his body was as if it had been shaken to pieces. However, he softly
opened his shutter, stepped from one ship to the other, and glided
into the cabin where the maiden awaited him. She gave him formal
greeting, which he returned; but they looked at each other under the
lamp, and their passion already raged like fire. They could hardly
exchange a word, and Ya-nei's trembling hands were undoing. She
offered but very feeble resistance. He ardently embraced her, and with
his arms joined himself to the fresh breast that lighted him.

At last they were able to speak. She told him of her dream, and of
her astonishment on recognizing, in his poem, the verses which she had
heard him sing in dream. He turned pale and sat down:

"My dream was exactly yours. Before these omens are fulfilled, I shall
speak to my father to arrange our marriage."

But, even as they talked, they silently fell asleep arm in arm.

Now about the middle of the night, the wind fell and the river became
calmer. At the fifth watch the sailors untied their moorings and began
to haul their anchors, singing at their work. The noise awakened the
lovers, who heard the men say:

"The ship catches the wind rarely. We shall not be long in getting to
Ch'i-Chow."

They looked at each other in dismay:

"What are we going to do now?"