In such a manner it chanced on a former occasion that I sat side by side with a certain maiden awaiting the return of others who had withdrawn for a period. The season was that of white rains, and the fire being lavishly extended about the grate we had harmoniously arranged ourselves before it, while this person, at the repeated and explicit encouragement of the maiden, spoke openly of such details of the inner chamber as he has already indicated.
“Is it true, Mr. Ho” (thus the maiden, being unacquainted with the actual facts, consistently addressed me), “that ladies’ feet are relentlessly compressed until they finally assume the proportions and appearance of two bulbs?” and as she spoke she absent-mindedly regarded her own slippers, which were out-thrust somewhat to receive the action of the fire.
“It is a matter which cannot reasonably be denied,” I replied; “and it is doubtless owing to this effect that they are designated ‘Golden Lilies.’ Yet when this observance has been slowly and painfully accomplished, the extremities in question are not less small but infinitely less graceful than the select and naturally-formed pair which this person sees before him.” And at the ingeniously-devised compliment (which, not to become large-headed in self-imagination, it must be admitted was revealed to me as available for practically all occasions by the really invaluable Quang-Tsun), I bowed unremittingly.
“O, Mr. Ho!” exclaimed the maiden, and paused abruptly at the sound of her words, as though they were inept.
“In many other ways a comparison equally irreproachable to the exalted being at my side might be sought out,” I continued, suddenly forming the ill-destined judgment that I was no less competent than the more experienced Quang-Tsun to contrive delicate offerings of speech. “Their hair is rope like in its lack of spontaneous curve, their eyes as deficient in lustre as a half-shuttered window; their hands are exceedingly inferior in colour, and both on the left side, as it may be expressed; their legs—” but at this point the maiden drew herself so hastily into herself that I had no alternative but to conclude that unless I reverted in some way the enterprise was in peril of being inharmoniously conducted.
“Mr. Ho,” said the maiden, after contemplating her inward thoughts for a moment, “you are a foreigner, and you cannot be expected to know by instinct what may and what may not be openly expressed in this country. Therefore, although the obligation is not alluring, I think it kinder to tell you that the matters which formed the subject of your last words are never to be referred to.”
At this rebuke I again bowed persistently, for it did not appear reasonable to me that I could in any other way declare myself without violating the imposed command.
“Not only are they never openly referred to,” continued the maiden, who in spite of the declared no allurement of the subject did not seem disposed to abandon it at once, “but among the most select they are, by unspoken agreement, regarded as ‘having no actual existence,’ as you yourself would say.”
“Yet,” protested this person, somewhat puzzled, “to one who has witnessed the highly-achieved attitudes of those within your Halls of Harmony, and in an unyielding search for knowledge has addressed himself even to the advertisement pages of the ladies’ papers—”
The maiden waved her hand magnanimously. “In your land, as you have told me, there are many things, not really existing, which for politeness you assume to be. In a like but converse manner this is to be so regarded.”