The Frog
people of Canton. They should rise in their wrath and destroy him."
In the swamp-garden the little man walked down the fragrant paths. It was noonday and the glow of the sun was never more wondrous. It brought out more pungently the colors of the flowers. The carnations and chrysanthemums, the peonies and sweet lan bloomed more perfectly than ever. Occasionally he stopped and caressed a flower. He breathed deeply of the fragrant air. No garden could be more lovely than this.
His gaze was attracted by a flower more exquisite than any other he had ever beheld, a pink and white flower that stood in the path of the sun. Its pink petals were like the cheek of a lovely maiden, a tall slender maiden that would make kingdoms tremble. The little Frog-man sighed softly. His blood surged in ecstasy through his shrunken body. Again he looked at the lovely flower but now it was not a flower any longer but a lovely girl, a girl of enchanting beauty. She came toward him and drew him into her arms. As her lips pressed his all sadness fell from him. What mattered that he was a hideous dwarf, a Frog-man, what mattered that his eyes protruded or that his feet were immense? This wondrous girl was his and she was in his arms.
In his tea-house Pu Chiang continued his malicious gossip. His stories were seasoned by the smoke from the long black pipe. All the plagues of China, he declared, were traceable to that tiny Frog-man. He was
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