"This too," laughed Tai-yü sarcastically, "is a mere falsehood, to hoodwink people with, nothing more."
"I'll tell you a joke," replied Pao-ch'ai smiling, "when I just now said that I did not know anything about that medicine, cousin Pao-yü felt displeased." "Who cares!" shouted Lin Tai-yü. "He'll get all right shortly."
"Our worthy grandmother wishes to play at dominoes," Pao-yü thereupon interposed directing his remarks to Pao-ch'ai; "and there's no one there at present to have a game with her; so you'd better go and play with her."
"Have I come over now to play dominoes!" promptly smiled Pao-ch'ai when she heard his suggestion. With this remark, she nevertheless at once quitted the room.
"It would be well for you to go," urged Lin Tai-yü, "for there's a tiger in here; and, look out, he might eat you up."
As she spoke, she went on with her cutting.
Pao-yü perceived how both she was to give him any of her attention, and he had no alternative but to force a smile and to observe: "You should also go for a stroll! It will be time enough by and bye to continue your cutting."
But Tai-yü would pay no heed whatever to him. Pao-yü addressed himself therefore to the servant-girls. "Who has taught her how to cut out these things?" he asked.
"What does it matter who taught me how to cut?" Tai-yü vehemently exclaimed, when she realised that he was speaking to the maids. "It's no business of yours, Mr. Secundus."
Pao-yü was then about to say something in his defence when he saw a servant come in and report that there was some one outside who wished to see him. At this announcement, Pao-yü betook himself with alacrity out of the room.
"O-mi-to-fu!" observed Tai-yü, turning outwards, "it wouldn't matter to you if you found me dead on your return!"
On his arrival outside, Pao-yü discovered Pei Ming. "You are invited," he said, "to go to Mr. Feng's house."
Upon hearing this message, Pao-yü knew well enough that it was about the project mooted the previous day, and accordingly he told him to go and ask for his clothes, while he himself wended his steps into the library.
Pei Ming came forthwith to the second gate and waited for some one to appear. Seeing an old woman walk out, Pei Ming went up to her. "Our Master Secundus, Mr. Pao," he told her, "is in the study waiting for his out-door clothes; so do go in, worthy dame, and deliver the message."
"It would be better," replied the old woman, "if you did not echo your mother's absurdities! Our Master Secundus, Mr. Pao, now lives in the garden, and all the servants, who attend on him, stay in the garden; and do you again come and bring the message here?"
At these words, Pei Ming smiled. "You're quite right," he rejoined, "in reproving me, for I've become quite idiotic."
So saying, he repaired with quick step to the second gate on the east side, where, by a lucky hit, the young servant-boys on duty, were kicking marbles on the raised road. Pei Ming explained to them the object of his coming. A young boy thereupon ran in. After a long interval, he, at length, made his appearance, holding, enfolded in his arms, a bundle of clothes, which he handed to Pei Ming, who then returned to the library. Pao-yü effected a change in his costume, and giving directions to saddle his horse, he only took along with him the four servant-boys, Pei Ming, Chu Lo, Shuang Jui and Shou Erh, and started on his way. He reached Feng Tzu-ying's doorway by a short cut. A servant announced his arrival, and Feng Tzu-ying came out and ushered him in. Here he discovered Hsüeh P'an, who had already been waiting a long time, and several singing-boys besides; as well as Chiang Yü-han, who played female roles, and Yün Erh, a courtesan in the Chin Hsiang court. The whole company exchanged salutations. They next had tea. "What you said the other day," smiled Pao-yü, raising his cup, "about good fortune coming out of evil fortune has preyed so much upon my mind, both by day and night, that the moment I received your summons I hurried to come immediately."
"My worthy cousins," rejoined Feng Tzu-ying smiling. "You're all far too credulous! It's a mere hoax that I made use of the other day. For so much did I fear that you would be sure to refuse if I openly asked you to a drinking bout, that I thought it fit to say what I did. But your attendance to-day, so soon after my invitation, makes it clear, little though one would have thought it, that you've all taken it as pure gospel truth."
