The Debt of Tears

  Previously, when she had been ill, Dai-yu had always received frequent visits from everyone in the household, from Grandmother Jia down to the humblest maidservant. But now not a single person came to see her. The only face she saw looking down at her was that of Nightingale. She began to feel her end drawing near, and struggled to say a few words to her:

  ‘Dear Nightingale! Dear sister! Closest friend! Though you were Grandmother’s maid before you came to serve me, over the years you have become as a sister to me …’

  She had to stop for breath. Nightingale felt a pang of pity, was reduced to tears and could say nothing. After a long silence, Dai-yu began to speak again, searching for breath between words:

  ‘Dear sister! I am so uncomfortable lying down like this. Please help me up and sit next to me.’

  ‘I don’t think you should sit up, Miss, in your condition. You might get cold in the draught.

  Dai-yu closed her eyes in silence. A little later she asked to sit up again. Nightingale and Snowgoose felt they could no longer deny her request. They propped her up on both sides with soft pillows, while Nightingale sat by her on the bed to give further support. Dai-yu was not equal to the effort. The bed where she sat on it seemed to dig into her, and she struggled with all her remaining strength to lift herself up and ease the pain. She told Snowgoose to come closer.

  ‘My poems …’

  Her voice failed, and she fought for breath again. Snowgoose guessed that she meant the manuscripts she had been revising a few days previously, went to fetch them and laid them on Dai-yu’s lap. Dai-yu nodded, then raised her eyes and gazed in the direction of a chest that stood on a stand close by. Snowgoose did not know how to interpret this and stood there at a loss. Dai-yu stared at her now with feverish impatience. She began to cough again and brought up another mouthful of blood. Snowgoose went to fetch some water, and Dai-yu rinsed her mouth and spat into the spittoon. Nightingale wiped her lips with a handkerchief. Dai-yu took the handkerchief from her and pointed to the chest. She tried to speak, but was again seized with an attack of breathlessness and closed her eyes.

  ‘Lie down, Miss,’ said Nightingale. Dai-yu shook her head. Nightingale thought she must want one of her handkerchiefs, and told Snowgoose to open the chest and bring her a plain white silk one. Dai-yu looked at it, and dropped it on the bed. Making a supreme effort, she gasped out:

  ‘The ones with the writing on …’

  Nightingale finally realized that she meant the handkerchiefs Bao-yu had sent her, the ones she had inscribed with her own poems. She told Snowgoose to fetch them, and herself handed them to Dai-yu, with these words of advice:

  ‘You must lie down and rest, Miss. Don’t start wearing yourself out. You can look at these another time, when you are feeling better.’

  Dai-yu took the handkerchiefs in one hand and without even looking at them, brought round her other hand (which cost her a great effort) and tried with all her might to tear them in two. But she was so weak that all she could achieve was a pathetic trembling motion. Nightingale knew that Bao-yu was the object of all this bitterness but dared not mention his name, saying instead:

  ‘Miss, there is no sense in working yourself up again.’

  Dai-yu nodded faintly, and slipped the handkerchiefs into her sleeve.

  ‘Light the lamp,’ she ordered.

  Snowgoose promptly obeyed. Dai-yu looked into the lamp, then closed her eyes and sat in silence. Another fit of breathlessness. Then:

  ‘Make up the fire in the brazier.’

  Thinking she wanted it for the extra warmth, Nightingale protested:

  ‘You should lie down, Miss, and have another cover on. And the fumes from the brazier might be bad for you.’

  Dai-yu shook her head, and Snowgoose reluctantly made up the brazier, placing it on its stand on the floor. Dai-yu made a motion with her hand, indicating that she wanted it moved up onto the kang. Snowgoose lifted it and placed it there, temporarily using the floor-stand, while she went out to fetch the special stand they used on the kang. Dai-yu, far from resting back in the warmth, now inclined her body slightly forward – Nightingale had to support her with both hands as she did so. Dai-yu took the handkerchiefs in one hand. Staring into the flames and nodding thoughtfully to herself, she dropped them into the brazier. Nightingale was horrified, but much as she would have liked to snatch them from the flames, she did not dare move her hands and leave Dai-yu unsupported. Snowgoose was out of the room, fetching the brazier-stand, and by now the handkerchiefs were all ablaze.

