display!”
Pao-yü examined the charm, and having also read the inscription twice over aloud, and then twice again to himself, he said as he smiled, “Dear cousin, these eight characters of yours form together with mine an antithetical verse.”
“They were presented to her,” ventured Ying Erh, “by a mangy-pated bonze, who explained that they should be engraved on a golden trinket. . . . ”
Pao Ch’ai left her no time to finish what she wished to say, but speedily called her to task for not going to bring the tea, and then inquired of Pao-yü “Where he had come from?”
Pao-yü had, by this time, drawn quite close to Pao Ch’ai, and perceived whiff after whiff of some perfume or other, of what kind he could not tell. “What perfume have you used, my cousin,” he forthwith asked, “to fumigate your dresses with? I really don’t remember smelling any perfumery of the kind before.”
“I’m very averse,” replied Pao Ch’ai blandly, “to the odour of fumigation; good clothes become impregnated with the smell of smoke.”
“In that case,” observed Pao-yü, “what scent is it?”
“Yes, I remember,” Pao Ch’ai answered, after some reflection; “it’s the scent of the ‘cold fragrance’ pills which I took this morning.”
“What are these cold fragrance pills,” remarked Pao-yü smiling, “that they have such a fine smell? Give me, cousin, a pill to try.”
“Here you are with your nonsense again,” Pao Ch’ai rejoined laughingly; “is a pill a thing to be taken recklessly?”
She had scarcely finished speaking, when she heard suddenly some one outside say, “Miss Lin is come;” and shortly Lin Tai-yü walked in in a jaunty manner.
“Oh, I come at a wrong moment!” she exclaimed forthwith, smirking significantly when she caught sight of Pao-yü.
Pao-yü and the rest lost no time in rising and offering her a seat, whereupon Pao Ch’ai added with a smile, “How can you say such things?”
“Had I known sooner,” continued Tai-yü, “that he was here, I would have kept away.”
“I can’t fathom this meaning of yours,” protested Pao Ch’ai.
“If one comes,” Tai-yü urged smiling, “then all come, and when one doesn’t come, then no one comes. Now were he to come to-day, and I to come to-morrow, wouldn’t there be, by a division of this kind, always some one with you every day? and in this way, you wouldn’t feel too lonely, nor too crowded. How is it, cousin, that you didn’t understand what I meant to imply?”
“Is it snowing?” inquired Pao-yü, upon noticing that she wore a cloak made of crimson camlet, buttoning in front.
“It has been snowing for some time,” ventured the matrons, who were standing below. “Fetch my wrapper!” Pao-yü remarked, and Tai-yü readily laughed. “Am I not right? I come, and, of course, he must go at once.”
“Did I ever mention that I was going?” questioned Pao-yü; “I only wish it brought to have it ready when I want it.”
“It’s a snowy day,” consequently remarked Pao-yü‘s nurse, dame Li, “and we must also look to the time, but you had better remain here and amuse yourself with your cousin. Your aunt has, in there, got ready tea and fruits. I’ll tell the waiting-maid to go and fetch your wrapper and the boys to return home.” Pao-yü assented, and nurse Li left the room and told the boys that they were at liberty to go.
By this time Mrs. Hsüeh had prepared tea and several kinds of nice things and kept them all to partake of those delicacies. Pao-yü, having spoken highly of some goose feet and ducks’ tongues he had tasted some days before, at his eldest sister-in-law’s, Mrs. Yu’s, “aunt” Hsüeh promptly produced several dishes of the same kind, made by herself, and gave them to Pao-yü to try. “With a little wine,” added Pao-yü with a smile, “they would be first rate.”
Mrs. Hsüeh thereupon bade the servants fetch some wine of the best quality; but dame Li came forward and remonstrated. “My lady,” she said, “never mind the wine.”
Pao-yü smilingly pleaded: “My nurse, I’ll take just one cup and no more.”
“It’s no use,” nurse Li replied, “were your grandmother and mother present, I wouldn’t care if you drank a whole jar. I remember the day when I turned my eyes away but for a moment, and some ignorant fool or other, merely with the view of pandering for your favour, gave you only a drop of wine to drink, and how this brought reproaches upon me for a couple of days. You don’t know, my lady, you have no idea of his disposition! it’s really dreadful; and when he has had a little wine he shows far more temper. On days when her venerable ladyship is in high spirits, she allows him to have his own way about drinking, but he’s not allowed to have wine on any and every day; and why should I have to suffer inside and all for nothing at all?”
“You antiquated thing!” replied Mrs. Hsüeh laughing, “set your mind at ease, and go and drink your own wine! I won’t let him have too much, and should even the old lady say anything, let the fault be mine.”
Saying this, she asked a waiting-maid to take nurse Li along with her and give her also a glass of wine so as to keep out the cold air.
When nurse Li heard these words, she had no alternative but to go for a time with all the others and have some wine to drink.
“The wine need not be warmed: I prefer it cold!” Pao-yü went on to suggest meanwhile.
“That won’t do,” remonstrated Mrs. Hsüeh; “cold wine will make your hand tremble when you write.”
“You have,” interposed Pao Ch’ai smiling, “the good fortune, cousin Pao-yü, of having daily opportunities of acquiring a knowledge of every kind of subject, and yet don’t you know that the properties of wine are mostly heating? If you drink wine warm, its effects soon dispel, but if you drink it cold, it at once congeals in you; and as upon your intestines devolves the warming of it, how can you not derive any harm? and won’t you yet from this time change this habit of yours? leave off at once drinking that cold wine.”
Pao-yü finding that the words he had heard contained a good deal of sense, speedily put down the cold wine, and having asked them to warm it, he at length drank it.
Tai-yü was bent upon cracking melon seeds, saying nothing but simply pursing up her lips and smiling, when, strange coincidence, Hsüeh Yen, Tai-yü‘s waiting-maid, walked in and handed her mistress a small hand-stove.
“Who told you to bring it?” ascertained Tai-yü grinningly. “I’m sorry to have given whoever it is the trouble; I’m obliged to her. But did she ever imagine that I would freeze to death?”
“Tzu Chuan was afraid,” replied Hsüeh Yen, “that you would, miss, feel cold, and she asked me to bring it over.”
Tai-yü took it over and held it in her lap. “How is it,” she smiled, “that you listen to what she tells you, but that you treat what I say, day after day, as so much wind blowing past your ears! How is it that you at once do what she bids you, with even greater alacrity than you would an imperial edict?”
When Pao-yü heard this, he felt sure in his mind that Tai-yü was availing herself of this opportunity to make fun of him, but he made no remark, merely laughing to himself and paying no further notice. Pao Ch’ai, again, knew full well that this habit was a weak point with Tai-yü, so she too did not go out of her way to heed what she said.
“You’ve always been delicate and unable to stand the cold,” interposed “aunt” Hsüeh, “and is it not a kind attention on their part to have thought of you?”
“You don’t know, aunt, how it really stands,” responded Tai-yü smilingly; “fortunately enough, it was sent to me here at your quarters; for had it been in any one else’s