CHAPTER XXXVI.

LIM HO'S WEDDING.

On a fine September morning, of the same year in which the other

events of our story took place, Santjoemeh was once again in a state

of commotion. And no wonder. For that day had been fixed upon for

the marriage of Lim Ho. Of Lim Ho, the son of the opium farmer,

the son of the millionaire Lim Yang Bing, with Ngow Ming Nio,

the prettiest Chinese girl of Santjoemeh, the prettiest perhaps in

all Dutch India. She was the only daughter of old Ngow Ming Than, a

speculator who had dealt in every possible thing out of which money

could be made, and who was honoured, esteemed and sought after for

the sake of the millions he had scraped together. Money everywhere

exercises a certain power of attraction; not otherwise was it at

Santjoemeh, and the union of two such enormous capitals was certain,

therefore, to awaken general interest. Moreover, a Chinese wedding

of this kind was a very rare occurrence, and the reports of the

magnificence which the house of Lim Yang Bing would display on the

occasion, were so extravagant that they bordered on the miraculous,

and opened to the imagination visions like those of the Arabian Nights.

All Santjoemeh--taking these words in the same sense as "tout Paris"

on similar occasions--had been scheming and intriguing to obtain an

invitation; and many a pleasant smile had been lavished on babah Ong

Sing Kok, or on babah Than Soeï, the purveyors of Mesdames Zoetbrouw

and Greenhoed, ladies who, in the ordinary way, did not waste their

blandishments on Chinamen, because it was thought that these gentlemen

had a pretty large acquaintance among the staff of servants on Lim

Yang Bing's establishment, and that through them the much coveted

card of invitation might be procured.

There were some who were wicked enough to whisper, that a certain nonna

had promised one of Lim Ho's cousins to give him a kiss if he would

procure her parents a ticket for admission. The wicked went on to say,

that this Chinaman, a shrewd fellow--like most of his race--had refused

to undertake the negotiation, unless he received payment on account; an

instalment which was not to count on the day of final settlement. That

these negotiations had been very much protracted owing to the many

difficulties which would constantly arise; that, on every such check

in the proceedings, progress had to be reported to the young lady,

and that our artful young Celestial had made every fresh effort on

his part depend upon the payment of another instalment on hers. If

all this were true, then the poor nonna must have paid pretty dearly

for her ticket--in kisses. That, however, is the story of the wicked,

it is not ours. On that September morning then, Santjoemeh was in a

fever of excitement and expectation. If here and there perhaps Lim

Ho's ugly adventure with baboe Dalima had not been forgotten, the

remembrance of that outrage did not damp the general enthusiasm, or

keep any one at home. Those who were troubled with a somewhat tender

conscience, laid the flattering unction to their soul that, as there

had been no prosecution, probably the whole story was false, or that,

at the worst, no great harm had been done. Others there were who

fully believed the truth of the reports which had been spread abroad;

and who actually envied Lim Ho his "bonne fortune." That Dalima was

such a pretty girl! Oh, no! there was no one who would deny himself

the expected pleasure on that account. It was very much the other way.

