“How could you frame your lips to utter such untruths?” said Tu, half laughing and half in earnest.
“O Tu, falsehood is so easy and truth so difficult sometimes. But I feel that I have been very, very wicked,” said poor Jasmine, covering her face with her hands.
“Well, you certainly have got yourself into a pretty hobble. So far as I can make out, you are at the present moment engaged to one young lady and two young men.”
The situation, thus expressed, was so comical that Jasmine could not refrain from laughing through her tears; but, after a somewhat lengthened consultation with her lover, her face recovered its wonted serenity, and round it hovered a halo of happiness which added light and beauty to every feature. There is something particularly entrancing in receiving the first confidences of a pure and loving soul. So Tu thought on this occasion, and while Jasmine was pouring the most secret workings of her inmost being into his ear, those lines of the poet of the Sung dynasty came irresistibly into his mind:
‘T is sweet to see the flowers woo the sun,
To watch the quaint wiles of the cooing dove,
But sweeter far to hear the dulcet tones
Of her one loves confessing her great love.
But there is an end to everything, even to the “Confucian Analects,” and so there was also to this lovers’ colloquy. For just as Jasmine was explaining, for the twentieth time, the origin and basis of her love for Tu, a waiter entered to announce the arrival of her luggage.
“I don’t know quite,” said Tu, “where we are to put your two men. But, by-the-bye,” he added, as the thought struck him, “did you really travel all the way in the company of these two men only?”
“O Tu,” said Jasmine, laughing, “I have something else to confess to you.”
“What! another lover?” said Tu, affecting horror and surprise.
“No; not another lover, but another woman. The short, stout one is a woman, and came as my maid. She is the wife of ‘The Dragon.’”