LAO YU HAD BEEN PREPARED FOR THE ORDEAL OF A HOUSE SEARCH, BUT

that Ch'ing Wen, the dearest and most lovable of his waiting maids, should be taken from him this had hit him like a thunderbolt. After his mother had gone away in bad humor, he threw himself on his bed and gave himself up to his bewildered grief.

"Just be patient for a few days until the 'Tai tai's anger has cooled down, then go to the old Tai tai and beg her to take Ch'ing Wen back into the house, and then everything will be all right again," said She Yüe, trying to comfort him.

"If I only knew what her great crime was," cried Pao-yü, passionately.

"She's too pretty; that's her only crime," replied She Yüe, shrugging her shoulders. "The Tai tai considers so much charm a danger to the peace of the house. Only ugly, stupid creatures like me are pleasing in her eyes."

"That is quite ridiculous. There are lots of examples to the contrary in history. But there's something else bothering me. How did my mother know word for word certain intimate little things and jesting words that I had exchanged with Ch'ing Wen? Do you think there has been some spying going on here?"

"No need for that, since you yourself are usually heedless in what you say when you are among people and get warmed up. I haye warned you again and again with words and looks;

but it's no use."

"After all, I have often exchanged familiarities with you, and Hsi Jen, and Ch'iu Wen too; why was it Ch'ing Wen who was pounced upon?"

She Yüe made no reply.

"I'm so terribly sorry for her!" continued Pao-yü, sobbing. "She has been used to such tender treatment here and now this graceful, delicate orchid, barely opened into bloom, is roughly thrown into the hogs' furnace. And to make matters worse, she is sick and an orphan. The only relative she has to fall back upon is an elderly married cousin, an evil drunken creature.

She won't survive a month in the house of that greasy reptile. I thought to myself that it was an evil omen when I saw this spring how the blooms of our golden begonia had suddenly died in some quite inexplicable way all over one half of the tree. Now it is clear to me that this bad omen referred to our poor Ch'ing Wen."

She Yüe clapped her hands together in astonishment.

"How on earth can an enlightened, educated person like you pay heed to such old wives' superstitions as that?" she cried, much amused.

"People like you certainly cannot understand it," he said reprovingly. "It is not only mankind that has a soul; all nature is animate too, and at times nature proclaims her unity with man by strange and wondrous manifestations. To name a few examples, there is the juniper tree in

front of the Temple of Confucius in Ku fu; there are the cypresses in front of the tomb of Chu Ko Liang, the wise counsellor of the time of the Three Kingdoms; the pines by the grave of Yo Fei, the great Marshal of the Sung dynasty. These age-old, indestructible, sacred trees have died down temporarily again and again in the course of the centuries in times of political corruption, only to burst forth in fresh verdure in times of prosperity and order. And it is probably exactly the same with our begonia."

Half unbelieving, half afraid, She Yüe replied: "Those were great men, great figures in history, and your theory may very well apply to them. But what is Ch'ing Wen? A little, unimportant creature. The omen which you believe our golden begonia has shown might just as well, in

fact with greater right, apply to me. Perhaps it really points to my early death?"

Horrified, Pao-yü, put his hand over her mouth.

"Oh, be quiet. Don't mention a thing like that to me now! Let's drop the subject. There is something else that I want to talk to you about. I am very anxious to send our poor Ch'ing Wen secretly the things she had to leave behind here. I also want to send her some of the money we have put aside, so that she will be able to pay for a doctor and for some care. Will

you undertake the sisterly service of love?"

"You must have a very poor opinion of me if you think that I had to be asked by you to do that.

I had already thought of it myself and have put all her things away ready in a safe place. But I wanted to wait until evening. Now in the daytime there are too many prying eyes in the way. I will send old Sung; and she shall also take with her the thousandpiece rope of money that I have saved. For me, a little sacrifice like that is a matter of course, for I have always been a kind, unselfish soul, or haven't I?" remarked She Yüe a trifle bitterly.

"Of course you are a kind soul," said Pao-yü, smiling, and gently stroking her cheeks. And he tried to drive the coldness from her heart with a few warm words.

So in the evening the serving woman Sung was sent off with the belongings and the money.

