The Flutter of the Goldleaf; and Other Plays Part 18

(_An instant of silence follows his exit, then_ WONG FE _comes forward._)

_Wong Fe_

Peace to your hearts, honorable friends of Yu Tai Shun! He will depart with you.

_Ching_

Not yet. We must wait. Invisible chains cannot be broken. But they will disunite of themselves. Then he will come.

_Wong Fe_

I will send him with you to-night.

_Ching_

_You_ send him?

_Wong Fe_

Do you think I will divide his life so that the two halves can bear no fruit? That I will wait until he hates me for that ruin?

_Ching_ (_with laughter_)

Hates you, oh princess!

_Wong Fe_

Wait till I must glean in his heart behind a spent pa.s.sion?--like a poor widow in the track of a grain-cart?

_Ching_

The coral of your lips will defeat their command, Wong Fe. Near you he is a dry f.a.got seized by a flame.

_Wong Fe_

I tell you he will go! Wait in the orchard until you hear the first whistle of the boat. Then come for him. He will be ready. Go, honorable friends! He is returning.

_Ching_

It is useless. Your words may bite like winter, but his eyes will see only the Spring morning.

_Wong Fe_

Go, I beg you, go!

(_They pa.s.s out down the steps of porch._ WONG FE _hurries to a small table, opens a lacquered box and takes from it a stiletto, which she hides in the folds of her sleeve. She is dancing as_ YU TAI SHUN _enters, and sings as she dances._)

The thousand odors of Spring Are the thousand arms of love.

They find thee in the valleys, On the crest of the hills they reach thee; Till Spring bear no fragrance Thou canst not escape them, The thousand arms of love!

The orchard pool is a pillow, A pillow for the twin lotus, And the wings of the flying geese Are warm in the air of heaven; They drop to the shadowy lake-sedge, For sweet looks the earth from the roads of the sky, And in heaven are no cool gra.s.ses.

Ever listening Are the leaves of the slim dryanda, Whose heart is the harp of the Spring-wind.

A dryanda-tree is my lover, And my thoughts are the leaves that listen.

Autumn, Autumn, touch not my leaf-thoughts!

Cast them not down when the pool is grey, And the teal no more sail two and two With their b.r.e.a.s.t.s above one shadow.

_Shun_

Come to me, Wong Fe! I feel that you have blown through my door like a rose petal, and will drift away again, leaving me not a footprint to kiss.

_Wong Fe_

Neither in life nor in death shall I leave you, my lord. Though I seem to die, and these graces that please you fall to earth like willow-blossoms, it is not I that will lie on the sand.

_Shun_

Why do you speak of death, Wong Fe?

_Wong Fe_

Because I am so happy. The sages say that we can have no fairer fortune than to die in our happiest moment.

_Shun_

Do not speak of death. The word blisters the air, though your lips be as two drops of June rain.

_Wong Fe_

But how sweet to die when I am fairest in your eyes! Every year, at this time, you would walk down the peach-flower lanes and recall the glow of my cheek. Oh, Heaven, let me not be a faded wife in the blooming time of the year!

_Shun_

Thy soul, Wong Fe, is the flower of my wors.h.i.+p.

_Wong Fe_

And death would give my soul wholly to you. I should be near you always.

Then morning would not call you to the peaks, leaving me behind in the tear-dew.

_Shun_

To-morrow we shall go together. Your shadow will be with mine on the rocks, and under the fir-trees we shall forget the valley.

_Wong Fe_

And the world? Oh, my lord, there are distances farther than the peaks of Siang, and they will call you from me. It cannot be that you who have known all lands will be content with one. I would see the strange people you have made your brothers, would listen to their dreams, and read the future with their hearts. There are dangers you would not let my body share--I do not ask that--but my soul, you could forbid it nothing.