Hsiang-yün with alacrity annexed the verses:

  The whole way tortuous winds like a coiled snake.

  The flowers have felt the cold and ceased to bud.

  Pao-ch'ai and her companions again with one voice eulogised their fine diction.

  T'an Ch'un then continued:

  Could e'er the beauteous snow dread the nipping of frost?

  In the deep court the shivering birds are startled by its fall.

  Hsiang-yün happened to be feeling thirsty and was hurriedly swallowing a cup of tea, when her turn was at once snatched by Chou-yen, who gave out the lines,

  On the bare mountain wails the old man Hsiao.

  The snow covers the steps, both high and low.

  Hsiang-yün immediately put away the tea-cup and added:

  On the pond's surface, it allows itself to float.

  At the first blush of dawn with effulgence it shines.

  Tai-yü recited with alacrity the couplet:

  In confused flakes, it ceaseless falls the whole night long.

  Troth one forgets that it implies three feet of cold.

  Hsiang-yün hastened to smilingly interpose with the distich:

  Its auspicious descent dispels the Emperor's grief.

  There lies one frozen-stiff, but who asks him a word?

  Pao-ch'in too speedily put on a smile and added: Glad is the proud wayfarer when he's pressed to drink. Snapped is the weaving belt in the heavenly machine.

  Hsiang-yün once again eagerly quoted the line:

  In the seaside market is lost a silk kerchief.

  But Lin Tai-yü would not let her continue, and taking up the thread, she forthwith said:

  With quiet silence, it enshrouds the raiséd kiosque.

  Hsiang-yün vehemently gave the antithetical verse:

  The utter poor clings to his pannier and his bowl.

  Pao-ch'in too would not give in as a favour to any one, so hastily she exclaimed:

  The water meant to brew the tea with gently bubbles up.

  Hsiang-yün saw how excited they were getting and she thought it naturally great fun. Laughing, she eagerly gave out:

  When wine is boiled with leaves 'tis not easy to burn.

  Tai-yü also smiled while suggesting:

  The broom, with which the bonze sweepeth the hill, is sunk in snow.

  Pao-ch'in too smilingly cried:

  The young lad takes away the lute interred in snow.

  Hsiang-yün laughed to such a degree that she was bent in two; and she muttered a line with such rapidity that one and all inquired of her: "What are you, after all, saying?"

  In the stone tower leisurely sleeps the stork.

  Hsiang-yün repeated.

  Tai-yü clasped her breast so convulsed was she with laughter. With loud voice she bawled out:

  Th' embroidered carpet warms the affectionate cat.

  Pao-ch'in quickly, again laughingly, exclaimed:

  Inside Selene's cave lo, roll the silvery waves.

  Hsiang-yün added, with eager haste:

  Within the city walls at eve was hid a purple flag.

  Tai-yü with alacrity continued with a smile:

  The fragrance sweet, which penetrates into the plums, is good to eat.

  Pao-ch'ai smiled. "What a fine line!" she ejaculated; after which, she hastened to complete the couplet by saying:

  The drops from the bamboo are meet, when one is drunk, to mix with wine.

  Pao-ch'in likewise made haste to add:

  Betimes, the hymeneal girdle it moistens.

  Hsiang-yün eagerly paired it with:

  Oft, it freezeth on the kingfisher shoes.

  Tai-yü once more exclaimed with vehemence:

  No wind doth blow, but yet there is a rush.

  Pao-ch'in promptly also smiled, and strung on:

  No rain lo falls, but still a patter's heard.

  Hsiang-yün was leaning over, indulging in such merriment that she was quite doubled up in two. But everybody else had realised that the trio was struggling for mastery, so without attempting to versify they kept their gaze fixed on them and gave way to laughter.

  Tai-yü gave her another push to try and induce her to go on. "Do you also sometimes come to your wits' ends; and run to the end of your tether?" she went on to say. "I'd like to see what other stuff and nonsense you can come out with!"

  Hsiang-yün however simply fell forward on Pao-ch'ai's lap and laughed incessantly.

  "If you've got any gumption about you," Pao-ch'ai exclaimed, shoving her up, "take the second rhymes under 'Hsiao' and exhaust them all, and I'll then bend the knee to you."