  ‘Miss!’ cried Nightingale. ‘What are you doing?’

  As if she had not heard, Dai-yu reached over for her manuscripts, glanced at them and let them fall again onto the kang. Nightingale, anxious lest she burn these too, leaned up against Dai-yu and freeing one hand, reached out with it to take hold of them. But before she could do so, Dai-yu had picked them up again and dropped them in the flames. The brazier was out of Nightingale’s reach, and there was nothing she could do but look on helplessly.

  Just at that moment Snowgoose came in with the stand. She saw Dai-yu drop something into the fire, and without knowing what it was, rushed forward to try and save it. The manuscripts had caught at once and were already ablaze. Heedless of the danger to her hands, Snowgoose reached into the flames and pulled out what she could, throwing the paper on the floor and stamping frantically on it. But the fire had done its work, and only a few charred fragments remained.

  Dai-yu closed her eyes and slumped back, almost causing Nightingale to topple over with her. Nightingale, her heart thumping in great agitation, called Snowgoose over to help her settle Dai-yu down again. It was too late now to send for anyone. And yet, what if Dai-yu should die during the night, and the only people there were Snowgoose, herself and the one or two other junior maids in the Naiad’s House? They passed a restless night. Morning came at last, and Dai-yu seemed a little more comfortable. But after breakfast she suddenly began coughing and vomiting, and became tense and feverish again. Nightingale could see that she had reached a crisis. She called Snowgoose and the other juniors in and told them to mount watch, while she went to report to Grandmother Jia. But when she reached Grandmother Jia’s apartment, she found it almost deserted. Only a few old nannies and charladies were there, keeping an eye.

  ‘Where is Her Old Ladyship?’ asked Nightingale.

  ‘We don’t know,’ came the reply in chorus.

  That was very odd, thought Nightingale. She went into Bao-yu’s room and found that too quite empty, save for a single maid who answered with the same ‘Don’t know’. By now Nightingale had more or less guessed the truth. How could they be so heartless and so cruel? And to think that not a soul had come to visit Dai-yu during the past few days! As the bitterness of it struck her with full force, she felt a great wave of resentment break out within her, and turned abruptly to go.

  ‘I shall go and find Bao-yu, and see how he is faring! I wonder how he will manage to brazen it out in front of me! I remember last year, when I made up that story about Miss Lin going back to the South, he fell sick with despair. To think that now he should be openly doing a thing like this! Men must have hearts as cold as ice or snow. What hateful creatures they are!’

  She was already at Green Delights, and found the courtyard gate ajar. All was quiet within. Suddenly she realized:

  ‘Of course! If he is getting married, he will have a new apartment. But where?’

  She was looking around her in uncertainty, when she saw Bao-yu’s page boy Inky rush past, and called to him to stop. He came over, and with a broad smile asked:

  ‘What are you doing here, Miss Nightingale?’

  ‘I heard that Master Bao was getting married,’ replied Nightingale, ‘and I wanted to watch some of the fun. But I can see I’ve come to the wrong place. And I don’t know when the wedding is taking place, either.’

  ‘If I tell you,’ said Inky in a confidential tone, ‘you must promise not to tell Snowgoose. We’ve been given orders not to l
et any of you know. The wedding’s to be tonight. Of course it’s not being held here. The Master told Mr Lian to set aside another apartment.’

  ‘What’s the matter?’ continued Inky, after a pause.

  ‘Nothing,’ replied Nightingale. ‘You can go now.’

  Inky rushed off again. Nightingale stood there for a while, lost in thought. Suddenly she remembered Dai-yu. She might already be dead! Her eyes filled with tears, and clenching her teeth, she said fiercely:

  ‘Bao-yu! If she dies, you may think you can wash your hands of her in this callous way: but when you are happily married, and have your heart’s desire, you needn’t think you can look me in the face again!’

  As she walked, she began to weep. She made her way, sobbing pitifully, across the Garden. She was not far from the Naiad’s House, when she saw two junior maids standing at the gate, peeping out nervously. They saw her coming, and one of them cried out:

  ‘There’s Miss Nightingale! At last!’