Before that Pao-yü, himself set out to pay Ch'ing Wen a secret visit. None of his servants was allowed to accompany him, and no one was permitted to leave the Begonia Courtyard that evening. Having reached the back gate of the park, he prevailed upon the portress on guard there to show him the way to Ch'ing Wen's home, after much ado. The portress, who was afraid of losing her job and at first did not want to help him, gave in in the end when he promised her money.

When her parents had died Ch'ing Wen had been bought as a small child by the house steward, Lai Ta. Lai Ta's wife had later given her as a present to the Princess Ancestress,

who had taken a fancy to the pretty little ten-year-old. Her cousin, Little Kwei, had been married off by Lai Ta to a sly little coquette, who deceived her blockhead husband in every conceivable way. The servants of her master Lai Ta were always after her like flies after a stink. From the time Ch'ing Wen had been serving Pao-yü, this girl had been always pestering

her to put in a word for her with Hsi-feng; she wanted a post as serving woman in the Yungkuo palace. At last she and her husband were allowed to live near the back gate of the park and were employed by Hsi-feng personally for all sorts of profitable errands and orders.

They did not make much of a fuss over poor sick Ch'ing Wen. She was put out of the way in a back room and left to herself for the greater part of the day.

Having reached his destination, Pao-yü, left the old woman at the house door to watch out,

and went alone into Ch'ing Wen's room. He found her lying, half asleep on a wretched bed of rush matting. Luckily, she had at least got a few cushions and a blanket from her former possessions to cover her. Pao-yü, plucked her sleeve and called her softly by name. Half frightened, half pleased, she blinked at him with eyes that had grown dull.

"Oh, it's you! I thought I would never see you again," she gasped, convulsively drawing his hand up to her. When she had got over a fit of coughing, she continued: "By Buddha! You have come just at the right time. For hours I have been gasping for a drink of tea, but there was no one near. Do please pour me out half a bowl!"

"Where's the teakettle?" he asked, wiping his eyes.

"It's there on the edge of the stove."

Pao-yü, looked around. So this filthy, rusty pot with the coal-black spout was the teapot? He picked up a dirty bowl, the only one he could find on the table. It had a nasty smell of rancid mutton fat. Shaking his head and with tears in his eyes, he washed it and then dried it with one of his silk handkerchiefs. Then he filled it half full from the black iron pot. So this cloudy,

dark red brew was supposed to be tea? He tasted the bitter muck, and was overcome with nausea. It cut him to the heart to see how the sick girl greedily gulped down the contents of the bowl in one swallow, as if it were the sweetest dew from heaven.

"Have you anything else to say to me?" he urged. "If you have, make the best of this moment that we're alone."

"What else would I have to say to you?" she sighed. "I'm just dragging myself on from day to day. As things are going with me, I shall be over it all in three to five days. The only thing that is weighing on me is the thought that I am dying under a shadow. I may indeed have been

prettier than the others, but to say that I was a seductress, a dangerous vixen no, I didn't deserve that. I will not quarrel with the past, but perhaps it would have been better if I had never . . ."

Her breath failed her and she could speak no longer. Pao-yü, perceived with a shock how cold her hands were. He felt as if his heart had been pierced with a thousand arrows. He anxiously rubbed her hands and patted her body lightly. How emaciated she had grown! It shook him to see how four silver bracelets rattled loosely around her skinny wrists.

"Take them off and wear them again when you're well once more and have filled out a bit!" he begged her in an agitated voice.

Ch'ing Wen suddenly raised her clenched left hand to her lips and with a great effort bit off two of her fingernails. She laid them in Pao-yü,'s hand. He hid them in his belt pocket. Now she slid her right hand under the blanket, drew off the short reel silk petticoat which she still

wore from better days, and handed it to Pao-yü, as a further souvenir. Then, exhausted by the twofold exertion, she sank back, groaning. Guessing her thoughts, Pao-yü, hurriedly removed his own shirt, spread it over her naked body, and put her garment on himself instead of it. In

great haste, and without waiting to do up all the buttons, he dressed himself again.

"Lift me up so that I can sit!" she asked him in a dull voice, while he was still dressing.

Alas, Pao-yü, had little trouble in lifting up her light, emaciated body. Now, sitting up, she pulled his shirt from under the bedclothes and put it on with great difficulty, with Pao-yü,'s assistance. Then he let her sink back gently OP her pillows again.