The evening before the eventful day, Santjoemeh had had something like

a foretaste of the coming joy. For, on that evening, a procession

had started to the Chinese temple. Now, marriage has, in the

celestial empire, no necessary connection whatever with any religious

observances; yet, on the present occasion, it had been thought well to

propitiate the goddess Má Tsów Pô, the guardian and protecting deity

of candidates for matrimony and of newly married people. Accordingly,

on the eve of the wedding, a procession had been formed in front of

the bride's house. First came a numerous band of native musicians who,

on their brass instruments accompanied by a drum of monstrous size,

performed a selection of waltzes, polkas, mazurkas and redowas. In

spite of the horrible dissonance of their execution, these lively

tunes would have set even Johann Strauss a jigging could he but have

heard them. Then followed a corps of Chinese artists whose grating

one-stringed fiddles, clashing cymbals and discordant screeching

wind-instruments, alternated with the former band; and produced a mixed

medley of hideous sounds, which literally set one's teeth on edge,

and put all but the most inveterate sightseers to instant flight. At

the head of the procession and in its rear, marched six torch-bearers,

while eight paper lanterns were born aloft on red poles on either

side. These shed a soft coloured light and, by their fantastic shapes,

imparted a thoroughly Chinese air to the scene. But the nucleus,

and most important part of the pageant, consisted of twelve boys who

walked two and two, and were called 'lo jen see' (barefeet). They

were dressed in short nankin gowns reaching only to the knee, under

which appeared the bare legs and feet, and on their heads they wore

tall conical caps, trimmed with red fringe. Each of these youths held

in his hand the pa-lee, or hollow metal ring containing little bits

of iron, from which hung small copper bells. With these, the bearers

made a gentle rattling sound as they marched along.

When the temple was reached, the boys grouped themselves around the

image of Má Tsów Pô, a deity represented as standing on the clouds

and wearing a crown in token of her dignity of Queen of Heaven. Then,

to a kind of measure, they began to mumble and chaunt their prayers

and incantations, shaking their ring the while incessantly. This went

on for about the space of an hour, and then the procession reformed

and marched homeward with a far greater crowd at its heels than had

accompanied its setting out.

The next day, however, was the great day.

Very early in the morning carriages began to rattle through the

streets of Santjoemeh, to fetch the landowners, officials, and other

distinguished guests, who lived in the country round about. On the

stroke of ten the élite of the Residence had assembled in the vast

inner-gallery of Lim Yang Bing's mansion. The gentlemen were all in

full-dress, in uniform, or in black evening dress; the ladies wore

ball toilettes; and at the entrance a number of Chinese boys were

stationed to hand to each of their fair guests a bouquet of lovely

pink roses. As one by one the principal guests drove up, crackers were

let off, varying in number according to the social position of the

individual who presented himself. If two or more happened to enter

together, bunches of crackers were exploded in exact proportion to

the number of visitors; and sometimes these fireworks exploded with

a din that was almost deafening.

At length Mr. van Gulpendam and his fair spouse made their

appearance. They were received and escorted into the house by

Chinese officers with the most punctilious ceremony. At his entrance,

two copper serpents were exploded, and there were flatterers among

the company who declared to Laurentia and to Lim Yang Bing, that,

compared to the din these terrible serpents made, an eruption of

Krakatoea was but child's play.

The object of this infernal noise was two-fold. It was useful on the

one hand to frighten away the evil spirits who might be lurking about

the premises, and, on the other, it served as an expression of joy

and as an evidence of cordial welcome to the visitors.

As soon as the Resident had arrived, a long line of the intimate

friends and acquaintances of the bridegroom, accompanied by the

inevitable band and by the barefeet who had officiated on the

previous evening, started off to fetch the bride from the house of

her parents. Meanwhile, the major and the captain of the Chinese

did the honours of the feast, while the lieutenants of that nation

acted as masters of the ceremonies. Nothing could be more courteous

than the manner in which these gentlemen acquitted themselves of their

onerous duties. They attended to every want, they offered refreshments;

and soon the popping of champagne corks indoors began to mingle with

the incessant banging of the fireworks without; and generous wine,

iced in huge silver bowls, was foaming and sparkling in the crystal

glasses. For the ladies, there was an ample supply of hippocras,

Golden water, Chartreuse and other liqueurs.

Lim Yang Bing had offered his arm to fair Laurentia, and the pair

walked leisurely up and down that stately saloon, which, under ordinary

circumstances, might be called magnificent, but had now been specially

decorated with the utmost skill and taste. The woodwork, the pillars,

the beams and architraves of the apartment were all curiously carved

and heavily gilt, and represented either hideous dragon-forms, or else

scenes of domestic life in China. The walls were tinted a delicate

rose-colour, and the floor, of pure Carrara marble, was covered with

matting woven of the finest split rottan. At the end of this splendid

saloon stood the altar of Tao Peng Kong gorgeously decorated, while

wide strips of red silk, bearing black Chinese letters, hung on either

side of the sanctuary.

