Lady T'ai Chên
enough she aroused little jealousy among the Palace ladies. Their feeling was akin to awe. Her ascendancy was so apparently effortless. None could see how carefully she thought out her campaign. Besides, the increased grandeur of the Court was distinctly desirable. The more pomp and ceremony, the more opportunity did the officials have to emulate peacocks and primp, and bow, and scrape. The parasitic elements of the Court were the most ostentatious.
Had Lady T'ai Chên been Empress she could not have obtained greater nor more sincere homage. The people liked her sincerity, her enthusiasm, the great interest she had in everything. When she walked in the garden, small birds were not afraid of her, frequently alighting on her shoulders. And never were the flowers so beautiful nor their perfume sweeter than when she walked among them. Her very footsteps made melody in the garden. The wind in the treetops played its best that she might be pleased. Perhaps even the sun paid homage to her, for some who knew her have written that as she walked there seemed to be an aureole of light about her. Others denied this, explaining that her natural radiance was so vivid it gave the effect of magic. And magic it was indeed to Ming Huang, who had slipped under the spell of a dream.
In privacy, Ming Huang often bemoaned the fact that there was such a discrepancy in their ages. He had ascended the throne seven years before she was born. The difference in their ages was thirty-four years.
Nevertheless, their romance was neither calm nor gen-