This admission evoked laughter from the whole company. The wines were afterwards placed on the table, and they took the seats consistent with their grades. Feng Tzu-ying first and foremost called the singing-boys and offered them a drink. Next he told Yün Erh to also approach and have a cup of wine.
By the time, however, that Hsüeh P'an had had his third cup, he of a sudden lost control over his feelings, and clasping Yün Erh's hand in his: "Do sing me," he smiled, "that novel ballad of your own composition; and I'll drink a whole jar full. Eh, will you?"
This appeal compelled Yün Erh to take up the guitar. She then sang:
Lovers have I two.
To set aside either I cannot bear.
When my heart longs for thee to come,
It also yearns for him.
Both are in form handsome and fair.
Their beauty to describe it would be hard.
Just think, last night, when at a silent hour, we met in secret, by the trellis frame laden with roses white,
One to his feelings stealthily was giving vent,
When lo, the other caught us in the act,
And laying hands on us; there we three stood like litigants before the bar.
And I had, verily, no word in answer for myself to give.
At the close of her song, she laughed. "Well now," she cried, "down with that whole jar!"
"Why, it isn't worth a jarful," smiled Hsüeh P'an at these words. "Favour us with some other good song!"
"Listen to what I have to suggest," Pao-yü interposed, a smile on his lips. "If you go on drinking in this reckless manner, we will easily get drunk and there will be no fun in it. I'll take the lead and swallow a large cupful and put in force a new penalty; and any one of you who doesn't comply with it, will be mulcted in ten large cupfuls, in quick succession!"
Speedily rising from the banquet, he poured the wine for the company. Feng Tzu-ying and the rest meanwhile exclaimed with one voice: "Quite right! quite right!"
Pao-yü then lifted a large cup and drained it with one draught. "We will now," he proposed, "dilate on the four characters, 'sad, wounded, glad and joyful.' But while discoursing about young ladies, we'll have to illustrate the four states as well. At the end of this recitation, we'll have to drink the 'door cup' over the wine, to sing an original and seasonable ballad, while over the heel taps, to make allusion to some object on the table, and devise something with some old poetical lines or ancient scrolls, from the Four Books or the Five Classics, or with some set phrases."
Hsüeh P'an gave him no time to finish. He was the first to stand up and prevent him from proceeding. "I won't join you, so don't count me; this is, in fact, done in order to play tricks upon me."
Yün Erh, however, also rose to her feet and shoved him down into his seat.
"What are you in such a funk for?" she laughed. "You're fortunate enough to be able to drink wine daily, and can't you, forsooth, even come up to me? Yet I mean to recite, by and bye, my own share. If you say what's right, well and good; if you don't, you will simply have to swallow several cups of wine as a forfeit, and is it likely you'll die from drunkenness? Are you, pray, going now to disregard this rule and to drink, instead, ten large cups; besides going down to pour the wine?"
One and all clapped in applause. "Well said!" they shouted.
After this, Hüeh P'an had no way out of it and felt compelled to resume his seat.
They then heard Pao-yü recite:
A girl is sad,
When her spring-time of life is far advanced and she still occupies a vacant inner-room.
A girl feels wounded in her heart,
When she regrets having allowed her better half to go abroad and win a marquisdom.
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A girl is glad,
When looking in the mirror, at the time of her morning toilette, she finds her colour fair.
A girl is joyful,
What time she sits on the frame of a gallows-swing, clad in a thin spring gown.
Having listened to him, "Capital!" one and all cried out in a chorus. Hsüeh P'an alone raised his face, shook his head and remarked: "It isn't good, he must be fined."
"Why should he be fined?" demurred the party.
"Because," retorted Hsüeh P'an, "what he says is entirely unintelligible to me. So how can he not be fined?"
Yün Erh gave him a pinch.—"Just you quietly think of yours," she laughed; "for if by and bye you are not ready you'll also have to bear a fine."
