Chapter 4

"The ancient woman Wang lives, as you know, quite close at hand. She has helped more than a hundred children into the world. She can sew, and she can act as go-between; but she can also feel a pulse and diagnose an illness. Everybody calls her as soon as there is anything the matter."

"That is true. Go and fetch her quickly."

Some few moments later the healer came and the mother began a long explanation. But the woman interrupted her:

"I shall know all about it when I have examined the patient."

The sick girl put out a wasted hand, and the woman felt her pulse for a long time. At last she said:

"You have pains in the head, and all your body aches. You are in continual agony, and the earth is hateful to you."

"That is exactly the case," she answered from her bed. "Also I cough a little."

"But what has caused this illness?"

As the girl did not answer, this wise old visitor turned to the mother and the attendant, and signed them to go away. They dared not refuse, and left the room.

"Now we are going to cure you. The illness lies in your heart, and nowhere else."

"In my heart?" questioned the sick girl.

"You have seen a handsome young man, and he pleases you. Your suffering rises from that; is it not so?"

"There is nothing of the sort," denied the other.

"Come, come! Tell me the truth, and I will soon find a means to save your life."

Seeing a chance to reach to her desire, little Victorious-Immortal decided to tell everything. When she had finished, the very old woman said:

"Do not be troubled. I know one of his relations who has spoken to me of him. He is intelligent and level-headed. I shall go and see his brother, to make arrangements for your marriage, if you finally wish to marry him."

"You know very well that I do," said the sick child with a smile. "But will my mother consent?"

"Do not be uneasy. I have my methods."

She was already out of the room, and saying to the mother:

"I know what is the matter with your daughter. If you would like me to make it clear to you, have two cups of wine brought in."

Kind-Welcome made haste to arrange all on the table. The healer drank a draught of burning wine and, turning to the mother, repeated word for word what the girl had confessed to her, adding:

"And now there is nothing for it but to marry her to Erh-lang, for otherwise her death is certain."

"My husband will be away for a long time yet. I cannot decide without him."

"You have only to make the arrangements. You need not celebrate the marriage until after my Lord's return. She must be given her desire; there is no other way of saving her."

"If the young man is as desirable as all that ..." the mother murmured uneasily. "But how shall we bring the thing about?"

"I am going to speak to his elder brother. I will keep you informed."

Without further delay, the venerable go-between went straight to The Pavilion of the Quick Hedge, where she found Fan behind his counter, and saluted him:

"Ten thousand happinesses!"

"You come at the right time," he answered with a bow. "I was about to send to beg you to do so. For some days, I assure you, my brother has not been able to take a morsel of food. He says that his whole body is aching, and now he stays in bed. Will you, please, feel his pulse?"

"I will see him. But it is better for me to be alone with him."

"Then I shall not come with you."

So the old woman went up into the sick man's room, and he said to her feebly:

"Mother Wang, it is very long since I saw you. Alas! You come too late! My life is finished!"

"In what special way are you so seriously ill?" she asked, sitting near the bed and touching his wrist.

After a moment she continued:

"Shall I tell you the name of your illness? It is called Victorious-Immortal, little daughter of Chou, and her house is near the Ts'ao Gate."

The sick man was startled and sat up:

"How do you know that?"

"Her family has commissioned me to come and arrange your marriage."

Immediate happiness revived the young man.

He rose and came down with the wise visitor to his astonished brother.

"I am cured," he announced, "And all goes very well."

Meanwhile the old woman was saying: "The family of Chou has sent me especially to talk to you about a marriage."

All was soon settled, the first gifts were exchanged, and the comforted hearts of the two young people were filled with joy. But they had to wait Lord Chou's return before proceeding with the ceremony.

Chou did not come back until eight months later. It is needless to say that, when he did so, all his relations and friends came to drink cups of wine with him to "wash down the dust of the journey." At last his wife told him what had happened, affirming that all was decided. But the eyes of the master of the house became round and white, and he bellowed:

"O filthy imbecile, who gave you the right to betroth our daughter to a wine merchant? Is there no son of decent family who would marry her? Do you wish to make us a laughing-stock?"

