beggar-king talked over the matter with Little Golden Daughter, and
since Mosu came from a good family and was, in addition, talented and
learned, and had no objection to marrying into their family, they were
both much pleased with the prospect. So they agreed to the proposal,
and the two were married.
So Mosu became a member of the beggar-king's family. He was happy in
his wife's beauty, always had enough to eat and good clothes to wear.
So he thought himself lucky beyond his deserts, and lived with his
wife in peace and happiness.
The beggar-king and his daughter, to whom their low estate was a thorn
in the flesh, admonished Mosu to be sure to study hard. They hoped
that he would make a name for himself and thus reflect glory on their
family as well. They bought books for him, old and new, at the highest
prices, and they always supplied him liberally with money so that he
could move in aristocratic circles. They also paid his examination
expenses. So his learning increased day by day, and the fame of it
spread through the entire district. He passed one examination after
another in rapid succession, and at the age of twenty-three was
appointed mandarin of the district of Wu We. He returned from his
audience with the emperor in ceremonial robes, high on horseback.
Mosu had been born in Hanchow, so the whole town soon knew that he had
passed his examination successfully, and the townsfolk crowded
together on both sides of the street to look at him as he rode to his
father-in-law's house. Old and young, women and children gathered to
enjoy the show, and some idle loafer called out in a loud voice:
"The old beggar's son-in-law has become a mandarin!"
Mosu blushed with shame when he heard these words. Speechless and out
of sorts he seated himself in his room. But the old beggar-king in the
joy of his heart did not notice his ill humor. He had a great
festival banquet prepared, to which he invited all his neighbors and
good friends. But most of the invited guests were beggars and poor
folk, and he insisted that Mosu eat with them. With much difficulty
Mosu was induced to leave his room. Yet when he saw the guests
gathered around the table, as ragged and dirty as a horde of hungry
devils, he retired again with disdain. Little Golden Daughter, who
realized how he felt, tried to cheer him up again in a hundred and one
ways, but all in vain.
A few days later Mosu, with his wife and servants, set out for the new
district he was to govern. One goes from Hanchow to Wu We by water. So
they entered a ship and sailed out to the Yangtze-kiang. At the end of
the first day they reached a city where they anchored. The night was
clear and the moonrays glittered on the water, and Mosu sat in the
front part of the ship enjoying the moonlight. Suddenly he chanced to
think of the old beggar-king. It was true that his wife was wise and
good, but should heaven happen to bless them with children, these
children would always be the beggar's nephews and nieces, and there
was no way of preventing such a disgrace. And thus thinking a plan
occurred to him. He called Little Golden Daughter out of the cabin to
come and enjoy the moonlight, and she came out to him happily. Men
servants and maid servants and all the sailors had long since gone to
sleep. He looked about him on all sides, but there was no one to be
seen. Little Golden Daughter was standing at the front of the ship,
thinking no evil, when a hand suddenly thrust her into the water. Then
Mosu pretended to be frightened, and began to call out: "My wife made
a misstep and has fallen into the water!"
And when they heard his words, the servants hurried up and wanted to
fish her out.
But Mosu said: "She has already been carried away by the current, so
you need not trouble yourselves!" Then he gave orders to set sail
again as soon as possible.
Now who would have thought that owing to a fortunate chance, Sir Hu,
the mandarin in charge of the transportation system of the province,
was also about to take charge of his department, and had anchored in
the same place. He was sitting with his wife at the open window of the
ship's cabin, enjoying the moonlight and the cool breeze.
Suddenly he heard some one crying on the shore, and it sounded to him
like a girl's voice. He quickly sent people to assist her, and they
brought her aboard. It was Little Golden Daughter.
When she had fallen into the water, she had felt something beneath her
feet which held her up so that she did not sink. And she had been
carried along by the current to the river-bank, where she crept out of
the water. And then she realized that her husband, now that he had
become distinguished, had forgotten how poor he had been, and for all
she had not been drowned, she felt very lonely and abandoned, and
before she knew it her tears began to flow. So when Sir Hu asked her
what was the matter, she told him the whole story. Sir Hu comforted
her.
"You must not shed another tear," said he. "If you care to become my
adopted daughter, we will take care of you."
