Jen’s qualities?” she observed. “Why, she’s a hundred times better than my own Pao-yü. How fortunate, in reality, Pao-yü is! Well would it be if he could have her wait upon him for the whole length of his life!”

“In that case,” lady Feng suggested, “why, have her face shaved at once, and openly place her in his room as a secondary wife. Won’t this be a good plan?”

“This won’t do!” Madame Wang retorted. “For first and foremost he’s of tender years. In the second place, my husband won’t countenance any such thing! In the third, so long as Pao-yü sees that Hsi Jen is his waiting-maid, he may, in the event of anything occurring from his having been allowed to run wild, listen to any good counsel she might give him. But were she now to be made his secondary wife, Hsi Jen would not venture to tender him any extreme advice, even when it’s necessary to do so. It’s better, therefore, to let things stand as they are for the present, and talk about them again, after the lapse of another two or three years.”

At the close of these arguments, lady Feng could not put in a word, by way of reply, to refute them, so turning round, she left the room. She had no sooner, however, got under the verandah, than she discerned the wives of a number of butlers, waiting for her to report various matters to her. Seeing her issue out of the room, they with one consent smiled. “What has your ladyship had to lay before Madame Wang,” they remarked, “that you’ve been talking away this length of time? Didn’t you find it hot work?”

Lady Feng tucked up her sleeves several times. Then resting her foot on the step of the side door, she laughed and rejoined: “The draft in this passage is so cool, that I’ll stop, and let it play on me a bit before I go on. You people,” she proceeded to tell them, “say that I’ve been talking to her all this while, but Madame Wang conjured up all that has occurred for the last two hundred years and questioned me about it; so could I very well not have anything to say in reply? But from this day forth,” she added with a sarcastic smile, “I shall do several mean things, and should even (Mrs. Chao and Mrs. Chou) go, out of any ill-will, and tell Madame Wang, I won’t know what fear is for such stupid, glib-tongued, foul-mouthed creatures as they, who are bound not to see a good end! It isn’t for them to indulge in those fanciful dreams of becoming primary wives, for there, will come soon a day when the whole lump sum of their allowance will be cut off! They grumble against us for having now reduced the perquisites of the servant-maids, but they don’t consider whether they deserve to have so many as three girls to dance attendance on them!”

While heaping abuse on their heads, she started homewards, and went all alone in search of some domestic to go and deliver a message to old lady Chia.

But without any further reference to her, we will take up the thread of our narrative with Mrs. Hsüeh, and the others along with her. During this interval they finished feasting on melons. After some more gossip, each went her own way; and Pao-ch’ai, Tai-yü and the rest of the cousins returned into the garden. Pao-ch’ai then asked Tai-yü to repair with her to the O Hsiang Arbour. But Tai-yü said that she was just going to have her bath, so they parted company, and Pao-ch’ai walked back all by herself. On her way, she stepped into the I Hung Yüan, to look up Pao-yü and have a friendly hobnob with him, with the idea of dispelling her mid-day lassitude; but, contrary to her expectations, the moment she put her foot into the court, she did not so much as catch the caw of a crow. Even the two storks stood under the banana trees, plunged in sleep. Pao-ch’ai proceeded along the covered passage and entered the rooms. Here she discovered the servant-girls sleeping soundly on the bed of the outer apartment; some lying one way, some another; so turning round the decorated screen, she wended her steps into Pao-yü’s chamber. Pao-yü was asleep in bed. Hsi Jen was seated by his side, busy plying her needle. Next to her, lay a yak tail. Pao-ch’ai advanced up to her. “You’re really far too scrupulous,” she said smilingly in an undertone. “Are there still flies or mosquitos in here? and why do yet use that fly-flap for, to drive what away?”

Hsi Jen was quite taken by surprise. But hastily raising her head, and realising that it was Pao-ch’ai, she hurriedly put down her needlework. “Miss,” she whispered with a smile, “you came upon me so unawares that you gave me quite a start! You don’t know, Miss, that though there be no flies or mosquitoes there is, no one would believe it, a kind of small insect, which penetrates through the holes of this gauze; it is scarcely to be detected, but when one is asleep, it bites just like ants do!”

“It isn’t to be wondered at,” Pao-ch’ai suggested, “for the back of these rooms adjoins the water; the whole place is also one mass of fragrant flowers, and the interior of this room is, too, full of their aroma. These insects grow mostly in the core of flowers, so no sooner do they scent the smell of any than they at once rush in.”

