“It is well not to forget that one,” he replied. “He is spoken of as courteous but reserved, in that he drinks tea with few though his position is assured. Is not his house that which fronts on a summer-seat domed with red copper?”

“It is the same,” agreed the other. “Speak on.”

“What I recall is meagre and destitute of point. Nevertheless, it so chanced that some time ago this person was proceeding along the further Stone Path when an aged female mendicant, seated by the wayside, besought his charity. Struck by her destitute appearance he bestowed upon her a few unserviceable broken cash, such as one retains for the indigent, together with an appropriate blessing, when the hag changed abruptly into the appearance of a young and alluring maiden, who smilingly extended to this one her staff, which had meanwhile become a graceful branch of flowering lotus. The manifestation was not sustained, however, for as he who is relating the incident would have received the proffered flower he found that his hand was closing on the neck of an expectant serpent, which held in its mouth an agate charm. The damsel had likewise altered, imperceptibly merging into the form of an overhanging fig-tree, among whose roots the serpent twined itself. When this person would have eaten one of the ripe fruit of the tree he found that the skin was filled with a bitter dust, whereupon he withdrew, convinced that no ultimate profit was likely to result from the encounter. His departure was accompanied by the sound of laughter, mocking yet more melodious than a carillon of silver gongs hung in a porcelain tower, which seemed to proceed from the summer-seat domed with red copper.”

“Some omen doubtless lay within the meeting,” said the elder Chang. “Had you but revealed the happening fully on your return, capable geomancers might have been consulted. In this matter you have fallen short.”

“It is admittedly easier to rule a kingdom than to control one’s thoughts,” confessed Chang Tao frankly. “A great storm of wind met this person on his way back, and when he had passed through it, all recollection of the incident had, for the time, been magically blown from his mind.”

“It is now too late to question the augurs. But in the face of so involved a portent it would be well to avert all thought from Melodious Vision, wealthy Shen Yi’s incredibly attractive daughter.”

“It is unwise to be captious in affairs of negotiation,” remarked the young man thoughtfully. “Is the smile of the one referred to such that at the vision of it the internal organs of an ordinary person begin to clash together, beyond the power of all control?”

“Not in the case of the one who is speaking,” replied the grandfather of Chang Tao, “but a very illustrious poet, whom Shen Yi charitably employed about his pig-yard, certainly described it as a ripple on the surface of a dark lake of wine, when the moon reveals the hidden pearls beneath; and after secretly observing the unstudied grace of her movements, the most celebrated picture-maker of the province burned the implements of his craft, and began life anew as a trainer of performing elephants. But when maidens are as numerous as the grains of sand—”

“Esteemed,” interposed Chang Tao, with smooth determination, “wisdom lurks in the saying: ‘He who considers everything decides nothing.’ Already this person has spent an unprofitable score of years through having no choice in the matter; at this rate he will spend yet another score through having too much. Your timely word shall be his beacon. Neither the disadvantage of Shen Yi’s oppressive wealth nor the inconvenience of Melodious Vision’s excessive beauty shall deter him from striving to fulfil your delicately expressed wish.”

“Yet,” objected the elder Chang, by no means gladdened at having the decision thus abruptly lifted from his mouth, “so far, only a partially formed project—”