STRANGE STORIES
FROM THE
LODGE OF LEISURES
TRANSLATED FROM THE CHINESE BY
GEORGE SOULIÉ
OF THE FRENCH CONSULAR SERVICE IN CHINA
BOSTON AND NEW YORK
HOUGHTON MIFFLIN COMPANY
1913
PRINTED BY
HAZELL, WATSON AND VINEY, LD.,
LONDON AND AYLESBURY,
ENGLAND.
PREFACE
The first European students who undertook to give the Western world an
idea of Chinese literature were misled by the outward and profound
respect affected by the Chinese towards their ancient classics. They
have worked from generation to generation in order to translate more and
more accurately the thirteen classics, Confucius, Mengtsz, and the
others. They did not notice that, once out of school, the Chinese did
not pay more attention to their classics than we do to ours: if you see
a book in their hands, it will never be the "Great Study" or the
"Analects," but much more likely a novel like the "History of the Three
Kingdoms," or a selection of ghost-stories. These works that everybody,
young or old, reads and reads again, have on the Chinese mind an
influence much greater than the whole bulk of the classics.
Notwithstanding their great importance for those who study Chinese
thought, they have been completely left aside. In fact, the whole of
real Chinese literature is still unknown to the Westerners.
It is a pity that it should be so. The novels and stories throw an
extraordinary light on Chinese everyday life that foreigners have been
very seldom, and now will never be, able to witness, and they illustrate
in a striking way the idea the Chinese have formed of the other world.
One is able at last to understand what is the meaning of the _huen_ or
superior soul, which leaves the body after death or during sleep, but
keeps its outward appearance and ordinary clothes; the _p'aï_ or
inferior soul which remains in the decaying body, and sometimes is
strong enough to prevent it from decaying, and to give it all the
appearances of life. The magicians of the Tao religion, or Taoist
priests, play a great part in these stories, and the Buddhist ideas of
metempsychosis give the opportunity of more complicated situations than
we dream of.
Among the most celebrated works, I have chosen the "Strange Stories from
the Lodge of Leisures," _Leao chai Chi yi_. It was written in the second
half of the eighteenth century by P'ou Song-lin (P'ou Lieou-hsien), of
Tsy-cheou, in the Chantong province.
The whole work is composed of more than three hundred stories. I have
selected twenty-five among the most characteristic.
This being a literary work, and having nothing scientific to boast of, I
have tried to give my English readers the same literary impression that
the Chinese has. _Tradutore traditore_, say the Italians; I hope I have
not been too much of a traitor.
A translation is always a most difficult work; if it is materially
exact, word for word and sentence by sentence, the so-called scientific
men are satisfied, but all the charm, beauty, and interest of the
original are lost. Very often, too, such translation is obscure and
unintelligible. Each nation has an heirloom of traditions, customs, or
religion to which its literature constantly refers. If the reader is not
acquainted with that literature, these references will convey no meaning
to his mind, or they may even convey a false one. In Chinese, this
difficulty is greater than in any other language; the Far Eastern
civilisation has had a development of its own, and its legends and
superstitions have nothing in common with the Western folklore. The
Chinese mind is radically different from ours, and has grown, in every
generation, more different by reason of a different training and a
different ideal in life. The Chinese writing, moreover, has strengthened
those differences; it represents the ideas themselves, instead of
representing the words; each Chinese sign may be rightly translated by
either of the three or more words by which our language analytically
describes every aspect of one same idea. The sign which is read _Tao_,
for instance, must be, according to the sentence, translated by any of
the words: direction, rule, doctrine, religion, way, road, word, verb;
all of them being the different forms of the same idea of direction,
moral or physical.
Some French sinologists, aware of this difficulty, now translate the
texts literally, and try to explain the meaning by a number of notes,
which sometimes leave only one or two lines of text in a page. This
method seems at first more scientific; it explains everything in the
most careful way, and is very useful for the translation of inscriptions
or of certain obscure passages in historical books. But for real
literature, it is the greatest possible error, leaving out, as it does,
all the impression and illusion the author intended to convey. Besides,
the necessity of going, at every word, down the page in order to find
the meaning in a note, tires the reader and takes away all the pleasure
he should derive from the book.
One may even say that a materially exact translation is, in reality, a
false one; the words we use in writing and speaking being mere technical
signs by which we represent our ideas. For instance, the word
"cathedral" will certainly not convey the same idea to two men, one of
whom has only seen St. Paul's, and the other only Notre-Dame de Paris;
for the first, cathedral means a dome; for the other it means two towers
and a long ogival nave. Below the outward appearance of the words there
lie so many different images that it is absolutely necessary to know the
mentality of a nation in order to master its language. In fact, a true
translation will be the one that, though sometimes materially inexact,
will give the reader the same impression he would have if he were
reading the original text.
Since I first went to China, in 1901, I have had many opportunities of
acquainting myself with all the superstitions of the lower classes, with
all the splendid mental and intellectual training of the learned. My
experience has helped me to perceive what was hidden beneath the words;
and in my translation I have sometimes supplied what the author only
thought necessary to imply. In many places the translation is literal;
in other places it is literary, it being impossible for a Western writer
to retain all the long and useless talking, all the repetitions that
Chinese writing and Chinese taste are equally fond of.