Saying this, she cast a look on the needlework she (Hsi Jen) held in her hands. It consisted, in fact, of a belt of white silk, lined with red, and embroidered on the upper part with designs representing mandarin ducks, disporting themselves among some lotus. The lotus flowers were red, the leaves green, the ducks of variegated colours.

“Ai-yah!” ejaculated Pao-ch’ai, “what very beautiful work! For whom is this, that it’s worth your while wasting so much labour on it?”

Hsi Jen pouted her lips towards the bed.

“Does a big strapping fellow like this,” Pao-ch’ai laughed, “still wear such things?”

“He would never wear any before,” Hsi Jen smiled, “that’s why such a nice one was specially worked for him, in order that when he was allowed to see it, he should not be able to do otherwise than use it. With the present hot weather, he goes to sleep anyhow, but as he has been coaxed to wear it, it doesn’t matter if even he doesn’t cover himself well at night. You say that I bestow much labour upon this, but you haven’t yet seen the one he has on!”

“It is a lucky thing,” Pao-ch’ai observed, smiling, “that you’re gifted with such patience.”

“I’ve done so much of it to-day,” remarked Hsi Jen, “that my neck is quite sore from bending over it. My dear Miss,” she then urged with a beaming countenance, “do sit here a little. I’ll go out for a turn. I’ll be back shortly.”

With these words, she sallied out of the room.

Pao-ch’ai was intent upon examining the embroidery, so in her absentmindedness, she, with one bend of her body, settled herself on the very same spot, which Hsi Jen had recently occupied. But she found, on second scrutiny, the work so really admirable, that impulsively picking up the needle, she continued it for her. At quite an unforeseen moment–for Lin Tai-yü had met Shih Hsiang-yün and asked her to come along with her and present her congratulations to Hsi Jen–these two girls made their appearance in the court. Finding the whole place plunged in silence, Hsiang-yün turned round and betook herself first into the side-rooms in search of Hsi Jen. Lin Tai-yü, meanwhile, walked up to the window from outside, and peeped in through the gauze frame. At a glance, she espied Pao-yü, clad in a silvery-red coat, lying carelessly on the bed, and Pao-ch’ai, seated by his side, busy at some needlework, with a fly-brush resting by her side.

As soon as Lin Tai-yü became conscious of the situation, she immediately slipped out of sight, and stopping her mouth with one hand, as she did not venture to laugh aloud, she waved her other hand and beckoned to Hsiang-yün. The moment Hsiang-yün saw the way she went on, she concluded that she must have something new to impart to her, and she approached her with all promptitude. At the sight, which opened itself before her eyes, she also felt inclined to laugh. Yet the sudden recollection of the kindness, with which Pao-ch’ai had always dealt towards her, induced her to quickly seal her lips. And knowing well enough that Tai-yü never spared any one with her mouth, she was seized with such fear lest she should jeer at them, that she immediately dragged her past the window. “Come along!” she observed. “Hsi Jen, I remember, said that she would be going at noon to wash some clothes at the pond. I presume she’s there already so let’s go and join her.”

Tai-yü inwardly grasped her meaning, but, after indulging in a couple of sardonic smiles, she had no alternative but to follow in her footsteps.

Pao-ch’ai had, during this while, managed to embroider two or three petals, when she heard Pao-yü begin to shout abusingly in his dreams. “How can,” he cried, “one ever believe what bonzes and Taoist priests say? What about a match between gold and jade? My impression is that it’s to be a union between a shrub and a stone!”

Hsüeh Pao-ch’ai caught every single word uttered by him and fell unconsciously in a state of excitement. Of a sudden, however, Hsi Jen appeared on the scene. “Hasn’t he yet woke up?” she inquired.

Pao-ch’ai nodded her head by way of reply.

“I just came across,” Hsi Jen smiled, “Miss Lin and Miss Shih. Did they happen to come in?”

“I didn’t see them come in,” Pao-ch’ai answered. “Did they tell you anything?” she next smilingly asked of Hsi Jen.

Hsi Jen blushed and laughed significantly. “They simply came out with some of those jokes of theirs,” she explained. “What decent things could such as they have had to tell me?”

“They made insinuations to-day,” Pao-ch’ai laughed, “which are anything but a joke! I was on the point of telling you them, when you rushed away in an awful hurry.”

But no sooner had she concluded, than she perceived a servant, come over from lady Feng’s part to fetch Hsi Jen. “It must be on account of what they hinted,” Pao-ch’ai smilingly added.

