ole in the trunk
of the locust-tree already spoken of. Filled with astonishment, but
too much afraid to speak, Ch'un-yue noticed that he was passing by
hills and rivers, trees and roads, but of quite a different kind from
those he was accustomed to. A few miles brought them to the walls
of a city, the approach to which was lined with men and vehicles,
who fell back at once the moment the order was given. Over the gate
of the city was a pavilion on which was written in gold letters "The
Capital of Huai-an." As he passed through, the guard turned out, and
a mounted officer, shouting that the husband of the King's daughter
had arrived, showed him the way into a hall where he was to rest
awhile. The room contained fruits and flowers of every description,
and on the tables was laid out a profuse display of refreshments.

While Ch'un-yue still remained lost in astonishment, a cry was raised
that the Prime Minister was coming. Ch'un-yue got up to meet him,
and the two received each other with every demonstration of politeness.

He marries the King's Daughter

The minister, looking at Ch'un-yue, said: "The King, my master,
has brought you to this remote region in order to give his daughter
in marriage to you." "How could I, a poor useless wretch," replied
Ch'un-yue, "have ever aspired to such honour?" With these words both
proceeded toward the audience-chamber, passing through a hall lined
with soldiers, among whom, to his great joy and surprise, Ch'un-yue
recognized an old friend of his former drinking days, to whom he
did not, however, then venture to speak; and, following the Prime
Minister, he was ushered into the King's presence. The King, a man
of noble bearing and imposing stature, was dressed in plain silk,
a jewelled crown reposing on his head. Ch'un-yue was so awe-stricken
that he was powerless even to look up, and the attendants on either
side were obliged to remind him to make his prostrations. The King,
addressing him, said: "Your father, small as my kingdom is, did not
disdain to promise that you should marry my daughter." Ch'un-yue could
not utter a word; he merely lay prostrate on the ground. After a
few moments he was taken back to his apartments, and he busied his
thoughts in trying to discover what all this meant. "My father,"
he said to himself, "fought on the northern frontier, and was taken
prisoner; but whether his life was saved or not I don't know. It may
be that this affair was settled while he wa