cry, "It is He of the Bridge of the Ten Thousand Ages!" My soul is in
darkness and my feet have wings. I fly far away. When I wish no more to
fly I cannot cease, but go onward. At last I fall to earth and know no
more.

When I awake it is in a place of strangeness - a room full of sunshine,
making entrance through windows of much number. The walls and carpets
are of the blue of the sky; the chairs, dressing-table and couch upon
which I lie are all of a whiteness; the Mieng about me is again blue. I
shut my eyes in wonderment; all is of beauty extraordinary! A hand comes
to my miserable forehead and Mother Heart (Miss Sterling) give of
sympathy to her unhappy child.

The memory of being like Fuku - not well born - smites my heart and bids
my tongue be still. I speak not. By and by Miss Sterling whisper, "Why
did you run away from the gate, Bing Ding?" I whisper return: "It was He
of the Bridge of the Ten Thousand Ages. Of his power I have greatest
fear. If He find, He will sell me to be a slave, for to him do I owe my
most miserable existence." Miss Sterling's eyes flash of fire and she
say, "No! No! I will have care."

Comfort to my heart creeps in, and I have speech with her of the Story
Teller of the Streets. How, seventeen years past by, He was telling
tales from box as now happen, and to Chinese all about standing, He say,
"Do good deeds! Be of unselfishness! Have of others care!" One Chinese
laugh and make large fun of Story Teller and say, "Why, O Wise Man, dost
thou not perform goodnesses, thyself? Just now I pass over the Bridge of
the Ten Thousand Ages and beside the stones of bridge I view babe of new
birth. Go, thou, and take of it all care." To save his face the Story
Teller went upon the bridge and took the babe unto his arms and house;