Hsi Jen could not therefore do otherwise than arouse two servant-maids and go. She proceeded, with Pao-ch’ai, out of the I Hung court, and then repaired all alone to lady Feng’s on this side. It was indeed to communicate to her what had been decided about her, and to explain to her, as well, that though she could go and prostrate herself before Madame Wang, she could dispense with seeing dowager lady Chia. This news made Hsi Jen feel very awkward; to such an extent, that no sooner had she got through her visit to Madame Wang, than she returned in a hurry to her rooms.

Pao-yü had already awoke. He asked the reason why she had been called away, but Hsi Jen temporised by giving him an evasive answer. And only at night, when every one was quiet, did Hsi Jen at length give him a full account of the whole matter. Pao-yü was delighted beyond measure. “I’ll see now,” he said, with a face beaming with smiles, “whether you’ll go back home or not. On your return, after your last visit to your people, you stated that your brother wished to redeem you, adding that this place was no home for you, and that you didn’t know what would become of you in the long run. You freely uttered all that language devoid of feeling and reason, and enough too to produce an estrangement between us, in order to frighten me; but I’d like to see who’ll henceforward have the audacity to come and ask you to leave!”

Hsi Jen, upon hearing this, smiled a smile full of irony. “You shouldn’t say such things!” she replied. “From henceforward I shall be our Madame Wang’s servant, so that, if I choose to go I needn’t even breathe a word to you. All I’ll have to do will be to tell her, and then I shall be free to do as I like.”

“But supposing that I behaved improperly,” demurred Pao-yü laughingly, “and that you took your leave after letting mother know, you yourself will be placed in no nice fix, when people get wind that you left on account of my having been improper.”

“What no nice fix!” smiled Hsi Jen. “Is it likely that I am bound to serve even highway robbers? Well, failing anything else, I can die; for human beings may live a hundred years, but they’re bound, in the long run, to fall a victim to death! And when this breath shall have departed, and I shall have lost the sense of hearing and of seeing, all will then be well!”

When her rejoinder fell on his ear, Pao-yü promptly stopped her mouth with both his hands. “Enough! enough! that will do,” he shouted. “There’s no necessity for you to utter language of this kind.”

Hsi Jen was well aware that Pao-yü was gifted with such a peculiar temperament, that he even looked upon flattering or auspicious phrases with utter aversion, treating them as meaningless and consequently insincere, so when, after listening to those truths, she had spoken with such pathos, he, lapsed into another of his melancholy moods, she blamed herself for the want of consideration she had betrayed. Hastily therefore putting on a smile, she tried to hit upon some suitable remarks, with which to interrupt the conversation. Her choice fell upon those licentious and immodest topics, which had ever been a relish to the taste of Pao-yü; and from these the conversation drifted to the subject of womankind. But when, subsequently, reference was made to the excellency of the weak sex, they somehow or other also came to touch upon the mortal nature of women, and Hsi Jen promptly closed her lips in silence.

Noticing however that now that the conversation had reached a point so full of zest for him, she had nothing to say for herself, Pao-yü smilingly remarked: “What human being is there that can escape death? But the main thing is to come to a proper end! All that those abject male creatures excel in is, the civil officers, to sacrifice their lives by remonstrating with the Emperor; and, the military, to leave their bones on the battlefield. Both these deaths do confer, after life is extinct, the fame of great men upon them; but isn’t it, in fact, better for them not to die? For as it is absolutely necessary that there should be a disorderly Emperor before they can afford any admonition, to what future fate do they thus expose their sovereign, if they rashly throw away their lives, with the sole aim of reaping a fair name for themselves? War too must supervene before they can fight; but if they go and recklessly lay down their lives, with the exclusive idea of gaining the reputation of intrepid warriors, to what destiny will they abandon their country by and bye? Hence it is that neither of these deaths can be looked upon as a legitimate death.”

“Loyal ministers,” Hsi Jen argued, “and excellent generals simply die because it isn’t in their power to do otherwise.”

