“Why, it’s my birthday, you forgetful boy! My twenty-first birthday, and
I have a surprise for you.
“The old Buddhist priest, who taught me when I was a child gave me a
flagon of rare old Chinese Lotus wine, when he parted from me, which I
was to keep inviolate until my twenty-first birthday. I would be married
then, he said, and on that day I was to unseal the old flagon and drink
the wine with my husband in memory of my old teacher who would then be in
the bosom of Nirvana.
“Look!” and she turned to the serving-table on which sat a small, squat
wicker-covered flagon, and handed it to me.
I looked at it curiously. It was sealed with a small brass seal, which
was stamped all over with dim Chinese characters.
“What are these characters?” I asked, handing her the flagon.
She looked closely at the seal.
“Oh! One of those wise old Buddhist sayings, which the Chinese stick on
everything.” She smiled. “Shall I translate it? I can, you know.”