of some person outside the window, and went hurriedly away. In his
haste he forgot to mention the circumstance of the mourning dress. It
was doubtless an interposition of Providence that this circumstance
was omitted. The lady Wang easily perceived that the noise she made
outside the window had caused Lin-pao to break off the conversation
suddenly. The tone of his voice plainly showed that he had something
more to say; but she had heard enough; for having remarked by his
manner that he had some secret to tell his wife when he entered the
house, she had pretended to go away, but listening at the window had
heard these words distinctly, "They will take her away and put her
into a palanquin."
These words strongly fortified her suspicions. Her resolution was
taken at once. She entered the room, and approaching Yang, gave
utterance to her anxiety. "My sister-in-law," said she, "you behold an
unfortunate widow, who is bound to you by the strongest ties of a
friendship which has been always sincere. By this long-standing
friendship I conjure you to tell me candidly whether my brother-in-law
still persists in his design of forcing me into a marriage that would
cover me with disgrace."
At these words Yang at first appeared confused, and changed colour;
then, assuming a more confident expression, "What are you thinking
of?" she asked, "and what fancies have you got into your head? If
there were any intention of making you marry again, do you think there
would be any difficulty? What is the good of throwing oneself into the
water before the ship is really going to pieces?"
The moment the lady Wang heard this allusion to the ship, she
understood more clearly the meaning of the secret conference of her
brother-in-law with his wife. She now suspected the worst, and gave
vent to her lamentations and sighs; and yielding to the current of her
grief, she shut herself up in her room, where she wept, groaned, and
bewailed her hard lot. "Unfortunate wretch that I am," cried she, "I
do not know what has become of my husband. Lin-tchin, my
brother-in-law and friend, upon whom alone I can rely, is gone on a
journey. My father, mother, and relations live far from hence. If this
business is hurried on, how shall I be able to inform them of it? I
can hope for no assistance from our neighbours. Lin-pao has made
himself the terror of the whole district, and every body knows him to
be capable of the greatest villany. Miserable creature that I am! how
can I escape his snares? If I do not fall into them to-day, it may be
to-morrow, or at any rate in a very short time."
She fell to the ground half dead; her fall, and the violence of her
grief, made a great noise. The lady Yang, hearing the disturbance,
hastened to her room, and finding the door firmly fastened, concluded
that it was a plan of her distracted sister-in-law to evade the scheme
of the night; she therefore seized a bar which stood by and broke the
door open. As she entered the room, the night being very dark, she
caught her feet in the clothes of the lady Wang, and fell tumbling
over her. In her fall she lost her head-dress, which flew to some
distance, and the fright and fall brought on a faint, in which she
remained for some time. When she recovered she got up, went for a
light, and returned to the room, where she found the lady Wang
stretched on the floor, without motion and almost without breath.
At the moment she was going to procure other assistance, she heard a
gentle knock at the door. She knew it must be the merchant of Kiang-si
come to fetch the wife he had bought. She quickly ran to receive him
and bring him into the room, that he might himself be witness of what
had occurred; but remembering that she had no head-dress, and that she
was unfit to present herself in that state, she hastily caught up the
one she found at her feet, which was the lady Wang's head-dress of
mourning, and ran to the door.
It was indeed the merchant of Kiang-si, who had come to fetch away his
promised bride. He had a bridal palanquin, ornamented with silk flags,
festoons, flowers, and several gay lanterns; it was surrounded by
servants bearing lighted torches, and by a troop of flute and
hautboy-players. The whole cortege was stationed in the street in
perfect silence. The merchant, having knocked gently and finding the
door open, entered the house with some of those who bore torches to
light him.
Upon the lady Yang's appearance, the merchant, who spied at a glance
the mourning head-dress, which was the mark by which he was to
distinguish his bride, flew upon her like a hungry kite upon a
sparrow. His followers rushed in, carried off the lady, and shut her
into the palanquin, which was all ready to receive her. It was in vain
she endeavoured to make herself heard, crying out, "You are mistaken;
it is not me you want." The music struck up as she was forced into the
palanquin, and drowned her voice, whilst the bearers flew rather than
walked, and bore her to the boat.