“Military officers,” Pao-yü explained, “place such entire reliance upon brute force that they become lax in their stratagems and faulty in their plans. It’s because they don’t possess any inherent abilities that they lose their lives. Could one therefore, pray, say that they had no other alternative? Civil officials, on the other hand, can still less compare with military officers. They read a few passages from books, and commit them to memory; and, on the slightest mistake made by the Emperor, they’re at once rash enough to remonstrate with him, prompted by the sole idea of attaining the fame of loyalty and devotion. But, as soon as their stupid notions have bubbled over, they forfeit their lives, and is it likely that it doesn’t lie within their power to do otherwise? Why, they should also bear in mind that the Emperor receives his decrees from Heaven; and, that were he not a perfect man, Heaven itself would, on no account whatever, confer upon him a charge so extremely onerous. This makes it evident therefore that the whole pack and parcel of those officers, who are dead and gone, have invariably fallen victims to their endeavours to attain a high reputation, and that they had no knowledge whatever of the import of the great principle of right! Take me as an instance now. Were really mine the good fortune of departing life at a fit time, I’d avail myself of the present when all you girls are alive, to pass away. And could I get you to shed such profuse tears for me as to swell out into a stream large enough to raise my corpse and carry it to some secluded place, whither no bird even has ever wended its flight, and could I become invisible like the wind, and nevermore from this time, come into existence as a human being, I shall then have died at a proper season.”

Hsi Jen suddenly awoke to the fact that he was beginning to give vent to a lot of twaddle, and speedily, pleading fatigue, she paid no further notice to him. This compelled Pao-yü to at last be quiet and go to sleep. By the morrow, all recollection of the discussion had vanished from his mind.

One day, Pao-yü was feeling weary at heart, after strolling all over the place, when remembering the song of the “Peony Pavilion,” he read it over twice to himself; but still his spirits continued anything but joyous. Having heard, however, that among the twelve girls in the Pear Fragrance Court there was one called Ling Kuan, who excelled in singing, he purposely issued forth by a side gate and came in search of her. But the moment he got there, he discovered Pao Kuan, and Yü Kuan in the court. As soon as they caught sight of Pao-yü, they, with one consent, smiled and urged him to take a seat. Pao-yü then inquired where Ling Kuan was. Both girls explained that she was in her room, so Pao-yü hastened in. Here he found Ling Kuan alone, reclining against a pillow. Though perfectly conscious of his arrival, she did not move a muscle. Pao-yü ensconced himself next to her. He had always been in the habit of playing with the rest of the girls, so thinking that Ling Kuan was like the others, he felt impelled to draw near her and to entreat her, with a forced smile, to get up and sing part of the “Niao Ch’ing Ssu.” But his hopes were baffled; for as soon as Ling Kuan perceived him sit down, she impetuously raised herself and withdrew from his side. “I’m hoarse,” she rejoined with a stern expression on her face. “The Empress the other day called us into the palace; but I couldn’t sing even then.”

Seeing her sit bolt upright, Pao-yü went on to pass her under a minute survey. He discovered that it was the girl, whom he had, some time ago beheld under the cinnamon roses, drawing the character “Ch’iang.” But seeing the reception she accorded him, who had never so far known what it was to be treated contemptuously by any one, he blushed crimson, while muttering some abuse to himself, and felt constrained to quit the room.

Pao Kuan and her companion could not fathom why he was so red and inquired of him the reason. Pao-yü told them. “Wait a while,” Pao Kuan said, “until Mr. Ch’iang Secundus comes; and when he asks her to sing, she is bound to sing.”

Pao-yü at these words felt very sad within himself. “Where’s brother Ch’iang gone to?” he asked.

“He’s just gone out,” Pao Kuan answered. “Of course, Ling Kuan must have wanted something or other, and he’s gone to devise ways and means to bring it to her.”

Pao-yü thought this remark very extraordinary. But after standing about for a while, he actually saw Chia Ch’iang arrive from outside, carrying a cage, with a tiny stage inserted at the top, and a bird as well; and wend his steps, in a gleeful mood, towards the interior to join Ling Kuan. The moment, however, he noticed Pao-yü, he felt under the necessity of halting.

“What kind of bird is that?” Pao-yü asked. “Can it hold a flag in its beak, or do any tricks?”

“It’s the ‘jade-crested and gold-headed bird,'” smiled Chia Ch’iang.

“How much did you give for it?” Pao-yü continued.

“A tael and eight mace,” replied Chia Ch’iang.

But while replying to his inquiries, he motioned to Pao-yü to take a seat, and then went himself into Ling Kuan’s apartment.

Pao-yü had, by this time, lost every wish of hearing a song. His sole desire was to find what relations existed between his cousin and Ling Kuan, when he perceived Chia Ch’iang walk in and laughingly say to her, “Come and see this thing.”

“What’s it?” Ling Kuan asked, rising.

“I’ve bought a bird for you to amuse yourself with,” Chia Ch’iang added, “so that you mayn’t daily feel dull and have nothing to distract yourself with. But I’ll first play with it and let you see.”

With this prelude, he took a few seeds and began to coax the bird, until it, in point of fact, performed various tricks, on the stage, clasping in its beak a mask and a flag.