"Tell me, babah," asked the Resident's wife, "what may be the meaning

of that scribble on those red rags?"

"They are proverbs, njonja, taken from Kong Foe Hi," gallantly replied

the Chinaman.

"Yes, but what do they mean?"

"That one, njonja, signifies: 'May the five blessings abide in this

house.'"

"And the others?"

"They are the names of the five blessings."

"Ah indeed!" continued Laurentia, "and what are those blessings?"

"A long life, peace and rest, love of virtue, wealth and a happy end

as the crown of life."

"And what do the letters on those lanterns signify? I say, babah,

they are very fine!" said Laurentia pointing upward at the lanterns,

depending from the ceiling and from the beams.

They were handsome hexagonal contrivances skilfully made, in the

Chinese style, of wrought copper, and having large plates of pure

polished crystal let into the sides.

"Yes, yes, njonja," assented the babah with a complacent smile,

"as you say they are very beautiful objects; but they cost a good

deal of money. Now could you give a guess at the price of one of

those copper lanterns?"

"Not I, babah! how could I? let me see--they may be worth some fifty

guilders."

"Fifty guilders!" exclaimed the Chinaman with something like pity

for her ignorance. "Oh, njonja, how could you have made such a bad

shot. Why! I thought you prized the masterpieces of our Chinese art

somewhat more highly than that!"

"Well!" said the crafty woman, "and what, pray, may be the value of

the things?"

"Every lantern, njonja, you see hanging there, has cost me in Canton,

three hundred and fifty guilders, without reckoning carriage and duty."

"Oh, never mind that!" laughed Laurentia, "I daresay you managed to

smuggle them across."

"No, njonja, by Kong, no! I can show you the receipt from the

custom-house. Will the njonja--"

"No, babah, don't trouble yourself, I take your word for it. But what

may they have cost you altogether?"

"Close upon four hundred guilders a piece, njonja."

"There are about thirty of them I should think," said Laurentia.

"Only five and twenty, njonja."

"Only! Only five and twenty!" said Mrs. van Gulpendam smiling. "It

is pretty well, I should say--ten thousand guilders worth of lanterns!"

Lim Yang Bing's face glowed with satisfaction. Like most parvenus he

took an intense delight in letting every one know what he had paid

for the precious objects he exhibited.

"And look, njonja," he continued, "pray look at those tigers."

With these words the opium-farmer pointed to a pair of red marble

tigers. The figures were life-size and were represented crouching on

two black marble pedestals at the foot of the two pillars one on each

side of the altar.

"Yes, babah, I admire them much--they are very fine indeed! They must

have cost a pretty penny I should think?"

"Each one of those figures represents five thousand guilders, njonja."

"But babah!" cried Laurentia.

"You see, njonja," said the babah sententiously, "when one gives a

wedding party of this kind, one ought to do it well. Have you noticed

that cock over the altar yonder?"

"I see it, babah, I see it, how exquisitely it is carved."

"It is cut out of a single block of peachwood," said the Chinaman,

"that little thing alone has cost me twelve hundred guilders."

"I say, babah! you must be a rich man," remarked Laurentia.

"So, so," replied the Chinaman inordinately proud in his assumed

modesty. "Do you happen to know what the wedding breakfast and this

evening's banquet will cost me?"

"No, I don't--do tell me, babah!"

"Well, I will--they will stand me in very nearly fifteen thousand

guilders."

"Why, babah! you must be a very rich man," said Laurentia in a

wheedling voice.

"Oh, not very," whined the Chinaman. "But you don't know how much I

give my son as my wedding gift."

"You mean to Lim Ho, the bridegroom? No, I cannot guess--do tell

me, babah?"