GEORGE SOULIÉ.
CONTENTS
THE GHOST IN LOVE
THE FRESCO
THE DWARF HUNTERS
THE CORPSE THE BLOOD DRINKER
LOVE REWARDED
THE WOMAN IN GREEN
THE FAULT AND ITS CONSEQUENCES
DECEIVING SHADOWS
PEACEFUL-LIGHT
HONG THE CURRIER
AUTUMN-MOON
THE PRINCESS NELUMBO
THE TWO BROTHERS
THE MARBLE ARCH
THE DUTIFUL SON
THROUGH MANY LIVES
THE RIVER OF SORROWS
THE MYSTERIOUS ISLAND
THE SPIRIT OF THE RIVER
THE-DEVILS-OF-THE-OCEAN
UNKNOWN DEVILS
CHILDLESS
THE PATCH OF LAMB'S SKIN
LOVE'S-SLAVE
THE LAUGHING GHOST
_Strange Stories from the Lodge of Leisures_
_THE GHOST IN LOVE_
On the 15th day of the First Moon, in the second year of the period of
"Renewed Principles," the streets of the town of the Eastern Lake were
thronged with people who were strolling about.
At the setting of the sun every shop was brightly lit up; processions of
people moved hither and thither; strings of boys were carrying lanterns
of every form and colour; whole families passed, every member of whom,
young or old, small or big, was holding at the end of a thin bamboo the
lighted image of a bird, an animal, or a flower.
Richer ones, several together, were carrying enormous dragons whose
luminous wings waved at every motion and whose glaring eyes rolled from
right to left. It was the Fête of the Lanterns.
A young man, clothed in a long pale green dress, allowed himself to be
pushed about by the crowd; the passers-by bowed to him:
"How is my Lord Li The-peaceful?"
"The humble student thanks you; and you, how are you?"
"Very well, thanks to your happy influence."
"Does the precious student soon pass his second literary examination?"
"In two months; ignorant that I am. I am idling instead of working."
The fête was drawing to a close when The-peaceful quitted the main
street, and went towards the East Gate, where the house was to be found
in which he lived alone.
He went farther and farther: the moving lights were rarer; ere long he
only saw before him the fire of a white lantern decorated with two red
peonies. The paper globe was swinging to the steps of a tiny girl
clothed in the blue linen that only slaves wore. The light, behind,
showed the elegant silhouette of another woman, this one covered with a
long jacket made in a rich pink silk edged with purple.
As the student drew nearer, the belated walker turned round, showing an
oval face and big long eyes, wherein shone a bright speck, cruel and
mysterious.
Li The-peaceful slackened his pace, following the two strangers, whose
small feet glided silently on the shining flagstones of the street.
He was asking himself how he could begin a conversation, when the
mistress turned round again, softly smiled, and in a low, rich voice,
said to him:
"Is it not strange that in the advancing night we are following the same
road?"
"I owe it to the favour of Heaven," he at once replied; "for I am
returning to the East Gate; otherwise I should never have dared to
follow you."
The conversation, once begun, continued as they walked side by side. The
student learned that the pretty walker was called "Double-peony," that
she was the daughter of Judge Siu, that she lived out of the city in a
garden planted with big trees, on the road to the lake.
On arriving at his house The-peaceful insisted that his new friend
should enter and take a cup of tea. She hesitated; then the two young
people pushed the door, crossed the small yard bordered right and left
with walls covered with tiles, and disappeared in the house....
The servant remained under the portal.
Daylight was breaking when the young girl came out again, calling the
servant, who was asleep. The next evening she came again, always
accompanied by the slave bearing the white lantern with two red
peonies. It was the same each day following.
A neighbour who had watched these nocturnal visits was inquisitive
enough to climb the wall which separated his yard from that of the
lovers, and to wait, hidden in the shade of the house.
At the accustomed hour the street-door, left ajar, opened to let in the
visitors.
Once in the courtyard, they were suddenly transformed, their eyes became
flaming and red; their faces grew pale; their teeth seemed to lengthen;
an icy mist escaped from their lips.
The neighbour did not see any more: terrified, he let himself slide to
the ground and ran to his inner room.
The next morning he went to the student and told him what he had seen.
The lover was paralysed with fear: in order to reassure himself he
resolved to find out everything he could about his mistress.
He at once went outside the ramparts, on the road to the lake, hoping
to find the house of Judge Siu. But at the place he had been told of
there was no habitation; on the left, a fallow plain, sown with tombs,
went up to the hills; on the right, cultivated fields extended as far as
the lake.
However, a small temple was hidden there under big trees. The student
had given up all hope; he entered, notwithstanding, into the sacred
enclosure, knowing that travellers stayed there sometimes for several
weeks.
In the first yard a bonze was passing in his red dress and shaven head;
he stopped him.
"Do you know Judge Siu? He has a daughter----"
"Judge Siu's daughter?" asked the priest, astonished. "Well--yes--but
wait, I will show her to you."
The-peaceful felt his heart overflowing with joy; his beloved one was
living; he was going to see her by the light of day. He quickly
followed his companion.
Passing the first court, they crossed a threshold and found themselves
in a yard planted with high pine-trees and bordered by a low pavilion.