  Nightingale could see that all was not well. Gesturing to anxiously to them be silent, she hurried in, to find Dai-yu red in the face, the fire from her liver having risen upwards and inflamed her cheeks. This was a dangerous sign, and Nightingale called Dai-yu’s old wet-nurse, Nannie Wang, to come and take a look. One glance was enough to reduce this old woman to tears. Nightingale had turned to Nannie Wang as an older person, who could be expected to lend them some courage in this extremity. But she turned out to be quite helpless, and only made Nightingale more distraught than before. Suddenly she thought of someone else she could turn to, and sent one of the younger maids to fetch her with all speed. Her choice might seem a strange one; but Nightingale reasoned that as a widow, Li Wan would certainly be excluded from Bao-yu’s wedding festivities. Besides she was in general charge of affairs in the Garden, and it would be in order to ask her to come.

  Li Wan was at home correcting some of Jia Lan’s poems, when the maid came rushing frantically in and cried:

  ‘Mrs Zhu! Miss Lin’s dying! Everyone over there is in tears!’

  Li Wan rose startled to her feet and without a word set off at once for the Naiad’s House, followed by her maids Candida and Casta. As she walked, she wept and lamented to herself:

  ‘When I think of all the times we have spent together – oh my poor cousin! So lovely, so gifted! There is hardly another like her. Only Frost Maiden and the Goddess of the Moon could rival her. How can she be leaving us at such a tender age, for that distant land from whence no travellers return … And to think that because of Xi-feng’s deceitful scheme, I have not been able to show myself at the Naiad’s House and have done nothing to show my sisterly affection! Oh the poor, dear girl!’

  She was already at the gate of the Naiad’s House. There was no sound from within. She began to fret.

  ‘I must be too late! She must have died already and they are resting between their lamentations. I wonder if her grave-clothes and coverlet are ready?’

  She quickened her step and hurried on into the room. A young maid standing at the inner doorway had already seen her, and called out:

  ‘Mrs Zhu is here!’

  Nightingale hurried out to meet her.

  ‘How is she?’ asked Li Wan.

  Nightingale tried to answer but all she could muster was a choked sob. Tears poured down her cheeks like pearls from a broken necklace, as she pointed silently to where Dai-yu lay. Realizing with a pang what Nightingale’s pitiable condition must portend, Li Wan asked no more, but went over at once to see for herself. Dai-yu no longer had the strength to speak. When Li Wan said her name a few times, her eyes opened a slit as if in recognition of the voice. But her eyelids and lips could only make a trembling suggestion of a movement. Although she still breathed, it was now more than she could manage to utter a single word, or shed a single tear.

  Li Wan turned around and saw that Nightingale was no longer in the room. She asked Snowgoose where she was, and Snowgoose replied:

  ‘In the outer room.’

  Li Wan hurried out, to find Nightingale lying on the empty bed, her face a ghastly green, her eyes closed, tears streaming down her cheeks. Where her head lay on the embroidered pillow, with its border of fine brocade, was a patch the size of a small plate, wet with her tears and the copious effusions of her nose. When Li Wan called to her, she opened her eyes slowly, and raised herself slightly on the bed.

  ‘Silly girl!’ Li Wan upbraided her. ‘Is this a time for tears? Fetch Miss Lin’s grave-clothes and dress her in them. Are you going to leave it till it is too late? Would you have her go naked from the world? Would you ruin her honour?’

  This released a fresh flood of tears on Nightingale’s part. Li Wan wept herself, fretfully wiping her eyes and patting Nightingale on the shoulder.

  ‘Dear girl! Look how you are upsetting me now, and making me cry. Hurry and get her things ready. If we delay much longer, it will all be over.’

  They were in this state of trepidation, when they heard footsteps outside, and someone came running into the room in a great flurry, causing Li Wan to start back in alarm. It was Patience. When she saw their tear-stained faces, she stopped abruptly and stared at them aghast for a while.

  ‘Why aren’t you over there?’ asked Li Wan. ‘What do you want here?’