  "It isn't as if I were writing verses," Hsiang-yün laughed rising to her feet; "it's really as if I were fighting for very life."

  "It's for you to come out with something," they all cried with a laugh.

  T'an Ch'un had long ago determined in her mind that there could be no other antithetical sentences that she herself could possibly propose, and she forthwith set to work to copy out the verses. But as she passed the remark: "They haven't as yet been brought to a proper close," Li Wen took up the clue, as soon as she caught her words, and added the sentiment:

  My wish is to record this morning's fun.

  Li Ch'i then suggested as a finale the line:

  By these verses, I'd fain sing th' Emperor's praise.

  "That's enough, that will do!" Li Wan cried. "The rhymes haven't, I admit, been exhausted, but any outside words you might introduce, will, if used in a forced sense, be worth nothing at all."

  While continuing their arguments, the various inmates drew near and kept up a searching criticism for a time.

  Hsiang-yün was found to be the one among them, who had devised the largest number of lines.

  "This is mainly due," they unanimously laughed, "to the virtue of that piece of venison!"

  "Let's review them line by line as they come," Li Wan smilingly proposed, "but yet as if they formed one continuous poem. Here's Pao-yü last again!"

  "I haven't, the fact is, the knack of pairing sentences," Pao-yü rejoined with a smile. "You'd better therefore make some allowance for me!"

  "There's no such thing as making allowances for you in meeting after meeting," Li Wan demurred laughing, "that you should again after that give out the rhymes in a reckless manner, waste your time and not show yourself able to put two lines together. You must absolutely bear a penalty today. I just caught a glimpse of the red plum in the Lung Ts'ui monastery; and how charming it is! I meant to have plucked a twig to put in a vase, but so loathsome is the way in which Miao Yü goes on, that I won't have anything to do with her! But we'll punish him by making him, for the sake of fun, fetch a twig for us to put in water."

  "This penalty," they shouted with one accord, "is both excellent as well as pleasant."

  Pao-yü himself was no less delighted to carry it into execution, so signifying his readiness to comply with their wishes, he felt desirous to be off at once.

  "It's exceedingly cold outside," Hsiang-yün and Tai-yü simultaneously remarked, "so have a glass of warm wine before you go."

  Hsiang-yün speedily took up the kettle, and Tai-yü handed him a large cup, filled to the very brim.

  "Now swallow the wine we give you," Hsiang-yün smiled. "And if you don't bring any plum blossom, we'll inflict a double penalty."

  Pao-yü gulped down hurry-scurry the whole contents of the cup and started on his errand in the face of the snow.

  "Follow him carefully." Li Wan enjoined the servants.

  Tai-yü, however, hastened to interfere and make her desist. "There's no such need," she cried. "Were any one to go with him, he'll contrariwise not get the flowers."

  Li Wan nodded her head. "Yes!" she assented, and then went on to direct a waiting-maid to bring a vase, in the shape of a beautiful girl with high shoulders, to fill it with water, and get it ready to put the plum blossom in. "And when he comes back," she felt induced to add, "we must recite verses on the red plum."
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  "I'll indite a stanza in advance," eagerly exclaimed Hsiang-yün.

  "We'll on no account let you indite any more to-day," Pao-ch'ai laughed. "You beat every one of us hollow; so if we sit with idle hands, there won't be any fun. But by and bye we'll fine Pao-yü; and, as he says that he can't pair antithetical lines, we'll now make him compose a stanza himself."

  "This is a capital idea!" Tai-yü smiled. "But I've got another proposal. As the lines just paired are not sufficient, won't it be well to pick out those who've put together the fewest distiches, and make them versify on the red plum blossom?"

  "An excellent proposal!" Pao-ch'ai ventured laughing. "The three girls Hsing Chou-yen, Li Wen and Li Ch'i, failed just now to do justice to their talents; besides they are visitors; and as Ch'in Erh, P'in Erh and Yün Erh got the best of us by a good deal, it's only right that none of us should compose any more, and that that trio should only do so."

  "Ch'i Erh," Li Wan thereupon retorted, "is also not a very good hand at verses, let therefore cousin Ch'in have a try!"

  Pao-ch'ai had no alternative but to express her acquiescence.