"Two millions!" he whispered, fairly beside himself with delight.

"Two million guilders!" exclaimed Laurentia, feigning the utmost

surprise. "Why, babah, you must have a mint of money!"

"No, njonja, not overmuch!"

"And all of it out of your opium contract, eh?"

The Chinaman looked at his fair companion, he gave her a very strange

look; that word opium had completely sobered him.

"And you have only had the contract for three years, I think,

babah?" continued Laurentia.

Lim Yang Bing nodded assent. In his heart he was beginning to curse

his boasting and vapouring.

"Have you seen the Resident lately?" asked Laurentia carelessly,

but determined to strike while the iron was hot.

"No, njonja," replied the Chinaman politely, but with none of his

former gush.

"I know he wishes to speak to you about the contract--it runs out I

think with the current year?"

"Yes, njonja."

"And I think the monopoly for the next three years will be granted

some time this month?"

"Yes, njonja."

"Do you intend to bid for it, babah?"

"I think so, njonja."

"Yes, njonja! no, njonja! I think so, njonja!" cried Laurentia

mimicking the poor Chinaman most comically, "But, hush, someone

is listening--What do you say is the meaning of those words on the

lanterns, babah?"

The last question she asked in her ordinary tone of voice, with that

light-hearted giggle which was peculiar to the handsome woman.

"Those letters mean: 'We pray for happiness and prosperity.'"

"Thank you, and on that one yonder?"

"The word on that one signifies: 'Lantern of Heaven?'"

Thus talking they had walked away out of ear-shot.

"Now," resumed Laurentia in a subdued voice, "now we can go on with

our conversation:

"You seem to be very lukewarm about that monopoly business, babah. I

fear you will have a competitor at the auction."

"Who is he?" asked Lim Yang Bing somewhat eagerly.

"I have heard the name of Kwee Sioen Liem mentioned, the Solo man;

you know!"

"Indeed," muttered the Chinaman evidently much put out.

"Yes, they say he is a rich man, he may do you some damage perhaps,

babah," continued Mrs. van Gulpendam fixing her glittering eyes upon

her companion.

To this Lim Yang Bing made no reply, but he kept on with measured

step walking by the side of the Resident's wife.

"That bit of information does not seem to affect you very

much?" continued Laurentia with a slight sneer.

"Is that why the Resident wants to see me?" asked the Chinaman.

"Yes, I think so, partly at least for that; and I believe he has

some other business to transact with you. The Government, you know,

expects the bids to go much higher this year."

"Oh ho!" grinned the Chinaman.

"You now pay twelve hundred thousand guilders for your monopoly,

do you not? You will have to make it twenty, or else the Government

will keep the whole business in its own hands."

"Let them!" said Lim Yang Bing smiling disdainfully, "I should very

much like to see that." But, after a moment's reflection, he went on:

"It is quite impossible to offer more; as it is, we can only just

avoid a loss."

"And yet you can manage to give two millions to your son as a wedding

present," remarked Laurentia, with a knowing laugh.

"Aye," he continued, as if he had not heard the remark, "if the

Government would grant more licenses in the Residence, in that case."--

"Is that all?" cried Laurentia carelessly. "How many do you hold

now? But; that is no business of mine. How many more do you want?"

"Ten at the very least," was the ready answer.

"That's a good many, babah!--if ten additional licenses were granted,

then I understand you to say that you are prepared to go up to two

millions?"

Lim Yang Bing could only nod assent; he had no time to express

himself verbally, for at that moment the procession, which had gone

to fetch the bride had returned, and was appearing at the entrance

of the gallery.

