Stories by English Authors: The Orient (Selected by Scribners)
General
Stories by English Authors: The Orient (Selected by Scribners)
Fiction; Short stories
“But see, here is the name of the mysterious owner of the arrow, and, as
I live, it is a girl’s name--Jasmine! Who, among the goddesses of heaven
can Jasmine be?”
“Oh, I will take the arrow then,” said Jasmine. “It must belong to my
sister. That is her name.”
“I did not know that you had a sister,” said Wei.
“Oh yes, I have,” answered Jasmine, quite forgetful of the celebrated
dictum of Confucius: “Be truthful.” “She is just one year younger than I
am,” she added, thinking it well to be circumstantial.
“Why have you never mentioned her?” asked Wei, with animation. “What is
she like? Is she anything like you?”
“She is the very image of me.”
“What! In height and features and ways?”
“The very image, so that people have often said that if we changed
clothes each might pass for the other.”
“What a good-looking girl she must be!” said Wei, laughing. “But,
seriously, I have not, as you know, yet set up a household; and if your
sister has not received bridal presents, I would beg to be allowed to
invite her to enter my lowly habitation. What does my elder brother say
to my proposal?”
“I don’t know what my sister would feel about it,” said Jasmine. “I
would never answer for a girl, if I lived to be as old as the God of
Longevity.”
“Will you find out for me?”
“Certainly I will. But remember, not a word must be mentioned on the
subject to my father, or, in fact, to anybody, until I give you leave.”
“So long as my elder brother will undertake for me, I will promise
anything,” said the delighted Wei. “I already feel as though I were
nine-tenths of the way to the abode of the phenix. Take this box of
precious ointment to your sister as an earnest of my intentions, and I
will keep the arrow as a token from her until she demands its return. I
feel inclined to express myself in verse. May I?”
“By all means,” said Jasmine, laughing.
Thus encouraged, Wei improvised as follows:
“‘T was sung of old that Lofu had no mate,
Though Che was willing; for no word was said.
At last an arrow like a herald came,
And now an honoured brother lends his aid.”
“Excellent,” said Jasmine, laughing. “With such a poetic gift as you
possess, you certainly deserve a better fate than befell Lofu.”
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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