Decorum itself and the custom of Palaces could not conceal the indignation of the August Aunt as she rose and retired, driving the ladies before her as a shepherd drives his sheep.
The Hall of Tranquil Longevity being now empty, the Jade Emperor extended his hand and beckoned the Round-Faced Beauty to approach. This she did, hanging her head like a flower surcharged with dew and swaying gracefully as a wind-bell, and knelt on the lowest step of the Seat of State.
“Loveliest One,” said the Emperor, “I have read your composition. I would know the truth. Did any aid you as you spoke it? Was it the thought of your own heart?”
“None aided, Divine,” said she, almost fainting with fear. “It was indeed the thought of this illiterate slave, consumed with an unwarranted but uncontrollable passion.”
“And have you in truth desired to see your Lord?”
“As a prisoner in a dungeon desires the light, so was it with this low person.”
“And having seen?”
“Augustness, the dull eyes of this slave are blinded with beauty.”
She laid her head before his feet.
“Yet you have depicted, not the Ideal Man, but the Ideal Woman. This was not the Celestial command. How was this?”