WHEN the daughter heard what her father had to say, she hurried into her room and said to Cloudlet: “The priestess who came here to play the harp was from Cho; her age was eighteen or thereabouts. Now Hoi-nam is the same as Cho, and the age corresponds. I have more suspicion than ever of this priestess. If the winner is the same as she, he will undoubtedly come to see my father. Now I want you to take note of his coming and obtain a careful view of him.”
Cloudlet replied: “I did not see the other person who came, and so even though I see this one face to face how should I recognise him? I think it would be much better if your ladyship would peep through a chink and see him for yourself.” Thus they laughed and talked together.
Yang So-yoo had passed both the Hoi[22] and the Chon examinations, winning the highest place of all. He was recorded a hallim[23] a master of literary rank, and his name shook the city. All the nobility and the peers who had marriageable daughters strove together in their applications through go-betweens, but Yang declined them all. He went instead to Secretary Kwon of the Board of Education, and made proposals of marriage with the house of Justice Cheung, asking a letter of introduction. This the secretary readily gave.
Yang received it, placed it in his sleeve, and went at once to Justice Cheung’s and sent in his card.
Cheung, seeing that it was the card of the winner, said to his wife: “The champion of the kwago has come to see us.”
He was at once shown into the guest-room. His head was crowned with the victor’s wreath of flowers. Government musicians followed in his train, singing his praises.
He bowed to the Justice and made his salutation. Exceedingly handsome, modest and respectful in his manner, he so impressed the Justice that he looked on with open-mouthed wonder. The whole house, with the exception of the daughter, was in a state of excitement, anxious to catch a glimpse of him.
Cloudlet inquired of one of the lady’s attendants: “I understand from the conversation of the master and mistress that the priestess who came the other day and played the harp is a cousin of the gentleman who has won the honours. Do you see any marks of resemblance?”
The attendant caught at the suggestion at once, saying: “Really now that must be true. They resemble each other wonderfully in looks and manner. However could two cousins be as much alike as they?”
At this Cloudlet hurried to the apartment of the young lady and said: “There is no mistake, your ladyship is correct.”
The young mistress replied: “Go again and hear what he says and come and tell me.”
Cloudlet went, and after a long time returned to say: “On our master’s proposing marriage, the winner Yang bowed very low, and said: ‘Your humble servant has heard many reports of your daughter’s excellence, of how gifted and beautiful she is, and so boldly and presumptuously had set his hopes high upon her. For this reason I went this morning to Secretary Kwon and asked a letter of introduction, which he wrote and kindly gave me. Now, however, since I see how far inferior my family is to yours, I find we should be ill-mated like bright clouds and muddy water, or like the phoenix with a common crow bird. Such being the case I had not thought of presenting the introduction, which is still in my sleeve pocket, too ashamed and afraid was I.’
“He then gave it to the Justice, who, after reading it with a very agreeable countenance, ordered wine and refreshments to be brought.”
The young lady gave a start of alarm, saying: “No one ought ever to decide marriage in this light and hasty way. Why has my father made such a reckless decision?”
Before she had finished speaking a servant came to call her to her mother.
She went at once and the mother said to her: “Yang So-yoo is the winner of the examination, and his praises are in everyone’s mouth. Your father has just decided on his marriage with you, so we two old folks will have a place of support and will no longer be anxious or troubled.”
The daughter replied: “I have just learned from the servant that Master Yang’s face is like that of the priestess who came the other day to play the harp. Is that so?”
The mother said: “The servant is quite right about that. The priestess musician was like a very goddess, and I quite fell in love with her beauty. Her looks have been constantly in my mind so that I wished to call her again just to see her, but I have not had the opportunity. Now that I see Master Yang he is indeed the very image of the priestess. You will know by that how wonderfully handsome he is.”
The daughter replied: “Master Yang is very handsome I know, but I dislike him and so am opposed to the marriage.”
“Really,” exclaimed the mother, “this is a startling thing to say. You have been brought up within our women’s enclosure, while Master Yang has lived in Hoi-nam. You have had no conceivable way of knowing each other—what possible dislike can you have for him?”
