1 66 CHINESE LITERATURE
trum sped to and fro ; now this air, now that ; loudly, with the crash of falling rain ; softly, as the murmur of whispered words ; now loud and soft together, like the patter of pearls and pearlets dropping upon a marble dish. Or liquid, like the warbling of the mango-bird in the bush ; trickling, like the streamlet on its downward course. And then, like the torrent, stilled by the grip of frost, so for a moment was the music lulled, in a passion too deep for sound. Then, as bursts the water from the broken vase, as clash the arms upon the mailed horse- man, so fell the plectrum once more upon the strings with a slash like the rent of silk.
" Silence on all sides : not a sound stirred the air. The autumn moon shone silver athwart the tide, as with a sigh the musician thrust her plectrum beneath the strings and quietly prepared to take leave. ' My child- hood, 1 said she, 'was spent at the capital, in my home near the hills. At thirteen, I learnt the guitar, and my name was enrolled among the primas of the day. The maestro himself acknowledged my skill : the most beauteous of women envied my lovely face. The youths of the neighbourhood vied with each other to do me honour : a single song brought me I know not how many costly bales. Golden ornaments and silver pins were smashed, blood-red skirts of silk were stained with wine, in oft-times echoing applause. And so I laughed on from year to year, while the spring breeze and autumn moon swept over my careless head.
" 'Then my brother went away to the wars : my mother died. Nights passed and mornings came ; and with them my beauty began to fade. My doors were no longer thronged ; but few cavaliers remained. So I took a husband and became a trader's wife. He was
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