withdrawn, and a new and exhilarating self-confidence raised in their
place. In this agreeable temper I returned to the place of meeting to
find a priest of one of the lesser orders relating a circumstance
whereby he had encountered a wild maiden in the woods, who had
steadfastly persisted that she was one of a band of seven (this being
the luckiest protective number among the superstitious). Though unable
to cause their appearance, she had gone through a most precise
examination at his hands without deviating in the slightest
particular, whereupon distrusting the outcome of the strife, the
person who was relating the adventure had withdrawn breathless.

When this versatile lesser priest had finished the narration, and the
applause, which clearly showed that those present approved of the
solitary maiden's discreet stratagem, had ceased, the one who occupied
the central platform, rising, exclaimed loudly, "Mr. Kong will next
favour us with a contribution, which will consist, I am informed, of a
Chinese tale."

Now there chanced to be present a certain one who had already become
offensive to me by the systematic dexterity with which he had planted
his inopportune shadow between the sublime-souled Helena and any other
who made a movement to approach her heaven-dowered outline. When this
presumptuous and ill-nurtured outcast, who was, indeed, then seated
by the side of the enchanting maiden last referred to, heard the
announcement he said in a voice feigned to reach her peach-skin ear
alone, yet intentionally so modulated as to penetrate the furthest
limit of the room, "A Chinese tale! Why, assuredly, that must be a
pig-tail." At this unseemly shaft many of those present allowed
themselves to become immoderately amused, and even the goat-like sage
who had called upon my name concealed his face behind an open hand,