The daughter replied: “I am very much ashamed to say why, or to speak of it, and so I have not told you before, but the priestess who came to play the harp the other day is none other than the famous Master Yang. Disguised as a Taoist acolyte he found his way in here and played in order to see me. I was completely taken in by his cunning ruse, and so sat two full hours face to face with him. How can you possibly say that I have no reason to dislike him?”
The mother felt a sudden shock of surprise that rendered her speechless.
In the meantime Justice Cheung had dismissed Yang, and now came into the inner quarters. Delight and satisfaction were written over his broad countenance. He said to his daughter: “Kyong-pai, Jewel, you have truly mounted the dragon in a way that’s wonderful.”
But the mother told Justice Cheung what her daughter had said, and then the Justice himself made fresh inquiry. When he learned that Master Yang had played the Phoenix Tune in her presence he gave a great laugh, saying: “Well, Yang is indeed a wonder! In olden times Wang Yoo-hak dressed as a musician and played the flute in Princess Peace’s Palace, and later became the winner of the kwago (examination). This is a story handed down, famous till to-day. Master Yang, too, in order to win his pretty bride, dressed as a woman. It would prove him to be a very bright fellow. For a joke of this kind why should you say you dislike him? On the other hand, you saw only a Taoist priestess; you did not see Master Yang at all. You are not responsible for the fact that he made a very pretty girl musician, and your part is not to be compared with that of Princess Tak-moon who peeped through the hanging shades. What reason have you to harbour dislikes?”
The daughter said: “I have nothing to be ashamed of in my heart, but to allow myself to be taken in thus makes me so angry I could almost die.”
The Justice laughed again: “This is not a matter for your old father to know anything about. Later on you can question Yang about it yourself.”
The lady Cheung asked: “What time have you fixed for the wedding?”
The Justice answered: “The gifts are to be sent at once, but we must wait till autumn for the wedding ceremony, so as to have his mother present. After she comes we can decide the day.”
“Since matters stand thus,” said the mother, “there is no hurry as to the exact time.” So they chose a day, received the gifts, and invited Yang to their home. They had him live in a special pavilion in the park. He fulfilled all the respectful requirements of a son-in-law, served them well, and they loved him as their very own.
On a certain day Cheung See, while passing Cloudlet’s room, saw that she was embroidering a pair of shoes, but fanned to sleep by the soft days of early summer, she had placed her embroidery frame for her pillow and was deep in dreamland. The young mistress went quietly in to admire the beautiful work. She sighed over its matchless stitches, and as she thought of the loving hands that worked them, she noticed a sheet of paper with writing on it lying under the frame. She opened it and read a verse or two written as a tribute to her shoes. It read:
“Pretty shoes, you’ve won the rarest gem for mate, Step by step you must attend her all the way,
Except when lights are out, and silence holds the silken chamber;
Then you’ll be left beneath the ivory couch forgotten.”
The lady read this through, and said to herself: “No hand can write like Cloudlet’s. It grows more and more skilful. The embroidered shoes she makes herself, and the rare gem is me, dear girl. Till now she and I have never been separated. By and by when I marry she speaks of being pushed aside. She loves me truly.” Then she sighed and said: “She would like to share the same home and the same husband. Evidently this is the wish of her heart.”
Fearing to disturb her in her happy dreams Cheung See softly withdrew and went into her mother’s room. There her mother was busy with the servants, overseeing meals for the young master. Jewel said: “Since Master Yang came here to live, you, mother, have had much anxiety on his behalf, seeing to his clothes and his food and the directing of his servants. I am afraid that you are worn out. These are duties that rightly fall to me. Not only should I dislike to do them, however, but there is no precedent or warrant in the law of ceremony for a betrothed girl to serve her master. Cloudlet, however, is experienced in all kinds of work. I should like if you would appoint her to the guest chamber in the park, and have her see to what pertains to Master Yang. It would lessen at least some of your many responsibilities.”
The mother replied: “Cloudlet with her marked ability and her wonderful attractiveness can do anything well, but Cloudlet’s father was our most faithful attendant, and she herself is superior to the ordinary maid. For this reason, your father, who thinks so much of her, desires a special choice of husband and that she may have her own home. Is not this the plan?”
