'Of course!' responded the party with one voice.
In due course, therefore, she first read T'an Ch'un's draft. It ran as follows:-
Verses on the Begonia.
What time the sun's rays slant, and the grass waxeth cold, close the
double doors.
After a shower of rain, green moss plenteously covers the whole pot.
Beauteous is jade, but yet with thee in purity it cannot ever vie.
Thy frame, spotless as snow, from admiration easy robs me of my wits
Thy fragrant core is like unto a dot, so full of grace, so delicate!
When the moon reacheth the third watch, thy comely shade begins to
show itself.
Do not tell me that a chaste fairy like thee can take wings and pass
away.
How lovely are thy charms, when in thy company at dusk I sing my lay!
After she had read them aloud, one and all sang their praise for a time. She then took up Pao-ch'ai's, which consisted of:
If thou would'st careful tend those fragrant lovely flowers, close of
a day the doors,
And with thine own hands take the can and sprinkle water o'er the
mossy pots.
Red, as if with cosmetic washed, are the shadows in autumn on the
steps.
Their crystal snowy bloom invites the dew on their spirits to heap
itself.
Their extreme whiteness mostly shows that they're more comely than all
other flowers.
When much they grieve, how can their jade-like form lack the traces of
tears?
Would'st thou the god of those white flowers repay? then purity
need'st thou observe.
In silence plunges their fine bloom, now that once more day yields to
dusk.
'After all,' observed Li Wan, 'it's the Princess of Heng Wu, who expresses herself to the point.'
Next they bestowed their attention on the following lines, composed by Pao-yue:-
Thy form in autumn faint reflects against the double doors.
So heaps the snow in the seventh feast that it filleth thy pots.
Thy shade is spotless as Tai Chen, when from her bath she hails.
Like Hsi Tzu's, whose hand ever pressed her heart, jade-like thy soul.
When the morn-ushering breeze falls not, thy thousand blossoms grieve.
To all thy tears the evening shower addeth another trace.
Alone thou lean'st against the coloured rails as if with sense imbued.
As heavy-hearted as the fond wife, beating clothes, or her that sadly
listens to the flute, thou mark'st the fall of dusk.
When they had perused his verses, Pao-yue opined that T'an Ch'un's carried the palm. Li Wan was, however, inclined to concede to the stanza, indited by Pao-ch'ai, the credit of possessing much merit. But she then went on to tell Tai-yue to look sharp.
'Have you all done?' Tai-yue asked.
So saying, she picked up a pen and completing her task, with a few dashes, she threw it to them to look over. On perusal, Li Wan and her companions found her verses to run in this strain:-
Half rolled the speckled portiere hangs, half closed the door.
Thy mould like broken ice it looks, jade-like thy pot.
This couplet over, Pao-yue took the initiative and shouted: 'Capital.' But he had just had time to inquire where she had recalled them to mind from, when they turned their mind to the succeeding lines:
Three points of whiteness from the pear petals thou steal'st;
And from the plum bloom its spirit thou borrowest.
'Splendid!' every one (who heard) them conned over, felt impelled to cry. 'It is a positive fact,' they said, 'that her imagination is, compared with that of others, quite unique.'
But the rest of the composition was next considered. Its text was:
The fairy in Selene's cavity donneth a plain attire.
The maiden, plunged in autumn grief, dries in her room the prints of
tears.
Winsome she blushes, in silence she's plunged, with none a word she
breathes;
But wearily she leans against the eastern breeze, though dusk has long
since fall'n.
'This stanza ranks above all!' they unanimously remarked, after it had been read for their benefit.
'As regards beauty of thought and originality, this stanza certainly deserves credit,' Li Wan asserted; 'but as regards pregnancy and simplicity of language, it, after all, yields to that of Heng Wu.'
'This criticism is right.' T'an Ch'un put in. 'That of the Hsiao Hsiang consort must take second place.'
'Yours, gentleman of I Hung,' Li Wan pursued, 'is the last of the lot. Do you agreeably submit to this verdict?'
'My stanza,' Pao-yue ventured, 'isn't really worth a straw. Your criticism is exceedingly fair. But,' he smilingly added, 'the two poems, written by Heng Wu and Hsiao Hsiang, have still to be discussed.'
'You should,' argued Li Wan, 'fall in with my judgment; this is no business of any of you, so whoever says anything more will have to pay a penalty.'
Pao-yue at this reply found that he had no alternative but to drop the subject.
'I decide that from henceforward,' Li Wan proceeded, 'we should hold meetings twice every month, on the second and sixteenth. In the selection of themes and the settlement of the rhymes, you'll all have then to do as I wish. But any person who may, during the intervals, feel so disposed, will be at perfect liberty to choose another day for an extra meeting. What will I care if there's a meeting every day of the moon? It will be no concern of mine, so long as when the second and sixteenth arrive, you do, as you're bound to, and come over to my place.'
'We should, as is but right,' Pao-yue suggested, 'choose some name or other for our society.'
'Were an ordinary one chosen, it wouldn't be nice,' T'an Ch'un explained, 'and anything too new-fangled, eccentric or strange won't also be quite the thing! As luck would have it, we've just started with the poems on the begonia, so let us call it the 'Begonia Poetical Society.' This title is, it's true, somewhat commonplace; but as it's positively based on fact, it shouldn't matter.'
After this proposal of hers, they held further consultation; and partaking of some slight refreshments, each of them eventually retired. Some repaired to their quarters. Others went to dowager lady Chia's or Madame Wang's apartments. But we will leave them without further comment.
When Hsi Jen, for we will now come to her, perceived Pao-yue peruse the note and walk off in a great flurry, along with Ts'ui Mo, she was quite at a loss what to make of it. Subsequently, she also saw the matrons, on duty at the back gate, bring two pots of begonias. Hsi Jen inquired of them where they came from. The women explained to her all about them. As soon as Hsi Jen heard their reply, she at once desired them to put the flowers in their proper places, and asked them to sit down in the lower rooms. She then entered the house, and, weighing six mace of silver, she wrapped it up properly, and fetching besides three hundred cash, she came over and handed both the amounts to the two matrons. 'This silver,' she said, 'is a present for the boys, who carried the flowers; and these cash are for you to buy yourselves a cup of tea with.'
The women rose to their feet in such high glee that their eyebrows dilated and their eyes smiled; but, though they waxed eloquent in the expression of their deep gratitude, they would not accept the money. It was only after