"Now go!" she said. "It ie horrible for you here in this filthy room. I am glad that you have come once more. Now I shall die happy."

She was about to say something more when the cloth curtain of the door Was pushed aside, and Little Kwei's wife walked in with a lewd smile on her face.

"Ha-ha! This is a nice conversation you've been carrying on here! I've seen and heard everything!" she said. "Now, what brings the highborn young gentleman into my humble dwelling? No doubt he wants to have a look at me and to try out his arts on my youthful charms, eh?"

"Hush! Not so loud, good elder sister!" he pleaded, much embarrassed. "No one must know that I'm here. I just wanted to see Ch'ing Wen. She served me faithfully for a long time."

Smiling, she took him by the hand and drew him with her into her bedroom.

"You are surely a lady's man, all the world knows that! Very well, then, if you want me to keep my mouth shut you must show me a little favor."

And with this she sat down on the edge of the bed and drew him close against her, crushing him between her thighs. Nothing like this had ever happened to him before. He flushed a hot crimson.

"Don't do that!" he gasped in confusion.

"Pah! Don't pretend!" she said, with an ugly look. "You're crazy for women and girls, aren't you? So why so shy now?"

"Leave me alone! What if the old woman who brought me over here should see me? We can't do it now. We'll arrange for some other time."

"Oh, there's no fear we'll be seen. I have sent the old woman away already. She's waiting for you in front of the park gate. Now let me repeat: Either you do what I want or I'll raise a row and betray you, and then your Tai tai will hear what a crazy fellow you are. I was listening just

now under the window of the room and I saw the familiar and intimate goings-on you had with Ch'ing Wen. I'm no fool!"

She began to open the waistband of his trousers and to lift up her own dress. Pao-yü, resisted with all his strength and struggled to free hi~aself from her embrace. In the middle of the fierce struggle, a voice was heard outside saying: "Does Sister Ch'ing Wen live here?"

Little Kwei's wife started up in alarm and let her prisoner free.

"She's here!" she cried, running up to the window. Out in the yard stood the servant Liu with her little daughter. She had been sent by the serving woman Sung to bring Ch'ing Wen the belongings she had left behind and She Yüe's rope of a thousand coins. While she was stating her errand and being shown into Ch'ing Wen's room by the woman, through the window of the next room she caught a glimpse of a male form. As she was well aware of the

character of Kwei's wife, she assumed she had one of her lovers in there, and thought no more of the matter. But her keen-eyed little girl had already recognized the shadowy form as Pao-yü,.

"Wasn't Miss She Yüe looking for the little master just now? He's in there," she whispered to her mother, as they went away. The woman Liu stopped and looked inquiringly at the wife of Little Kwei.

"Of course he's not. What would the little master want with me?" she lied. She was burning to resume and carry to victory the interrupted contest with Pao-yü, but Pao-yü, frustrated her intention. Two things drove him out of his hiding place: the fear, on the one hand, that he would get back late and find the park gates closed, and, on the other, the dread of a renewed

attack by the lusting woman.

"Hi, Godmother Liu, wait a minute and I will be with you!" he cried, suddenly emerging from under the door curtain, after Liu had already turned to go.

"Oh. so there's our little master! What brings you here?" asked the Liu woman, utterly astonished.

Pao-yü, wasted no time in long explanations, but slipped past her out the door. Mother Liu and her daughter raced along after him, while Little Kwei's wife was left standing at the door with a long face, bewailing her beautiful, vanished dream.

Out of breath and with fast-beating heart, Pao-yü, arrived back at the park in the nick of time before the gates were shut and reached the Begonia Courtyard without being seen by the evening patrols of park watchwomen. He had come from Aunt Hsueh, he told She Yüe, and went straight to bed.

"Are you going to bed so early?" asked She Yüe.

"That's my own business," he retorted brusquely.

Mindful of her dignity and of her responsibility to the Ancestress and to Madame Cherg, She Yüe had become somewhat more reserved in her demeanor towards Pao-yü, for the past few years, and she had also become somewhat estranged from him. The place in his heart which she had occupied previously she had lost in the course of time to her junior, Ch'ing Wen.

