uneasily. "But how shall we bring the thing about?"
"I am going to speak to his elder brother. I will keep you informed."
Without further delay, the venerable go-between went straight to The
Pavilion of the Quick Hedge, where she found Fan behind his counter,
and saluted him:
"Ten thousand happinesses!"
"You come at the right time," he answered with a bow. "I was about to
send to beg you to do so. For some days, I assure you, my brother has
not been able to take a morsel of food. He says that his whole body is
aching, and now he stays in bed. Will you, please, feel his pulse?"
"I will see him. But it is better for me to be alone with him."
"Then I shall not come with you."
So the old woman went up into the sick man's room, and he said to her
feebly:
"Mother Wang, it is very long since I saw you. Alas! You come too
late! My life is finished!"
"In what special way are you so seriously ill?" she asked, sitting
near the bed and touching his wrist.
After a moment she continued:
"Shall I tell you the name of your illness? It is called
Victorious-Immortal, little daughter of Chou, and her house is near
the Ts'ao Gate."
The sick man was startled and sat up:
"How do you know that?"
"Her family has commissioned me to come and arrange your marriage."
Immediate happiness revived the young man.
He rose and came down with the wise visitor to his astonished brother.
"I am cured," he announced, "And all goes very well."
Meanwhile the old woman was saying: "The family of Chou has sent me
especially to talk to you about a marriage."
All was soon settled, the first gifts were exchanged, and the
comforted hearts of the two young people were filled with joy.
But they had to wait Lord Chou's return before proceeding with the
ceremony.
Chou did not come back until eight months later. It is needless to say
that, when he did so, all his relations and friends came to drink cups
of wine with him to "wash down the dust of the journey." At last his
wife told him what had happened, affirming that all was decided. But
the eyes of the master of the house became round and white, and he
bellowed:
"O filthy imbecile, who gave you the right to betroth our daughter to
a wine merchant? Is there no son of decent family who would marry her?
Do you wish to make us a laughing-stock?"
While he was thus cursing his wife, the servant came up to them,
crying:
"Come quickly and save the child! She was behind the door, and heard
your cries. She fell down and is no longer breathing."
Stumbling in her haste, the mother ran out. She saw her daughter lying
on the ground and was about to raise her, but her husband prevented
her, saying:
"Leave her! She was bringing dishonor on us! If she is to die, then
let her die!"
Seeing her mistress held back, Kind-Welcome bent over the girl. But
Chou, with a blow that made the air whistle between his fingers sent
her against the wall. In his rage, he seized his wife and shook her
roughly, and she howled like a dog. The neighbors heard her and ran
in, fearing that there was disaster. Soon the room was filled with
women, all talking at the same time. But the master of it roughly bade
them be silent:
"I do not allow any spying upon my private affairs."
The neighbors retired in discomfort, and the mother threw herself upon
her daughter's body, whose ends were already cold. She sobbed:
"You would not have died if I had come to you. O murderer, you have
let her die of set purpose. You did not want to give her the four or
five thousand ounces which her grandfather left her."
He went out, panting like a boar with anger. The mother did not cease
to lament her loss: her daughter had been so gentle and so clever. At
length the time came to shut down the coffin, and Chou angrily said to
his wife:
"You pretend that I let her die so as not to lose four thousand
ounces? I order you to put all her jewels in the tomb with her. That
is more than five thousand ounces, one would think."
They brought in the wu-tso, the Inspector of Corpses, and also his
assistant, to verify the death and to help in hearsing her. The keeper
of the family graveyard and his brother, the two Chang, were also
there to assist in the mournful work.
The time came for the funeral, and the procession went forth from the
town. The coffin was placed in a brick tomb, and the first shovels of
earth were thrown upon it. Then all returned home. Three feet of cold
insensitive earth covered the body of this young beauty, and it had
been full of love.
Now the Inspector of Corpses had a worthless fellow named Feng for his
assistant. This miserable boy, on coming back from the cemetery in
the evening, said to his mother: "An excellent day's work! Tomorrow we
shall be rich."
"And what successful stroke of business have you concluded?"
"Today we buried the daughter of Chou, and all her jewels were put
in the coffin with her. Instead of leaving them to enrich the earth,
would it not be better to take them?"
