"In that lone nook some one saunters about,
White dew coldly bespecks the verdant moss."
"Shuang Wen," she consequently secretly communed within herself, as she sighed, "had of course a poor fate; but she nevertheless had a widowed mother and a young brother; but in the unhappy destiny, to which I, Tai-yue, am at present doomed, I have neither a widowed mother nor a young brother."
At this point in her reflections, she was about to melt into another fit of crying, when of a sudden, the parrot under the verandah caught sight of Tai-yue approaching, and, with a shriek, he jumped down from his perch, and made her start with fright.
"Are you bent upon compassing your own death!" she exclaimed. "You've covered my head all over with dust again!"
The parrot flew back to his perch. "Hsueeh Yen," he kept on shouting, "quick, raise the portiere! Miss is come!"
Tai-yue stopped short and rapped on the frame with her hand. "Have his food and water been replenished?" she asked.
The parrot forthwith heaved a deep sigh, closely resembling, in sound, the groans usually indulged in by Tai-yue, and then went on to recite:
"Here I am fain these flowers to inter, but humankind will laugh me as
a fool."
Who knows who will in years to come commit me to my grave.
As soon as these lines fell on the ear of Tai-yue and Tzu Chuean, they blurted out laughing.
"This is what you were repeating some time back, Miss." Tzu Chuean laughed, "How did he ever manage to commit it to memory?"
Tai-yue then directed some one to take down the frame and suspend it instead on a hook, outside the circular window, and presently entering her room, she seated herself inside the circular window. She had just done drinking her medicine, when she perceived that the shade cast by the cluster of bamboos, planted outside the window, was reflected so far on the gauze lattice as to fill the room with a faint light, so green and mellow, and to impart a certain coolness to the teapoys and mats. But Tai-yue had no means at hand to dispel her ennui, so from inside the gauze lattice, she instigated the parrot to perform his pranks; and selecting some verses, which had ever found favour with her, she tried to teach them to him.
But without descending to particulars, let us now advert to Hsueeh Pao-ch'ai. On her return home, she found her mother alone combing her hair and having a wash. "Why do you run over at this early hour of the morning?" she speedily inquired when she saw her enter.
"To see," replied Pao-ch'ai, "whether you were all right or not, mother. Did he come again, I wonder, after I left yesterday and make any more trouble or not?"
As she spoke, she sat by her mother's side, but unable to curb her tears, she began to weep.
Seeing her sobbing, Mrs. Hsueeh herself could not check her feelings, and she, too, burst out into a fit of crying. "My child," she simultaneously exhorted her, "don't feel aggrieved! Wait, and I'll call that child of wrath to order; for were anything to happen to you, from whom will I have anything to hope?"
Hsueeh P'an was outside and happened to overhear their conversation, so with alacrity he ran over, and facing Pao-ch'ai he made a bow, now to the left and now to the right, observing the while: "My dear sister, forgive me this time. The fact is that I took some wine yesterday; I came back late, as I met a few friends on the way. On my return home, I hadn't as yet got over the fumes, so I unintentionally talked a lot of nonsense. But I don't so much as remember anything about all I said. It isn't worth your while, however, losing your temper over such a thing!"
Pao-ch'ai was, in fact, weeping, as she covered her face, but the moment this language fell on her ear, she could scarcely again refrain from laughing. Forthwith raising her head, she sputtered contemptuously on the ground. "You can well dispense with all this sham!" she exclaimed, "I'm well aware that you so dislike us both, that you're anxious to devise some way of inducing us to part company with you, so that you may be at liberty."
Hsueeh P'an, at these words, hastened to smile. "Sister," he argued, "what makes you say so? once upon a time, you weren't so suspicious and given to uttering anything so perverse!"
Mrs. Hsueeh hurriedly took up the thread of the conversation. "All you know," she interposed, "is to find fault with your sister's remarks as being perverse; but can it be that what you said last night was the proper thing to say? In very truth, you were drunk!"
"There's no need for you to get angry, mother!" Hsueeh P'an rejoined, "nor for you sister either; for from this day, I shan't any more make common cause with them nor drink wine or gad about. What do you say to that?"
"That's equal to an acknowledgment of your failings," Pao-ch'ai laughed.
"Could you exercise such strength of will," added Mrs. Hsueeh, "why, the dragon too would lay eggs."
"If I again go and gad about with them," Hsueeh P'an replied, "and you, sister, come to hear of it, you can freely spit in my face and call me a beast and no human being. Do you agree to that? But why should you two be daily worried; and all through me alone? For you, mother, to be angry on my account is anyhow excusable; but for me to keep on worrying you, sister, makes me less then ever worthy of the name of a human being! If now that father is no more, I manage, instead of showing you plenty of filial piety, mamma, and you, sister, plenty of love, to provoke my mother to anger, and annoy my sister, why I can't compare myself to even a four-footed creature!"
While from his mouth issued these words, tears rolled down from his eyes; for he too found it hard to contain them.
Mrs. Hsueeh had not at first been overcome by her feelings; but the moment his utterances reached her ear, she once more began to experience the anguish, which they stirred in her heart.
Pao-ch'ai made an effort to force a smile. "You've already," she said, "been the cause of quite enough trouble, and do you now provoke mother to have another cry?"
Hearing this, Hsueeh P'an promptly checked his tears. As he put on a smiling expression, "When did I," he asked, "make mother cry? But never mind; enough of this! let's drop the matter, and not allude to it any more! Call Hsiang Ling to come and give you a cup of tea, sister!"
"I don't want any tea." Pao-ch'ai answered. "I'll wait until mother has finished washing her hands and then go with her into the garden."
"Let me see your necklet, sister," Hsueeh P'an continued. "I think it requires cleaning."
"It is so yellow and bright," rejoined Pao-ch'ai, "and what's the use of cleaning it again?"
"Sister," proceeded Hsueeh P'an, "you must now add a few more clothes to your wardrobe, so tell me what colour and what design you like best."
"I haven't yet worn out all the clothes I have," Pao-ch'ai explained, "and why should I have more made?"
But, in a little time, Mrs. Hsueeh effected the change in her costume, and hand in hand with Pao-ch'ai, she started on her way to the garden.
Hsueeh P'an thereupon took his departure. During this while, Mrs. Hsueeh and Pao-ch'ai trudged in the direction of the garden to look up Pao-yue. As soon as they reached the interior of the I Hung court, they saw a large concourse of waiting-maids and matrons standing inside as well as outside the antechambers and they readily concluded that old lady Chia and the other ladies were assembled in his rooms. Mrs. Hsueeh and her daughter stepped in. After exchanging salutations with every one present, they noticed that Pao-yue was reclining on the couch and Mrs. Hsueeh inquired of him whether he felt any better.