Its arrival was greeted with an explosion of fireworks so tremendous,

and a cacophony from the Chinese band so hideous, that the din was

absolutely deafening. If any evil spirits had been lurking about,

that atrocious noise must certainly have made them take to their

heels. No, not even the Shan Sao could stand that. In the midst of all

this uproar, a comely group of Chinese maidens, very demure damsels,

with finely cut features and modestly attired in picturesque gowns

of yellow silk, with rose coloured sashes round their slim little

waists, came forward to meet the bride and to bid her welcome. They

offered her a garland of peach blossom, the emblem of maiden purity,

and some nick-nacks amongst which was a cock, the emblem of the sungod,

curiously carved out of peach-wood.

Lim Ho also advanced to offer his hand to Ngow Ming Nio, and to lead

her to a table well furnished with the customary viands. On that

board appeared an endless array of dishes, the usual Chinese dishes,

such as sharks' fins, soup made of stags' tendons and birds' nests,

"kiemlo" and "bahmieh" (two fat soups) and other delicacies of

no particular significance. But besides these the table contained

other articles of food to which a distinctly emblematical meaning

was attached. There was the pomegranate sliced in such a manner as

to display to the greatest advantage its innumerable seedgrains,

signifying the numerous offspring with which might the marriage be

richly blessed! There were large heaps of the orange, fit emblem of

the sweetness of life, which might the happy pair long enjoy! There

were clusters of the oyster, typifying the distinct personality of

each member and the unbroken unity of the entire family; and lastly

some cuttings of the sugar cane, signifying the blessedness of the

married state which, as that cane from knot to knot, from joint to

joint, still increases in sweetness and in love.

The betrothed couple now took their place at the table, Lim Ho at his

bride's left hand, the place of honour in China. Before them were set

two mighty goblets of pure gold. Both the beakers were filled with

wine to the brim, and were connected with one another by a thread of

scarlet silk. Then the bride and bridegroom simultaneously drained

half the contents of the cups, after which they exchanged goblets,

taking care however, that the scarlet thread remained unbroken. This

time the cups were drained.

"Ouff!" cried van Beneden, who was present with his friends, "it is

enough to take one's breath away! Each of those things must hold at

least a bottle and a half of wine I bet! For Lim Ho it is nothing;

but for that poor little thing!"

"Aye, and I bet, you wouldn't mind hob-nobbing with pretty Ngow Ming

Nio," replied Grenits.

"Do hold your tongue!" said Grashuis as he glanced at a group of

Chinamen who stood near, and who looked anything but pleased at the

unseemly burst of merriment which at so solemn a moment, had greeted

Grenits' words.

"Hush! Hush!" was the cry on all sides.

Resident van Gulpendam glared round indignantly, and Laurentia looked

black as thunder at the interruption in the midst of the drinking

ceremony.

Van Rheijn would have crept underground to avoid those terrible eyes.

When the couple had thus copiously pledged one another, the bridegroom

took the left hand of the bride. He raised it to the level of her

breast, and in that attitude, the pair gravely saluted one another.

"I say," whispered Grenits, "I wish that dear little pet would give

me such a bow."

"I daresay," remarked August van Beneden; "a dear little pet with

two millions of money."

"Hush, hush!" was again the cry.

"Pooh!" cried Grenits, "millions squeezed out of the opium trade!"

The young lawyer hung his head in confusion.

"You are right," said he. "No! from such a source I would not take

a single farthing!"

"Hush, hush!"

Van Gulpendam's eyes flashed with indignation. The next rite was a very

curious one indeed. Two dishes were placed before the betrothed. They

contained a mixture of red and white pellets, the size of an ordinary

pea.

Grenits turned to one of the Chinamen who stood close beside him in

the crowd, and asked what might be the meaning of this ceremony.

"Are they medicine?" he asked.

"Yes, sir," replied the Chinaman. "The red balls represent the Jang

or male, the white represent the Jin or female principle in nature."

"Hush, hush!" resounded again on all sides. Lim Ho and the bride now,

each in a golden spoon, took up a red and a white ball, swallowed

them and once again bowed deeply to one another. Then the dishes

were interchanged, just as the cups had been before, the ceremony was

repeated and with that act, the marriage was complete. They were now

man and wife inseparably joined together.