"Think before you do such a terrible thing!" his mother begged. "This
is no matter of a mere whipping. Your father wanted to do the same
thing twenty years ago. He opened a coffin, and the corpse began to
smile at him. Your father died of that in four or five days. My son,
do not do it. It is no easy matter."
"Mother," he answered simply, "my mind is made up. Do not waste your
breath on me, for that is useless."
He bent over his bed, and took out of it a heavy iron tool.
"O mother, not each person's destiny is the same. I have consulted
soothsayers, and they have told me that I shall become rich this
year."
He took also an axe, a leather sack, and a dark lantern, which he
placed in readiness. Finally he wrapped himself in a great mantle of
reeds, for it was the eleventh moon and the snow had begun to fall.
He made a sort of hurdle with about ten inter-crossed bamboos, and
fastened it behind his mantle, so that it should drag along the ground
and efface his foot-prints.
The second watch was sounding when he went out, and all was still
bustle and gaiety in the town. But beyond the walls both silence and
solitude reigned in the growing cold. The snow was already thick. Who
would have ventured out there?
From time to time he turned his head, but no one followed him. At last
he reached the wall of the family graveyard and climbed in. Suddenly
a dog ran through the tall grass and leaped at him, barking. The thief
had prepared a portion of poisoned meat, and threw it to the dog. The
beast, being badly fed, smelt it and swallowed it. He still barked
a little, but the venom was potent, and he very soon writhed on the
ground.
In the keeper's hut, young Chang said to his elder brother:
"The dog has started barking, and then has stopped. Is that not
strange? Perhaps it is a thief. You ought to go and see."
The elder brother rose from his hot bed and took up a weapon,
grumbling. Then he opened the door and went out. But he was seized
by a whirl of cold snow, and called to the dog: "What are you barking
for, O animal of the Gods?"
Then he came back and glided under his blankets.
"There is nothing at all. But it is very cold."
From the distant town came the far sound of the gongs and drums of the
third watch. Taking heart, Feng went forward in a snow which deadened
his steps. He quickly shovelled the fresh earth from the grave, and
then lighted his lantern. Its yellow light lit up but a single point.
Forcing two long crowbars between the joints, he loosened one brick,
and then another. At last the coffin was uncovered. He inserted his
pick under the lid, and pried it off and laid it on one side. The
corpse was brought to view.
"Small sister," he murmured. "I am only going to borrow a little of
your useless wealth. Do not you grudge it me!"
He took the veil from that charming face. The head was covered with
ornaments of gold, and also with pearls. He took them all. He was
tempted by the fine and silken garments of the corpse. He stripped it.
But suddenly, the body shook itself and pushed the thief away with
violence. He uttered a cry of imbecile terror and shrank back. The
corpse had sat up and, in that little light, looked at the open tomb,
the scattered tools, and her own unclothed body. The wretched lad,
obeying instinctive habit, trembled and lied:
"Little sister, I have come to save you."
Naturally, when little Victorious-Immortal had heard the foul Chou's
violent words, her despair had made her lose all sign of life. It was
for this reason that she had been put in her coffin while still
alive. Aroused now by the cold, her first thought was to remember her
father's anger. Her only refuge then was the house of her betrothed,
and she said: "If you will take me to The Pavilion of the Quick Hedge,
you may have a heavy reward."
"That is easy," answered Feng, seeking in vain for how he should
escape.
Ought he to kill her? He hardly had the courage after such a shock.
He decided to give her back a few clothes. He put the jewels and his
implements in the sack, together with the extinguished lantern, and
quickly covered the grave with earth again. Then, because the girl
was too weak to walk, he took her on his back and went away from that
place. But instead of going to Fan's house, he went to his own. His
mother opened the door to him, and cried in terror:
"Have you stolen the corpse also?"
"Do not speak so loud," he answered, setting down his burdens.
He went to his bed, and there put little Victorious-Immortal. He drew
a knife from his girdle and showed it to the girl:
"Little one, I have some business to settle with you. If we come to
an agreement, I will take you to Fan's house. If not, you very well
behold this knife, and I shall cut you in two pieces."
"What do you want with me?" she asked.
"You are going to stay here without making a noise and without trying
to escape, until I take you to Fan. As for the rest, we will speak of
it another time."
"I will do so! I will indeed do so!"
