At length the Emperor was induced to read it.  He underwent a new sensation, and, in the exuberance of his delight, summoned the author to a grand feast.  When the Antique heard of this, she swallowed her chopsticks in a fit of rage and spite, and died of suffocation.  Mien-yaun was then satisfied.  He went to the dinner.  The noble and the mighty again lavished their attentions upon him, but he turned from them with disgust.  He saw through the flimsy tissue of flattery they would fain cast over his eyes.  The most appetizing delicacies were set before him, but, like a true poet, he refused to take anything but biscuits and soda-water.  As neither of these articles had been provided, he consented to regale himself with a single duck’s tongue.  In short, he behaved so singularly, and gave himself so many airs, that everybody present, from the Emperor to the cook, was ready to bow down and worship him.

At the close of the repast, the Emperor begged to be informed in what way he could be permitted to testify his appreciation of the towering talents of his gifted subject.

“Son of Heaven,” answered Mien-yaun, “grant me only the hand in marriage of my beauteous Ching-ki-pin.  No other ambition have I.”

The Emperor was provoked at the modesty of the demand.  In truth, he would have been glad to see the young poet united to one of his own daughters.  But his imperial word was pledged,—­and as Mien-yaun willed it, so it was.

XII.

Their home is a little cottage on the bank of the Peiho; finery never enters it, and neatness never leaves it.  The singing of birds, the rustling of the breeze, the murmuring of the waters are the only sounds that they hear.  Their windows will shut, and their door open,—­but to wise men only; the wicked shun it.  Truth dwells in their hearts, innocence guides their actions.  Glory has no more charms for them than wealth, and all the pleasures of the world cost them not a single wish.  The enjoyment of ease and solitude is their chief concern.  Leisure surrounds them, and discord shuns them.  They contemplate the heavens and are fortified.  They look on the earth and are comforted.  They remain in the world without being of it.  One day leads on another, and one year is followed by another; the last will conduct them safe to their eternal rest, and they will have lived for one another.[B]

[Footnote B:  The concluding lines are from a modern Chinese poem.]

* * * * *

JOY-MONTH.

  Oh, hark to the brown thrush! hear how he sings! 
    How he pours the dear pain of his gladness! 
  What a gush! and from out what golden springs! 
    What a rage of how sweet madness!

  And golden the buttercup blooms by the way,
    A song of the joyous ground;
  While the melody rained from yonder spray
    Is a blossom in fields of sound.