Little Golden Daughter bowed her thanks. But Hu's wife ordered her
maids to bring other clothes to take the place of the wet ones, and to
prepare a bed for her. The servants were strictly bidden to call her
"Miss," and to say nothing of what had occurred.
So the journey continued and in a few days' time Sir Hu entered upon
his official duties. Wu We, where Mosu was district mandarin, was
subject to his rule, and the latter made his appearance in order to
visit his official superior. When Sir Hu saw Mosu he thought to
himself: "What a pity that so highly gifted a man should act in so
heartless a manner!"
When a few months had passed, Sir Hu said to his subordinates: "I have
a daughter who is very pretty and good, and would like to find a
son-in-law to marry into my family. Do you know of any one who might
answer?"
His subordinates all knew that Mosu was young and had lost his wife.
So they unanimously suggested him.
Sir Hu replied: "I have also thought of that gentleman, but he is
young and has risen very rapidly. I am afraid he has loftier
ambitions, and would not care to marry into my family and become my
son-in-law."
"He was originally poor," answered his people, "and he is your
subordinate. Should you care to show him a kindness of this sort, he
will be sure to accept it joyfully, and will not object to marrying
into your family."
"Well, if you all believe it can be done," said Sir Hu, "then pay him
a visit and find out what he thinks about it. But you must not say
that I have sent you."
Mosu, who was just then reflecting how he might win Sir Hu's favor,
took up the suggestion with pleasure, and urgently begged them to act
as his go-between in the matter, promising them a rich reward when the
connection was established.
So they went back again and reported to Sir Hu.
He said: "I am much pleased that the gentleman in question does not
disdain this marriage. But my wife and I are extremely fond of this
daughter of ours, and we can hardly resign ourselves to giving her up.
Sir Mosu is young and aristocratic, and our little daughter has been
spoiled. If he were to ill-treat her, or at some future time were to
regret having married into our family, my wife and I would be
inconsolable. For this reason everything must be clearly understood in
advance. Only if he positively agrees to do these things would I be
able to receive him into my family."
Mosu was informed of all these conditions, and declared himself ready
to accept them. Then he brought gold and pearls and colored silks to
Sir Hu's daughter as wedding gifts, and a lucky day was chosen for the
wedding. Sir Hu charged his wife to talk to Little Golden Daughter.
"Your adopted father," said she, "feels sorry for you, because you are
lonely, and therefore has picked out a young scholar for you to
marry."
But Little Golden Daughter replied: "It is true that I am of humble
birth, yet I know what is fitting. It chances that I agreed to cast my
lot with Mosu for better or for worse. And though he has shown me but
little kindness, I will marry no other man so long as he lives. I
cannot bring myself to form another union and break my troth."
And thus speaking the tears poured from her eyes. When Sir Hu's wife
saw that nothing would alter her resolve, she told her how matters
really stood.
"Your adopted father," said she, "is indignant at Mosu's
heartlessness. And although he will see to it that you meet again, he
has said nothing to Mosu which would lead him to believe that you are
not our own daughter. Therefore Mosu was delighted to marry you. But
when the wedding is celebrated this evening, you must do thus and so,
in order that he may taste your just anger."
When she had heard all this, Little Golden Daughter dried her tears,
and thanked her adopted parents. Then she adorned herself for the
wedding.
The same day, late at evening, Mosu came to the house wearing golden
flowers on his hat, and a red scarf across his breast, riding on a
gaily trapped horse, and followed by a great retinue. All his friends
and acquaintances came with him in order to be present at the festival
celebration.
In Sir Hu's house everything had been adorned with colored cloths and
lanterns. Mosu dismounted from his horse at the entrance of the hall.
Here Sir Hu had spread a festival banquet to which Mosu and his
friends were led. And when the goblet had made the rounds three times,
serving-maids came and invited Mosu to follow them to the inner rooms.
The bride, veiled in a red veil, was led in by two maid-servants.
Following the injunctions of the master of the ceremony, they
worshiped heaven and earth together, and then the parents-in-law.
Thereupon they went into another apartment. Here brightly colored
candles were burning, and a wedding dinner had been prepared. Mosu
felt as happy as though he had been raised to the seventh heaven.