[Illustration: The lady Yang carried off in the Palanquin, p. 122.]
Whilst all this was taking place, the lady Wang had gradually revived
and come to her senses. The great hubbub she heard at the door of the
house renewed her fears, and occasioned her the most painful anxiety;
but as she found that the noise of music, and the tumult of voices,
which had arisen so suddenly died gradually away in the distance, she
regained her courage, and after a few minutes summoned up strength to
go and inquire what was the matter.
After calling her sister-in-law two or three times without effect, the
truth began to dawn on her; and after considering the matter
carefully, she could only come to the conclusion that the merchant had
made a mistake, and had carried off the wrong lady. But now a fresh
cause of uneasiness arose; she dreaded the consequences when Lin-pao
should return and be informed of the mistake. She shut herself up in
her room, and after picking up the head-pins, the earrings, and the
head-dress, which were lying on the floor, threw herself, quite worn
out with fatigue and anxiety, on her couch, and endeavoured to get a
little sleep, but she was not able to close her eyes all night.
At daybreak she rose and bathed her face, and proceeded to complete
her toilet. As, however, she was searching about for her mourning
head-dress, some one began making a great noise at the room-door,
knocking loudly and crying out, "Open the door instantly!" It was, in
fact, Lin-pao himself. She recognized the voice at once. She made up
her mind at once what to do; she let him go on knocking without
answering him. He swore, stormed and bawled, till he was hoarse. At
length the lady Wang went to the door, and standing behind it without
opening it, asked, "Who is knocking there, and making such a
disturbance?" Lin-pao, who recognized the voice of his sister-in-law,
began to shout still louder: but seeing that his storming had no
effect, he had recourse to an expedient which proved successful.
"Sister-in-law," said he, "I have brought you good news! Lin-tchin, my
youngest brother, has come back, and our eldest brother is in
excellent health; open the door at once!"
Overjoyed at this intelligence, the lady Wang ran to complete her
toilet, and in her haste put on the black[8] head-dress that her
sister-in-law had left behind, and eagerly opened the door; but, alas!
in vain did she look for her friend Lin-tchin; no one was there but
Lin-pao. He entered her room hurriedly and looked round, but not
seeing his wife, and perceiving a black head-dress on the head of his
sister-in-law, his suspicions began to be excited in a strange manner.
"Well! where is your sister-in-law?" he asked roughly.
"You ought to know better than I," replied the lady Wang, "since you
had the whole management of this admirable plot."
"But tell me," returned Lin-pao, "why don't you still wear a white
head-dress? have you left off mourning?" The lady Wang forthwith
proceeded to relate to him all that had happened during his absence.
Just at this moment he caught sight through the window of four or five
persons hurrying towards his house. To his utter astonishment he
perceived that they were his eldest brother Lin-in, his youngest
brother Lin-tchin, his nephew Hi-eul, and two servants carrying their
luggage. Lin-pao, thunderstruck at this sight, and not having
impudence enough to face them, ran off by the back-door, and
disappeared like a flash of lightning.
The lady Wang was transported with joy at her husband's return. But
who shall describe her ecstasies of joy when her son was presented to
her? She could scarcely recognize him, so tall and handsome had he
grown. "Oh!" cried she, "by what good fortune did you recover our dear
child, whom I thought we had lost for ever?"
Lin-in gave her in detail an account of his adventures; and the lady
Wang related at length all the indignities she had endured at the
hands of Lin-pao, and the extremities to which she had been reduced by
his scandalous treatment.