The daughter replied: “Her wish, I find, is to be with me always and never to leave.”
“But when you are married,” said the mother, “she could not go with you as an ordinary servant. Her station and attainments are far superior to that. The only way open to you in accord with ancient rites would be to have her attend as the master’s secondary wife.”
The daughter answered: “Master Yang is now eighteen, a scholar of daring spirit who even ventured into the inner quarters of a minister’s home and made sport of his unmarried daughter. How can you expect such a man to be satisfied with only one wife? Later, when he becomes a minister of state and gets ten thousand bales of rice as salary, how many Cloudlets will he not have to bear him company?”
At this point Justice Cheung came in, and his wife said: “This girl wants Cloudlet to be given to the young master to care for him, but I think otherwise. To appoint a secondary wife before the first marriage takes place is something I am quite opposed to.”
The Justice answered: “Cloudlet is equal to our daughter in ability and also in beauty of face. Their love for each other is so great that they will have to be together always and must never be parted. They are destined for the same home, so to send Cloudlet ahead will really make no difference. Even a young man devoid of love for women, being thus alone, would find but poor companionship in his solitary candle, how much more one so full of life as Yang! To send her at once and have her see that he is well looked after would be very good indeed; and yet to do so before the first ceremony comes off would seem somewhat incongruous. Might it not cause complications for his first wedding? What do you think?”
The daughter replied: “I have a plan, however, by means of which Cloudlet may wipe out the disgrace that I have suffered.”
The Justice asked: “What plan, pray? Come, tell me about it.”
“With the help of my cousin,” said the daughter, “I wish to carry out a little plan that will rid me of my mortification over what he has done to me.”
The Justice laughed unrestrainedly. “That is a plan,” said he.
Among the many nephews of the Justice was one known familiarly as Thirteen, a fine young fellow, with honest heart and clear head, jolly and full of fun. He had become a special friend of the young master and was most intimate with him.
The daughter returned to her own room and said to Cloudlet: “Cloudlet, I have been with you ever since the hair grew on our brows together. We have always loved each other since the days when we fought with flower buds. Now I have had my wedding gifts sent to me, and you too are of a marriageable age. You have no doubt thought of being married. I wonder who you have thought of for a husband?”
Cloudlet replied: “I have been specially loved by you, my dearest mistress, and you have always been partial to me. Never can I repay a thousandth part of what you have done. If I could but hold your dressing mirror for you for ever I should be satisfied.”
“I have always known your faithful heart,” said Jewel, “and now I want to propose something to you. You know that Master Yang made a ninny of me when he played the harp in our inner compound. I am put to confusion by it for ever. Only by you, Cloudlet, can I ever hope to wipe out the disgrace. Now I must tell you; we have a summer pavilion, you know, in a secluded part of South Mountain not far from the capital. Its surroundings and views are beautiful, like a world of the fairies. We could prepare a marriage chamber there, and get my cousin Thirteen to lead Master Yang into the mystery of it. If we do this he will never again attempt a disguise or to deceive anyone with his harp; and I shall have wiped out the memory of those hours that we sat face to face. I am only desirous that you, Cloudlet, will not mind taking your part in it.”
Cloudlet said in reply: “How could I think of crossing your dear wishes, and yet on the other hand how could I ever again dare to look Master Yang in the face?”
The young mistress made answer: “One who has played a joke upon another never feels as bad when put to shame as one who has simply had the joke put upon him.”
Cloudlet laughed and said: “Well then, even though I die I’ll go through with it and do just as you say.”
In spite of Master Yang’s turn in office with the business it involved, he had abundant leisure and many days free. He would then pay visits to friends or have a time of amusement in some summer pavilion or go for jaunts on his donkey to see the willows in bloom. On a certain day his friend Thirteen said to him: “There is a quiet spot in the hills to the south of the city where the view is unsurpassed; let’s go there, brother, you and I, to satisfy our longings for the beautiful.”
Master Yang replied: “Happy thought! That’s just what I should like to do.”