But when he wanted to leave the room, seven or eight maids with bamboo
canes in their hands appeared at each side of the door, and began to
beat him without mercy. They knocked his bridal hat from his head, and
then the blows rained down upon his back and shoulders. When Mosu
cried for help he heard a delicate voice say: "You need not kill that
heartless bridegroom of mine completely! Ask him to come in and greet
me!"
Then the maids stopped beating him, and gathered about the bride, who
removed her bridal veil.
Mosu bowed with lowered head and said: "But what have I done?"
Yet when he raised his eyes he saw that none other than his wife,
Little Golden Daughter, was standing before him.
He started with fright and cried: "A ghost, a ghost!" But all the
servants broke out into loud laughter.
At last Sir Hu and his wife came in, and the former said: "My dear
son-in-law, you may rest assured that my adopted daughter, who came to
me while I was on my way to this place, is no ghost."
Then Mosu hastily fell on his knees and answered: "I have sinned and
beg for mercy!" And he kowtowed without end.
"With that I have nothing to do," remarked Sir Hu, "if our little
daughter only gets along well with you, then all will be in order."
But Little Golden Daughter said: "You heartless scoundrel! In the
beginning you were poor and needy. We took you into our family, and
let you study so that you might become somebody, and make a name for
yourself. But no sooner had you become a mandarin and a man of
standing, than your love turned into enmity, and you forgot your duty
as a husband and pushed me into the river. Fortunately, I found my
dear adopted parents thereby. They fished me out, and made me their
own child, otherwise I would have found a grave in the bellies of the
fishes. How can I honorably live again with such a man as you?"
With these words she began to lament loudly, and she called him one
hard-hearted scoundrel after another.
Mosu lay before her, speechless with shame, and begged her to forgive
him.
Now when Sir Hu noticed that Little Golden Daughter had sufficiently
relieved herself by her scolding, he helped Mosu up and said to him:
"My dear son-in-law, if you repent of your misdeed, Little Golden
Daughter will gradually cease to be angry. Of course you are an old
married couple; yet as you have renewed your vows this evening in my
house, kindly do me a favor and listen to what I have to say: You,
Mosu, are weighed with a heavy burden of guilt, and for that reason
you must not resent your wife's being somewhat indignant, but must
have patience with her. I will call in my wife to make peace between
you."
With these words Sir Hu went out and sent in his wife who finally,
after a great deal of difficulty, succeeded in reconciling the two, so
that they agreed once more to take up life as husband and wife.
And they esteemed and loved each other twice as much as they had
before. Their life was all happiness and joy. And later, when Sir Hu
and his wife died, they mourned for them as if in truth they had been
their own parents.
Note: "To marry into": as a rule the wife enters the
home of her husband's parents. But when there is no male
heir, it is arranged that the son-in-law continues the
family of his wife's parents, and lives in their home.
The custom is still very prevalent in Japan, but it is
not considered very honorable in China to enter into a
strange family in this way. It is characteristic that
Mosu, as a punishment for disdaining to "marry into" a
family the first time, is obliged to "marry into" a
second time, the family of Sir Hu.
The costume here described is still the wedding-costume
of China. "Little Golden Daughter" said: "You heartless
scoundrel!"; despite her faithfulness, in accordance
with Chinese custom, she is obliged to show her anger
over his faithlessness; this is necessary before the
matter can be properly adjusted, so that she may
"preserve her face."
LXXI
GIAUNA THE BEAUTIFUL
Once upon a time there was a descendant of Confucius. His father had a
friend, and this friend held an official position in the South and
offered the young man a place as secretary. But when the latter
reached the town where he was to have been active, he found that his
father's friend had already died. Then he was much embarrassed, seeing
that he did not have the means to return home again. So he was glad to
take refuge in the Monastery of Puto, where he copied holy books for
the abbot.
About a hundred paces west of the monastery stood a deserted house.
One day there had been a great snowfall, and as young Kung
accidentally passed by the door of the house, he noticed a well
dressed and prepossessing youth standing there who bowed to him and
begged him to approach. Now young Kung was a scholar, and could
appreciate good manners. Finding that the youth and himself had much
in common, he took a liking to him, and followed him into the house.
