"'O Kai Lung,' exclaimed the lovely Tiao, when this person had made an
end of speaking, 'how expertly and in what a proficient manner do you
express yourself, uttering even the sentiments which this person has
felt inwardly, but for which she has no words. Why, indeed, do you not
inscribe them in a book?'

"Under her elevating influence it had already occurred to this
illiterate individual that it would be a more dignified and, perhaps,
even a more profitable course for him to write out and dispose of, to
those who print such matters, the versatile and high-minded
expressions which now continually formed his thoughts, rather than be
dependent upon the concise sentence for which, indeed, he was indebted
to the wisdom of a remote ancestor. Tiao's spoken word fully settled
his determination, so that without delay he set himself to the task of
composing a story which should omit the usual sentence, but should
contain instead a large number of his most graceful and diamond-like
thoughts. So engrossed did this near-sighted and superficial person
become in the task (which daily seemed to increase rather than lessen
as new and still more sublime images arose within his mind) that many
months passed before the matter was complete. In the end, instead of a
story, it had assumed the proportions of an important and many-volumed
book; while Tiao had in the meantime accepted the wedding gifts of an
objectionable and excessively round-bodied individual, who had amassed
an inconceivable number of taels by inducing persons to take part in
what at first sight appeared to be an ingenious but very easy
competition connected with the order in which certain horses should
arrive at a given and clearly defined spot. By that time, however,
this unduly sanguine story-teller had become completely entranced in
his work, and merely regarded Tiao-Ts'un as a Heaven-sent but no