While he was thus cursing his wife, the servant came up to them, crying:

"Come quickly and save the child! She was behind the door, and heard your cries. She fell down and is no longer breathing."

Stumbling in her haste, the mother ran out. She saw her daughter lying on the ground and was about to raise her, but her husband prevented her, saying:

"Leave her! She was bringing dishonor on us! If she is to die, then let her die!"

Seeing her mistress held back, Kind-Welcome bent over the girl. But Chou, with a blow that made the air whistle between his fingers sent her against the wall. In his rage, he seized his wife and shook her roughly, and she howled like a dog. The neighbors heard her and ran in, fearing that there was disaster. Soon the room was filled with women, all talking at the same time. But the master of it roughly bade them be silent:

"I do not allow any spying upon my private affairs."

The neighbors retired in discomfort, and the mother threw herself upon her daughter's body, whose ends were already cold. She sobbed:

"You would not have died if I had come to you. O murderer, you have let her die of set purpose. You did not want to give her the four or five thousand ounces which her grandfather left her."

He went out, panting like a boar with anger. The mother did not cease to lament her loss: her daughter had been so gentle and so clever. At length the time came to shut down the coffin, and Chou angrily said to his wife:

"You pretend that I let her die so as not to lose four thousand ounces? I order you to put all her jewels in the tomb with her. That is more than five thousand ounces, one would think."

They brought in the wu-tso, the Inspector of Corpses, and also his assistant, to verify the death and to help in hearsing her. The keeper of the family graveyard and his brother, the two Chang, were also there to assist in the mournful work.

The time came for the funeral, and the procession went forth from the town. The coffin was placed in a brick tomb, and the first shovels of earth were thrown upon it. Then all returned home. Three feet of cold insensitive earth covered the body of this young beauty, and it had been full of love.

Now the Inspector of Corpses had a worthless fellow named Feng for his assistant. This miserable boy, on coming back from the cemetery in the evening, said to his mother: "An excellent day's work! Tomorrow we shall be rich."

"And what successful stroke of business have you concluded?"

"Today we buried the daughter of Chou, and all her jewels were put in the coffin with her. Instead of leaving them to enrich the earth, would it not be better to take them?"

"Think before you do such a terrible thing!" his mother begged. "This is no matter of a mere whipping. Your father wanted to do the same thing twenty years ago. He opened a coffin, and the corpse began to smile at him. Your father died of that in four or five days. My son, do not do it. It is no easy matter."

"Mother," he answered simply, "my mind is made up. Do not waste your breath on me, for that is useless."

He bent over his bed, and took out of it a heavy iron tool.

"O mother, not each person's destiny is the same. I have consulted soothsayers, and they have told me that I shall become rich this year."

He took also an axe, a leather sack, and a dark lantern, which he placed in readiness. Finally he wrapped himself in a great mantle of reeds, for it was the eleventh moon and the snow had begun to fall. He made a sort of hurdle with about ten inter-crossed bamboos, and fastened it behind his mantle, so that it should drag along the ground and efface his foot-prints.

The second watch was sounding when he went out, and all was still bustle and gaiety in the town. But beyond the walls both silence and solitude reigned in the growing cold. The snow was already thick. Who would have ventured out there?

From time to time he turned his head, but no one followed him. At last he reached the wall of the family graveyard and climbed in. Suddenly a dog ran through the tall grass and leaped at him, barking. The thief had prepared a portion of poisoned meat, and threw it to the dog. The beast, being badly fed, smelt it and swallowed it. He still barked a little, but the venom was potent, and he very soon writhed on the ground.

In the keeper's hut, young Chang said to his elder brother:

"The dog has started barking, and then has stopped. Is that not strange? Perhaps it is a thief. You ought to go and see."

The elder brother rose from his hot bed and took up a weapon, grumbling. Then he opened the door and went out. But he was seized by a whirl of cold snow, and called to the dog: "What are you barking for, O animal of the Gods?"