It was immaculately clean; silk curtains hung before the doors, and on
the walls were pictures of good old masters. On a table lay a book
entitled: "Tales of the Coral Ring." Coral Ring was the name of a
cavern.
Once upon a time there lived a monk at Puto who was exceedingly
learned. An aged man had led him into the cave in question, where he
had seen a number of volumes on the book stands. The aged man had
said: "These are the histories of the various dynasties." In a second
room were to be found the histories of all the peoples on earth. A
third was guarded by two dogs. The aged man explained: "In this room
are kept the secret reports of the immortals, telling the arts by
means of which they gained eternal life. The two dogs are two
dragons." The monk turned the pages of the books, and found that they
were all works of ancient times, such as he had never seen before. He
would gladly have remained in the cave, but the old man said: "That
would not do!" and a boy led him out again. The name of that cave,
however, was the Coral Ring, and it was described in the volume which
lay on the table.
The youth questioned Kung regarding his name and family, and the
latter told him his whole history. The youth pitied him greatly and
advised him to open a school.
Kung answered with a sigh: "I am quite unknown in the neighborhood,
and have no one to recommend me!"
Said the youth: "If you do not consider me altogether too unworthy and
stupid, I should like to be your pupil myself."
Young Kung was overjoyed. "I should not dare to attempt to teach you,"
he replied, "but together we might dedicate ourselves to the study of
science." He then asked why the house had been standing empty for so
long.
The youth answered: "The owner of the house has gone to the country.
We come from Shensi, and have taken the house for a short time. We
only moved in a few days ago."
They chatted and joked together gaily, and the young man invited Kung
to remain overnight, ordering a small boy to light a pan of charcoal.
Then he stepped rapidly into the rear room and soon returned saying:
"My father has come."
As Kung rose an aged man with a long, white beard and eyebrows stepped
into the room and said, greeting him: "You have already declared your
willingness to instruct my son, and I am grateful for your kindness.
But you must be strict with him and not treat him as a friend."
Then he had garments of silk, a fur cap, and shoes and socks of fur
brought in, and begged Kung to change his clothes. Wine and food were
then served. The cushions and covers of the tables and chairs were
made of stuffs unknown to Kung, and their shimmering radiance blinded
the eye. The aged man retired after a few beakers of wine, and then
the youth showed Kung his essays. They were all written in the style
of the old masters and not in the new-fangled eight-section form.
When he was asked about this, the youth said with a smile: "I am quite
indifferent to winning success at the state examinations!" Then he
turned to the small boy and said: "See whether the old gentleman has
already fallen asleep. If he has, you may quietly bring in little
Hiang-Nu."
The boy went off, and the youth took a lute from an embroidered case.
At once a serving-maid entered, dressed in red, and surpassingly
beautiful. The youth bade her sing "The Lament of the Beloved," and
her melting tones moved the heart. The third watch of the night had
passed before they retired to sleep.
On the following morning all rose early and study began. The youth was
exceptionally gifted. Whatever he had seen but once was graven in his
memory. Hence he made surprising progress in the course of a few
months. The old custom was followed of writing an essay every five
days, and celebrating its completion with a little banquet. And at
each banquet Hiang-Nu was sent for.
One evening Kung could not remove his glance from Hiang-Nu. The youth
guessed his thoughts and said to him: "You are as yet unmarried. Early
and late I keep thinking as to how I can provide you with a charming
life companion. Hiang-Nu is the serving-maid of my father, so I cannot
give her to you."
Said Kung: "I am grateful to you for your friendly thought. But if the
girl you have in mind is not just as beautiful as Hiang-Nu, then I
would rather do without."
The youth laughed: "You are indeed inexperienced if you think that
Hiang-Nu is beautiful. Your wish is easily fulfilled."
Thus half a year went by and the monotonous rainy season had just
began. Then a swelling the size of a peach developed in young Kung's
breast, which increased over night until it was as large as a tea-cup.
He lay on his couch groaning with pain, and unable to eat or to sleep.
The youth was busy day and night nursing him, and even the old
gentleman asked how he was getting along.
Then the youth said: "My little sister Giauna alone is able to cure
this illness. Please send to grandmother, and have her brought here!"