Then the nasty youth led his mother into the next room to calm her a
little.
"But what are you going to do?" she asked.
"Do you think we can be safe when she has gone to Fan?"
"I am not going to take her to Fan."
"What are you going to do, then?"
He gave a country laugh, full of suggestion.
* * * * *
Matters so continued until the fifteenth day of the first Moon,
the evening of the Feast of Lanterns. Feng went out to see the
illuminations, and also to profit by the opportunities for theft which
are always afforded in a crowd. The evening wore on, and he had not
yet returned, when a shout arose among the neighbors. Feng's mother
opened the door to see what was the matter. A fire had broken out near
there. In terror, the old woman made haste to carry her furniture into
the yard. Profiting by this confusion, the girl slipped through the
door; but in the street she did not know which way to turn. At
last she found the road to the Ts'ao Gate, and was running in that
direction when she lost herself again. However, when at length she
asked where The Pavilion of the Quick Hedge might be, she was shown a
near way to it.
The attendant was before the door, and she asked him very politely:
"Ten thousand happinesses! Is not this the house of Fan and Erh-lang?"
"Certainly it is, small lady."
"Could you not lead me to him?"
"Assuredly," he answered.
He showed her the way, calling from the door to his masters; but when
Erh-lang, in the pale light of the paper lanterns, recognized the
white face of his betrothed, he cried out in dismay: "Ghost! Ghost!"
Confident in her love, she advanced toward him piteously repeating:
"Elder brother! Elder brother! I am alive!"
But he kept recoiling in terror, and crying: "Help! Help!"
How could he fail to believe himself in the presence of a ghost, when
he had witnessed the funeral, and had, that very evening, encountered
the wife of Chou in mourning garments?
As she was about to touch him and, cringing against the wall, he could
retreat no further, his terror redoubled. Not knowing what he did, he
picked up a heavy stool and struck his dear visitor on the head with
it. She fell back, and her head sounded dully on the stone flags.
Fan ran up at the noise of this. He saw the woman on the ground, and
his brother holding the stool.
"What have you done?" he cried. "What is the matter? Was it you who
killed her?"
"She is a ghost," the other said.
"If she were a ghost, she would not bleed. What have you done?"
Already some ten persons had come up to see what was the matter. The
street guard came in to them and seized Erh-lang, who kept on saying:
"She is the ghost of Chou's daughter. I have killed her."
Hearing this name, a neighbor ran to inform Chou, who would not at
first believe him. At length he decided to go to the wine pavilion,
where he was compelled to recognize her, though he kept on saying:
"I buried her long since!"
Nevertheless, the guard insisted upon leading Erh-lang to prison.
Fan had the doors shut then, and stayed with Chou by the corpse till
morning.
Early next day the Governor inquired into the matter. The coffin was
opened. It was found empty, and the keepers told how their dog had
been found dead in the snow on the day after the funeral. In the
absence of any completer explanation, they proceeded with their
inquiry.
Erh-lang, in his prison, was overcome with sorrowful remorse.
Sometimes he said that she could not have survived her burial;
sometimes he was rent with horror at the thought that she had been
alive when he struck her. He recalled her beauty and grace in Spring
by the lake side, and bitter tears rolled from him. While he was
musing in this way, he saw his cell door open, and the girl appeared.
In his emotion and fear, he cried:
"Are you not dead, my darling?"
"Your blow caused me more grief than harm. Now I have wakened, and
have come to see you."
She approached the bench where he sat, and he took her hand:
"How can I have been so foolish as to fear you?"
They were talking thus, and already, in their deep love, they were in
each other's arms. His joy was so keen that suddenly he woke. It was a
dream.
On the second night the same thing happened, and on the third, and his
passion grew stronger for her. As she was going away the third time,
she said:
"My life on earth had come to an end, but my love was so great and
so potently called me to you, that the Marshal-of-the-Five-Ways, the
Keeper-of-the-Frontier-of-the-Shadows, allowed me to come back to
you, for these three nights. I must leave you now. But, if you do not
forget, there will yet be something of me bound to your soul."
Then she disappeared, and the young man sobbed most bitterly.