Lin-in lavished on his wife encomiums which indeed her fidelity
deserved; after which, reflecting on the whole chain of events by
which the present meeting had been brought about, he seemed deeply
moved, and remarked, "If a blind passion for wealth had caused me to
keep the two hundred taeels I found by accident, how should I have ever
met with our dear child? If avarice had prevented me from employing
the twenty taeels in saving those drowning people, my dear brother
would have perished in the waves, and I should never have seen him; if
by an unlooked-for chance I had not met my kind-hearted brother, how
should I have discovered the trouble and confusion that reigned in
this house in time to prevent its disastrous consequences? But for all
this, my beloved wife, we should never have seen each other again. I
recognize the special interposition of Providence in bringing about
all these things. As to my other brother, that unnatural brother, who
has unconsciously sold his own wife, he has drawn upon himself his own
terrible punishment. Heaven rewards men according to their deserts;
let them not think to escape its judgments.
"Let us learn from this how profitable in the end, as well as good, it
is to practise virtue; it is that alone which bestows lasting
prosperity upon a house."
In due course of time Hi-eul brought home his bride, the daughter of
Tchin. The marriage was celebrated with great rejoicings, and proved a
happy one. They had several children, and lived to see a crowd of
grandchildren, several of whom became men of learning, and acquired
important positions in the state.
CONTINUATION OF THE STORY OF PRINCE KHALAF AND THE PRINCESS OF CHINA.
The prince applauded the narrative of the story-teller; and, dinner
being over, he prostrated himself a second time before the khan, and,
after thanking him for his goodness, returned to the tent, where
Elmaze and Timurtasch were anxiously expecting him. "I bring you good
news," said he to them; "our fortune has changed already." He then
related to them all that had passed. This fortunate event caused them
the greatest pleasure; they regarded it as an infallible sign that the
hardness of their destiny was beginning to soften. They willingly
followed Khalaf, who conducted them to the royal tent and presented
them to the khan. This prince received them with courtesy, and renewed
to them the promise he had given to their son; and he did not fail to
keep his word. He appointed them a private tent, caused them to be
waited on by the slaves and officers of his household, and ordered
them to be treated with the same respect as himself.
The next day Khalaf was arrayed in a rich dress; he received from the
hand of Almguer himself a sabre with a diamond hilt and a purse full
of gold sequins; they then brought him a beautiful Turcoman horse. He
mounted before all the court; and to show that he understood the
management of a horse, he made him go through all his paces and
evolutions in a manner that charmed the prince and all his courtiers.
After having thanked the khan for all his benefits, he took his leave.
He then sought Elmaze and Timurtasch; and after some time spent in
desultory conversation, proceeded to unfold to them a scheme which for
some days past had been agitating his mind. "I have a great desire,"
said he, "to see the great kingdom of China; give me permission to
gratify that wish. I have a presentiment that I shall signalize myself
by some splendid action, and that I shall gain the friendship of the
monarch who holds that vast empire under his sway. Suffer me to leave
you in this asylum, where you are in perfect safety, and where you can
want for nothing. I am following an impulse which inspires me, or
rather, I am yielding myself to the guidance of Heaven."
"Go, my son," replied Timurtasch; "yield to the noble impulse which
animates you; hasten to the fortune that awaits you. Accelerate by
your valour the arrival of that tardy prosperity which must one day
succeed our misfortunes, or by a glorious death deserve an illustrious
place in the history of unfortunate princes."
The young prince of the Nagaeis, after having embraced his father and
mother, mounted upon his beautiful charger, took a respectful leave of
the khan, received from the hand of the princess Elmaze, who came out
of her tent for the purpose, the parting cup, and set out on his
journey. Historians do not mention that he encountered any thing
worthy notice on his route; they only say that, having arrived at the
great city Canbalac, otherwise Pekin, he dismounted at a house near
the gate, where a worthy woman, a widow, lived. Khalaf reined up his
horse here, and on the widow presenting herself at the door, he
saluted her and said,
"My good mother, would you kindly receive a stranger? If you could
give me a lodging in your house, I can venture to say that you will
have no cause to regret it." The widow scrutinized him; and judging
from his good looks, as well as from his dress, that he was no mean
guest, she made him a low bow, and replied, "Young stranger of noble
bearing, my house is at your service, and all that it contains."
"Have you also a place where I can put my horse?"
