Eastern Shame Girl Part 10

"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?"

"a.s.suredly," 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 pa.s.sion 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 impa.s.sioned 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 pa.s.sed 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 pa.s.sengers, crossed and re-crossed like ants. In very truth:

Hills are heaped upon hills And the pavilions on the pavilions.