She brushed the bright drops away, and brought wine and music and the
melodious _kin_ of seven silken strings, and would not suffer Ming-Y to
speak for one moment of the coming separation. And she sang him an
ancient song about the calmness of summer lakes reflecting the blue of
heaven only, and the calmness of the heart also, before the clouds of
care and of grief and of weariness darken its little world. Soon they
forgot their sorrow in the joy of song and wine; and those last hours
seemed to Ming-Y more celestial than even the hours of their first
bliss.

But when the yellow beauty of morning came their sadness returned, and
they wept. Once more Sië accompanied her lover to the terrace-steps; and
as she kissed him farewell, she pressed into his hand a parting gift,--a
little brush-case of agate, wonderfully chiselled, and worthy the table
of a great poet. And they separated forever, shedding many tears.

* * * * *

Still Ming-Y could not believe it was an eternal parting. "No!" he
thought, "I shall visit her tomorrow; for I cannot now live without her,
and I feel assured that she cannot refuse to receive me." Such were the
thoughts that filled his mind as he reached the house of Tchang, to find
his father and his patron standing on the porch awaiting him. Ere he
could speak a word, Pelou demanded: "Son, in what place have you been
passing your nights?"

Seeing that his falsehood had been discovered, Ming-Y dared not make any
reply, and remained abashed and silent, with bowed head, in the presence
of his father. Then Pelou, striking the boy violently with his staff,