strangle me before you strangle him! It will be as well that we, mother
and son, should die together, so that if even we go to hell, we may be
able to rely upon each other!"

At the conclusion of these words, she enfolded Pao-yue in her embrace and
raised her voice in loud sobs.

After listening to her appeal, Chia Cheng could not restrain a deep
sigh; and taking a seat on one of the chairs, the tears ran down his
cheeks like drops of rain.

But while Madame Wang held Pao-yue in her arms, she noticed that his face
was sallow and his breath faint, and that his green gauze nether
garments were all speckled with stains of blood, so she could not check
her fingers from unloosening his girdle. And realising that from the
thighs to the buttocks, his person was here green, there purple, here
whole, there broken, and that there was, in fact, not the least bit,
which had not sustained some injury, she of a sudden burst out in bitter
lamentations for her offspring's wretched lot in life. But while
bemoaning her unfortunate son, she again recalled to mind the memory of
Chia Chu, and vehemently calling out "Chia Chu," she sobbed: "if but you
were alive, I would not care if even one hundred died!"

But by this time, the inmates of the inner rooms discovered that Madame
Wang had gone out, and Li Kung-ts'ai, Wang Hsi-feng and Ting Ch'un and
her sisters promptly rushed out of the garden and came to join her.

While Madame Wang mentioned, with eyes bathed in tears, the name of Chia
Chu, every one listened with composure, with the exception of Li
Kung-ts'ai, who unable to curb her feelings also raised her voice in