The bonze, passing in first, pushed a door, and, turning round, said:
"Here is Judge Siu's daughter!"
The other stopped, terrified; on a trestle a heavy black lacquered
coffin bore this inscription in golden letters: "Coffin of Double-peony,
Judge Siu's daughter."
On the wall was an unfolded painting representing the little maid; a
white lantern decorated with two red peonies was hung over it.
"Yes, she has been there for the last two years; her parents, according
to the rite, are waiting for a favourable day to bury her."
The student silently turned on his heel and went back, not deigning to
reply to the mocking bow of the priest.
Evening arrived; he locked himself in, and, covering his head with his
blankets, he waited; sleep came to him only at daybreak.
But he could not cease to think of her whom he no longer saw; his heart
beat as if to burst, when in the street he perceived the silhouette of a
woman which reminded him of his friend.
At last he was incapable of containing himself any longer; one evening
he stationed himself behind the door. After a few minutes there was a
knock; he opened the door; it was only the little maid:
"My mistress is in tears; why do you never open the door? I come every
evening. If you will follow me, perhaps she will forgive you."
The-peaceful, blinded by love, started at once, walking by the light of
the white lantern.
* * * * *
The next day the neighbours, seeing that the student's door was open,
and that his house was empty, made a declaration to the governor of the
town.
The police made an inquest; they collected the evidence of several
people who had been watching the nightly visitors the student had
received. The bonze of the temple outside the city walls came to say
what he knew. The chief of the police went to the road leading to the
lake; he crossed the threshold of the little edifice, passed the first
yard and at last opened the door of the pavilion.
Everything was in order, but under the lid of the heavy coffin one could
see the corner of the long green dress of the student.
In order to do away with evil influences there was a solemn funeral.
* * * * *
Ever since this time, on light clear nights, the passers-by often meet
the two lovers entwined together, slowly walking on the road which leads
to the lake.
_THE FRESCO_
In the Great Highway of Eternal Fixity, Mong Flowing-spring and his
friend Choo Little-lotus were slowly walking, clothed in the long light
green dress of the students.
They had both just passed with success their third literary examination,
and were enjoying the pleasures of the capital before returning to their
distant province.
As they were both of small means, they were looking now (and at the same
time filling their eyes with the movement of the street) for a lodging
less expensive than the inn where they had put up on arriving at Pekin.
Leaving the Great Highway, they strolled far into a labyrinth of lanes
more and more silent. They soon lost themselves. Undecided, they had
stopped, when they spied out the red lacquered portal of a temple of the
Mysterious-way.
Pushing the heavy sides of the door, they entered; an old man with his
hair tightly drawn together in a black cap, majestic in his grey dress,
stood behind the door and appeared to be waiting for them.
"Your coming lightens my humble dwelling," he said in bowing. "I beg you
will enter."
"I do not dare! I do not dare!" murmured the two students, bowing in
their turn.
They nevertheless entered, crossing the yard on which the portal opened,
which was closed, at the end, by the little temple in open woodwork
close under the mass of roofs of green tiles.
They went up three steps, then, pushing a narrow and straight door, they
entered. In the half-shadow they distinguished on the white altar a
statue of Tche Kong The-Supreme-Lord, with a golden face and griffins'
feet like the claws of an eagle.
The walls on each side of the altar were painted in frescoes; on the
wall on the right you saw goddesses in the midst of flowers. One of
these young girls, with a low chignon, was gathering a peony and was
slightly smiling. Her mouth, like a cherry, seemed as if it were really
opening; one would have sworn that her eyelids fluttered.
Mong Flowing-spring, his eyes fixed on the painting, remained a long
time without moving, absorbed in his admiration of the work of art, and
disturbed beyond expression by the beauty of the goddess with the low
chignon.
"Why is she not living?" said he. "I would willingly give my life for a
moment of her love!"
Suddenly he started; the young goddess raised herself upright, bursting
with laughter, and got down from the wall. She crossed the door, went
down the staircase, stepped over the yard and left the place.
Flowing-spring followed her without reflecting. He saw her going away
with a light step, and turn down the first lane; the young student ran
behind her.
As he turned the corner, he saw her stop at the entrance of a small
house. She was gracefully waving her hand, and, with sly glances, made
him signs to come.
He hastened forward and entered in his turn. In the silent house there
was nobody, no one but the goddess standing in her long mauve dress and
nibbling the flower that she had picked and that she still held in her
hand.
"I bow down," said the student, who knelt to salute her.
"Rise! you exceed the rites prescribed," she replied.
"I bend my head, not being able to bear the splendour of your beauty."
As she did not seem to be discontented he continued telling her his
admiration and his desire. He approached, touched her hand; she started,
but did not draw back. He then took her in his arms; she did not make
much resistance.
The moments passed rapidly. They spoke to each other in a low voice,
when, suddenly in the street, a noise of heavy boots resounded; steps
stopped before the door; the lock was shaken; oaths were heard.
The young girl grew pale; she told Flowing-spring to hide himself under
the bed. The student felt his heart become quite small; he crouched down
in the shadow, not even being able to breathe. From the depth of his
hiding-place, he saw an officer enter, his face in black lacquer,
covered with a golden cuirass and surrounded by a troop of young girls
in long dresses of bright colours.