"Yes," said she, "I have," and called a young slave, who took the
horse by the bridle, and led him into a small stable behind the house.
Khalaf, who felt very hungry, then asked her if she would kindly send
and buy something for him in the market. The widow replied, that she
had a maiden who lived with her, and who would execute his orders. The
prince then drew from his purse a sequin of gold and placed it in the
girl's hand, who went off to the market.
In the mean time, the widow had enough to do to answer the inquiries
of Khalaf. He asked her a thousand questions; what were the customs of
the inhabitants of the city? how many families Pekin was said to
contain? and, at length, the conversation fell upon the king of China.
"Tell me, I pray you," said Khalaf, "what is the character this prince
bears. Is he generous, and do you think that he would pay any regard
to a young stranger, who might offer to serve him against his enemies?
In a word, is he a man to whose interests I could worthily attach
myself?"
"Doubtless," replied the widow; "he is an excellent prince, who loves
his subjects as much as he is beloved by them, and I am surprised that
you have never heard of our good king, Altoun-Khan, for the fame of
his justice and liberality is spread far and wide."
"From the favourable picture you draw of him," replied the prince of
the Nagaeis, "I should imagine that he ought to be the happiest and
most prosperous monarch in the world."
"He is not so, however," replied the widow; "indeed, he may be said to
be the most wretched. In the first place, he has no prince to succeed
him on his throne; a male heir is denied him, notwithstanding all the
prayers of himself and his subjects, and all the good deeds he
performs to that end. But I must tell you, the grief of having no son
is not his greatest trouble; what principally disturbs the peace of
his life is the princess Tourandocte, his only daughter."
"How is it," replied Khalaf, "that she is such a source of grief to
him?"
"I will tell you," replied the widow; "and, indeed, I can speak upon
the subject from the very best authority; for my daughter has often
told me the story and she has the honour of being among the attendants
on the princess."
"The princess Tourandocte," continued the hostess of the prince of the
Nagaeis, "is in her nineteenth year; she is so beautiful, that the
artists to whom she has sat for her portrait, although the most expert
in the East, have all confessed that they were ashamed of their
efforts; and that the most able painter in the world, and the best
skilled in delineating the charms of a beautiful face, could not
express those of the princess of China; nevertheless, the different
portraits which have been taken of her, although infinitely inferior
to the original, have produced the most disastrous consequences.
"She combines, with her ravishing beauty, a mind so cultivated, that
she not only understands all that is usual for persons in her station
to know, but is mistress of sciences suited only for the other sex.
She can trace the various characters of several languages, she is
acquainted with arithmetic, geography, philosophy, mathematics, law,
and, above all, theology, she knows the laws and moral philosophy of
our great legislator, Berginghuzin; in fact, is as learned as all the
wise men put together. But her good qualities are effaced by a
hardness of heart without parallel, and all her accomplishments are
tarnished by detestable cruelty.
"It is now two years ago since the king of Thibet sent to ask her in
marriage for his son, who had fallen in love with her from a portrait
he had seen. Altoun-Khan, delighted with the prospect of this
alliance, proposed it to Tourandocte. The haughty princess, to whom
all men appeared despicable, so vain had her beauty rendered her,
rejected the proposal with disdain. The king flew into a violent rage
with her, and declared that he would be obeyed; but instead of
submitting dutifully to the wishes of her father, she burst into
bitter lamentations, because he showed a disposition to force her to
comply; she grieved immoderately, as though it were intended to
inflict a great injury upon her; in fact, she took it so much to heart
that she fell seriously ill. The physicians, who soon discovered the
secret of her complaint, told the king that all their remedies were
useless, and that the princess would certainly lose her life, if he
persisted in his resolution to make her espouse the prince of Thibet.