All the girls shouted out: “How nice;” with the sole exception of Ling Kuan, who gave a couple of apathetic smirks, and went in a huff to lie down. Again Chia Ch’iang, however, kept on forcing smiles, and inquiring of her whether she liked it or not.

“Isn’t it enough,” Ling Kuan observed, “that your family entraps a fine lot of human beings like us and coops us up in this hole to study this stuff and nonsense, but do you also now go and get a bird, which likewise is, as it happens, up to this sort of thing? You distinctly fetch it to make fun of us, and mimick us, and do you still ask me whether I like it or not?”

Hearing this reproach, Chia Ch’iang of a sudden sprang to his feet with alacrity and vehemently endeavoured by vowing and swearing to establish his innocence. “How ever could I have been such a fool to-day,” he proceeded, “as to go and throw away a tael or two to purchase this bird? I really did it in the hope that it would afford you amusement. I never for a moment entertained such thoughts as those you credit me with. But never mind; I’ll let it go, and save you all this misery!”

So saying, he verily gave the bird its liberty; and, with one blow, he smashed the cage to atoms.

“This bird,” still argued Ling Kuan, “differs, it’s true, from a human being; but it too has a mother and father in its nest, and could you have had the heart to bring it here to perform these silly pranks? In coughing to-day, I expectorated two mouthfuls of blood, and Madame Wang sent some one here to find you so as to tell you to ask the doctor round to minutely diagnose my complaint, and have you instead brought this to mock me with? But it so happens that I, who have not a soul to look after me, or to care for me, also have the fate to fall ill!”

Chia Ch’iang listened to her. “Yesterday evening,” he eagerly explained, “I asked the doctor about it. He said that it was nothing at all, that you should take a few doses of medicine, and that he would be coming again in a day or two to see how you were getting on. But who’d have thought it, you have again to-day expectorated blood. I’ll go at once and invite him to come round.”

Speaking the while, he was about to go immediately when Ling Kuan cried out and stopped him. “Do you go off in a tantrum in this hot broiling sun?” she said. “You may ask him to come, but I won’t see him.”

When he heard her resolution, Chia Ch’iang had perforce to stand still.

Pao-yü, perceiving what transpired between them, fell unwittingly in a dull reverie. He then at length got an insight into the deep import of the tracing of the character “Ch’iang.” But unable to bear the ordeal any longer, he forthwith took himself out of the way. So absorbed, however, was Chia Ch’iang’s whole mind with Ling Kuan that he could not even give a thought to escorting any one; and it was, in fact, the rest of the singing-girls who saw (Pao-yü) out.

Pao-yü’s heart was gnawed with doubts and conjectures. In an imbecile frame of mind, he came to the I Hung court. Lin Tai-yü was, at the moment, sitting with Hsi Jen, and chatting with her. As soon as Pao-yü entered his quarters, he addressed himself to Hsi Jen, with a long sigh. “I was very wrong in what I said yesterday evening,” he remarked. “It’s no matter of surprise that father says that I am so narrow-minded that I look at things through a tube and measure them with a clam-shell. I mentioned something last night about having nothing but tears, shed by all of you girls, to be buried in. But this was a mere delusion! So as I can’t get the tears of the whole lot of you, each one of you can henceforward keep her own for herself, and have done.”

Hsi Jen had flattered herself that the words he had uttered the previous evening amounted to idle talk, and she had long ago dispelled all thought of them from her mind, but when Pao-yü unawares made further allusion to them, she smilingly rejoined: “You are verily somewhat cracked!”

Pao-yü kept silent, and attempted to make no reply. Yet from this time he fully apprehended that the lot of human affections is, in every instance, subject to predestination, and time and again he was wont to secretly muse, with much anguish: “Who, I wonder, will shed tears for me, at my burial?”

Lin Tai-yü, for we will now allude to her, noticed Pao-yü’s behaviour, but readily concluding that he must have been, somewhere or other, once more possessed by some malignant spirit, she did not feel it advisable to ask many questions. “I just saw,” she consequently observed, “my maternal aunt, who hearing that to-morrow is Miss Hsüeh’s birthday, bade me come at my convenience to ask you whether you’ll go or not, (and to tell you) to send some one ahead to let them know what you mean to do.”

“I didn’t go the other day, when it was Mr. Chia She’s birthday, so I won’t go now.” Pao-yü answered. “If it is a matter of meeting any one, I won’t go anywhere. On a hot day like this to again don my ceremonial dress! No, I won’t go. Aunt is not likely to feel displeased with me!”