"I smell an odour of human flesh!" grumbled the officer, walking heavily
and going round the room.
"Hide yourself well!" the goddess murmured to her lover, raising herself
from the bed and white with terror. "If you can escape from him, wait
till we have left, and open the little door at the end of the garden;
then run away quickly!"
"There is a man here! I smell him! He must be delivered to me! If not,
I shall punish the person who has hidden him."
"We know nothing!" all the young women said together.
"Very well! Let us go out."
Then, following the gracious troop which the goddess had joined, he
crossed the threshold.
Flowing-spring, hidden under the bed, waited till the noise of the boots
had gone away. Then he glided with caution from his refuge.
Half bent, listening with anxiety in fear of being surprised, he flew
from the room and crossed the garden.
During this time Choo Little-lotus, having remained in the temple, had
not remarked the departure of his friend. But, turning round and not any
longer seeing him, he questioned the old magician.
"Your friend is not far off," he replied.
Then, showing him the wall, he said:
"Look! here he is!"
And, indeed, in the centre of the fresco, the image of Flowing-spring
was painted; he was crouched in among the flowers, straining his ear.
The image moved, and, suddenly, the student separated himself from the
wall and advanced, looking sad and anxious.
Choo Little-lotus, terrified, was looking at him. The other told him his
adventure. As he spoke a terrible clap of thunder was heard. The two
friends instinctively shut their eyes; when they opened them, their
glance fell on the fresco: the goddesses had taken their places there
again, in the midst of the flowers; but the young girl with the low
chignon was no longer there.
The magician smiled at Flowing-spring:
"Love has touched her. She has become a woman and is waiting for you in
your village."
_THE DWARF HUNTERS_
The heavy summer in the South is particularly hard to bear for those who
are ill. The damp heat keeps them awake, and thousands of insects
trouble their rest.
Wang Little-third-one, stretched on his bed made of bamboo laths, where
a low fever kept him, complained of it to all those who came to see him,
especially to his friend the magician officiating priest of the little
temple situated in the neighbouring crossway.
The magician knew something of medicine; he prescribed a calming potion
and retired.
When Little-third-one had drunk the potion, his fever fell and he was
able to enjoy a little sleep. He was awakened by a slight noise; night
had come on; the room was lighted by the full moon, which threw a bright
gleam by the open door.
All the insects were moving and flying hither and thither; white ants
who gnaw wood, bad-smelling bugs, enormous cockroaches, mosquitoes,
innumerable and various flies.
As Little-third-one was looking, his attention was drawn by a movement
on the threshold: a small man, not bigger than a thumb, advanced with
precautious steps; in his hand he held a bow; a sword was hanging at his
side.
Little-third-one, on looking closer, saw two dogs as big as
shirt-buttons running before the man with the bow; they suddenly
stopped: the archer approached, held out his weapon, and discharged the
arrow. A cockroach who was crawling before the dogs made a bound, fell
on its back, moved again, then remained motionless; the arrow had run
through it.
Behind the first huntsman others had come; some were on horseback, armed
with swords; some on foot.
From that time it was a pursuit without intermission; hundreds of
insects were shot. At first the mosquitoes escaped; but as they cannot
fly for long, every time that one remained still it was transpierced by
the huntsmen.
Soon nothing was left of all the insects who broke the silence with
their buzzing, their gnashing of teeth, or their falling.
A horseman then was seen galloping over the room, looking from right to
left. He then gave the signal; all the huntsmen called their dogs, went
towards the door, and disappeared.
Little-third-one had not moved, in order not to disturb the hunt. At
last he peacefully went to sleep, henceforth sure of not being awakened
by a sting or a bite. He awoke late the next day almost cured.
When his friend the magician came to see him, he told him his
experience: the other smiled. Wang understood that the mysterious
hunters came from the little temple.
_THE CORPSE THE BLOOD-DRINKER_
Night was slowly falling in the narrow valley. On the winding path cut
in the side of the hill about twenty mules were following each other,
bending under their heavy load; the muleteers, being tired, did not
cease to hurry forward their animals, abusing them with coarse voices.
Comfortably seated on mules with large pack-saddles, three men were
going along at the same pace as the caravan of which they were the
masters. Their thick dresses, their fur boots, and their red woollen
hoods protected them from the cold wind of the mountain.
In the darkness, rendered thicker by a slight fog, the lights of a
village were shining, and soon the mules, hurrying all together,
jostling their loads, crowded before the only inn of the place.
The three travellers, happy to be able to rest, got down from their
saddles when the innkeeper came out on the step of his door and excused
himself, saying all his rooms were taken.
"I have still, it is true, a large hall the other side of the street,
but it is only a barn, badly shut. I will show it to you."
The merchants, disappointed, consulted each other with a look; but it
was too late to continue their way; they followed their landlord.
The hall that was shown to them was big enough and closed at the end by
a curtain. Their luggage was brought; the bed-clothes rolled on the
pack-saddles were spread out, as usual, on planks and trestles.
The meal was served in the general sitting-room, in the midst of noise,
laughing, and movement--smoking rice, vegetables preserved in vinegar,
and lukewarm wine served in small cups. Then every one went to bed; the
lights were put out and profound silence prevailed in the sleeping
village.