In the end the matter was cleared up by chance. Feng's mother, having
filched a golden trifle from her son's bag, went to sell it to the
same jeweler who had made it for Chou. On being denounced before the
Governor, mother and son were apprehended, and all the jewels were
discovered in their house. Torture found them words, and the whole
matter became clear. Erh-lang had actually believed that he saw a
ghost, and was released. Feng was sentenced to slow death, and strips
were torn one by one from his body by the executioner. His mother was
only strangled.
As for Erh-lang, his heart stayed faithful to the girl he had
so greatly loved. At every feast he went to the temple of the
Marshal-of-the-Five-Ways, and burned incense, so that the pleasant
smoke of it might ascend to the palace of the soul of little
Victorious-Immortal. His fidelity touched even the rough heart of Chou
and, when he came to die a few years later, his body was buried in the
same tomb with her whom his arms had known only in sleep.
_Nao fan lou to ch'ing sheng hsien (Chou Victorious-Immortal,
of abundant love, overthrows the Pavilion
of the Fan). Hsing shih heng yen
(1627), 14th Tale._
THE ERROR OF THE EMBROIDERED SLIPPER
The sun is in our eyes
And we think we are running out towards joy;
Our heart pulls us down
And we shall never know the way of the sky
Or the end of all things.
During the Hung-Chih period of our Dynasty there lived at Hang-chow
a young man who was called Chang Loyalty. After his parents died,
leaving him a great fortune, he no longer had anyone to guide him, and
therefore, throwing away his books, he spent his time with gallants of
the sort we name fou-lang-tzu, that is to say "floating-on-the-waves."
They do not know how to profit by opportunity. So Chang no longer
studied anything but various ball games, he abandoned himself to the
pleasures of the theatre, and took his delight in those gardens where
the breezes of love blow in the moonlight. In a word, he followed the
changing flowers of illusion; and, as he was himself seductive, as
impassioned as expert in pleasure, and rich and generous, he became
the favorite of all the women of the town. One day, when spring had
but just caused all the flowers to come out on the amiable banks of
the Lake of the West, Chang invited a company of singing girls and
idlers to spend the afternoon on the blue waters.
He put on a gauze bonnet with floating wings, after the fashion of the
time. His great transparent silk robe was of purple and silver, over
a second embroidered one of pure white. White gauze stockings and red
slippers completed the elegance of his appearance.
He went out, walking unhurriedly, gently waving a fan decorated with
paintings. Behind him walked his little slave, Clear-Lute, who carried
over his shoulder a mantle in case the weather should freshen, and a
long guitar with which to accompany the singing girls.
As they were approaching the gate of Ch'ien-t'ang, Chang looked up,
for no particular reason. On the first story of a house a maiden
held back her window curtain and looked at him. From her whole person
emanated so troubling a charm that he stopped in his walk, and felt
a tremor in his body. For a long time they remained gazing at each
other, until she slowly broke into a smile, and he felt his soul fly
from him.
At this moment the door of the house opened below, and a man came
forth; so Chang hastened to resume his walk, and returned in a few
moments. The curtain was drawn back over the window. He waited, but
there was no sign. At length he drew away, turning his head, and
walking as slowly as if he had already gone a hundred leagues on the
mountains.
Yet eventually he passed the town gate and rejoined his friends on the
boat, which was at once steered to the middle of the lake. The banks
were smiling with peach blossom: the willow leaves were a mist of gold
and green. Little boats, with brightly-dressed passengers, crossed and
re-crossed like ants. In very truth:
Hills are heaped upon hills
And the pavilions on the pavilions.
The songs and dances are never ceasing
On the West Lake.
The warm breeze fans the drunkenness
Of the pleasure walkers.
Heaven is above,
But here we have Hang-chow and Su-chow Lakes.
But Chang carried the picture of that young girl in his soul, and had
no heart for pleasure.
His companions offered him cups of wine, wondering at his melancholy;
but he was far from them.
At twilight they returned, and Chang re-entered by the Ch'ien-t'ang
gate, passing before the girl's house. The window was shut. He
stopped, and forced a cough; but there was no sign. He went to the end
of the street, and came back again, but all was silent. Therefore he
had no choice but to go away.
He returned next morning, and stayed at a shop near by to learn what
he could. He was told:
"They are people called P'an. Their only daughter is sixteen years of
age, and is named Eternal Life. The father has some connection with
a certain powerful family which affords him protection. He lives by
swindling, and everyone fears him. He is a veritable skin-pinker and
bravo."