  "Let the three words 'red plum blossom,'" she then suggested, "be used for rhymes; and let each person compose an heptameter stanza. Cousin Hsing to indite on the word 'red;' your elder cousin Li on 'plum;' and Ch'in Erh on 'blossom.'"

  "If you let Pao-yü off," Li Wan interposed, "I won't have it!"

  "I've got a capital theme," Hsiung-yün eagerly remarked, "so let's make him write some!"

  "What theme is it?" one and all inquired.

  "If we made him," Hsiang-yün resumed, "versify on: 'In search of Miao Yü to beg for red plum blossom,' won't it be full of fun?"

  "That will be full of zest," the party exclaimed, upon hearing the theme propounded by her. But hardly had they given expression to their approval than they perceived Pao-yü come in, beaming with smiles and glee, and holding with both hands a branch of red plum blossom. The maids hurriedly relieved him of his burden and put the branch in the vase, and the inmates present came over in a body to feast their eyes on it.

  "Well, may you look at it now," Pao-yü smiled. "You've no idea what an amount of trouble it has cost me!"

  As he uttered these words, T'an Ch'un handed him at once another cup of warm wine; and the maids approached, and took his wrapper and hat, and shook off the snow.

  But the servant-girls attached to their respective quarters then brought them over extra articles of clothing. Hsi Jen, in like manner, despatched a domestic with a pelisse, the worse for wear, lined with fur from foxes' ribs, so Li Wan, having directed a servant to fill a plate with steamed large taros, and to make up two dishes with red-skinned oranges, yellow coolie oranges, olives and other like things, bade some one take them over to Hsi Jen.

  Hsiang-yün also communicated to Pao-yü the subject for verses they had decided upon a short while back. But she likewise urged Pao-yü to be quick and accomplish his task.

  "Dear senior cousin, dear junior cousin," pleaded Pao-yü, "let me use my own rhymes. Don't bind me down to any."

  "Go on as you like," they replied with one consent.

  But conversing the while, they passed the plum blossom under inspection.

  This bough of plum blossom was, in fact, only two feet in height; but from the side projected a branch, crosswise, about two or three feet in length the small twigs and stalks on which resembled coiled dragons, or crouching earthworms; and were either single and trimmed pencil-like, or thick and bushy grove-like. Indeed, their appearance was as if the blossom spurted cosmetic. This fragrance put orchids to the blush. So every one present contributed her quota of praise.

  Chou-yen, Li Wen and Pao-ch'in had, little though it was expected, all three already finished their lines and each copied them out for herself, so the company began to peruse their compositions, subjoined below, in the order of the three words: 'red plum blossom.'

  Verses to the red plum blossom by Hsing Chou-yen.

  The peach tree has not donned its fragrance yet, the almond is not red.

  What time it strikes the cold, it's first joyful to smile at the east wind.

  When its spirit to the Yü Ling hath flown, 'tis hard to say 'tis spring.

  The russet clouds across the 'Lo Fu' lie, so e'en to dreams it's closed.

  The green petals add grace to a coiffure, when painted candles burn.

  The simple elf when primed with wine doth the waning rainbow bestride.

  Does its appearance speak of a colour of ordinary run?

  Both dark and light fall of their own free will into the ice and snow.

  The next was the production of Li Wen, and its burden was:

  To write on the white plum I'm not disposed, but I'll write on the red.

  Proud of its beauteous charms, 'tis first to meet the opening drunken eye.

  On its frost-nipped face are marks; and these consist wholly of blood.

  Its heart is sore, but no anger it knows; to ashes too it turns.

  By some mistake a pill (a fairy) takes and quits her real frame.

  From the fairyland pool she secret drops, and casts off her old form.

  In spring, both north and south of the river, with splendour it doth bloom.

  Send word to bees and butterflies that they need not give way to fears!

  This stanza came next from the pen of Hsüeh Pao-ch'in,

  Far distant do the branches grow; but how beauteous the blossom blooms!

  The maidens try with profuse show to compete in their spring head-dress.

  No snow remains on the vacant pavilion and the tortuous rails.

  Upon the running stream and desolate hills descend the russet clouds.

  When cold prevails one can in a still dream follow the lass-blown fife.

  The wandering elf roweth in fragrant spring, the boat in the red stream.

