Lady T'ai Chên
one of the rampages of the Yellow River. She had never remarried. Her bleak, barren existence had been somewhat improved when she had entered the House of Yang to watch over Yuhan. Never thereafter had she been far from her. It was something to live for, like the blessing of motherhood. Unceasingly, she had burned tapers before her gods, pleading that her child be not so headstrong. The gods heard her plea, but their reaction was not entirely satisfactory. Yuhan became gentle and thoughtful. She learned to sing, to dance, to play the lute, and the songs were of her own composition. The gods gave her talents in abundance but they neglected to take from her her power of connivance. Whatever she desired, she secured, be the methods ever so devious.
The Amah sighed. She could neither teach Yuhan humble submission, nor the importance of compliance without remonstrance.
However, Yuhan had had no trouble teaching the Amah to love and serve her devotedly. That was all she wanted.
8.
Dressed for her entrance into the seraglio of the Emperor, Lady T'ai Chên was as exquisite as porcelain, warm porcelain. Her eyebrows were like willow leaves. In her slightly almond eyes, lustrous and black, was the alluring enigma of all the ages. Not a blemish disturbed the purity of her complexion. And in her eyes tears and
laughter seemed commingled; tears and laughter, mis-