The old gentleman was willing, and he sent off his boy.
The next day the boy came back with the news that Giauna would come,
together with her aunt and her cousin A-Sung.
Not long after the youth led his sister into the room. She was not
more than thirteen or fourteen years of age, enchantingly beautiful,
and slender as a willow-tree. When the sick man saw her he forgot all
his pain and his spirits rose.
The youth said to his sister Giauna: "This is my best friend, whom I
love as a brother! I beg of you, little sister, to cure him of his
illness!"
The maiden blushed with confusion; then she stepped up to the
sick-bed. While she was feeling his pulse, it seemed to him as though
she brought the fragrance of orchards with her.
Said the maiden with a smile: "No wonder that this illness has
befallen him. His heart beats far too stormily. His illness is serious
but not incurable. Now the blood which has flowed has already
gathered, so we will have to cut to cure."
With that she took her golden armlet from her arm and laid it on the
aching place. She pressed it down very gently, and the swelling rose a
full inch above the armlet so that it enclosed the entire swelling.
Then she loosed a pen-knife with a blade as thin as paper from her
silken girdle. With one hand she held the armlet, and with the other
she took the knife and lightly passed it around the bottom of the
ring. Black blood gushed forth and ran over mattress and bed. But
young Kung was so enchanted by the presence of the beautiful Giauna
that not only did he feel no pain, but his one fear was that the whole
affair might end too soon, and that she would disappear from his
sight. In a moment the diseased flesh had been cut away, and Giauna
had fresh water brought and cleansed the wound. Then she took a small
red pellet from her mouth, and laid it on the wound, and when she
turned around in a circle, it seemed to Kung as though she drew out
all the inflammation in steam and flames. Once more she turned in a
circle, and he felt his wound itch and quiver, and when she turned for
the third time, he was completely cured.
The maiden took the pellet into her mouth again and said: "Now all is
well!" Then she hastened into the inner room. Young Kung leaped up in
order to thank her.
True, he was now cured of his illness, but his thoughts continued to
dwell on Giauna's pretty face. He neglected his books and sat lost in
day-dreams.
His friend had noticed it and said to him: "I have at last succeeded,
this very day, in finding an attractive life companion for you."
Kung asked who she might be.
"The daughter of my aunt, A-Sung. She is seventeen years of age, and
anything but homely."
"I am sure she is not as beautiful as Giauna," thought Kung. Then he
hummed the lines of a song to himself:
"Who once has seen the sea close by,
All rivers shallow streams declares;
Who o'er Wu's hill the clouds watched fly,
Says nothing with that view compares."
The youth smiled. "My little sister Giauna is still very young," said
he. "Besides, she is my father's only daughter, and he would not like
to see her marry some one from afar. But my cousin A-Sung is not
homely either. If you do not believe me, wait until they go walking in
the garden, and then you may take a look at them without their knowing
it."
Kung posted himself at the open window on the look-out, and sure
enough, he saw Giauna come along leading another girl by the hand, a
girl so beautiful that there was none other like her. Giauna and she
seemed to be sisters, only to be told apart by a slight difference in
age.
Then young Kung was exceedingly happy and begged his friend to act for
him in arranging the marriage, which the latter promised to do. The
next day he came to Kung, and told him amid congratulations that
everything was arranged. A special court was put in order for the
young pair, and the wedding was celebrated. Young Kung felt as though
he had married a fairy, and the two became very fond of each other.
One day Kung's friend came to him in a state of great excitement and
said: "The owner of this house is coming back, and my father now
wishes to return to Shensi. The time for us to part draws near, and I
am very sad!"
Kung wished to accompany them, but his friend advised him to return to
his own home.
Kung mentioned the difficulties in the way, but the youth replied:
"That need not worry you, because I will accompany you."
After a time the father came, together with A-Sung, and made Kung a
present of a hundred ounces of gold. Then the youth took Kung and his
wife by the hand, and told them to close their eyes. As soon as they
did so off they went through the air like a storm-wind. All Kung could
notice was that the gale roared about his ears.
When some time had passed the youth cried: "Now we have arrived!" Kung
opened his eyes and saw his old home, and then he knew that his friend
was not of human kind.