In due course Pao-yü took up the guitar. He was heard to sing:
"When mutual thoughts arise, tears, blood-stained, endless drop, like lentiles sown broadcast.
In spring, in ceaseless bloom nourish willows and flowers around the painted tower.
Inside the gauze-lattice peaceful sleep flies, when, after dark, come wind and rain.
Both new-born sorrows and long-standing griefs cannot from memory ever die!
E'en jade-fine rice, and gold-like drinks they make hard to go down; they choke the throat.
The lass has not the heart to desist gazing in the glass at her wan face.
Nothing can from that knitted brow of hers those frowns dispel;
For hard she finds it patient to abide till the clepsydra will have run its course.
Alas! how fitly like the faint outline of a green hill which nought can screen;
Or like a green-tinged stream, which ever ceaseless floweth onward far and wide!"
When the song drew to an end, his companions with one voice cried out: "Excellent!"
Hsüeh P'an was the only one to find fault. "There's no metre in them," he said.
Pao-yü quaffed the "opening cup," then seizing a pear, he added:
"While the rain strikes the pear-blossom I firmly close the door,"
and thus accomplished the requirements of the rule.
Feng Tzu-ying's turn came next.
"A maid is glad."
he commenced:
When at her first confinement she gives birth to twins, both sons.
A maid is joyful,
When on the sly she to the garden creeps crickets to catch.
A maid is sad,
When her husband some sickness gets and lies in a bad state.
A maiden is wounded at heart,
When a fierce wind blows down the tower, where she makes her toilette.
Concluding this recitation, he raised the cup and sang:
"Thou art what one could aptly call a man.
But thou'rt endowed with somewhat too much heart!
How queer thou art, cross-grained and impish shrewd!
A spirit too, thou couldst not be more shrewd.
If all I say thou dost not think is true,
In secret just a minute search pursue;
For then thou'lt know if I love thee or not."
His song over, he drank the "opening cup" and then observed:
"The cock crows when the moon's rays shine upon the thatchèd inn."
After his observance of the rule followed Yün Erh's turn.
A girl is sad,
Yün Erh began,
When she tries to divine on whom she will depend towards the end of life.
"My dear child!" laughingly exclaimed Hsüeh P'an, "your worthy Mr. Hsüeh still lives, and why do you give way to fears?"
"Don't confuse her!" remonstrated every one of the party, "don't muddle her!"
"A maiden is wounded at heart."
Yün Erh proceeded:
"When her mother beats and scolds her and never for an instant doth desist."
"It was only the other day," interposed Hsüeh P'an, "that I saw your mother and that I told her that I would not have her beat you."
"If you still go on babbling," put in the company with one consent, "you'll be fined ten cups."
Hsüeh P'an promptly administered himself a slap on the mouth. "How you lack the faculty of hearing!" he exclaimed. "You are not to say a word more!"
"A girl is glad,"
Yün Erh then resumed:
When her lover cannot brook to leave her and return home.
A maiden is joyful,
When hushing the pan-pipe and double pipe, a stringed instrument she thrums.
At the end of her effusion, she at once began to sing:
"T'is the third day of the third moon, the nutmegs bloom;
A maggot, lo, works hard to pierce into a flower;
But though it ceaseless bores it cannot penetrate.
So crouching on the buds, it swing-like rocks itself.
My precious pet, my own dear little darling,
If I don't choose to open how can you steal in?"
Finishing her song, she drank the "opening cup," after which she added: "the delicate peach-blossom," and thus complied with the exigencies of the rule.
Next came Hsüeh P'an. "Is it for me to speak now?" Hsüeh P'an asked.
"A maiden is sad..."
But a long time elapsed after these words were uttered and yet nothing further was heard.
"Sad for what?" Feng Tzu-ying laughingly asked. "Go on and tell us at once!"
Hsüeh P'an was much perplexed. His eyes rolled about like a bell.
"A girl is sad..."
he hastily repeated. But here again he coughed twice before he proceeded.