Then he came back and glided under his blankets.

"There is nothing at all. But it is very cold."

From the distant town came the far sound of the gongs and drums of the third watch. Taking heart, Feng went forward in a snow which deadened his steps. He quickly shovelled the fresh earth from the grave, and then lighted his lantern. Its yellow light lit up but a single point. Forcing two long crowbars between the joints, he loosened one brick, and then another. At last the coffin was uncovered. He inserted his pick under the lid, and pried it off and laid it on one side. The corpse was brought to view.

"Small sister," he murmured. "I am only going to borrow a little of your useless wealth. Do not you grudge it me!"

He took the veil from that charming face. The head was covered with ornaments of gold, and also with pearls. He took them all. He was tempted by the fine and silken garments of the corpse. He stripped it.

But suddenly, the body shook itself and pushed the thief away with violence. He uttered a cry of imbecile terror and shrank back. The corpse had sat up and, in that little light, looked at the open tomb, the scattered tools, and her own unclothed body. The wretched lad, obeying instinctive habit, trembled and lied:

"Little sister, I have come to save you."

Naturally, when little Victorious-Immortal had heard the foul Chou's violent words, her despair had made her lose all sign of life. It was for this reason that she had been put in her coffin while still alive. Aroused now by the cold, her first thought was to remember her father's anger. Her only refuge then was the house of her betrothed, and she said: "If you will take me to The Pavilion of the Quick Hedge, you may have a heavy reward."

"That is easy," answered Feng, seeking in vain for how he should escape.

Ought he to kill her? He hardly had the courage after such a shock. He decided to give her back a few clothes. He put the jewels and his implements in the sack, together with the extinguished lantern, and quickly covered the grave with earth again. Then, because the girl was too weak to walk, he took her on his back and went away from that place. But instead of going to Fan's house, he went to his own. His mother opened the door to him, and cried in terror:

"Have you stolen the corpse also?"

"Do not speak so loud," he answered, setting down his burdens.

He went to his bed, and there put little Victorious-Immortal. He drew a knife from his girdle and showed it to the girl:

"Little one, I have some business to settle with you. If we come to an agreement, I will take you to Fan's house. If not, you very well behold this knife, and I shall cut you in two pieces."

"What do you want with me?" she asked.

"You are going to stay here without making a noise and without trying to escape, until I take you to Fan. As for the rest, we will speak of it another time."

"I will do so! I will indeed do so!"

Then the nasty youth led his mother into the next room to calm her a little.

"But what are you going to do?" she asked.

"Do you think we can be safe when she has gone to Fan?"

"I am not going to take her to Fan."

"What are you going to do, then?"

He gave a country laugh, full of suggestion.

* * * * *

Matters so continued until the fifteenth day of the first Moon, the evening of the Feast of Lanterns. Feng went out to see the illuminations, and also to profit by the opportunities for theft which are always afforded in a crowd. The evening wore on, and he had not yet returned, when a shout arose among the neighbors. Feng's mother opened the door to see what was the matter. A fire had broken out near there. In terror, the old woman made haste to carry her furniture into the yard. Profiting by this confusion, the girl slipped through the door; but in the street she did not know which way to turn. At last she found the road to the Ts'ao Gate, and was running in that direction when she lost herself again. However, when at length she asked where The Pavilion of the Quick Hedge might be, she was shown a near way to it.

The attendant was before the door, and she asked him very politely:

"Ten thousand happinesses! Is not this the house of Fan and Erh-lang?"

"Certainly it is, small lady."

"Could you not lead me to him?"

"Assuredly," he answered.

He showed her the way, calling from the door to his masters; but when Erh-lang, in the pale light of the paper lanterns, recognized the white face of his betrothed, he cried out in dismay: "Ghost! Ghost!"

Confident in her love, she advanced toward him piteously repeating:

"Elder brother! Elder brother! I am alive!"

But he kept recoiling in terror, and crying: "Help! Help!"