Ngow Ming Nio and Lim Ho, the one set of millions was joined to

the other.

During all these festive rites, did Lim Ho bestow even one passing

thought upon his victim, baboe Dalima? We doubt it.

The nuptial ceremonies having been thus performed, the young wife took

up in the spoon two of the little balls and gracefully presented them

to the lips of her husband, and, with a winning smile, invited him to

eat. By this rite the newly married woman bound herself to bear all

the cares and anxieties of the domestic arrangements in the future

household. While this ceremony was going on, one of the oldest members

of the family audibly recited a few words in the Chinese tongue.

"What is he saying?" asked Grenits, turning to his friendly neighbour.

"O toean," replied the latter, "it is a quotation from the Sji-king,

the book of songs which was printed long, very long ago."

(It is said to have been printed in the eleventh century B.C.)

"But what is the meaning of the quotation?"

"It has a very pretty meaning--something like this: 'The peach tree

is young and fair, its blossoms are pure and bright--this young woman

is going to her future home and will be an excellent manager of her

domestic affairs.'"

"Very pretty indeed!" laughed Grenits.

When the young wife had thus, typically, served her husband with food,

both made another low obeisance, and this concluded the ceremony.

The last bow was the signal for another terrific outburst of noise. The

small cannon thundered, salvos of innumerable mertjons were fired off,

the band of the Santjoemeh militia, which had appeared but lately

on the scene, played up with all its might, the Chinese orchestra

shrieked forth most dismal wails, and that roaring, that crackling,

that drumming, that tooting, that sawing and scraping produced a din

so indescribably stunning and so hideous that an ear-drum of bull's

hide could hardly have endured the noise.

In the midst of this tumult the newly married couple took up their

position in front of the altar of Tao' Peh Kong. First, they each

kindled a little stick of sandal wood and fragrant incense which,

while burning, they stuck into a massive golden bowl half filled with

scented ashes. Thus having paid their homage to the household god, they

turned to receive the congratulations of the company. This was not a

national custom at all, for in China, when no white men are present,

the wedded pair at once retire to their apartment. It was, in fact,

a concession made to Western usage, and the Chinamen who were present

scrupulously avoided taking any part in it. The majority of them left,

to show their zeal, no doubt, by letting off some more fireworks and

completing the rout of the evil spirits.

Resident van Gulpendam, taking his wife's arm, at once headed the

procession of Europeans all eager to fall down before those millions

thus auspiciously coupled together. But for these millions, however

lovely might have been the bride, and though in the little world

around him Lim Ho might have been voted a very good sort of fellow,

not a single soul would have so much as dreamed of taking part in this

chorus of hollow compliment. The scandal about Dalima was of much too

recent date. But now that the two millions on the one side had joined

the two millions on the other--now that Lim Ho, the son of Lim Yang

Bing, the all-powerful opium farmer, was the happy man, now the entire

European population was ready to crowd around that highly-favoured

couple and press upon them their heartfelt and sincere congratulations.

Not content with this, Mr. van Gulpendam considered it his duty, after

having shaken hands, to add a few words of affectionate advice. Very

fortunate indeed it was that neither husband nor wife understood the

Dutch language and thus were spared the infliction of the nautical

terms with which the worthy resident so richly interlarded his

discourse, but which he found utterly untranslatable into Malay. It

was a good thing also for the patience of the bystanders, that

Laurentia stood by the side of her dear spouse and exhorted him to

be brief by digging the point of her elbow pretty sharply into his

side. At length the twaddle of the chief functionary came to an end,

and now ensued a scene of handshaking, of cringing and fawning, and

of general cant on both sides, which would have filled any honest

heart with the deepest disgust. But neither Lim Yang Bing nor Lim

Ho failed to notice that neither Theodoor Grenits, nor August van

Beneden, nor Leendert Grashuis, nor Edward van Rheijn had joined

this troop of sycophants. They had taken advantage of the crowd and

confusion to leave the house. Charles van Nerekool had flatly refused

to go at all. He could not overcome the aversion with which Lim Ho

had inspired him; but when he heard a report of the proceedings,

he resolved that, should another such opportunity occur, though the

festivities might be held on a much smaller scale, he would try and

witness so extraordinary a spectacle.