“What are you driving at?” Hsi Jen speedily ventured. “She couldn’t be put on the same footing as our senior master! She lives close by here. Besides she’s a relative. Why, if you don’t go, won’t you make her imagine things? Well, if you dread the heat, just get up at an early hour and go over and prostrate yourself before her, and come back again, after you’ve had a cup of tea. Won’t this look well?”

Before Pao-yü had time to say anything by way of response, Tai-yü anticipated him. “You should,” she smiled, “go as far as there for the sake of her, who drives the mosquitoes away from you.”

Pao-yü could not make out the drift of her insinuation. “What about driving mosquitoes away?” he vehemently inquired.

Hsi Jen then explained to him how while he was fast asleep the previous day and no one was about to keep him company, Miss Pao-ch’ai had sat with him for a while.

“It shouldn’t have been done!” Pao-yü promptly exclaimed, after hearing her explanations. “But how did I manage to go to sleep and show such utter discourtesy to her? I must go to-morrow!” he then went on to add. But while these words were still on his lips, he unexpectedly caught sight of Shih Hsian-yün walk in in full dress, to bid them adieu, as she said that some one had been sent from her home to fetch her away.

The moment Pao-yü and Tai-yü heard what was the object of her visit, they quickly rose to their feet and pressed her to take a seat. But Shih Hsiang-yün would not sit down, so Pao-yü and Tai-yü were compelled to escort her as far as the front part of the mansion.

Shih Hsiang-yün’s eyes were brimming with tears; but realising that several people from her home were present, she did not have the courage to give full vent to her feelings. But when shortly Pao-ch’ai ran over to find her, she felt so much the more drawn towards them, that she could not brook to part from them. Pao-ch’ai, however, inwardly understood that if her people told her aunt anything on their return, there would again be every fear of her being blown up, as soon as she got back home, and she therefore urged her to start on her way. One and all then walked with her up to the second gate, and Pao-yü wished to accompany her still further outside, but Shih Hsiang-yün deterred him. Presently, they turned to go back. But once more, she called Pao-yü to her, and whispered to him in a soft tone of voice: “Should our venerable senior not think of me do often allude to me, so that she should depute some one to fetch me.”

Pao-yü time after time assured her that he would comply with her wishes. And having followed her with their eyes, while she got into her curricle and started, they eventually retraced their steps towards the inner compound. But, reader, if you like to follow up the story, peruse the details contained in the chapter below.

CHAPTER XXXVII.

In the Study of Autumnal Cheerfulness is accidentally formed the Cydonia Japonica Society.
In the Heng Wu Court, the chrysanthemum is, on a certain night, proposed as a subject for verses.

But to continue. After Shih Hsiang-yün’s return home, Pao-yü and the other inmates spent their time, as of old, in rambling about in the garden in search of pleasure, and in humming poetical compositions. But without further reference to their doings, let us take up our narrative with Chia Cheng.

Ever since the visit paid to her home by the imperial consort, he fulfilled his official duties with additional zeal, for the purpose of reverently making requital for the grace shown him by the Emperor. His correct bearing and his spotless reputation did not escape His Majesty’s notice, and he conferred upon him the special appointment of Literary Chancellor, with the sole object of singling out his true merit; for though he had not commenced his career through the arena of public examinations, he belonged nevertheless to a family addicted to letters during successive generations. Chia Cheng had, therefore, on the receipt of the imperial decree, to select the twentieth day of the eighth moon to set out on his journey. When the appointed day came, he worshipped at the shrines of his ancestors, took leave of them and of dowager lady Chia, and started for his post. It would be a needless task, however, to recount with any full particulars how Pao-yü and all the inmates saw him off, how Chia Cheng went to take up his official duties, and what occurred abroad, suffice it for us to notice that Pao-yü, ever since Chia Cheng’s departure, indulged his caprices, allowed his feelings to run riot, and gadded wildly about. In fact, he wasted his time, and added fruitless days and months to his age.

On this special occasion, he experienced more than ever a sense of his lack of resources, and came to look up his grandmother Chia and Madame Wang. With them, he whiled away some of his time, after which he returned into the garden. As soon as he changed his costume, he perceived Ts’ui Mo enter, with a couple of sheets of fancy notepaper, in her hand, which she delivered to him.

“It quite slipped from my mind,” Pao-yü remarked. “I meant to have gone and seen my cousin Tertia; is she better that you come?”

“Miss is all right,” Ts’ui Mo answered. “She hasn’t even had any medicine to-day. It’s only a slight chill.”

