Page:Alien Souls by Achmed Abdullah (1922).djvu/214

night the drift of his mind inclined toward the philosophical, and he read on the fluttering streamers three quotations from the Kung-Yuan Chang.

The first was: "Is virtue a thing remote?" The second: "I wish to be virtuous!" The third: "Lo and behold—virtue is at hand!"

He loved the entrance hall of the house, with the floor completely hidden under a shimmering mass of Kien-Lun brocades that were like moon-beams on running water, and, square in the center, an ancient Ming rug of imperial yellow stamped with black bats as a sign of good luck. These, with the three small tables of ebony and dull-red lacquer supporting an incense burner, an ivory vase for the hot wine, and a squat, earthen pot filled with a profusion of feathery parrot-tulips in exotic shades, and, in the far corner, a huge, fantastic tiger in old crackle-glaze porcelain—all these, made for him a little world in themselves.

He loved the stilted, never-changing ceremonial of Pekinese politeness with which the master of the house—somehow, because of the whirling clouds of poppy smoke that veiled the room, he had never been able to see his features distinctly—greeted him, night after night. He would receive his caller on the threshold, bowing with clasped hands, and saying:

"Please deign to enter first."

Whereat Yung Han-Rai would bow still lower.

"How could I dare to, O wise and older brother?" he would retort, sucking in his breath, and quoting an appropriate line from the Book of Ceremonies and Exterior Demonstrations, which proved that the manner is the heart's mirror.

Then, night after night, after another request by his host, he himself still protesting his unworthiness,