  In a previous existence, it must sure have been of fairy form.

  No doubt need 'gain arise as to its beauty differing from then.

  The perusal over, they spent some time in heaping, smiling the while, eulogiums upon the compositions. And they pointed at the last stanza as the best of the lot; which made it evident to Pao-yü that Pao-ch'in, albeit the youngest in years, was, on the other hand, the quickest in wits.

  Tai-yü and Hsiang-yün then filled up a small cup with wine and simultaneously offered their congratulations to Pao-ch'in.

  "Each of the three stanzas has its beauty," Pao-ch'ai remarked, a smile playing round her lips. "You two have daily made a fool of me, and are you now going to fool her also?"

  "Have you got yours ready?" Li Wan went on to inquire of Pao-yü.

  "I'd got them," Pao-yü promptly answered, "but the moment I read their three stanzas, I once more became so nervous that they quite slipped from my mind. But let me think again."

  Hsiang-yün, at this reply, fetched a copper poker, and, while beating on the hand-stove, she laughingly said: "I shall go on tattooing. Now mind if when the drumming ceases, you haven't accomplished your task, you'll have to bear another fine."

  "I've already got them!" Pao-yü rejoined, smilingly.

  Tai-yü then picked up a pencil. "Recite them," she smiled, "and I'll write them down."

  Hsiang-yün beat one stroke (on the stove). "The first tattoo is over," she laughed.

  "I'm ready," Pao-yü smiled. "Go on writing."

  At this, they heard him recite:

  The wine bottle is not opened, the line is not put into shape.

  Tai-yü noted it down, and shaking her head, "They begin very smoothly," she said, as she smiled.

  "Be quick!" Hsiang-yün again urged.

  Pao-yü laughingly continued:

  To fairyland I speed to seek for spring, and the twelfth moon to find.

  Tai-yü and Hsiang-yün both nodded. "It's rather good," they smiled.

  Pao-yü resumed, saying:

  I will not beg the high god for a bottle of the (healing) dew,

  But pray Shuang O to give
me some plum bloom beyond the rails.

  Tai-yü jotted the lines down and wagged her head to and fro. "They're ingenious, that's all," she observed.

  Hsiang-yün gave another rap with her hand.

  Pao-yü thereupon smilingly added:

  I come into the world and, in the cold, I pick out some red snow.

  I leave the dusty sphere and speed to pluck the fragrant purple clouds.

  I bring a jagged branch, but who in pity sings my shoulders thin?

  On my clothes still sticketh the moss from yon Buddhistic court.

  As soon as Tai-yü had done writing, Hsiang-yün and the rest of the company began to discuss the merits of the verses; but they then saw several servant-maids rush in, shouting: "Our venerable mistress has come."

  One and all hurried out with all despatch to meet her. "How comes it that she is in such good cheer?" every one also laughed.

  Speaking the while, they discerned, at a great distance, their grandmother Chia seated, enveloped in a capacious wrapper, and rolled up in a warm hood lined with squirrel fur, in a small bamboo sedan-chair with an open green silk glazed umbrella in her hand. Yüan Yang, Hu Po and some other girls, mustering in all five or six, held each an umbrella and pressed round the chair, as they advanced.

  Li Wan and her companions went up to them with hasty step; but dowager lady Chia directed the servants to make them stop; explaining that it would be quite enough if they stood where they were.

  On her approach, old lady Chia smiled. "I've given," she observed, "your Madame Wang and that girl Feng the slip and come. What deep snow covers the ground! For me, I'm seated in this, so it doesn't matter; but you mustn't let those ladies trudge in the snow."

  The various followers rushed forward to take her wrapper and to support her, and as they did so, they expressed their acquiescence.

  As soon as she got indoors old lady Chia was the first to exclaim with a beaming face: "What beautiful plum blossom! You well know how to make merry; but I too won't let you off!"

  But in the course of her remarks, Li Wan quickly gave orders to a domestic to fetch a large wolf skin rug, and to spread it in the centre, so dowager lady Chia made herself comfortable on it. "Just go on as before with your romping and joking, drinking and eating," she then laughed. "As the days are so short, I did not venture to have a midday siesta. After therefore playing at dominoes for a time, I bethought myself of you people, and likewise came to join the fun."