Then they made ready refreshments, dispensed with their servants as far as possible, and went three or four miles into the hills where the green grass clothed the mountain sides and the forest trees bent over the rippling water. The lovely views of hill and valley calmed all thoughts of the dusty world.
Master Yang and Thirteen sat on the bank of the stream and sang songs together, for the time was the opening days of summer. Flowers were all about them in abundance, adding to each other’s beauty. Suddenly a bud came floating down the stream. The master saw it and repeated the lines:
“Spring is dear, fairy buds upon the water
Now appear,
Saying ‘Garden of the fairies, here!’”
“This river comes from Cha-gak Peak,” remarked Thirteen. “I have heard it said that at the time the flowers bloom and when the moon is bright you can hear the music of the fairies among the clouds, but my affinities in the fairy world are all lacking, so that I have never found myself among them. To-day with my honoured brother I would like just once to set foot in the city where they live, see their wing prints, and peep in at the windows on these angel dwellers.”
The young master, being by nature a lover of the wonderful, heard this with delight, saying: “If there are no fairies of course there are none, but if there are, surely they will be here. Let us put our dress in order and go to see if we can find them.”
Just at this moment a servant from Thirteen’s home, all wet with perspiration and panting for breath, came to say: “The master’s lady has been suddenly taken ill and I have come to call you.”
Then Thirteen reluctantly arose and said: “I wanted so much to go with you into the region of the genii and enjoy ourselves, but my wife is ill, and so my chance for meeting the fairies is ended. It is only another proof of what I said, that I have no affinity with fairies.” He then mounted his donkey and rode hurriedly away.
Master Yang was thus left alone. He was not yet satisfied with what he had seen. He followed up the stream into the enclosing hills. The babbling waters were clear and bright and the green peaks encircled him solemnly about. No dust was there here of the common world. His mind was exalted and refreshed by the majesty of it as he stood alone on the bank of the stream or walked slowly on.
Just then there came floating by on the water a leaf of the cinnamon tree with a couplet of verse written on it. He had his serving-boy fish it out and bring it to him. The writing said:
“The fairy’s woolly dog barks from amid the clouds,
For he knows that Master Yang is on the way.”
Greatly astonished, he said: “How could there by any possibility be people living on these mountains, and why should any living person ever write such a thing as this?” So he pushed aside the creeping vines and made his impatient way over rocks and stones.
His boy said to him: “The day is late, sir, and the road precipitous. There is no place ahead at which to put up for the night; please let us go back to the city.”
The master, however, paid no attention but pushed on for another ten or eight li, till the rising moon was seen over the sky-line of the eastern hills. By its light he followed his way through the shadows of the trees and crossed the stream. The frightened birds uttered cries of alarm, and monkeys and other eerie night creatures voiced their fears. The stars seemed to rock back and forth over the wavy tips of the tree-tops, and the dewdrops gathered on all the needles of the pine. He realised that deep night had fallen and that no trace of human habitation was anywhere to be seen. Neither was there any place of shelter. He thought that perhaps a Buddhist temple might be nigh at hand or a nunnery, but there was none. Just at the moment of his deepest bewilderment he suddenly saw a maiden of sixteen or so dressed in fairy green, washing something by the side of the stream.
Being alarmed by the stranger she arose quickly and called out: “My lady, the Master is coming.”
Yang hearing this was beside himself with astonishment. He went on a few steps farther but the way seemed blocked before him, till unexpectedly he saw a small pavilion standing directly by the side of the stream, deeply secluded, hidden away in the recesses of the hills—just such a place as fairies were wont to choose to live in.
A lady dressed in red then appeared in the moonlight, standing alone below a peach tree. She bowed gracefully, saying: “Why has the Master been so long in coming?”
So-yoo in fear and wonder looked carefully at her and saw that the lady was dressed in a red outer coat with a jade hairpin through her hair, an ornamented belt about her waist, and a phoenix-tail fan in her hand. She was beautiful seemingly beyond all human realisation. In deepest reverence he made obeisance, saying: “Your humble servant is only a common dweller of the earth, and never before in all his life had a moonlight meeting like this. Why do you say that I have been late in coming?”