It was well perhaps for our young friends that they left when they

did; for presently the scene became rather uproarious. No sooner

were the greetings exchanged and the congratulations ended, than

the champagne corks began to pop with an energy and frequency which

seemed to rival the bangs of the mertjons outside. Presently the

whole company, Chinamen and Europeans, stood up, holding aloft their

glasses full of sparkling wine, and deafening cheers were raised,

while the Chinese "trauwkoeis" and the clattering cymbals screeched

and clashed, and the militia trumpets brayed, and the serpents and

mertjons banged with a noise as if a town was being bombarded. In

the midst of this unearthly din the bridal pair disappeared; anxious,

probably, to save their ear-drums.

In the evening, the formal banquet took place, to which eighty guests

had been invited. The menu of the feast had been carefully prepared

by a French mâitre d'hôtel, and was excellent; although next day the

wags of Santjoemeh would have it that dishes decidedly peculiar to

the Celestial empire had graced the board, such as "Potage Kiemlo à

la Tartare," "Potage printanier à l'ail," "Croquettes aux oreilles

de rats," "Bouchées d'ailerons de requins," "Consommées de tripang,"

&c. &c.

After dinner, President van Gulpendam rose to propose the toast of the

evening; and to drink the health of the newly married couple. He did

so, if the reports are to be believed, in a speech of extraordinary

brilliancy. It fell to his lot also, afterwards, to propose the health

of the Chinese officers, and, in doing so, he expressed a hope that

the Netherlands might always find in her Chinese subjects as faithful

and useful members of the community as they had hitherto proved

themselves to be. He laid very marked stress upon the word "useful,"

and the close of his speech was greeted with thundering applause.

Lim Yang Bing replied to this toast, and at the conclusion of his

remarks he proposed the health of Mr. and Mrs. van Gulpendam. He

heartily congratulated Santjoemeh on the possession of such excellent

rulers, and for the good of its inhabitants in general, and of the

Chinese community in particular, he expressed the hope that they

might long see that noble pair at the head of the Residence.

It was well that the roof of the mansion was a pretty strong one and

that the foundations of its walls and pillars were firm and deep, or

else some deplorable calamity must have occurred; for the deafening

cheers of the company burst forth with the force of a hurricane; the

soil literally shook under the feet of the assembled guests at the

salvoes of mertjons and of small ordnance without, while the air within

was alive with the popping of corks, which flew from the necks of the

bottles with the regularity of well sustained file-fire. So unbounded

was the enthusiasm with which the eloquent words of the worthy opium

farmer were received. After the banquet came the ball, which was

attended by almost the whole of Santjoemeh. Towards midnight, there

was a display of Chinese fireworks in the grounds, and our pig-tailed

brethren, on that occasion, proved how immeasurably superior is their

skill in pyrotechny compared to anything European artists can aspire

to in that line. Then dancing was resumed with fresh vigour, and the

last couples did not leave the ball-room until the break of day.

"That was a glorious, a most sumptuous feast, babah," said Resident

van Gulpendam a few days later to his friend Lim Yang Bing. "My

eyes! didn't you make the galley smoke!"

"Yes, kandjeng toean," replied the opium farmer, with a smile

of intensely gratified vanity. "Yes; but it has cost me a pretty

little sum of money, why, in champagne alone, I have spent more than

two thousand guilders, and quite another twelve hundred in Rhenish

wine. The fireworks I had direct from Canton, and they have cost me

three thousand at the very least."

As he dwelt upon these details, the man was in the seventh heaven

of delight.

Baboe Dalima; or, The Opium Fiend · 第 36 / 42 章