“The shadows had fallen deeply upon the Upper Seng Valley,” said Ten-teh evasively.
“The Keeper of the Imperial Stores has frequently conveyed to us their expressions of unfeigned gratitude for the bounty by which we have sought to keep alive the memory of their hospitality and our own indebtedness,” said the Emperor.
“The sympathetic person cannot have overstated their words,” replied Ten-teh falteringly. “Never, as their own utterances bear testimony, never was food more welcome, fuel more eagerly sought for, and clothing more necessary than in the years of the most recent past.”
“The assurance is as dew upon the drooping lotus,” said Kwo Kam, with a lightening countenance. “To maintain the people in an unshaken prosperity, to frown heavily upon extortion and to establish justice throughout the land—these have been the achievements of the years of peace. Yet often, O my father, this one’s mind has turned yearningly to the happier absence of strife and the simple abundance which you and they of the valley know.”
“The deities ordain and the balance weighs; your reward will be the greater,” replied Ten-teh. Already he spoke with difficulty, and his eyes were fast closing, but he held himself rigidly, well knowing that his spirit must still obey his will.
“Do you not crave now to partake of food and wine?” inquired the Emperor, with tender solicitude. “A feast has long been prepared of the choicest dishes in your honour. Consider well the fatigue through which you have passed.”
“It has faded,” replied Ten-teh, in a voice scarcely above a whisper, “the earthly body has ceased to sway the mind. A little longer, restored one; a very brief span of time.”
“Your words are my breath, my father,” said the Emperor, deferentially. “Yet there is one matter which we had reserved for affectionate censure. It would have spared the feet of one who is foremost in our concern if you had been content to send the warning by one of the slaves whose acceptance we craved last year, while you followed more leisurely by the chariot and the eight white horses which we deemed suited to your use.”
Ten-teh was no longer able to express himself in words, but at this indication of the Emperor’s unceasing thought a great happiness shone on his face. “What remains?” must reasonably have been his reflection; “or who shall leave the shade of the fruitful palm-tree to search for raisins?” Therefore having reached so supreme an eminence that there was nothing human above, he relaxed the effort by which he had so long sustained himself, and suffering his spirit to pass unchecked, he at once fell back lifeless among the cushions of the throne.
That all who should come after might learn by his example, the history of Ten-teh was inscribed upon eighteen tablets of jade, carved patiently and with graceful skill by the most expert stone-cutters of the age. A triumphal arch of seven heights was also erected outside the city and called by his name, but the efforts of story-tellers and poets will keep alive the memory of Ten-teh even when these imperishable monuments shall have long fallen from their destined use.