"The king then, who loves his daughter to distraction, alarmed at the
danger she was in, went to see her, and assured her that he would send
back the ambassador with a refusal. 'That is not enough, my lord,'
replied the princess; 'I am resolved to die, except you grant what I
ask you. If you wish me to live, you must bind yourself by an
inviolable oath never to try to influence my wishes in this matter,
and to publish a decree declaring that of all the princes who may seek
my hand, none shall be allowed to espouse me who shall not previously
have replied, without hesitation, to the questions which I shall put
to him before all the learned men in this city; that if his answers
prove satisfactory, I will consent to his becoming my husband, but if
the reverse, that he shall lose his head in the court-yard of your
palace.'
"'By this edict,' added she, 'of which all the foreign princes who may
arrive at Pekin shall be informed, you will extinguish all desire of
asking me in marriage; and that is exactly what I wish, for I hate
men, and do not wish to be married.'
"'But, my child,' said the king, 'if by chance some one should present
himself, and reply to your questions?'--
"'Ha! I do not fear that,' she said quickly, interrupting him; 'I can
put questions which would puzzle the most learned doctors; I am
willing to run that risk.'
"Altoun-Khan pondered over what the princess demanded of him. 'I see
clearly,' thought he, 'that my daughter does not wish to marry, and
the effect of this edict will be to frighten away all lovers. I run no
risk, therefore, in yielding to her fancies, no evil can come of it.
What prince would be mad enough to face such danger?'
"At length the king, persuaded that this edict would not be followed
by any bad results, and that the recovery of his daughter entirely
depended upon it, caused it to be published, and swore upon the laws
of Berginghuzin to see that it was observed to the letter.
Tourandocte, reassured by this oath, which she knew her father dare
not violate, regained her strength, and was soon restored to perfect
health.
"In spite of the decree, the fame of her beauty attracted several
young princes to Pekin. It was in vain that they were informed of the
nature of the edict; and as every body, but particularly a young
prince, entertains a good opinion of himself, they had the hardihood
to present themselves to reply to the questions of the princess; and
not being able to fathom her deep meaning, they perished miserably one
after another.
"The king, to do him justice, appears deeply afflicted with their sad
fate. He repents of having made the oath which binds him; and however
tenderly he may love his daughter, he would now almost rather he had
let her die than have saved her life at such a price. He does all in
his power to prevent these evils. When a lover whom the decree cannot
restrain comes to demand the hand of the princess, he strives to deter
him from his purpose; and he never consents, but with the deepest
regret, to his exposing himself to the chance of losing his life. But
it generally happens that he is unable to dissuade these rash young
men. They are infatuated with Tourandocte, and the hope of possessing
her blinds them to the difficulty of obtaining her.
"But if the king shows so much grief at the ruin of the unfortunate
princes, it is not the case with his barbarous daughter. She takes a
pride in these spectacles of blood with which her beauty periodically
furnishes the Chinese. So great is her vanity, that she considers the
most accomplished prince not only unworthy of her, but most insolent
in daring to raise his thoughts towards her, and she looks upon his
death as a just chastisement for his temerity.
"But what is still more deplorable, Heaven is perpetually permitting
princes to come and sacrifice themselves to this inhuman princess.
Only the other day, a prince, who flattered himself that he had
knowledge enough to reply to her questions, lost his life; and this
very night another is to die, who, unfortunately, came to the court of
China with the same hopes."
Khalaf was deeply attentive to the widow's story.
"I cannot understand," said he, after she had ceased speaking, "how
any princes can be found sufficiently devoid of judgment to come and
ask the hand of the princess of China. What man would not be terrified
at the condition without which he cannot hope to obtain her? Besides,
despite what the artists may say who have painted her portrait;
although they may affirm that their productions are but an imperfect
image of her beauty, my firm belief is that they have added charms,
and that their portraits exaggerate her beauty, since they have
produced such powerful effects; indeed, I cannot think that
Tourandocte is so beautiful as you say."
"Sir," replied the widow, "she is more lovely by far than I have
described her to you; and you may believe me, for I have seen her
several times when I have gone to the harem to visit my daughter. Draw
upon your fancy as you please, collect in your imagination all that
can possibly be brought together in order to constitute a perfect
beauty, and be assured that even then you would not have pictured to
yourself an object which could approach the perfections of the
princess."