This news made Chang a little thoughtful, but he walked on by the
house nevertheless. The young girl was again at her window. They
looked at each other; but there were people about, and he had to go
away.
That evening, as soon as night fell, he went back. The moon was
shining as brightly as the sun, and the street was empty. The youthful
beauty leaned at her window, wrapped in thought and bathed in the
white light. She smiled at him, and he drew from his sleeve his
scarlet muslin handkerchief. He made the knot known as "union of
hearts gives victory." Rolling it in a ball, he threw it, and she
adroitly caught it in two hands. Then she stooped and took off one of
her little embroidered slippers. She dropped it into Chang's waiting
fingers. Enraptured with this gift, which was a pledge of love and
faith, he carried it to his lips and said softly:
"Thank you; Thank you, with all my heart!"
In tones of maddening sweetness, she replied:
"Ten thousand happinesses!"
Just then a rough voice was heard within the house. She made another
sign to him and closed the window. And he went home drunk through
silent streets made silver by the moon. Once in his library, he
examined the slipper. It was a golden lotus, so small and so light
that a thousand thoughts troubled the lover. He said:
"I must find someone to arrange our meeting, or else die from an
over-stressing of desire."
Early in the morning, he put some pieces of silver in his sleeve and
hastened to a little wine booth, not far from the house of P'an.
He knew that he would find an old woman there, whom he often met in
pleasurable places. In fact, he saw her and called to her. She at once
saluted him, saying:
"Aya! My uncle, what brings you?"
"I happened to be passing," he answered carelessly.
"But I should like you to walk a little way with me."
"In what can I serve you?" she hastened to ask.
Without speaking, he took her into a quiet little tavern. When they
were seated, and the attendant had brought them fruit and dishes of
food, he poured out a full cup of hot wine and offered it to her,
saying:
"I have something to ask of you, ma-ma Lu. But I am afraid that you
cannot accomplish it."
"Without boasting," she answered with a wide smile, "there are few
enterprises, however difficult, in which I do not succeed. What is it
you desire?"
"I want you to arrange a meeting for me with the daughter of P'an,
who lives in the Street of the Ten Officials. Here are five ounces
of silver to begin with. If you succeed, you shall have quite as much
more."
"The small Eternal Life? The little witch! I thought her so demure!
I should never have imagined she was a wild flower. But the matter is
difficult. There are only the parents and the daughter in that house,
and the father is dangerous. He keeps a damnably suspicious watch over
his door. How could you get in? I dare not promise any success."
"You have just boasted that you always succeed. Here are two ounces
more."
The old woman's eyes gleamed like fire at the sight of the
snow-colored metal, and she said:
"I will take the risk. If all goes well, it will be your fortune.
If not, I shall at least have done my best. But give me a proof, for
otherwise she would not listen to me."
Not without regret, Chang took from his bosom the little slipper, and
gave it to her, wrapped in his handkerchief. The old woman at once
slipped it into her sleeve with the pieces of money. As she was
leaving him, she said again:
"The affair is delicate. You must have patience and not hurry me. That
would be dangerous."
"I only ask you to do your best. Come and tell me as soon as you have
an answer."
Eternal Life was profoundly agitated. Since that moonlit night she had
had no more taste for food, but had said:
"If I married him I would not have lived in vain. But I know neither
his name nor where he lives. When I saw him beneath the moon, why
had I not wings to fly to him? ... As it is, I had only this red
handkerchief."
Yet she had to live and speak as usual. But as soon as she was alone
she fell again into her musing.
Two days later, old Lu entered their house. The father had gone out.
The visitor said to mother and daughter:
"I received certain artificial flowers yesterday, and have come to
show them to you."
She took a bunch of a thousand shades out of her basket.
"Would you not say they were real?"
"When I was young," said the mother, "we only wore ordinary flowers,
and did not dream of marvels like these."
"Yet these are only considered mediocre. But the price of the finest
is so high."
"If we cannot buy them, we can at least admire them," the young girl
answered dryly.
With gathering smiles, the old woman took from the basket a bunch
which was indeed incomparable.
"And what is the price of that?" questioned the mother.
"How should I dare to fix a price? I leave it to you. But if you have
a little tea, I would willingly drink of it."