would be hard for you to understand it," he said as he lit his lamp. "Yes, it happens that our acquaintance began at that time. You wouldn't know, of course, that that grandmother of mine was my father's stepmother; his own mother died when he was three years old." He reflected, drank some spirits, and finished his fish in silence.
"I did not know these things at first, of course, though there was one incident which troubled me even as a child. My father was still living and our family circumstances were fair. In the first month it was the custom in the family to hang up our ancestral portraits and to make offerings before them. I loved to look at those portraits of gorgeously costumed men and women; it was an occasion which came but rarely. The maidservant who held me in her arms always pointed to one portrait and said: 'This is your real grandmother. Kowtow to her and ask her to protect you and make you grow up fast and as strong as dragons and tigers.' I could not understand why I should have another 'real grandmother' when there was one in the house already. But I loved this 'real grandmother,' who was not so old as the grandmother in the house. She was young and beautiful, and wore a red dress embroidered with gold, and a pearl hat. In the portrait she looked almost as young as my mother in hers. Whenever I looked at her, her eyes were always fixed on me and her smile seemed to become brighter. I knew that she must love me very much.
"However, I also loved the grandmother in the house, the grandmother who was always sitting and sewing slowly, under the window. No matter how gaily I played in front of her and called to her, I could not make her happy and laugh. She always seemed so sad, so different from other people's grandmothers. But I loved her just the same, though
