No. 1.
The fairies yesterday came down within the city gates,
And like those gems, sown in the grassy field, planted one pot.
How clear it is that the goddess of frost is fond of cold!
It is no question of a pretty girl bent upon death!
Where does the snow, which comes in gloomy weather, issue from?
The drops of rain increase the prints, left from the previous night.
How the flowers rejoice that bards are not weary of song!
But are they ever left to spend in peace a day or night?
No. 2.
The "heng chih" covered steps lead to the creeper-laden door.
How fit to plant by the corner of walls; how fit for pots?
The flowers so relish purity that they can't find a mate.
Easy in autumn snaps the soul of sorrow-wasted man.
The tears, which from the jade-like candle drip, dry in the wind.
The crystal-like portiere asunder rends Selene's rays.
Their private feelings to the moon goddess they longed to tell,
But gone, alas! is the lustre she shed on the empty court!
Every line filled them with wonder and admiration. What they read, they praised. "This," they exclaimed, with one consent, "is not writing verses on the begonia for no purpose! We must really start a Begonia Society!"
"To-morrow," Shih Hsiang-yün proposed, "first fine me by making me stand a treat, and letting me be the first to convene a meeting; may I?"
"This would be far better!" they all assented. So producing also the verses, composed the previous day, they submitted them to her for criticism.
In the evening, Hsiang-yün came at the invitation of Pao-ch'ai, to the Heng Wu Yüan to put up with her for the night. By lamplight, Hsiang-yün consulted with her how she was to play the hostess and fix upon the themes; but, after lending a patient ear to all her proposals for a long time, Pao-ch'ai thought them so unsuitable for the occasion, that turning towards her, she raised objections. "If you want," she said, "to hold a meeting, you have to pay the piper. And albeit it's for mere fun, you have to make every possible provision; for while consulting your own interests, you must guard against giving umbrage to people. In that case every one will afterwards be happy and contented. You count for nothing too in your own home; and the whole lump sum of those few tiaos, you draw each month, are not sufficient for your own wants, and do you now also wish to burden yourself with this useless sort of thing? Why, if your aunt gets wind of it, won't she be more incensed with you than ever! What's more, even though you might fork out all the money you can call your own to bear the outlay of this entertainment with, it won't be anything like enough, and can it possibly be, pray, that you would go home for the express purpose of requisitioning the necessary funds? Or will you perchance ask for some from in here?"
This long tirade had the effect of bringing the true facts of the case to Hsiang-yün's notice, and she began to waver in a state of uncertainty.
"I have already fixed upon a plan in my mind," Pao-ch'ai resumed. "There's an assistant in our pawnshop from whose family farm come some splendid crabs. Some time back, he sent us a few as a present, and now, starting from our venerable senior and including the inmates of the upper quarters, most of them are quite in love with crabs. It was only the other day that my mother mentioned that she intended inviting our worthy ancestor into the garden to look at the olea flowers and partake of crabs, but she has had her hands so full that she hasn't as yet asked her round. So just you now drop the poetical meeting, and invite the whole crowd to a show; and if we wait until they go, won't we be able to indite as many poems as we like? But let me speak to my brother and ask him to let us have several baskets of the fattest and largest crabs he can get, and to also go to some shop and fetch several jars of luscious wine. And if we then lay out four or five tables with plates full of refreshments, won't we save trouble and all have a jolly time as well?"