The maiden then ascended the steps of the pavilion and invited him to follow. Awe-struck, he obeyed her, and when they had seated themselves, each on a separate mat, she called to her maid, saying: “The Master has come a long way; I am sure he is hungry; bring tea and refreshments.”
The servant withdrew and in a little while brought in a jewelled table, dishes and cups. Into a blue crystal cup she poured the red wine of the fairies, the taste of which was sweet and refreshing, while the aroma from it filled the room. One glass, and he was alive with exhilaration. Said he: “Even though this mountain is isolated it is under heaven. Why is it that my fairy ladyship has left the Lake of Gems and her companions of the crystal city and come down to dwell in such a humble place as this?”
The fairy gave a long sigh of regret, saying: “If I were to tell you of the past only sorrow would result from it. I am one of the waiting maids of the Western Queen Mother[24] and your lordship is an officer of the Red Palace where God dwells. Once when God had prepared a banquet in honour of the Western Mother, and there were many officers of the genii present, your lordship thoughtlessly singled me out, and tossed me some fruit of the fairies in a playful way. For this you were severely punished and driven through transmigration into this world of woe. I, fortunately, was more lightly dealt with and simply sent into exile, so here I am. Since my lord has found his place among men and has been blinded by the dust of mortality, he has forgotten all about his past existence, but my exile is nearly over and I am to return again to the Lake of Gems. Before going I wanted just once to see you and renew the love of the past, so I asked for an extension of my term, knowing that you would come. I have waited long, however. At last, through much trouble, you have come to me and we can unite again the love that was lost.”
But scarcely had they had a chance to express their love or recall the awakened secrets of the past, when the birds of the mountains began to twitter in the branches of the trees, and the silken blinds to lighten. The fairy said to the Master: “I must not detain you longer. To-day is my appointed time of return to heaven. When the officer of the genii, at the command of God, comes with flags and banners to meet me, if he should find you here we should be accounted guilty. Please make haste and escape. If you are true to your first love we shall have opportunities to meet again.” Then she wrote for him a farewell verse on a piece of silk which ran thus:
“Since we have met, all heaven is filled with flowers,
Now that we part, each bud is fallen to earth again.
The joys of spring are but a passing dream,
Wide waters block the way far as infinity.”
When the Master had read this he was overcome with regret at the thought of their parting, so he tore off a piece of his silken sleeve and wrote a verse which ran:
“The winds of heaven blow through the green stone flute,
Wide-winged the white clouds lift and sail away,
Another night shall mark our gladful meeting,
E’en though wild rains should block our destined way.”
The maiden received it, and said: “The moon has set behind the Tree of Gems; hasten away! On all my flight to heaven I shall have this verse by which to see your face.” So she placed it in the folds of her robe and then urgently pressed him: “The time is passing, Master, please make haste.”
The Master raised his hands, said his regretful good-bye and was gone. He had scarcely passed beyond the shadowed circle of the grove when he looked back, but there was only the green of the mountains that seemed piled one upon the other till they touched the white clouds in companies. He realised then that he had had a dream of the Lake of Gems and thus he came back home.
But his mind was all confused and his heart had lost its joy. He sat alone thinking to himself: “Even though the fairy did tell me that the time had come for her return from exile, how could she tell the very moment, or that it was to-day? If I had only waited a little or hidden myself in some secluded comer and seen the fairies and their meeting, I would have come back home in triumph. Why did I make this fatal blunder and come away so quickly?” So he expressed his regrets over and over as he failed to sleep the night through. With these vain thoughts upon him he greeted the dawn, arose, took his servant, and went once more to where he had met the fairy. The plum blossoms seemed to mock him and the passing stream to babble in confusion. Nothing greeted him but an empty pavilion. All the fragrance of the place had vanished. The Master leaned over the deserted railing, looked up in sadness, and sighed as he gazed at the grey clouds, saying: “Fairy maiden, you have ridden away on yonder cloud and are in audience before Heaven’s high King. Now, however, that the very shadow of the fairy has vanished what’s the use of sighing?”