When Pao-yü heard this reply, he unfolded the fancy notepaper. On perusal, he found the contents to be: “Your cousin, T’an Ch’un, respectfully lays this on her cousin Secundus’ study-table. When the other night the blue sky newly opened out to view, the moon shone as if it had been washed clean! Such admiration did this pure and rare panorama evoke in me that I could not reconcile myself to the idea of going to bed. The clepsydra had already accomplished three turns, and yet I roamed by the railing under the dryandra trees. But such poor treatment did I receive from wind and dew (that I caught a chill), which brought about an ailment as severe (as that which prevented the man of old from) picking up sticks. You took the trouble yesterday to come in person and cheer me up. Time after time also did you send your attendants round to make affectionate inquiries about me. You likewise presented me with fresh lichees and relics of writings of Chen Ch’ing. How deep is really your gracious love! As I leant to-day on my table plunged in silence, I suddenly remembered that the ancients of successive ages were placed in circumstances, in which they had to struggle for reputation and to fight for gain, but that they nevertheless acquired spots with hills and dripping streams, and, inviting people to come from far and near, they did all they could to detain them, by throwing the linch-pins of their chariots into wells or by holding on to their shafts; and that they invariably joined friendship with two or three of the same mind as themselves, with whom they strolled about in these grounds, either erecting altars for song, or establishing societies for scanning poetical works. Their meetings were, it is true, prompted, on the spur of the moment, by a sudden fit of good cheer, but these have again and again proved, during many years, a pleasant topic of conversation. I, your cousin, may, I admit, be devoid of talent, yet I have been fortunate enough to enjoy your company amidst streams and rockeries, and to furthermore admire the elegant verses composed by Hsüeh Pao-ch’ai and Lin Tai-yü. When we were in the breezy hall and the moonlit pavilion, what a pity we never talked about poets! But near the almond tree with the sign and the peach tree by the stream, we may perhaps, when under the fumes of wine, be able to fling round the cups, used for humming verses! Who is it who opines that societies with any claim to excellent abilities can only be formed by men? May it not be that the pleasant meetings on the Tung Shan might yield in merit to those, such as ourselves, of the weaker sex? Should you not think it too much to walk on the snow, I shall make bold to ask you round, and sweep the way clean of flowers and wait for you. Respectfully written.”

The perusal of this note filled Pao-yü unawares with exultation. Clapping his hands; “My third cousin,” he laughed, “is the one eminently polished; I’ll go at once to-day and talk matters over with her.”

As he spoke, he started immediately, followed by Ts’ui Mo. As soon as they reached the Hsin Fang pavilion, they espied the matron, on duty that day at the back door of the garden, advancing towards them with a note in her hand. The moment she perceived Pao-yü she forthwith came up to meet him. “Mr. Yün,” she said, “presents his compliments to you. He is waiting for you at the back gate. This is a note he bade me bring you.”

Upon opening the note, Pao-yü found it to read as follows: “An unfilial son, Yün, reverently inquires about his worthy father’s boundless happiness and precious health. Remembering the honour conferred upon me by your recognising me, in your heavenly bounty, as your son, I tried both day as well as night to do something in evidence of my pious obedience, but no opportunity could I find to perform anything filial. When I had, some time back, to purchase flowers and plants, I succeeded, thanks to your vast influence, venerable senior, in finally making friends with several gardeners and in seeing a good number of gardens. As the other day I unexpectedly came across a white begonia, of a rare species, I exhausted every possible means to get some and managed to obtain just two pots. If you, worthy senior, regard your son as your own very son, do keep them to feast your eyes upon! But with this hot weather to-day, the young ladies in the garden will, I fear, not be at their ease. I do not consequently presume to come and see you in person, so I present you this letter, written with due respect, while knocking my head before your table. Your son, Yün, on his knees, lays this epistle at your feet. A joke!”

After reading this note, Pao-yü laughed. “Has he come alone?” he asked. “Or has he any one else with him?”

“He’s got two flower pots as well,” rejoined the matron.

“You go and tell him,” Pao-yü urged, “that I’ve informed myself of the contents of his note, and that there are few who think of me as he does! If you also take the flowers and, put them in my room, it will be all right.”

So saying, he came with Ts’ui Mo into the Ch’iu Shuang study, where he discovered Pao-ch’ai, Tai-yü, Ying Ch’un and Hsi Ch’un already assembled. When they saw him drop in upon them, they all burst out laughing. “Here comes still another!” they exclaimed.