How could he fail to believe himself in the presence of a ghost, when he had witnessed the funeral, and had, that very evening, encountered the wife of Chou in mourning garments?

As she was about to touch him and, cringing against the wall, he could retreat no further, his terror redoubled. Not knowing what he did, he picked up a heavy stool and struck his dear visitor on the head with it. She fell back, and her head sounded dully on the stone flags.

Fan ran up at the noise of this. He saw the woman on the ground, and his brother holding the stool.

"What have you done?" he cried. "What is the matter? Was it you who killed her?"

"She is a ghost," the other said.

"If she were a ghost, she would not bleed. What have you done?"

Already some ten persons had come up to see what was the matter. The street guard came in to them and seized Erh-lang, who kept on saying: "She is the ghost of Chou's daughter. I have killed her."

Hearing this name, a neighbor ran to inform Chou, who would not at first believe him. At length he decided to go to the wine pavilion, where he was compelled to recognize her, though he kept on saying:

"I buried her long since!"

Nevertheless, the guard insisted upon leading Erh-lang to prison. Fan had the doors shut then, and stayed with Chou by the corpse till morning.

Early next day the Governor inquired into the matter. The coffin was opened. It was found empty, and the keepers told how their dog had been found dead in the snow on the day after the funeral. In the absence of any completer explanation, they proceeded with their inquiry.

Erh-lang, in his prison, was overcome with sorrowful remorse. Sometimes he said that she could not have survived her burial; sometimes he was rent with horror at the thought that she had been alive when he struck her. He recalled her beauty and grace in Spring by the lake side, and bitter tears rolled from him. While he was musing in this way, he saw his cell door open, and the girl appeared. In his emotion and fear, he cried:

"Are you not dead, my darling?"

"Your blow caused me more grief than harm. Now I have wakened, and have come to see you."

She approached the bench where he sat, and he took her hand:

"How can I have been so foolish as to fear you?"

They were talking thus, and already, in their deep love, they were in each other's arms. His joy was so keen that suddenly he woke. It was a dream.

On the second night the same thing happened, and on the third, and his passion grew stronger for her. As she was going away the third time, she said:

"My life on earth had come to an end, but my love was so great and so potently called me to you, that the Marshal-of-the-Five-Ways, the Keeper-of-the-Frontier-of-the-Shadows, allowed me to come back to you, for these three nights. I must leave you now. But, if you do not forget, there will yet be something of me bound to your soul."

Then she disappeared, and the young man sobbed most bitterly.

In the end the matter was cleared up by chance. Feng's mother, having filched a golden trifle from her son's bag, went to sell it to the same jeweler who had made it for Chou. On being denounced before the Governor, mother and son were apprehended, and all the jewels were discovered in their house. Torture found them words, and the whole matter became clear. Erh-lang had actually believed that he saw a ghost, and was released. Feng was sentenced to slow death, and strips were torn one by one from his body by the executioner. His mother was only strangled.

As for Erh-lang, his heart stayed faithful to the girl he had so greatly loved. At every feast he went to the temple of the Marshal-of-the-Five-Ways, and burned incense, so that the pleasant smoke of it might ascend to the palace of the soul of little Victorious-Immortal. His fidelity touched even the rough heart of Chou and, when he came to die a few years later, his body was buried in the same tomb with her whom his arms had known only in sleep.

_Nao fan lou to ch'ing sheng hsien (Chou Victorious-Immortal, of abundant love, overthrows the Pavilion of the Fan). Hsing shih heng yen (1627), 14th Tale._

THE ERROR OF THE EMBROIDERED SLIPPER

The sun is in our eyes And we think we are running out towards joy; Our heart pulls us down And we shall never know the way of the sky Or the end of all things.