So he came down from the pavilion. Standing by the peach tree where first he met her he said to himself: “These flowers will know my depths of sorrow.”
When the evening shadows began to lengthen he returned home.
Some days later Thirteen came to Master Yang and said: “The other day on account of my wife’s illness we failed in our outing together. My regret over that disappointment is still with me, and now though the plums and the peaches are past and the long stretch of the willows is in bloom, let us take half a day away, you and I, to see the butterflies dance and hear the orioles sing.”
Master Yang answered: “The green sward with the willows is prettier even than the flowers.”
So the two went together outside the gates of the city across the wide plain to the green wood. They sat upon the grass and made counting points of flowers to reckon up the drinks they had taken. Just above them was an old grave on an elevated ridge. Artemisia weeds grew over it, the fresh sod had fallen away, and there were bunches of spear grass and other green tufts mixed together, while a few weakly-looking flowers strove for life.
Master Yang, awakened from the dejection caused by the wine he had drunk, pointed to the grave, saying: “The good and the good-for-nothing, the honourable and the mean, in a hundred years will all have turned to heaped up mounds of clay. This was the regret of Prince Maing-sang long, long ago. Shall we not drink and be merry while we may?”
Thirteen replied: “Brother, you evidently don’t know whose grave this is. This is the grave of Chang-yo, who died unmarried. Her beauty was the praise and admiration of all the world in which she lived, and so she was called Chang Yo-wha, the Beautiful Flower. She died at the age of about twenty and was buried here. Later generations took pity on her and planted these willows to comfort her sorrowful soul and to mark the place. Supposing we, too, pour out a glass by way of oblation to her lovely spirit?”
The young Master, being by nature kind-hearted, readily said in reply: “Good brother, your words are most becoming.” So they went together to the front of the grave and there poured out the glass of wine. Each likewise wrote a verse to comfort her in her loneliness.
The Master’s words ran thus:
“The beauty of your form o’erturned the State,
Your radiant soul has mounted high to Heaven;
The forest birds have learned the music of your way,
The flowers have donned the silken robes you wore.
Upon your grave the green of springtime rests,
The smoke hangs o’er the long deserted height,
The old songs from the streams that bore you hence,
When shall we hear them sung?”
The scholar Thirteen’s words ran thus:
“I ask where was the beautiful land,
And of whose house were you the joy,
Now all is waste and desolate,
With death and silence everywhere.
The grass takes on the tints of spring,
The fragrance of the past rests with the flowers,
We call the sweet soul but she does not come,
Only the flocks of crows now come and go.”
They read over together what they had written and again poured out an offering. Thirteen then walked round the back of the grave, when unexpectedly in an opening where the sod had fallen away, he found a piece of white silk on which something was written. He read it over, saying: “What busybody, I wonder, wrote this, and placed it on Chang-yo’s grave?”
Master Yang asked for it, and lo! it was the piece he had torn from his sleeve on which was the verse he had written for the fairy. He was astounded at it, and greatly alarmed, saying to himself: “The beautiful woman whom I met the other day is evidently Chang-yo’s spirit.” Perspiration broke out on his back and his hair stood on end. He could scarcely control himself, and then again he tried to dismiss his fears by saying: “Her beauty is so perfect, her love so real. Fairies too have their divinely appointed mates; devils and disembodied spirits have theirs, I suppose. What difference is there, I wonder, between a fairy and a disembodied spirit?”
Thirteen at that moment arose, and while he turned away the Master took advantage of the occasion to pour out another glass of spirit before the grave, saying as a prayer: “Though the living and the dead are separated the one from the other, there is no division in love; I pray that your beautiful spirit will accept of my devotion and condescend to visit me again this night so that we can renew the love that was broken off.”
When he had done so he returned home with his friend Thirteen, and that night he waited all alone in the park pavilion chamber. He leaned upon his pillow and thought with unspeakable longing of the beautiful vision.
The light of the moon shone through the screen and the shadows of the trees crossed the window casements. All was quiet till a faint sound was heard, and later gentle footsteps were audible. The Master opened the door and looked, and there was the fairy whom he had met on Cha-gak Peak. De