“I’m not a boor,” smiled T’an Ch’un, “so when the idea casually crossed my mind, I wrote a few notes to try and see who would come. But who’d have thought that, as soon as I asked you, you would all come.”

“It’s unfortunately late,” Pao-yü smilingly observed. “We should have started this society long ago.”

“You can’t call this late!” Tai-yü interposed, “so why give way to regret! The only thing is, you must form your society, without including me in the number; for I daren’t be one of you.”

“If you daren’t,” Ying Ch’un smiled, “who can presume to do so?”

“This is,” suggested Pao-yü, “a legitimate and great purpose; and we should all exert our energies. You shouldn’t be modest, and I yielding; but every one of us, who thinks of anything, should freely express it for general discussion. So senior cousin Pao-ch’ai do make some suggestion; and you junior cousin Lin Tai-yü say something.”

“What are you in this hurry for?” Pao-ch’ai exclaimed. “We are not all here yet.”

This remark was barely concluded, when Li Wan also arrived. As soon as she crossed the threshold, “It’s an excellent proposal,” she laughingly cried, “this of starting a poetical society. I recommend myself as controller. Some time ago in spring, I thought of this, ‘but,’ I mused, ‘I am unable to compose verses, so what’s the use of making a mess of things?’ This is why I dispelled the idea from my mind, and made no mention about it. But since it’s your good pleasure, cousin Tertia, to start it, I’ll help you to set it on foot.”

“As you’ve made up your minds,” Tai-yü put in, “to initiate a poetical society, every one of us will be poets, so we should, as a first step, do away with those various appellations of cousin and uncle and aunt, and thus avoid everything that bears a semblance of vulgarity.”

“First rate,” exclaimed Li Wan, “and why should we not fix upon some new designations by which to address ourselves? This will be a far more refined way! As for my own, I’ve selected that of the ‘Old farmer of Tao Hsiang;’ so let none of you encroach on it.”

“I’ll then call myself the ‘resident-scholar of the Ch’iu Shuang,’ and have done,” T’an Ch’un observed with a smile.

“‘Resident-scholar or master’ is, in fact, not to the point. It’s clumsy, besides,” Pao-yü interposed. “The place here is full of dryandra and banana trees, and if one could possibly hit upon some name bearing upon the dryandra and banana, it would be preferable.”

“I’ve got one,” shouted T’an Ch’un smilingly. “I’ll style myself ‘the guest under the banana trees.'”

“How uncommon!” they unanimously cried. “It’s a nice one!”

“You had better,” laughed Tai-yü, “be quick and drag her away and stew some slices of her flesh, for people to eat with their wine.”

No one grasped her meaning, “Ch’uang-tzu,” Tai-yü proceeded to explain, smiling, “says: ‘The banana leaves shelter the deer,’ and as she styles herself the guest under the banana tree, is she not a deer? So be quick and make pieces of dried venison of her.”

At these words, the whole company laughed.

“Don’t be in a hurry!” T’an Ch’un remarked, as she laughed. “You make use of specious language to abuse people; but I’ve thought of a fine and most apposite name for you!” Whereupon addressing herself to the party, “In days gone by,” she added, “an imperial concubine, Nü Ying, sprinkled her tears on the bamboo, and they became spots, so from olden times to the present spotted bamboos have been known as the ‘Hsiang imperial concubine bamboo.’ Now she lives in the Hsiao Hsiang lodge, and has a weakness too for tears, so the bamboos over there will by and bye, I presume, likewise become transformed into speckled bamboos; every one therefore must henceforward call her the ‘Hsiao Hsiang imperial concubine’ and finish with it.”

After listening to her, they one and all clapped their hands, and cried out: “Capital!” Lin Tai-yü however drooped her head and did not so much as utter a single word.

“I’ve also,” Li Wan smiled, “devised a suitable name for senior cousin, Hsüeh Pao-chai. It too is one of three characters.”

“What’s it?” eagerly inquired the party.

“I’ll raise her to the rank of ‘Princess of Heng Wu,'” Li Wan rejoined. “I wonder what you all think about this.”

“This title of honour,” T’an Ch’un observed, “is most apposite.”

“What about mine?” Pao-yü asked. “You should try and think of one for me also!”

“Your style has long ago been decided upon,” Pao-ch’ai smiled. “It consists of three words: ‘fussing for nothing!’ It’s most pat!”

“You should, after all, retain your old name of ‘master of the flowers in the purple cave,'” Li Wan suggested. “That will do very well.”

“Those were some of the doings of my youth; why rake them up again?”