Volume I Part 11 (1/2)
Mrs. Ch'in upon hearing his objections smiled. ”If this,” she said, ”is really not nice, where are you going? if you won't remain here, well then come into my room.”
Pao-yu nodded his head and gave a faint grin.
”Where do you find the propriety,” a nurse thereupon interposed, ”of an uncle going to sleep in the room of a nephew's wife?”
”Ai ya!” exclaimed Mrs. Ch'in laughing, ”I don't mind whether he gets angry or not (at what I say); but how old can he be as to reverentially shun all these things? Why my brother was with me here last month; didn't you see him? he's, true enough, of the same age as uncle Pao, but were the two of them to stand side by side, I suspect that he would be much higher in stature.”
”How is it,” asked Pao-yu, ”that I didn't see him? Bring him along and let me have a look at him!”
”He's separated,” they all ventured as they laughed, ”by a distance of twenty or thirty li, and how can he be brought along? but you'll see him some day.”
As they were talking, they reached the interior of Mrs. Ch'in's apartments. As soon as they got in, a very faint puff of sweet fragrance was wafted into their nostrils. Pao-yu readily felt his eyes itch and his bones grow weak. ”What a fine smell!” he exclaimed several consecutive times.
Upon entering the apartments, and gazing at the part.i.tion wall, he saw a picture the handiwork of T'ang Po-hu, consisting of Begonias drooping in the spring time; on either side of which was one of a pair of scrolls, written by Ch'in Tai-hsu, a Literary Chancellor of the Sung era, running as follows:
A gentle chill doth circ.u.mscribe the dreaming man, because the spring is cold.
The fragrant whiff, which wafts itself into man's nose, is the perfume of wine!
On the table was a mirror, one which had been placed, in days of yore, in the Mirror Palace of the Emperor Wu Tse-t'ien. On one side stood a gold platter, in which Fei Yen, who lived in the Ch'ao state, used to stand and dance. In this platter, was laid a quince, which An Lu-shan had flung at the Empress T'ai Chen, inflicting a wound on her breast. In the upper part of the room, stood a divan ornamented with gems, on which the Emperor's daughter, Shou Ch'ang, was wont to sleep, in the Han Chang Palace Hanging, were curtains embroidered with strings of pearls, by T'ung Ch'ang, the Imperial Princess.
”It's nice in here, it's nice in here,” exclaimed Pao-yu with a chuckle.
”This room of mine,” observed Mrs. Ch'in smilingly, ”is I think, good enough for even spirits to live in!” and, as she uttered these words, she with her own hands, opened a gauze coverlet, which had been washed by Hsi s.h.i.+h, and removed a bridal pillow, which had been held in the arms of Hung Niang. Instantly, the nurses attended to Pao-yu, until he had laid down comfortably; when they quietly dispersed, leaving only the four waiting maids: Hsi Jen, Ch'iu Wen, Ch'ing Wen and She Yueh to keep him company.
”Mind be careful, as you sit under the eaves,” Mrs. Ch'in recommended the young waiting maids, ”that the cats do not start a fight!”
Pao-yu then closed his eyes, and, little by little, became drowsy, and fell asleep.
It seemed to him just as if Mrs. Ch'in was walking ahead of him.
Forthwith, with listless and unsettled step, he followed Mrs. Ch'in to some spot or other, where he saw carnation-like railings, jade-like steps, verdant trees and limpid pools--a spot where actually no trace of any human being could be met with, where of the s.h.i.+fting mundane dust little had penetrated.
Pao-yu felt, in his dream, quite delighted. ”This place,” he mused, ”is pleasant, and I may as well spend my whole lifetime in here! though I may have to lose my home, I'm quite ready for the sacrifice, for it's far better being here than being flogged, day after day, by father, mother, and teacher.”
While he pondered in this erratic strain, he suddenly heard the voice of some human being at the back of the rocks, giving vent to this song:
Like scattering clouds doth fleet a vernal dream; The transient flowers pa.s.s like a running stream; Maidens and youths bear this, ye all, in mind; In useless grief what profit will ye find?
Pao-yu perceived that the voice was that of a girl. The song was barely at an end, when he soon espied in the opposite direction, a beautiful girl advancing with majestic and elastic step; a girl quite unlike any ordinary mortal being. There is this poem, which gives an adequate description of her:
Lo she just quits the willow bank; and sudden now she issues from the flower-bedecked house; As onward alone she speeds, she startles the birds perched in the trees, by the pavilion; to which as she draws nigh, her shadow flits by the verandah!
Her fairy clothes now flutter in the wind! a fragrant perfume like unto musk or olea is wafted in the air; Her apparel lotus-like is sudden wont to move; and the jingle of her ornaments strikes the ear.
Her dimpled cheeks resemble, as they smile, a vernal peach; her kingfisher coiffure is like a c.u.mulus of clouds; her lips part cherry-like; her pomegranate-like teeth conceal a fragrant breath.
Her slender waist, so beauteous to look at, is like the skipping snow wafted by a gust of wind; the sheen of her pearls and kingfisher trinkets abounds with splendour, green as the feathers of a duck, and yellow as the plumes of a goose; Now she issues to view, and now is hidden among the flowers; beautiful she is when displeased, beautiful when in high spirits; with lissome step, she treads along the pond, as if she soars on wings or sways in the air.
Her eyebrows are crescent moons, and knit under her smiles; she speaks, and yet she seems no word to utter; her lotus-like feet with ease pursue their course; she stops, and yet she seems still to be in motion; the charms of her figure all vie with ice in purity, and in splendour with precious gems; Lovely is her brilliant attire, so full of grandeur and refined grace.
Loveable her countenance, as if moulded from some fragrant substance, or carved from white jade; elegant is her person, like a phoenix, dignified like a dragon soaring high.
What is her chast.i.ty like? Like a white plum in spring with snow nestling in its broken skin; Her purity? Like autumn orchids bedecked with dewdrops.
Her modesty? Like a fir-tree growing in a barren plain; Her comeliness? Like russet clouds reflected in a limpid pool.
Her gracefulness? Like a dragon in motion wriggling in a stream; Her refinement? Like the rays of the moon shooting on to a cool river.