“A poor man of letters, who had not the wherewithal to celebrate the change of the year, was fast asleep. In China, as elsewhere, it is true that he who sleeps dines. In the cottage where he lived there was neither fire, nor food, nor wine, nor light, nor pleasure in any form.
“Meanwhile his neighbours were celebrating the feast with joyous revelry; the feast that was so sad for the solitary man that we are speaking about.
“All of a sudden, at about midnight, somebody knocked at his door.
“‘Who is there?’ asked the man of letters, disagreeably wakened just at the moment when he was dreaming about victuals, drink, and luxurious apartments.
“‘It’s I, the God of Wealth.’
“‘I am sorry to say that I cannot receive you.’
“‘And why so?’
“‘Because I have no luck.’
“In spite of the insisting of the God of Wealth, the poor man absolutely refused to open the door.
“A few moments later another knock was heard at the door.