Volume Ii Part 97 (1/2)
The woman listened patiently to her arguments, but she could find no words to say anything to her by way of reply. Nor did she have the audacity to protract her stay. So flying into a huff, she took Chui Erh along with her, and there and then made her way out.
”Is it likely,” nurse Sung hastily observed, ”that a dame like you doesn't know what manners mean? Your daughter has been in these rooms for some time, so she should, when she is about to go, knock her head before the young ladies. She has no other means of showing her grat.i.tude. Not that they care much about such things. Yet were she to simply knock her head, she would acquit herself of a duty, if nothing more. But how is it that she says I'm going, and off she forthwith rushes?”
Chui Erh overheard these words, and felt under the necessity of turning back. Entering therefore the apartment, she prostrated herself before the two girls, and then she went in quest of Ch'iu Wen and her companions, but neither did they pay any notice whatever to her.
”Hai!” e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed the woman, and heaving a sigh--for she did not venture to utter a word,--she walked off, fostering a grudge in her heart.
Ch'ing Wen had, while suffering from a cold, got into a fit of anger into the bargain, so instead of being better, she was worse, and she tossed and rolled until the time came for lighting the lamps. But the moment she felt more at ease, she saw Pao-yu come back. As soon as he put his foot inside the door, he gave way to an exclamation, and stamped his foot.
”What's the reason of such behaviour?” She Yueh promptly asked him.
”My old grandmother,” Pao-yu explained, ”was in such capital spirits that she gave me this coat to-day; but, who'd have thought it, I inadvertently burnt part of the back lapel. Fortunately however the evening was advanced so that neither she nor my mother noticed what had happened.”
Speaking the while, he took it off. She Yueh, on inspection, found indeed a hole burnt in it of the size of a finger. ”This,” she said, ”must have been done by some spark from the hand-stove. It's of no consequence.”
Immediately she called a servant to her. ”Take this out on the sly,” she bade her, ”and let an experienced weaver patch it. It will be all right then.”
So saying, she packed it up in a wrapper, and a nurse carried it outside.
”It should be ready by daybreak,” she urged. ”And by no means let our old lady or Madame w.a.n.g know anything about it.”
The matron brought it back again, after a protracted absence. ”Not only,” she explained; ”have weavers, first-cla.s.s tailors, and embroiderers, but even those, who do women's work, been asked about it, and they all have no idea what this is made of. None of them therefore will venture to undertake the job.”
”What's to be done?” She Yueh inquired. ”But it won't matter if you don't wear it to-morrow.”
”To-morrow is the very day of the anniversary,” Pao-yu rejoined.
”Grandmother and my mother bade me put this on and go and pay my visit; and here I go and burn it, on the first day I wear it. Now isn't this enough to throw a damper over my good cheer?”
Ch'ing Wen lent an ear to their conversation for a long time, until unable to restrain herself, she twisted herself round. ”Bring it here,”
she chimed in, ”and let me see it! You haven't been lucky in wearing this; but never mind!”
These words were still on Ch'ing Wen's lips, when the coat was handed to her. The lamp was likewise moved nearer to her. With minute care she surveyed it. ”This is made,” Ch'ing Wen observed, ”of gold thread, spun from peac.o.c.k's feathers. So were we now to also take gold thread, twisted from the feathers of the peac.o.c.k, and darn it closely, by imitating the woof, I think it will pa.s.s without detection.”
”The peac.o.c.k-feather-thread is ready at hand,” She Yueh remarked smilingly. ”But who's there, exclusive of you, able to join the threads?”
”I'll, needless to say, do my level best to the very cost of my life and finish,” Ch'ing Wen added.
”How ever could this do?” Pao-yu eagerly interposed. ”You're just slightly better, and how could you take up any needlework?”
”You needn't go on in this chicken-hearted way!” Ch'ing Wen cried. ”I know my own self well enough.”
With this reply, she sat up, and, putting her hair up, she threw something over her shoulders. Her head felt heavy; her body light.
Before her eyes, confusedly flitted golden stirs. In real deed, she could not stand the strain. But when inclined to give up the work, she again dreaded that Pao-yu would be driven to despair. She therefore had perforce to make a supreme effort and, setting her teeth to, she bore the exertion. All the help she asked of She Yueh was to lend her a hand in reeling the thread.
Ch'ing Wen first took hold of a thread, and put it side by side (with those in the pelisse) to compare the two together. ”This,” she remarked, ”isn't quite like them; but when it's patched up with it, it won't show very much.”
”It will do very well,” Pao-yu said. ”Could one also go and hunt up a Russian tailor?”
Ch'ing Wen commenced by unst.i.tching the lining, and, inserting under it, a bamboo bow, of the size of the mouth of a tea cup, she bound it tight at the back. She then turned her mind to the four sides of the aperture, and these she loosened by scratching them with a golden knife. Making next two st.i.tches across with her needle, she marked out the warp and woof; and, following the way the threads were joined, she first and foremost connected the foundation, and then keeping to the original lines, she went backwards and forwards mending the hole; pa.s.sing her work, after every second st.i.tch, under further review. But she did not ply her needle three to five times, before she lay herself down on her pillow, and indulged in a little rest.