However, towards the hour of the Rat, a sensation of cold and
uneasiness awoke one of the three travellers named Wang Fou,
Happiness-of-the-kings. He turned in his bed, but the snoring of his two
companions annoyed him; he could not get to sleep. Again, seeing that
his rest was finished, he got up, relit the lamp which was out, took a
book from his baggage, and stretched himself out again. But if he could
not sleep, it was just as impossible to read. In spite of himself, his
eyes quitted the columns of letters laid out in lines and searched into
the darkness that the feeble light did not contrive to break through.
A growing terror froze him. He would have liked to awaken his
companions, but the fear of being made fun of prevented him.
By dint of looking, he at last saw a slight movement shake the big
curtain which closed the room. There came from behind a crackling of
wood being broken. Then a long, painful threatening silence began again.
The merchant felt his flesh thrill; he was filled with horror, in spite
of his efforts to be reasonable.
He had put aside his book, and, the coverlet drawn up to his nose, he
fixed his enlarged eyes on the shadowy corners at the end of the room.
The side of the curtain was lifted; a pale hand held the folds. The
stuff, thus raised, permitted a being to pass, whose form, hardly
distinct, seemed penetrated by the shadow.
Happiness-of-kings would have liked to scream; his contracted throat
allowed no sound to escape. Motionless and speechless, he followed with
his horrified look the slow movement of the apparition which
approached.
He, little by little, recognised the silhouette of a female, seen by her
short quilted dress and her long narrow jacket. Behind the body he
perceived the curtain again moving.
The spectre, in the meantime bending over the bed of one of the sleeping
travellers, appeared to give him a long kiss.
Then it went towards the couch of the second merchant.
Happiness-of-kings distinctly saw the pale figure, the eyes, from which
a red flame was shining, and sharp teeth, half-exposed in a ferocious
smile, which opened and shut by turns on the throat of the sleeper.
A start disturbed the body under the cover, then all stopped: the
spectre was drinking in long draughts.
Happiness-of-kings, seeing that his turn was coming, had just strength
enough to pull the coverlet over his head. He heard grumblings; a
freezing breath penetrated through the wadded material.
The paroxysm of terror gave the merchant full possession of his
strength; with a convulsive movement he threw his coverlet on the
apparition, jumped out of his bed, and, yelling like a wild beast, he
ran as far as the door and flew away in the night.
Still running, he felt the freezing breath in his back, he heard the
furious growlings of the spectre.
The prolonged howling of the unhappy man filled the narrow street and
awoke all the sleepers in their beds, but none of them moved; they hid
themselves farther and farther under their coverlets. These inhuman
cries meant nothing good for those who should have been bold enough to
go outside.
The bewildered fugitive crossed the village, going faster and faster.
Arriving at the last houses, he was only a few feet in advance and felt
himself fainting.
The road at the extremity of the village was bordered with narrow fields
shaded with big trees. The instinct of a hunted animal drove on the
distracted merchant; he made a brisk turn to the right, then to the
left, and threw himself behind the knotted trunk of a huge
chestnut-tree. The freezing hand already touched his shoulder; he fell
senseless.
* * * * *
In the morning, in broad daylight, two men who came to plough in this
same field were surprised to perceive against the tree a white form,
and, on the ground, a man stretched out. This fact coming after the
howling in the night appeared strange to them; they turned back and went
to find the Chief of the Elders. When they returned, the greater part of
the inhabitants of the village followed them.
They approached and found that the form against the tree was the corpse
of a young woman, her nails buried in the bark; from her mouth a stream
of blood had flowed and stained her white silk jacket. A shudder of
horror shook the lookers-on: the Chief of the Elders recognised his
daughter dead for the last six months whose coffin was placed in a barn,
waiting for the burial, a favourable day to be fixed by the astrologers.
The innkeeper recognised one of his guests in the man stretched on the
ground, whom no care could revive.
They returned in haste to find out in what condition the coffin was: the
door of the barn was still open. They went in; a coverlet was thrown on
the ground near the entrance; on two beds the great sun lit up the
hollow and greenish aspect of the corpses whose blood had been emptied.
Behind the drawn curtain the coffin was found open. The corpse of the
young woman evidently had not lost its inferior soul, the vital breath.
Like all beings deprived of conscience and reason, her ferocity was
eager for blood.
_LOVE REWARDED_
Lost in the heart of Peking, in one of the most peaceful neighbourhoods
of the Yellow City, the street of Glowing-happiness was sleeping in the
silence and in the light.
On the right and left of the dusty road was some waste ground, where
several red mangy, and surly dogs were sleeping. Five or six low houses,
their white walls forming a line not well defined, whose low roofs were
covered with grey tiles, bordered the road.
In the first year of the Glorious-Strength, four hundred years ago, a
young man with long hair tied together under the black gauze cap of the
scholars, clothed in a pink dress with purple flowers, was walking in
the setting sun, stepping cautiously in order not to cover with dust
his shoes with thick felt soles.
When the first stars began to shine in the darkening sky, he entered one
of the houses. A wick in a saucer, soaking in oil, burning and smoking,
vaguely lighted an open book on the table: one could only guess, in the
shadow, the form of a chair, a bed in a corner, and a few inscriptions
hanging on the whitewashed walls.
