less than the dust at her feet, even though his wealth was boundless. Before the great wealth of her beauty his own wealth faded utterly.
At their approach she glanced up and smiled. One would have imagined that they had been friends always. Hwei-Ti put out his arms and she came to him, with the sweet simplicity of a child. The next moment he had kissed her soft red lips and in that moment he knew that life held nothing better for him than the love of this glorious girl. Again and again he kissed this maiden of the strange Blue City. He did not stop to consider that he had found her by walking down the Moon Road that led into the sky. It was sufficient that she was in his arms, accepting his kisses. It was the zenith hour of existence.
Meanwhile old Woo Ling-foh stood near by, smiling faintly. His old wrinkled face seemed lit by a divine lire. He was patient and he waited.
The girl led the way to a bench beneath a magnolia tree. The scent of blossoms perfumed the garden. And there she sat and sang love-songs to him, sang until his senses reeled for the want of her, sang until the lanterns in the windows one by one flickered out, sang until the soft blue of the city began to fade into the glorious rose-tints of morning.
It was then that Woo Ling-foh's manner changed completely. He glanced about at the pale pink shadows, then he seized Hwei-Ti by the hand and dashed pell-mell up the Moon Road as though all the serpents that hide under the mountains of China were close at their heels. Hwei-Ti tried to protest, but the strength of the aged prophet was phenomenal. By his chaotic manner Hwei-Ti sensed that they were fleeing from some terrible horror. Yet how could horror stalk in the lovely garden of that beautiful girl?
It was sacrilege to credit such a doubt. And if danger existed, were they not cowards to flee from it, sacrificing her to an unknown fate?
At last they arrived at the mountain-top
from which they had
walked off onto the Moon Road.
Woo Ling-foh fell panting to the
ground. His lean, gaunt face was
colorless. He closed his eyes and
moaned and moaned. He had used
up all his strength in an effort to
escape from the Blue City.
Hwei-Ti was amazed. He could not understand Woo Ling-foh's sudden change of front. The Blue City had been exquisitely peaceful and calm, yet it had aroused panic in the mind of the old mystic. He stood gazing off toward the majestic picture of dawn which was unfolding before him. The last star had expired, not a vestige of the Blue City remained. Gone, too, was the Moon Road, like a night-fog before the West Wind.
He bent over Woo Ling-foh and touched him upon the shoulder. Hwei-Ti was not in the best of tempers. He resented having been torn away from the magnolia garden against his will, from the presence of that little China girl who was more lovely than any vision which his wildest fancy painted.
"Why did you drag me away?" he demanded angrily.
Woo Ling-foh opened his eyes and smiled wanly. "To save you from being crushed by the dawn," he said slowly. "You are still a mortal. The terrific beauty of a rose-dawn in the Blue City would crush you to death. You would be blinded, dazzled by the light, scorched by the glory of the sun. Would you want such a hideous death of beauty? To be blasted by beauty: what more awful fate could ever be devised?"
"But the girl," pleaded Hwei-Ti hoarsely: "What has become of her? Has she been burned beyond recognition? Did we sacrifice her to a death so frightful?"
