While uttering these words, she turned up T'ao Yüan-ming's,
Dim in the distance lies a country place;
Faint in the hamlet-market hangs the mist;
and handed it to Hsiang Ling.
Hsiang Ling perused it, and, nodding her head, she eulogised it. "Really," she smiled, the word 'over' is educed from the two characters implying 'faint.'
Pao-yü burst out into a loud fit of exultant laughter. "You've already got it!" he cried. "There's no need of explaining anything more to you! Any further explanations will, in lieu of benefiting you, make you unlearn what you've learnt. Were you therefore to, at once, set to work, and versify, your lines are bound to be good."
"To-morrow," observed T'an ch'un with a smile; "I'll stand an extra treat and invite you to join the society."
"Why make a fool of me, miss?" Hsiang Ling laughingly ejaculated. "It's merely that mania of mine that made me apply my mind to this subject at all; just for fun and no other reason."
T'an Ch'un and Tai-yü both smiled. "Who doesn't go in for these things for fun?" they asked. "Is it likely that we improvise verses in real earnest? Why, if any one treated our verses as genuine verses, and took them outside this garden, people would have such a hearty laugh at our expense that their very teeth would drop."
"This is again self-violence and self-abasement!" Pao-yü interposed. The other day, I was outside the garden, consulting with the gentlemen about paintings, and, when they came to hear that we had started a poetical society, they begged of me to let them have the rough copies to read. So I wrote out several stanzas, and gave them to them to look over, and who did not praise them with all sincerity? They even copied them and took them to have the blocks cut."
"Are you speaking the truth?" T'an Ch'un and Tai-yü eagerly inquired.