Ch'ing Wen it was, too, who had the privilege of sleeping in his bedroom, for Pao-yü, was afraid of being alone at night and had to have someone near him with whom he could exchange a few words now and then when he could not sleep. Since Ch'ing Wen had gone She Yüe had resumed this nocturnal position of trust once more.

That night she heard him tossing about restlessly in his bed for a long time, and heaving sighs, short and long, before he fell asleep. Then, towards midnight, when she herself was just nodding off, she heard him calling loudly for Ch'ing Wen.

"What's wrong?" she asked.

He asked for tea.

"Ah. it's you, She Yüe," he said, embarrassed, with an apologetic smile, when she brought him the tea. "I called for the other girl through absent-mindedness and habit."

"When she was new here you used togo on calling for me in your sleep; that's how times change," remarked She Yüe with an air of resignation.

He went to sleep again only after two hours of tossing and turning. It was getting towards five in the morning when Ch'ing Wen appeared to him in a dream.

"I've come to bid you good-by," she said. "Farewell!" and disappeared once more. He leaped out of bed terrified and woke She Yüe.

"Ch'ing Wen has just died," he told her dully. She Yüe did not believe him and tried to talk him out of his "hallucination," but he held firmly to his belief and could hardly wait for the morning to send for news of Ch'ing Wen. And he had to hold his soul in patience until the afternoon

before he got definite news. For he, his half-brother Chia Huan, and his nephew Chi a Lan had to spend the whole day in the company of the stern father and various worthy seniors.

There was an inspection of chrysanthemums, and on this occasion the juniors were required once more to show their literary ability. The test passed off to the satisfaction of Mr. Cheng,

and after it Pao-yü, was able to display proudly to his grandmother and mother the trophies with which the various worthy seniors had honored him three fans, three prayer chaplets with sandalwood beads, three jade rings, and a little carved sandalwood Buddha as an amulqt to wear on the breast. On his way back to the Begonia Courtyard he was accompanied by his

two waiting maids She Yüeh and Ch'iu Wen as well as two younger assistant waiting maids.

On the pretext of making them go on ahead with his writing equipment, and his cap and festive outer garments which he had taken off on account of the heat, he had got rid of the two elder girls because he did not want to make them jealous by inquiring about Ch'ing Wen.

He pretended he wanted to stroll for a while in the park, then, finding a somewhat secluded little place among the rocks, he took the two younger girls aside to cross-examine them.

"Did She Yüe send over this morning to Ch'ing Wen?" he asked.

"Yes, she sent old Sung over," replied one of the girls.

"What news did she bring back?"

'"Ch'ing Wen kept crying out the whole night, then towards morning she shut her eyes and lost consciousness."

"Whom was she calling for?"

"For her mother."

"For anyone else?"

"I don't know."

"Ah, you silly thing. I suppose you didn't listen attentively."

"That's right. She only half listened," the other chimed in eagerly. She was rather more intelligent than the other and guessed the reason for his urgent questioning. "I know a lot more, and I know it firsthand too."

"How is that?"

"I went over to her secretly at noon today. She was always so good to us younger ones, and I was sorry that she was treated so unjustly. I wanted to see her once more, for friendship's sake. I would have willingly taken the beating I'd have got if I'd been discovered. When I went in she opened her eyes and caught hold of my hand, and asked at once for you, young master. Where were you, was her first question. I said you had gone with your father to the display of chrysanthemums. At this she sighed and said: That's a pity;

then I shall never see him again.' I said to her she should be patient for a bit, as you'd surely come to see her again. She shook her head and smiled and replied that today at exactly two quarters after the first half of the double hour of the sheep she would have to take up the vacant position of a flower spirit at the command of the Nephrite Emperor, but that you would

come home a bit later than that, and therefore she could not see you again. She said she was not to be one of the damned whose souls the Prince of Hell, Wen Wang, sends his little devils to fetch, and who try to buy an hour's reprieve of their wretched existence by bribing the

mercenary messengers of hell with sacrifices of food and paper money. No, she would be solemnly carried before the throne of the Emperor of Heaven by good spirits, and she did not wish to be late on any account in getting there. I did not believe her, but when she drew her last breath a little while afterwards I found her words confirmed by the clock in the next room.

The hand pointed exactly to two quarters after the first half of the double hour of the sheep just the time that she had foretold."

