sobs. As soon as Chia Cheng heard her plaints, his tears trickled down
with greater profusion, like pearls scattered about. But just as there
seemed no prospect of their being consoled, a servant-girl was unawares
heard to announce: "Our dowager lady has come!" Before this announcement
was ended, her tremulous accents reached their ears from outside the
window. "If you were to beat me to death and then despatch him," she
cried, "won't you be clear of us!"

Chia Cheng, upon seeing that his mother was coming, felt distressed and
pained. With all promptitude, he went out to meet her. He perceived his
old parent, toddling along, leaning on the arm of a servant-girl,
wagging her head and gasping for breath.

Chia Cheng drew forward and made a curtsey. "On a hot broiling day like
this," he ventured, forcing a smile, "what made you, mother, get so
angry as to rush over in person? Had you anything to enjoin me, you
could have sent for me, your son, and given me your orders."

Old lady Chia, at these words, halted and panted. "Are you really
chiding me?" she at the same time said in a stern tone. "It's I who
should call you to task! But as the son, I've brought up, isn't worth a
straw, to whom can I go and address a word?"

When Chia Cheng heard language so unlike that generally used by her, he
immediately fell on his knees. While doing all in his power to contain
his tears: "The reason why," he explained, "your son corrects his
offspring is a desire to reflect lustre on his ancestors and splendour
on his seniors; so how can I, your son, deserve the rebuke with which
you greet me, mother?"