During the Hung-Chih period of our Dynasty there lived at Hang-chow a young man who was called Chang Loyalty. After his parents died, leaving him a great fortune, he no longer had anyone to guide him, and therefore, throwing away his books, he spent his time with gallants of the sort we name fou-lang-tzu, that is to say "floating-on-the-waves." They do not know how to profit by opportunity. So Chang no longer studied anything but various ball games, he abandoned himself to the pleasures of the theatre, and took his delight in those gardens where the breezes of love blow in the moonlight. In a word, he followed the changing flowers of illusion; and, as he was himself seductive, as impassioned as expert in pleasure, and rich and generous, he became the favorite of all the women of the town. One day, when spring had but just caused all the flowers to come out on the amiable banks of the Lake of the West, Chang invited a company of singing girls and idlers to spend the afternoon on the blue waters.

He put on a gauze bonnet with floating wings, after the fashion of the time. His great transparent silk robe was of purple and silver, over a second embroidered one of pure white. White gauze stockings and red slippers completed the elegance of his appearance.

He went out, walking unhurriedly, gently waving a fan decorated with paintings. Behind him walked his little slave, Clear-Lute, who carried over his shoulder a mantle in case the weather should freshen, and a long guitar with which to accompany the singing girls.

As they were approaching the gate of Ch'ien-t'ang, Chang looked up, for no particular reason. On the first story of a house a maiden held back her window curtain and looked at him. From her whole person emanated so troubling a charm that he stopped in his walk, and felt a tremor in his body. For a long time they remained gazing at each other, until she slowly broke into a smile, and he felt his soul fly from him.

At this moment the door of the house opened below, and a man came forth; so Chang hastened to resume his walk, and returned in a few moments. The curtain was drawn back over the window. He waited, but there was no sign. At length he drew away, turning his head, and walking as slowly as if he had already gone a hundred leagues on the mountains.

Yet eventually he passed the town gate and rejoined his friends on the boat, which was at once steered to the middle of the lake. The banks were smiling with peach blossom: the willow leaves were a mist of gold and green. Little boats, with brightly-dressed passengers, crossed and re-crossed like ants. In very truth:

Hills are heaped upon hills And the pavilions on the pavilions. The songs and dances are never ceasing On the West Lake. The warm breeze fans the drunkenness Of the pleasure walkers. Heaven is above, But here we have Hang-chow and Su-chow Lakes.

But Chang carried the picture of that young girl in his soul, and had no heart for pleasure.

His companions offered him cups of wine, wondering at his melancholy; but he was far from them.

At twilight they returned, and Chang re-entered by the Ch'ien-t'ang gate, passing before the girl's house. The window was shut. He stopped, and forced a cough; but there was no sign. He went to the end of the street, and came back again, but all was silent. Therefore he had no choice but to go away.

He returned next morning, and stayed at a shop near by to learn what he could. He was told:

"They are people called P'an. Their only daughter is sixteen years of age, and is named Eternal Life. The father has some connection with a certain powerful family which affords him protection. He lives by swindling, and everyone fears him. He is a veritable skin-pinker and bravo."

This news made Chang a little thoughtful, but he walked on by the house nevertheless. The young girl was again at her window. They looked at each other; but there were people about, and he had to go away.

That evening, as soon as night fell, he went back. The moon was shining as brightly as the sun, and the street was empty. The youthful beauty leaned at her window, wrapped in thought and bathed in the white light. She smiled at him, and he drew from his sleeve his scarlet muslin handkerchief. He made the knot known as "union of hearts gives victory." Rolling it in a ball, he threw it, and she adroitly caught it in two hands. Then she stooped and took off one of her little embroidered slippers. She dropped it into Chang's waiting fingers. Enraptured with this gift, which was a pledge of love and faith, he carried it to his lips and said softly:

"Thank you; Thank you, with all my heart!"

In tones of maddening sweetness, she replied:

"Ten thousand happinesses!"

Just then a rough voice was heard within the house. She made another sign to him and closed the window. And he went home drunk through silent streets made silver by the moon. Once in his library, he examined the slipper. It was a golden lotus, so small and so light that a thousand thoughts troubled the lover. He said:

"I must find someone to arrange our meeting, or else die from an over-stressing of desire."