"A girl is sad."
he said:
"When she marries a spouse who is a libertine."
This sentence so tickled the fancy of the company that they burst out into a loud fit of laughter.
"What amuses you so?" shouted Hsüeh P'an, "is it likely that what I say is not correct? If a girl marries a man, who chooses to forget all virtue, how can she not feel sore at heart?"
But so heartily did they all laugh that their bodies were bent in two. "What you say is quite right," they eagerly replied. "So proceed at once with the rest."
Hsüeh P'an thereupon stared with vacant gaze.
"A girl is grieved...."
he added:
But after these few words he once more could find nothing to say.
"What is she grieved about?" they asked.
"When a huge monkey finds its way into the inner room."
Hsüeh P'an retorted.
This reply set every one laughing. "He must be mulcted," they cried, "he must be mulcted. The first one could anyhow be overlooked; but this line is more unintelligible."
As they said this, they were about to pour the wine, when Pao-yü smilingly interfered. "The rhyme is all right," he observed.
"The master of the rules," Hsüeh P'an remarked, "approves it in every way, so what are you people fussing about?"
Hearing this, the company eventually let the matter drop.
"The two lines, that follow, are still more difficult," suggested Yün Erh with a smile, "so you had better let me recite for you."
"Fiddlesticks!" exclaimed Hsüeh P'an, "do you really fancy that I have no good ones! Just you listen to what I shall say.
"A girl is glad,
When in the bridal room she lies, with flowery candles burning, and she is loth to rise at morn."
This sentiment filled one and all with amazement. "How supremely excellent this line is!" they ejaculated.
"A girl is joyful,"
Hsüeh P'an resumed,
"During the consummation of wedlock."
Upon catching this remark, the party turned their heads away, and shouted: "Dreadful! Dreadful! But quick sing your song and have done."
Forthwith Hsüeh P'an sang:
"A mosquito buzzes heng, heng, heng!"
Every one was taken by surprise. "What kind of song is this?" they inquired.
But Hsüeh P'an went on singing:
"Two flies buzz weng, weng, weng."
r /> "Enough," shouted his companions, "that will do, that will do!"
"Do you want to hear it or not?" asked Hsüeh P'an, "this is a new kind of song, called the 'Heng, heng air,' but if you people are not disposed to listen, let me off also from saying what I have to say over the heel-taps and I won't then sing."
"We'll let you off! We'll let you off," answered one and all, "so don't be hindering others."
"A maiden is sad,"
Chiang Yü-han at once began,
When her husband leaves home and never does return.
A maiden is disconsolate,
When she has no money to go and buy some olea frangrans oil.
A maiden is glad,
When the wick of the lantern forms two heads like twin flowers on one stem.
A maiden is joyful,
When true conjugal peace prevails between her and her mate.
His recital over, he went on to sing:
"How I love thee with those seductive charms of thine, heaven-born!
In truth thou'rt like a living fairy from the azure skies!
The spring of life we now enjoy; we are yet young in years.
Our union is, indeed, a happy match!
But. lo! the milky way doth at its zenith soar;
Hark to the drums which beat around in the watch towers;
So raise the silver lamp and let us soft under the nuptial curtain steal."
Finishing the song, he drank the "opening cup." "I know," he smiled, "few poetical quotations bearing on this sort of thing. By a stroke of good fortune, however, I yesterday conned a pair of antithetical scrolls; of these I can only remember just one line, but lucky enough for me the object it refers to figures as well on this festive board."
This said he forthwith drained the wine, and, picking up a bud of a diminutive variety of olea fragrans, he recited:
"When the perfume of flowers wafts (hsi jen) itself into a man, he knows the day is warm."
The company unanimously conceded that the rule had been adhered to. But Hsüeh P'an once again jumped up. "It's awful, awful!" he bawled out boisterously; "he should be fined, he should be made to pay a forfeit; there's no precious article whatever on this table; how is it then that you introduce precious things?"