Pao-yü, nodded earnest assent.

"If you were acquainted with our literature, you would knowtthat there really is such a thing.

Every single flower has its spirit, and over the spirits of each kind of flower there is set, again,

a higher spirit. Only I would very much like to know to which species of flowers she is attached, and whether as an ordinary spirit or as a higher spirit."

The girl to whom his question was addressed was not long at a loss for an answer. It occurred to her that now, in the eighth month, the water lilies were just in bloom.

"I asked her about that too," she fibbed boldly and bravely. "I told her that we would like to know, so that we could give our special loving care to her species of flowers in future. Then she told me that she had been appointed upper guardian spirit of our water lilies in the park.

But I would not like to betray that to anyone but you, young master."

Pao-yü, let his gaze wander across to the water lilies in the near-by pond, and his sorrowful face brightened.

"She has been given a worthy and a beautiful office. To live on in that way, after having passed safely through the Sea of Bitterness, is indeed a happy fate," he murmured,

comforted.

Feeling the urge to pay the dead girl the honor due to her, on her bier, he set out, unaccompanied, to go to the house of mourning by the usual secret way through the back gate of the park. He found the house empty and locked.

Little Kwei's wife, hoping for a small subscription towards the burial, had gone off to the Yungkuo palace immediately after Ch'ing Wen's death, and brought word of it to Madame Cheng. Madame Cheng had given her ten ounces of silver, but with the condition that, instead of keeping the dead girl for the usual period laid out on a bier in the house of mourning, they

should take her outside the city walls and cremate her forthwith. For Ch'ing Wen had died of consumption of the lungs and Madame Cheng was afraid that some harmful influence might spread to the Yungkuo palace if the corpse were in its vicinity for a long time. So it happened that Little Kwei and his wife were already on their way to the city walls with the coffin when Pao-yü, arrived; he had, therefore, to go home again without achieving his object.

He was deeply depressed and felt an urge to seek distraction in Tai-yü's company, but when he arrived at the Bamboo Hermitage he was told that Tai-yü had gone to Pao-ch'ai. He now set out for the Jungle Courtyard. He found it lonely and abandoned and Pao-ch'ai's rooms empty and dismantled. He then remembered having heard that Pao-ch'ai wished to leave the park and retur i to her mother. Recent events in the park had made an unpleasant impression

on her and, moreover, she did not wish to expose herself to the painful possibility of another house search. Hsi-feng and Madame Cheng had both tried in vain to persuade her to stay,

but she had remained firm and, on the excuse of being indispensable to her mother, who was in poor health, she had meantime carried out her intention.

A sorrowful feeling of utter desolation crept over Pao-yü,. He saw the number of his intimate companions dwindling little by little. How would it be if She Yüe or Tai-yü were to die next?

With a heavy heart he wandered back to the Bamboo Hermitage, but still Tai-yü was not there. So desolate did he 'feel that he was almost glad now to be called away again to his father and the seniors. The session of poetic composition occasioned by the chrysanthemum show, which had been interrupted by the luncheon interval, was to be resumed now.

When he returned to the park in the hour of yellowish twilight and passed by the pond with its water lilies in bloom, his thoughts turned once more to the dead girl, Ch'ing Wen. He stopped at the edge of the pond, looking out at the water lilies and sighing. It had been denied him to offer sacrifice and intone a dirge at her bier, as would have been proper. Should he not make good his omission here, in the sight of the water lilies? This idea passed through his mind.

And as his muse had already been stirred by the literary activity of the day, he asked the little maid who was carrying behind him "the four precious articles of the writing table" to hand him his writing brush and ink-stone. And there and then he composed a long hymn, which he named "Funeral Hymn to the Water-Lily Maiden," and wrote it down on a piece of that fine, wavy, ribbed silk which Ch'ing Wen had so loved. Meantime the little maid had to fetch eating bowls containing four of Ch'ing Wen's favorite dishes, and stand them one on top of the other by the edge of the pond, as an offering to the dead. Pao-yü, weeping, read his hymn aloud,

then burned incense, and placed the sheet of silk with the hymn among the leaves of the nearest water lily within reach. Darkness was already falling when at last, the entreaties of the little maid, he tore himself away from the scene of this strange act of homage to the departed.