Now followed the happiest time Tuen had ever known, and as the daughter of the Viceroy she became at once a person of importance. It was such a new, such a delightful sensation to be waited on and noticed and obeyed by the slaves that it took her a good many weeks to get used to it all. The Viceroy in turn, was well pleased with his new daughter, and although she was very fair, with tender, melting almond eyes, and midnight tresses, it was not her beauty so much as her wisdom that delighted him; and when he looked at her he recalled the words of Niu Tsang: "Although she is fair to look upon, and strong with the strength of youth, yet is her intellect, that lamp that so seldom illumes the head of woman, her greatest possession."

"He spoke truly," the Viceroy would murmur, "and only the son of a mandarin shall have her in marriage."

And then he would sigh to think that even now it was time to betroth her. But while he pondered over these things he received news from Peking that completely banished all thoughts of Tuen from his mind, and forever changed the current of her life. Now the Viceroy stood high in imperial favor on account of many valuable services, and for his zeal in checking the famous rebellion, and he had several times been advanced in rank by his sovereign. But he had just received tidings that a new and a higher decoration had been conferred upon him, and he sought for some costly gift to lay at the feet of that august and jealous ruler who calls himself the Son of Heaven. For every mark of favor received from the Emperor's hands the subject is expected to send some valuable present as a token of gratitude, and the Viceroy had already presented so many gifts that he was at loss what to send. He searched the province for some treasure that would be worthy the acceptance of a monarch, and had brought before him all the richest wares of the land, but he found nothing to satisfy his fastidious taste. Beset by these perplexities, he determined to give a great feast and invite all the learned and influential men of the city, with the hope that some of them would know of a curio or article of vertu that he might be able to procure. Accordingly crimson tickets were sent out to all the high officials of Lu Chang, requesting them to bestow "the illumination of their presence" on a given night the following week, and a theatrical troupe was engaged to give a performance on that occasion, for with the Chinese the theatre may almost be considered the national amusement, so great is the fondness of all classes for this form of diversion.

When the appointed evening arrived a distinguished assembly was gathered in the audience hall at the Viceroy's yÂmen, at one end of which a stage had been erected. The Viceroy and his guest of the highest rank—the governor-general of a neighboring province—occupied a table placed on a slightly elevated platform, while the other guests were arranged in two rows on each side of the room, seated two at a table. When all had assembled, the Viceroy stood up and drank the health of his friends from a small gilt cup shaped like a Grecian urn, then amid the sound of gong and bell the first course was placed upon the tables, and the feast commenced. First, salted relishes were served in dainty porcelain saucers, and then came that greatest delicacy to Chinese epicures, bird-nest soup, accompanied by pigeons' eggs and soy, while hot wine was poured for all from silver tankards in the hands of obsequious servants. These were followed by fish, game, and poultry, cut fine and made into stews, which the company very dexterously managed by means of their silver-tipped ivory chopsticks.

In the meantime the players, clad in brilliant costumes, tell the story of a beautiful wife of a former Emperor, who was demanded as a tribute by the Tartar Khan. The Emperor is in despair, for his country is weak and not prepared to go to war with this formidable chieftain, and so dearly does he love his charming wife that he cannot consent to part with her. At last he is forced to yield. The music swells louder and louder as the moment arrives for the last farewell between the Emperor and his beloved. The guests look up from the bowls of shark-fins before them and nod approvingly, and even the Viceroy's countenance expresses his pleasure at the scene.

Now a savory dish composed of the sinews of deer was brought in, followed by bowls of rice. The music sinks to a low, reverberating wail as the Princess tragically exclaims:

"What place is this?"

For she is on her way to the home of the hostile Khan—the price of peace.

And when the Khan had answered her:

"It is the river of the Black Dragon, the frontier between the Tartar boundaries and those of China. This southern shore is the Emperor's—on the northern side commences our Tartar dominion," the Princess said calmly:

"Great King, I take a cup of wine and pour a libation towards the south, a final adieu to the Emperor."

And as she finishes this rite she adds:

"Sovereign of Han, this life is finished,—I await thee in the next."

With these words upon her lips she casts herself in the dark, turgid waters of the Black Dragon, and is never seen again by mortal eyes.

As this climax is reached the rice is removed and the tables strewn with flowers, and from amid this mass of loveliness peep out sweetmeats and confections of every kind, intermixed with the fragrant citron or Buddha's hand, of which, while growing, the skin is cut into strips, each forming an end like fingers, while golden oranges, grapes, and monstrous, yet unpalatable, pears strew the board. This course completed the banquet, and the servants came in bringing tea, while on the stage the Emperor wailed the loss of his beautiful love in agonizing strains.

As they chatted merrily and sipped their tea, the Viceroy broached the subject that lay nearest his heart, but he found to his dismay that none of his friends were able to help him. One and all they shook their heads after he had enumerated the choice articles he had already examined.

"There is nothing richer in the Empire," the governor-general said decisively.

"But it will be an insult to my Emperor to send him a gift that is excelled by something I have already presented," the Viceroy cried despairingly. "Can no one help me out of this unfortunate difficulty?"

All were for a time silent, then Wo Ting, a mandarin and a man of much wisdom, said sententiously:

"The Viceroy of Kiang-si is said to have lately found a lovely daughter. Let him draw his inspiration from the play we have just seen."

The Viceroy looked at him in puzzled wonder, and as the meaning of the strange words dawned upon him he exclaimed in amazement:

"Send Tuen to the Emperor!"

Wo Ting made a sign of assent, and someone else remarked:

"Why not? 'Tis no small honor to be the handmaid of the Son of Heaven, the greatest king upon earth. Find yourself a son, and let the girl go."

"I do not wish to part with her, not just yet," the Viceroy said slowly.

"She will go away sooner or later to the household of her husband," the governor-general told him. "After all it is the same thing, for in either case she is lost to you. It is only a son who is a joy forever."

"True! True!" cried a dozen voices. "What matters a girl?"

"I will consider the question, my friends," the Viceroy said. "She is indeed beautiful and wise and good—my dearest treasure—and a fitting recompense for any honor. She is worthy the acceptance of the greatest of monarchs."

So saying he turned again to the stage and listened to the lamentations of the grief-stricken Emperor, and the fate of Tuen was not further discussed that night.

But Wo Ting remarked in a low tone to his neighbor:

"I should very much like to see that girl. It is whispered that he bought her for a slave, but that she turned out to be so uncommonly wise that he found a teacher for her, and she has been learning to read. After he found what a wonder she was, since she was also pretty, he adopted her. He is a very rich man, and doubtless he would provide well for her if he gave her in marriage. I have a son about her age, and I had been thinking of sending one of the match-makers to arrange matters with him, and get her for my son. But of course if she goes to the Emperor that settles it. If he does not send her—and I think he is loath to start her on such a long journey—I may decide to take her for my daughter-in-law. It wouldn't be a bad plan," and he scratched his chin reflectively.

But Tuen was sweetly sleeping, and dreaming of the day when she would be a wise woman who could read, and she did not know that her fate hung in the balance. And even if she had known she would have been powerless to change it.