The scholar seated himself before his table and resumed, as he did every
evening, his reading of the Classics, of which he sought to penetrate
the entire meaning. Late passers-by in this lonely thoroughfare still
saw his lamp shining across the trellises of the windows far into the
night.
Golden-dragon lived alone. Now, on that evening an inexplicable languor
made him dreamy; his eyes followed in vain the text; his rebellious
thoughts were scattered.
Impatiently at last he was just going to put out his lamp and go to
bed, when he heard some one knocking at the door.
"Come in!" he cried.
The door grinding on its hinges, a young woman appeared clothed in a
long gown of bright green silk, gracefully lifting her foot to cross the
threshold, and bowing with her two hands united. Golden-dragon,
hurriedly rising to reply, waved in his turn his fists joined together
at the same height as his visage and said, according to the ritual: "Be
kind enough to be seated! What is your noble name?" The visitor did not
pronounce a word; her large black eyes, shadowed by long eyelashes, were
fixed on the face of her host, while she tried to regain her panting
breath.
As she advanced, Golden-dragon felt a strange feeling of admiration and
love.
He did not think such a perfect beauty could exist. As he remained
speechless, she smiled, and her smile had on him the effect of a strong
drink on a hungry man; troubled and dazed, he lost the conscience of
his personality and his acts.
The next morning the sun was shining when he awoke, asking himself if he
had not been dreaming. He thought all day long of his strange visitor,
making thousands of suppositions.
Evening coming on, she suddenly entered, and it was as it had been the
night before.
Two months passed; then the young girl's visits abruptly ceased. The
night covered everything with its black veil, but nobody appeared at the
door. Golden-dragon the first night, waited for her till the hour of the
Rat; at last he went to his couch and fell asleep. Almost immediately he
saw her carried away by two horny _yecha_; she was calling him:
"My beloved, I am drawn away towards the inferior regions. I shall never
be able to get away if prayers are not said for me. My body lies in the
next house."
He started out of sleep in the efforts he made to fly to her, and could
not rest again in his impatience to assert what she had said.
As soon as the sun was up, he ran towards the only house that was next
to his. He knocked; no one replied. Pushing the door, he entered. The
house seemed to be recently abandoned, the rooms were empty, but in a
side hall a black lacquered coffin rested on trestles; on a table the
"Book of Liberation" was open at the chapter of "The great recall."
Golden-dragon doubted no longer; he sang in a high voice the entire
chapter, shut the book, and returned home full of a strange
peacefulness.
Every evening from that time, at the hour when she had appeared to him,
he lit a lantern, went to the house next door and read a chapter of the
holy text.
Years passed by; he got beyond his fiftieth year, grew bent, and walked
with difficulty, but he never missed performing the duty he had imposed
on himself for his unknown friend.
The house where the coffin was placed had successively been let to
several families; but he had arranged that the funereal room should
never be touched. The lodgers bowed to the scholar when he came, and
talked to him; the whole town was entertained with this touching example
of such everlasting love.
"So much constancy and such fidelity cannot remain without reward," they
said.
But time slipped by and nothing came to change the regular life of the
old man.
On his seventieth birthday, as he went to his neighbours, he remarked a
violent excitement.
"My wife has just had a child," said the chief of the family, going to
meet him. "Come and wish her happiness; she does not cease to ask for
you."
"Is it a boy?"
"No, unhappily, a girl, but such a pretty little thing."
Followed by the happy father, the scholar with white hair penetrated
into the room; the mother smiled, holding out the baby to him.
Golden-dragon suddenly started; the child held out her arms to him and
on her little lips, hardly formed, hovered the shadow of a disappeared
smile, the smile of the unknown woman.
And as he looked an extraordinary sensation troubled him; he felt he was
growing younger, more vigorous. Soon, in the midst of the cries of
admiration of the whole family, the bent old man grew straight again;
his grey hair turned black, and the change continued; he became a young
man, a boy, and soon a child.
When the Bell of the great Tower struck the hour of the Rat, he was a
fat pink baby playing and laughing with the little girl.
The governor of the town, being informed, personally directed an
inquiry. It was discovered that the coffin had disappeared at the same
hour when the transformation had happened.
The Emperor, on the report of the governor, ordered the two children to
receive a handsome dowry.
As to them, they grew up, loved each other, and lived happy and well as
far as the limits of human longevity.
_THE WOMAN IN GREEN_
At this time, in the Pavilion-of-the-guests, in the
Monastery-of-the-healing-springs, the most celebrated of the Fo-kien
province, lived a young scholar whose name was Little-cypress.
As soon as the sun rose he was at his work, seated near the trellised
window. When night fell, his lamp still lit the outline of the wooden
trellis.
One morning a shadow darkened his book; he raised his eyes: a young
woman with a long green skirt, her face of matchless beauty, was
standing outside the window and was looking at him.
"You are then always working, Lord Little-cypress?" she said.
She was so bewitching that he knew her immediately for a goddess; but
all the same he asked her where she lived and what was her name.
"Your lordship has looked on his humble wife; he has known her as a
goddess. What is the use of so many questions?"