  As she spoke, Steward Lin’s wife also came into the room. Patience answered:

  ‘Mrs Lian was worried, and sent me to see how things were. As you are here, Mrs Zhu, I can tell her to set her mind at rest.’

  Li Wan nodded. Patience went on:

  ‘I should like to see Miss Lin myself.’ So saying, she walked into Dai-yu’s bed-chamber, with tears on her cheeks. Li Wan turned to Steward Lin’s wife and said:

  ‘You have come just in time. Go and find your husband, and tell him to prepare Miss Lin’s coffin and whatever else is necessary. When everything has been satisfactorily arranged, he is to let me know. There is no need to go over to the house.’

  ‘Yes, ma’am,’ replied Lin’s wife, but made no move to go.

  ‘Well? Is there something else?’ asked Li Wan.

  ‘Mrs Lian and Her Old Ladyship,’ replied the steward’s wife, ‘have decided that they need Miss Nightingale in attendance over there.’

  Before Li Wan could say anything, Nightingale spoke up for herself:

  ‘Mrs Lin, will you be so kind as to leave now? Can’t you even wait until she is dead? We will leave her then, you need not fear. How can you be so …’

  She stopped short, thinking it inadvisable to be so rude, and changing her tone somewhat, said:

  ‘Besides, after waiting on a sick person, I fear we would not be fit for such an occasion. And while Miss Lin is still alive, she may ask for me at any time.’

  Li Wan tried to make the peace between them.

  ‘The truth is,’ she said, ‘that this maid and Miss Lin have an affinity from a past life. Snowgoose, I know, was Miss Lin’s original maid from home, but even she is not so indispensable as Nightingale. We really cannot separate them just now.’

  Lin’s wife, who had been considerably put out by Nightingale’s outspoken response, was obliged to contain herself when Li Wan came to the maid’s defence. Seeing Nightingale reduced to floods of tears, she eyed her with a hostile smile and said:

  ‘I shall ignore Miss Nightingale’s rudeness. But am I to report what you have just said to Her Old Ladyship? And am I to tell Mrs Lian?’

  As she was speaking, Patience came out of Dai-yu’s bedchamber, wiping her eyes.

  ‘Tell Mrs Lian what?’ she asked.

  Lin’s wife told her the substance of their conversation. Patience lowered her head in thought. After a moment, she said:

  ‘Why can’t you take Snowgoose?’

  ‘Would she do?’ asked Li Wan. Patience went up to her and whispered a few words in her ear. Li Wan nodded, and said:

  ‘Well in that case, it will be just as good if we send Snowgoose.’

  ‘Will Miss Snowgoose do?’ Lin’s wife asked Patience. br />
  ‘Yes,’ replied Patience. ‘She will do just as well.’

  ‘Then will you please tell her to come with me straight away,’ said Lin’s wife. ‘I shall report to Her Old Ladyship and Mrs Lian. I shall say that you are both responsible for the arrangement, mind. And later you can tell Mrs Lian yourself, Miss Patience.’

  ‘Of course,’ replied Li Wan curtly. ‘Do you mean to say that someone as old and experienced as you cannot even take the responsibility for a small thing like this?’

  Lin’s wife smiled.

  ‘It is not that I can’t take the responsibility. It is just that Her Old Ladyship and Mrs Lian have arranged everything and the likes of us don’t really know what’s going on. In the circumstances, it seems only right to mention you and Miss Patience.’

  Patience had already told Snowgoose to come out. Over the past few days Snowgoose had fallen rather into disfavour with Dai-yu, who had called her a ‘silly, ignorant child’, and her feelings of loyalty towards her mistress had as a consequence been rather blunted. Besides there was no question of her disobeying an order from Her Old Ladyship and Mrs Lian. She therefore tidied her hair quickly and made ready to go. Patience told her to change into her smartest clothes and to go with Mrs Lin. Patience herself stayed on and spoke for a short while with Li Wan. Before she left, Li Wan instructed her to call in on Lin’s wife on her way and tell her that her husband should make the necessary preparations for Dai-yu with all possible speed. This Patience agreed to do and went on her way. As she turned a corner in the Garden, she caught sight of Lin’s wife walking ahead of her with Snowgoose and called to her to wait.