mptuous one who
hath dared to disgrace with her features the hall of delight?"

"That, O emperor," said the wily Suchong Pollyhong Ka-te-tow, "is the
far-famed beauty _Chaoukeun_, whose insolent father dared to say, that
if it was not sent, he would lay his complaint at the celestial feet.
In her province the fame of her beauty was great, and I did not like to
be accused of partiality, so it has been placed before the imperial
eye."

"First, then," exclaimed the emperor, "let it be proclaimed, that the
whole province of Kartou is peopled by fools, and levy upon it a fine of
one hundred thousand ounces of gold, for its want of taste; and next,
let this vain one be committed to perpetual seclusion in the eastern
tower of the imperial palace. Let the other maidens be sent to their
parents, for as yet there is not found a fit bride for the brother of
the sun and moon."

The imperial mandates were obeyed; and thus was the first part of the
prophecy fulfilled, that "the pearl beyond price would be _found_ and
_lost_."

Ti-tum, tilly-lilly, ti-tum, tilly-lilly, ti-tum, ti.

Yes, she was lost, for the resplendent Chaoukeun was shut up to waste
away her peerless beauty in sorrow and in solitude. One small terrace
walk was the only spot permitted her on which to enjoy the breezes of
heaven. Night was looking down in loveliness, with her countless eyes,
upon the injustice and cruelty of men, when the magnificent Youantee,
who had little imagined that the brother of the sun and moon would be
doomed to swallow the bitter pillau of disappointment, as had been
latterly his custom, quitted the palace to walk in the gardens and
commune with his own thoughts, unattended. And it pleased destiny, that
the pearl beyond price, the neglected Chaoukeun also was induced, by the
beauty and stillness of the night, to press the shell sand which covered
the terrace walk, with her diminutive feet, so diminutive, that she
almost tottered in her gait. The tear trembled in her eye as she
thought of her own happy home, and bitterly did she bewail that beauty,
which, instead of raising her to a throne, had by malice and avarice
condemned her to perpetual solitude. She looked upwards at the starry
heaven, but felt no communion with its loveliness. She surveyed the
garden of sweets from the terrace, but all appeared to be desolate. Of
late, her only companions had been her tears and her lute, whose notes
were as plaintive as her own.

"O my