Little-cypress, satisfied with this reply, invited her to enter the
house. She came in; her waist was so small, one would almost have
thought that her body was divided in two.
He invited her to sit down; they talked and laughed together a long
time.
He asked her to sing, and, with a low voice, which filled her friend
with rapture, she sang:
"On the trees the bird pursues his companion;
Oppressed slaves free themselves with love.
How has my Lord lived alone,
Without enjoying all the pleasures of married life?"
The sound vibrated like a thread of silk; it penetrated the ear and
troubled the heart. As she finished, she suddenly arose.
"A man is standing near the window, he is listening to us ... he is
going round ... he is trying to see."
"Since when does a goddess fear a man?" replied Little-cypress,
laughing.
"I am troubled without knowing why; my heart beats. I wish to go."
She went to open the door, but abruptly shut it.
"I do not know why I am thus upset. Will you accompany me as far as the
entrance gate?"
Little-cypress held her up till they got to the gate; he had just left
her and turned his head, when he heard her call for help in a voice full
of anguish. He hurriedly turned round; no one was to be seen.
As he was looking for her with stupefaction his eyes fell on a big
cobweb, stretched in the corner of the wall. The ugly and gigantic
insect held in its claws a dragon-fly who was struggling and dolefully
crying. Affected by this sight, he hastened to deliver it.
The pretty insect immediately flew in the direction of the
Pavilion-of-the-guests. Little-cypress saw it go in at the window and
alight on the stone for grinding the ink.
Then it arose again and alighted on the paper which was placed on the
table; there it oddly crawled, retracing its steps, returning,
advancing, and stopping. After a moment it took its flight and
disappeared in the sky.
Little-cypress, much puzzled, approached and looked; on the paper was
written in big strokes the word "Thanks."
_THE FAULT AND ITS CONSEQUENCES_
When Dawning-colour was on the point of dying, he called his mother to
him.
"Mother," he said, "I am going to die. I do not wish White-orchid, my
young wife, to feel herself bound to keep the widowhood. When her
mourning will be finished, she will marry again: our son is only three
years old; you will keep him with you."
Now, the mourning was not yet finished and the coffin was still in the
house waiting for a favourable day, when the young widow began to find
the solitude weigh upon her.
A rich sluggard of the village, named Adolescent, had several times sent
proposals to her through a neighbour; she at last was unwise enough to
agree to an interview with him. When evening came, Adolescent jumped
over the neighbour's wall and went to her room.
He had not been there half an hour when there arose a great noise in the
hall where the coffin was; it seemed as if the cover was violently
thrown to the ground. A little slave who was called afterwards as a
witness told how she ran into the yard and saw her master's corpse
brandishing a sword and jumping towards the room where the lovers were
to be found.
A few instants after, she saw the young widow come out screaming and run
to the garden. Adolescent followed her, covered with blood; he crossed
the threshold and disappeared in the night.
Now, Adolescent, flying from danger, pushed the first door that he came
across in the street; it was that of a young couple; the husband, named
Wang, was absent and only expected to return the next day. The young
wife, hearing a noise, thought it was her husband returning.
"Is that you?" she asked, without quite waking up.
Adolescent, who knew Madame Wang was pretty, answered "Yes" in a low
voice, taking advantage of her error.
A short time after, at Wang's turn to enter, he struck a light, saw a
man in his room, and, furious, seized a pike. Adolescent tried to hide
himself under the bed, but the husband transpierced him several times.
He wished to kill his wife, but she so much begged him not to that he
spared her.
The cries and supplications which came from the room had, however, awoke
the neighbours, who came in; they pulled Adolescent's body from under
the bed; he died almost directly.
There was a silence; the affair was serious. Then one of the assistants
said:
"The judges won't believe that you were in your right of outraged
husband; you ought to have killed your wife also. As it is, you will be
condemned."
Thereupon, Wang killed the unhappy woman.
During this time Dawning-colour's mother, having heard the screams of
her daughter-in-law, thought there was a burglar in the house; she cried
for help and tried to light a lamp, but she was trembling, and her
curtains caught fire.
Some neighbours arrived in haste; while a few of them extinguished the
fire, the others, armed with crossbows, ran through the house and garden
in search of the thief.
At the bottom of the orchard they saw a white mass moving at the foot of
the wall. Without waiting to ascertain what it was, they shot several
arrows; everything was still. The archers approached and lit a torch;
they saw the body of White-orchid transpierced in the head and chest.
Horrified by what they had done, they informed the old woman, who said
nothing.
But this was not all. The elder brother of White-orchid, furious at the
tragic death of his sister, had a lawsuit with the archers and the old
woman.
As usual, the judges ruined both parties; they condemned
Dawning-colour's mother and the archers to receive five hundred bamboo
strokes. The latter were not strong enough to bear this punishment, and
died under the stick. And thus the affair ended.
_DECEIVING SHADOWS_
Night was falling when the horseshoes of the mules of my caravan
resounded on the slippery flagstones of the village.
Tired by a long day of walking, I directed my steps towards the large
hall of the inn, with the intention of resting a moment while my repast
was being prepared.
In the darkened room the glimmer of a small opium-lamp lit up the pale
and hollow face of an old man, occupied in holding over the flame a
small ball of the black drug, which would soon be transformed into
smoke, source of forgetfulness and dreams.
The old man returned my greeting, and invited me to lie down on the
couch opposite to him. He handed me a pipe already prepared and we
began talking together. As ordered by the laws of politeness, I remarked
to my neighbour that he seemed robust for his age.
"My age? Do you, then, think I am so old?"
"But, as you are so wise, you must have seen sixty harvests?"
"Sixty! I am not yet thirty years old! But you must have come from a
long way off, not to know who I am."
And while rolling the balls with dexterity in the palm of his hand, and
making them puff out to the heat of the lamp, he told me his story.
His name was Liu Favour-of-heaven. Born and brought up in the capital,
he had been promoted six years before to the post of sub-prefect in the
town on which our refuge was dependent.
When coming to take his post, he stopped at the inn, the same one where
we were. The house was full; but he had remarked, on entering, a long
pavilion which seemed uninhabited. The landlord, being asked, looked
perplexed; he ended by saying that the pavilion had been shut for the
last two years; all the travellers had complained of noises and strange
visions; probably mischievous spirits lived there.
Favour-of-heaven, having lived in the capital, but little believed in
phantoms. He found the occasion excellent to establish his reputation in
braving imaginary dangers.
His wife and his children implored him in vain; he persisted in his
intention of remaining the night alone in the haunted house.
He had lights brought; installed himself in a big armchair, and placed
across his knees a long and heavy sword.
Hours passed by; the sonorous noise of the gong struck by the watchman
announced successively the hours, first of the Pig, then of the Rat. He
grew drowsy. Suddenly, he was awakened by the gnashing of teeth. All the
lights were out; the darkness, however, was not deep enough to prevent
his being able to distinguish everything confusedly. Anguish seized him;
his heart beat with violence; his staring eyes were fixed on the door.
By the half-opened door he perceived a round white mass, the deformed
head of a monster, who, appearing little by little, stretched long hands
with twisted fingers and claws.
Favour-of-heaven mechanically raised his weapon; his blood frozen in his
veins, he tried to strike the head, whose indistinct features were
certainly dreadful. Without doubt the blow had struck, for a frightful
cry was heard; all the demons of the inferior regions seemed let loose
with this yell; calls were heard from all sides. The trellised frames of
the windows were shaken with violence. The monster gained the door.
Favour-of-heaven pursued him and threw him down.
His terror was such that he felt he must strike and kill. Hardly had he
finished than there entered, rolling from side to side, a little being,
quite round, brandishing unknown weapons at the end of innumerable small
hands. The prefect, with one blow, cut him in two like a watermelon.
However, the windows were shaken with growing rage; unknown beings
entered by the door without interruption; the prefect threw them down
one after another: a black shadow first, then a head balancing itself at
the end of a huge neck, then the jaw of a crocodile, then a big bird
with the chest and feet of a donkey.
Trembling all over, the man struck right and left, exhausted and
panting; a cold perspiration overwhelmed him; he felt his strength
gradually giving way, when the cock crowed at last the coming of the
day.
Little by little, grey dawn designed the trellis of the windows, then
the sun suddenly appeared above the horizon and darted its rays across
the rents in the paper.
Favour-of-heaven felt his heart stand still; on the floor inundated with
blood, the bodies lying there had human forms, forms that he knew: this
one looked like his second wife, and this one, this little head that had
rolled against the foot of the table, he would have sworn that it was
his last son.
With a mad cry he threw away his weapon and ran to open the door,
through which the sun poured in.
An armed crowd was moving in the yard.
"My family! my family! where is my family?"
"They are all with you in the pavilion!"
But as they were speaking they saw with stupor the hair of the young man
becoming white, and the wrinkles of age cover his face, while he
remained motionless as well as insensible.
They drew near; he rolled fainting on the ground. "And thus," ended the
sub-prefect in the silence of the dark hall, where only the little light
of the opium-lamp was shining, "I remained several days without
knowledge of anything. When I came to myself, I had to bear the sorrow
of having killed my whole family in these atrocious circumstances. I
resigned my post: I had magnificent tombs built for all those who were
killed this fatal night, and, since then, I smoke without ceasing the
agreeable drug, in order to fly away from the remembrance, which will
haunt me until my last day."
_PEACEFUL-LIGHT_
In the time when the Shining Dynasty had just conquered the throne, the
eastern coasts of the Empire were ravaged by the rapid junks commanded
by the cruel inhabitants of the Japanese islands, the irresistible _Wo
tsz_.
Now, it happened that the _Wo tsz_ Emperor lost his first wife; knowing
the beauty of Chinese women, he charged one of his officers to bring
back some of them.
The officer, at the head of a numerous troop, landed not far from the
town of The-Smoky-wall. No resistance was possible; the population was
given the example of flight by the functionaries, at least it was thus
said in the Annals of the prefecture.
The country being far from the big centres, the women were not great
coquettes; only one, named Peaceful-light, had always been careful,
since childhood, not to allow her feet to become naturally large; they
were constantly bound up, so much so that she could hardly walk.
Her large soft eyes were shaded with heavy eyelashes; one of the
literati of the place took delight in quoting the poets of antiquity on
them: