第七十回

第七十回 林黛玉重建桃花社 史湘云偶填柳絮词

话说贾琏自在梨香院伴宿七日夜，天天僧道不断做佛事。贾母唤了他去，吩咐不许送往家庙中。贾琏无法，只得又和时觉说了，就在尤三姐之上点了一个穴，破土埋葬。那日送殡，只不过族中人与王信夫妇、尤氏婆媳而已。凤姐一应不管，只凭他自去办理。

因又年近岁逼，诸务猬集不算外，又有林之孝开了一个人名单子来，共有八个二十五岁的单身小厮应该娶妻成房，等里面有该放的丫头们好求指配。凤姐看了，先来问贾母和王夫人。大家商议，虽有几个应该发配的，奈各人皆有原故：第一个鸳鸯发誓不去。自那日之后，一向未和宝玉说话，也不盛妆浓饰。众人见他志坚，也不好相强。第二个琥珀，又有病，这次不能了。彩云因近日和贾环分崩，也染了无医之症。只有凤姐儿和李纨房中粗使的大丫鬟出去了，其馀年纪未足。令他们外头自娶去了。

原来这一向因凤姐病了，李纨探春料理家务不得闲暇，接着过年过节，出来许多杂事，竟将诗社搁起。如今仲春天气，虽得了工夫，争奈宝玉因冷遁了柳湘莲，剑刎了尤小妹，金逝了尤二姐，气病了柳五儿，连连接接，闲愁胡恨，一重不了一重添。弄得情色若痴，语言常乱，似染怔忡之疾。慌的袭人等又不敢回贾母，只百般逗他顽笑。

这日清晨方醒，只听外间房内咭咭呱呱之笑声不断。袭人因笑说：“你快出去解救，晴雯和麝月两个人按住温都里那膈肢呢。”宝玉听了，忙披上灰鼠袄子出来一瞧，只见他三人被褥尚未叠起，大衣也未穿。那晴雯只穿着葱绿院绸〔一〕[2]小袄，红小衣红睡鞋，披着头发，骑在雄奴身上。麝月是红绫抹胸，披着一身旧衣，在那里抓雄奴的肋肢。雄奴却仰在炕上，穿着撒花紧身儿，红裤绿袜，两脚乱蹬，笑的喘不过气来。宝玉忙上前笑说：“两个大的欺负一个小的，等我助力。”说着，也上床来膈肢晴雯。晴雯触痒，笑的忙丢下雄奴，和宝玉对抓。雄奴趁势又将晴雯按倒，向他肋下抓动。袭人笑说：“仔细冻着了。”看他四人裹在一处倒好笑。

忽有李纨打发碧月来说：“昨儿晚上奶奶在这里把块手帕子忘了，不知可在这里？”小燕说：“有，有，有，我在地下拾了起来，不知是那一位的，才洗了出来晾着，还未干呢。”碧月见他四人乱滚，因笑道：“倒是这里热闹，大清早起就咭咭呱呱的顽到一处。”宝玉笑道：“你们那里人也不少，怎么不顽？”碧月道：“我们奶奶不顽，把两个姨娘和琴姑娘也宾住[3]了。如今琴姑娘又跟了老太太前头去了，更寂寞了。两个姨娘今年过了，到明年冬天都去了，又更寂寞呢。你瞧宝姑娘那里，出去了一个香菱，就冷清了多少，把个云姑娘落了单。”

正说着，只见湘云又打发了翠缕来说：“请二爷快出去瞧好诗。”宝玉听了，忙问：“那里的好诗？”翠缕笑道：“姑娘们都在沁芳亭上，你去了便知。”宝玉听了，忙梳洗了出来，果见黛玉、宝钗、湘云、宝琴、探春都在那里，手里拿着一篇诗看。见他来时，都笑说：“这会子还不起来，咱们的诗社散了一年，也没有人作兴[4]。如今正是初春〔二〕时节，万物更新，正该鼓舞另立起来才好。”湘云笑道：“一起诗社时是秋天，就不应发达。如今恰好万物逢春，皆主生盛。况这首桃花诗又好，就把海棠社改作桃花社。”宝玉听着，点头说：“很好。”且忙着要诗看。众人都又说：“咱们此时就访稻香老农去，大家议定好起的。”说着，一齐起来，都往稻香村来。

宝玉一壁走，一壁看那纸上写着《桃花行》一篇，曰：

桃花帘外东风软，桃花帘内晨妆懒。

帘外桃花帘内人，人与桃花隔不远。

东风有意揭帘栊，花欲窥人帘不卷。

桃花帘外开仍旧，帘中人比桃花瘦。

花解怜人花也愁，隔帘消息风吹透。

风透湘帘花满庭，庭前春色倍伤情。

闲苔院落门空掩，斜日栏杆人自凭。

凭栏人向东风泣，茜裙偷傍桃花立。

桃花桃叶乱纷纷，花绽新红叶凝碧。

雾裹烟封一万株，烘楼照壁红模糊。

天机烧破鸳鸯锦[6]，春酣欲醒移珊枕[7]。

侍女金盆进水来，香泉影蘸胭脂冷[8]。

胭脂鲜艳何相类，花之颜色人之泪；

若将人泪比桃花，泪自长流花自媚。

泪眼观花泪易干，泪干春尽花憔悴。

憔悴花遮憔悴人，花飞人倦易黄昏。

一声杜宇春归尽，寂寞帘栊空月痕！

宝玉看了并不称赞，却滚下泪来。便知出自黛玉，因此落下泪来，又怕众人看见，又忙自己擦了。因问：“你们怎么得来？”宝琴笑道：“你猜是谁作的？”宝玉笑道：“自然是潇湘子稿。”宝琴笑道：“现是我作的呢。”宝玉笑道：“我不信。这声调口气，迥乎不像蘅芜之体，所以不信。”宝钗〔三〕笑道：“所以你不通。难道杜工部首首只作‘丛菊两开他日泪’之句不成！一般的也有‘红绽雨肥梅’‘水荇牵风翠带长’之媚语。[10]”宝玉笑道：“固然如此说。但我知道姐姐断不许妹妹有此伤悼语句，妹妹虽有此才，是断不肯作的。比不得林妹妹曾经离丧，作此哀音。”众人听说，都笑了。

已至稻香村中，将诗与李纨看了，自不必说称赏不已。说起诗社，大家议定：明日乃三月初二日，就起社，便改“海棠社”为“桃花社”，林黛玉就为社主。明日饭后，齐集潇湘馆。因又大家拟题。黛玉便说：“大家就作桃花诗一百韵。”宝钗道：“使不得。从来桃花诗最多，纵作了必落套，比不得你这一首古风。须得再拟。”正说着，人回：“舅太太来了。姑娘出去请安。”因此大家都往前头来见王子腾的夫人，陪着说话。吃饭毕，又陪入园中来，各处游玩一遍。至晚饭后掌灯方去。

次日乃是探春的寿日，元春早打发了两个小太监送了几件玩器。合家皆有寿仪，自不必说。饭后，探春换了礼服，各处去〔四〕行礼。黛玉笑向众人道：“我这一社开的又不巧了，偏忘了这两日是他的生日。虽不摆酒唱戏的，少不得都要陪他在老太太、太太跟前玩笑一日，如何能得闲空儿。”因此改至初五。

这日众姊妹皆在房中侍早膳毕，便有贾政书信到了。宝玉请安，将请贾母的安禀拆开念与贾母听，上面不过是请安的话，说六月中准进京等语。其馀家信事务之帖，自有贾琏和王夫人开读。众人听说六七月回京，都喜之不尽。偏生近日王子腾之女许与保宁侯之子为妻，择于五月初十日过门，凤姐儿又忙着张罗，常三五日不在家。这日王子腾的夫人又来接凤姐儿，一并请众甥男甥女闲乐一日。贾母和王夫人命宝玉、探春、林黛玉、宝钗四人同凤姐去。众人不敢违拗，只得回房去另妆饰了起来。五人作辞，去了一日，掌灯方回。

宝玉进入怡红院，歇了半刻，袭人便乘机见景劝他收一收心，闲时把书理一理预备着。宝玉屈指算一算说：“还早呢。”袭人道：“书是第一件，字是第二件。到那时你纵有了书，你的字写的在那里呢？”宝玉笑道：“我时常也有写了的好些，难道都没收着？”袭人道：“何曾没收着。你昨儿不在家，我就拿出来，共总数了一数，才有五六十篇。这三四年的工夫，难道只有这几张字不成。依我说，从明日起，把别的心全收了起来，天天快临几张字补上。虽不能按日都有，也要大概看得过去。”宝玉听了，忙的自己又亲检了一遍，实在搪塞不去，便说：“明日为始，一天写一百字才好。”说话时大家安息。

至次日起来梳洗了，便在窗下研墨，恭楷临帖。贾母因不见他，只当病了，忙使人来问。宝玉方去请安，便说写字之故，先将早起清晨的工夫尽了出来，再作别的，因此出来迟了。贾母听了，便十分欢喜，吩咐他：“以后只管写字念书，不用出来也使得。你去回你太太知道。”宝玉听说，便往王夫人房中来说明。王夫人便说：“临阵磨枪，也不中用〔五〕。有这会子着急，天天写写念念，有多少完不了的。这一赶，又赶出病来才罢。”宝玉回说不妨事。这里贾母也说怕急出病来。探春宝钗等都笑说：“老太太不用急。书虽替他不得，字却替得的。我们每人每日临一篇给他，搪塞过这一步就完了。一则老爷到家不生气，二则他也急不出病来。”贾母听说，喜之不尽。

原来林黛玉闻得贾政回家，必问宝玉的功课，宝玉肯分心，恐临期吃了亏。因此自己只装作不耐烦，把诗社便不起，也不以外事去勾引他。探春宝钗二人每日也临一篇楷书字与宝玉，宝玉自己每日也加工，或写二百三百不拘。至三月下旬，便将字又集凑出许多来。这日正算，再得五十篇，也就混的过了。谁知紫鹃走来，送了一卷东西与宝玉，拆开看时，却是一色老油竹纸上临的钟王蝇头小楷[13]，字迹且与自己十分相似。喜的宝玉和紫鹃作了一个揖，又亲自来道谢。接着〔六〕，史湘云、宝琴二人亦皆临了几篇相送。凑成虽不足功课，亦足搪塞了。

宝玉放了心，于是将所应读之书，又温理过几遍。正是天天用功，可巧近海一带海啸，又遭踏了几处生民。地方官题本奏闻，奉旨就着贾政顺路查看赈济回来。如此算去，至冬底方回。宝玉听了，便把书字又搁过一边，仍是照旧游荡。

时值暮春之际，史湘云无聊，因见柳花飘舞，便偶成一小令[15]，调寄《如梦令》，其词曰：

岂是绣绒残吐，卷起半帘香雾[16]，纤手自拈来，空使鹃啼燕妒[17]。且住，且住！莫使春光别去。

自己作了，心中得意，便用一条纸儿写好，与宝钗看了，又来找黛玉。黛玉看毕，笑道：“好，也新鲜有趣。我却不能。”湘云笑道：“咱们这几社总没有填词。你明日何不起社填词，改个样儿，岂不新鲜些。”黛玉听了，偶然兴动，便说：“这话说的极是。我如今便请他们去。”说着，一面吩咐预备了几色果点之类，一面就打发人分头去请众人。这里他二人便拟了柳絮之题，又限出几个调来，写了绾在壁上。

众人来看时，以柳絮为题，限各色小调。又都看了史湘云的，称赏了一回。宝玉笑道：“这词上我们倒平常，少不得也要胡诌起来。”于是大家拈阄，宝钗便拈得了《临江仙》，宝琴拈得了《西江月》，探春拈得了《南柯子》，黛玉拈得了《唐多令》，宝玉拈得了《蝶恋花》。紫鹃炷了一支梦甜香，大家思索起来。

一时黛玉有了，写完。接着宝琴宝钗都有了。他三人写完，互相看时，宝钗便笑道：“我先瞧完了你们的，再看我的。”探春笑道：“嗳呀，今儿这香怎么这样快，已剩了三分了。我才有了半首。”因又问宝玉可有了。宝玉虽作了些，只是自己嫌不好，又都抹了，要另作，回头看香，已将烬了。李纨笑道：“这算输了。蕉丫头的半首且写出来。”探春听说，忙写了出来。众人看时，上面却只半首《南柯子》，写道是：

空挂纤纤缕，徒垂络络丝，也难绾系也难羁，一任东西南北各分离。

李纨笑道：“这也却好作，何不续上？”宝玉见香没了，情愿认负，不肯勉强塞责，将笔搁下，来瞧这半首。见没完时，反倒动了兴开了机，乃提笔续道是：

落去君休惜，飞来我自知。莺愁蝶倦晚芳时[18]，纵是明春再见隔年期[19]！

众人笑道：“正经你分内的又不能，这却偏有了。纵然好，也不算得。”说着，看黛玉的《唐多令》：

粉堕百花洲，香残燕子楼[20]。一团团逐对成毬。飘泊亦如人命薄，空缱绻，说风流。 草木也知愁，韶华竟白头！叹今生谁舍谁收？嫁与东风春不管，凭尔去，忍淹留[21]。

众人看了，俱点头感叹，说：“太作悲了，好是固然好的。”因又看宝琴的是《西江月》：

汉苑零星有限，隋堤点缀无穷[22]。三春事业付东风，明月梅花一梦。 几处落红庭院，谁家香雪帘栊[23]？江南江北一般同，偏是离人恨重[24]！

众人都笑说：“到底是他的声调壮。‘几处’‘谁家’两句最妙。”宝钗笑道：“终不免过于丧败。我想，柳絮原是一件轻薄无根〔七〕无绊的东西，然依我的主意，偏要把他说好了，才不落套。所以我诌了一首来，未必合你们的意思。”众人笑道：“不要太谦。我们且赏鉴，自然是好的。”因看这一首《临江仙》道是：

白玉堂前春解舞[26]，东风卷得均匀[27]。

湘云先笑道：“好一个‘东风卷得均匀’！这一句就出人之上了。”又看底下道：

蜂团蝶阵[28]乱纷纷。几曾随逝水，岂必委芳尘。 万缕千丝终不改，任他随聚随分。韶华休笑本无根，好风频借力，送我上青云！

众人拍案叫绝，都说：“果然翻得好气力，自然是这首为尊。缠绵悲戚，让潇湘妃子；情致妩媚，却是枕霞；小薛与蕉客今日落第，要受罚的。”宝琴笑道：“我们自然受罚，但不知付白卷子的又怎么罚？”李纨道：“不要忙，这定要重重罚他。下次为例。”

一语未了，只听窗外竹子上一声响，恰似窗屉子倒了一般，众人唬了一跳。丫鬟们出去瞧时，帘外丫鬟嚷道：“一个大蝴蝶风筝挂在竹梢上了。”众丫鬟笑道：“好一个齐整风筝！不知是谁家放断了绳，拿下他来。”宝玉等听了，也都出来看时，宝玉笑道：“我认得这风筝。这是大老爷那院里娇红〔八〕姑娘放的，拿下来给他送过去罢。”紫鹃笑道：“难道天下没有一样的风筝，单他有这个不成？我不管，我且拿起来。”探春道：“紫鹃也学小气了。你们一般的也有，这会子拾人走了的，也不怕忌讳。”黛玉笑道：“可是呢，知道是谁放晦气[30]的，快掉出去罢。把咱们的拿出来，咱们也放晦气。”紫鹃听了，赶忙命小丫头们将这风筝送出与园门上值日的婆子去了，倘有人来找，好与他们去的。

这里小丫头们听见放风筝，巴不得一声儿，七手八脚都忙着拿出个美人风筝来。也有搬高凳去的，也有捆剪子股的，也有拨[31]的。宝钗等都立在院门前，命丫头们在院外敞地下放去。宝琴笑道：“你这个不大好看，不如三姐姐的那一个软翅子大凤凰好。”宝钗笑道：“果然。”因回头向翠墨笑道：“你把你们的拿来也放放。”翠墨笑嘻嘻的果然也取去了。

宝玉又兴头起来，也打发个小丫头子家去，说：“把昨儿赖大娘送我的那个大鱼取来。”小丫头子去了半天，空手回来，笑道：“晴姑娘昨儿放走了。”宝玉道：“我还没放一遭儿呢。”探春笑道：“横竖是给你放晦气罢了。”宝玉道：“也罢。再把那个大螃蟹拿来罢。”丫头去了，同了几个人扛了一个美人并子来，说道：“袭姑娘说，昨儿把螃蟹给了三爷了。这一个是林大娘才送来的，放这一个罢。”宝玉细看了一回，只见这美人做的十分精致。心中欢喜，便叫放起来。

此时探春的也取了来，翠墨带着几个小丫头子们在那边山坡上已放了起来。宝琴也命人将自己的一个大红蝙蝠也取来。宝钗也高兴，也取了一个来，却是一连七个大雁的，都放起来。独有宝玉的美人放不起来。宝玉说丫头们不会放，自己放了半天，只起房高便落下来了。急的宝玉头上出汗，众人又笑。宝玉恨的掷在地下，指着风筝道：“若不是个美人，我一顿脚跺个稀烂。”黛玉笑道：“那是顶线不好，拿出去另使人打了顶线就好了。”宝玉一面使人拿去打顶线，一面又取一个来放。大家都仰面而看，天上这几个风筝都起在半空中去了。

一时丫鬟们又拿了许多各式各样的送饭的[32]来，顽了一回。紫鹃笑道：“这一回的劲大，姑娘来放罢。”黛玉听说，用手帕垫着手，顿[33]了一顿，果然风紧力大，接过子来，随着风筝的势将子一松，只听一阵豁剌剌响，登时子线尽。黛玉因让众人来放〔九〕。众人都笑道：“各人都有，你先请罢。”黛玉笑道：“这一放虽有趣，只是不忍。”李纨道：“放风筝图的是这一乐，所以又说放晦气，你更该多放些，把你这病根儿都带了去就好了。”紫鹃笑道：“我们姑娘越发小气了。那一年不放几个子，今儿忽然又心疼了。姑娘不放，等我放。”说着便向雪雁手中接过一把西洋小银剪子来，齐子根下寸丝不留，咯登一声铰断，笑道：“这一去把病根儿可都带了去了。”那风筝飘飘摇摇，只管往后退了去，一时只有鸡蛋大小，展眼只剩了一点黑星，再展眼便不见了。

众人皆仰面睃眼说：“有趣，有趣。”宝玉道：“可惜不知落在那里去了。若落在有人烟处，被小孩子得了还好；若落在荒郊野外无人烟处，我替他寂寞。想起来把我这个放去，教他两个作伴儿罢。”于是也用剪子剪断，照先放去。探春正要剪自己的凤凰，见天上也有一个凤凰，因道：“这也不知是谁家的。”众人皆笑说：“且别剪你的，看他倒像要来绞的样儿。”说着，只见那凤凰渐逼近来，遂与这凤凰绞在一处。众人方要往下收线，那一家也要收线，正不开交，又见一个门扇大的玲珑喜字带响鞭，在半天如钟鸣一般，也逼近来。众人笑道：“这一个也来绞了。且别收，让他三个绞在一处倒有趣呢。”说着，那喜字果然与这两个凤凰绞在一处。三下齐收乱顿，谁知线都断了，那三个风筝飘飘摇摇都去了。

众人拍手哄然一笑，说：“倒有趣，可不知那喜字是谁家的，忒促狭了些。”黛玉说：“我的风筝也放去了，我也乏了，我也要歇歇去了。”宝钗说：“且等我们放了去，大家好散。”说着，看姊妹们〔一〇〕都放去了，大家方散。黛玉回房歪着养乏。要知端的，下回便见。

〔一〕 “院绸”，原作“苑绸”，从甲辰本改。

[2] 院绸——濮院绸之略称。濮院，位于今浙江省嘉兴市西南，盛产素绸、花绸等。

[3] 宾住——拘束住的意思。

[4] 作兴——作，读zuó，音昨。意为发动、兴办。

〔二〕 “正是初春”，原系“正时初春”点改，各本均作“正是初春”，从。又，上文谓“如今仲春天气”，此处又曰“正是初春”，下文又有“明日乃三月初二日”语，已是暮春三月了，时序混乱，因无别本可据，仍之。

[6] 天机烧破鸳鸯锦——即烧破天机鸳鸯锦。这里是形容盛开的桃花犹如天上的纹锦烧成碎片落到了人间一样。天机：传说中天上仙女用的织机。烧：极喻其红。

[7] 珊枕——珊瑚枕。

[8] 香泉影蘸胭脂冷——面容的倒影蘸在清冷的泉水中。胭脂：代指少女的面容。

〔三〕 “宝钗”，原作“宝玉”，点改为“宝琴”。从己卯、蒙府、俄藏、戚序本改。

[10] 难道杜工部……之媚语——杜工部，即杜甫。“丛菊两开他日泪”句，见杜甫《秋兴》八首之一。这首诗写秋日凋伤萧森的气象，格调深沉。“红绽雨肥梅”句见《陪郑广文游何将军山林》十首之五；“水荇牵风翠带长”见《曲江对雨》。这里薛宝钗是说杜诗风格沉郁，但非首首如此，也有清灵明媚的句子。

〔四〕 “去”，底本无，从俄藏本补。

〔五〕 “不中用”，原无“不”字，从梦稿、戚序、甲辰本补。

[13] 钟王蝇头小楷——钟王：指三国时魏的钟繇和晋代的王羲之，都是大书法家，被历代推尊为楷、行书法之祖。蝇头：比喻小字。

〔六〕 “接着”，底本无“接”字，“着”字点去。从甲辰本补。

[15] 小令——词中体制短小的称“小令”，同“中调”、“长调”相对而言。一般五十八字以内为小令，五十九至九十字为中调，九十字以上为长调。下文的《如梦令》、《临江仙》等都是词牌的名称。词调即填词用的曲调，最初一般据词的内容而定，后来则不一定与内容有关联，各个调名只作为字数、音韵和结构的定式。

[16] “岂是”二句——暗喻柳絮。绣绒残吐：指吐绒，喻柳絮。香雾：亦喻柳絮。

[17] “纤手”二句——意谓纤手虽然拈得柳絮，却无法留住春光，空惹得鹃啼燕妒。

[18] 晚芳时——指暮春时节。

[19] “纵是”句——意谓纵然明春还可再见，但须相隔一年。期：约；相会。

[20] “粉堕”二句——用“粉堕”、“香残”暗点柳絮飘落的晚春季节，借西施和关盼盼的故事表现作者林黛玉的孤寂悲愁情绪。粉堕、香残：指残花零落，暗喻女子的衰老死亡。百花洲：这里指姑苏城（今苏州市）内的百花洲。据明代王鏊撰《姑苏志》载：“百花洲在西城下胥、盘二门之间。”传说吴王夫差常携西施泛舟游乐于此。明代高启《百花洲》诗有“吴王在时百花开，画船载乐洲边来；吴王去后百花落，歌吹无闻洲寂寞”之句。燕子楼：故址在今江苏徐州市西北。唐太宗贞观年间，尚书张愔的爱妓关盼盼居住其中，愔死后，盼盼念旧情不嫁，居此楼十馀年。见唐代白居易《燕子楼三首并序》。

[21] “嫁与”三句——意谓东风吹落了柳絮，春天竟不闻不问，任凭你随风飘荡，忍心看着你在外久留！嫁与东风：被东风吹落的意思。唐代李贺《南园》诗：“可怜日暮嫣香落，嫁与春风不用媒。”淹留：久留。

[22] “汉苑”二句——这里汉苑、隋堤皆暗寓“柳”字。汉苑：指汉代的皇家宫苑，其中的长杨宫等处多植柳树，但规模远不及隋堤。隋堤：参阅第五十一回《广陵怀古》注。

[23] 香雪帘栊——指沾满柳絮的门窗帘幕。香雪：喻柳絮。

[24] 离人恨重——意谓飘零的柳絮犹如漂泊的游人，深怀离愁别恨。宋代苏轼《水龙吟·次韵章质夫杨花词》：“细看来，不是杨花，点点是离人泪。”

〔七〕 “轻薄无根”，原无“轻薄”二字，从各本补。

[26] 春解舞——意谓春风吹得柳絮飞飏飘舞。

[27] 均匀——指舞姿优美，匀称有度。

[28] 蜂团蝶阵——比喻柳絮纷飞繁乱。

〔八〕 “娇红”，底本、己卯本同。馀各本均作“嫣红”。

[30] 放晦气——民间习俗，让不吉利的坏运气随着剪断线的风筝飞走，叫“放晦气”。

[31] （yuè月）子——亦作（yuè月）子，缠丝、纱、线等用的工具，这里是指放风筝用的线车子，也叫绕（读作yào耀）子。

[32] 送饭的——放风筝的一种附加物，俗呼为“送饭的”。风筝放到空中以后，将它挂在线上，随风鼓起，沿线而上，有的上面系有爆竹在空中鸣响，有的则附有各种绚丽的彩饰。

[33] 顿——意为轻而猛地拉动。

〔九〕 “众人来放”，原无，从己卯、梦稿、蒙府、戚序本补。

〔一〇〕 “们”，底本作“看姊妹”，旁添“他”字，作“看他姊妹”。从俄藏本补。

CHAPTER 70. Lin Dai-yu resuscitates the Poetry Club And Shi Xiang-yun tries her band at a song lyric

Each of the seven nights following Er-jie’s death were spent by Jia Lian on his own in Pear-tree Court. Throughout the whole of the seven-day period he had Buddhist monks and Taoist priests chanting and praying outside for her soul’s repose.

At the conclusion of the last chapter we mentioned the unexpected summons which he received towards the end of this period from Grandmother Jia. It turned out to be for the sole purpose of refusing him permission to convey Er-jie’s body to the family temple outside the city. This was a heavy blow, but one to which he could not but submit. He had to talk to the proprietor of the ground in which San-jie was buried and have another grave opened for Er-jie above her sister’s. Apart from a few Jia males and You-shi and her daughter-in-law, the only other mourners on the day they buried her were Xi-feng’s kinsman Wang Xin and his wife. Xi-feng herself would have nothing to do with the funeral and left Jia Lian to manage everything by himself.

The New Year was now approaching. Among the multitudinous duties that had now to be attended to was the necessity of finding suitable wives from among the maidservants for those of the menservants who had reached the marriageable age of twenty-five. Xi-feng consulted Grandmother Jia and Lady Wang on this subject and a lengthy discussion of it ensued. Several maids were of an age to marry, but for one reason or another had to be exempted. The first of these was Faithful, who had taken a vow to remain single all her life. Ever since the day on which she took this vow she had refused even to speak to Bao-yu and had taken to using make-up only sparingly, dispensing altogether with jewellery, and wearing only the very soberest clothes. The others respected her determination and did not press her to abandon it. Amber had to be exempted because she was ill. Sunset, too, since her break-up with Jia Huan, had developed an illness that seemed incurable and had to be exempted for the same reason. There remained only a few of the older maids-of-all-work from Xi-feng’s and Li Wan’s apartments. The other maids were all too young. It was decided to allow the young menservants to seek their brides outside.

Xi-feng’s illness, necessitating their standing in for her as household managers, had for many months deprived Li Wan and Tan-chun of their leisure. That, and the multifarious duties attendant on the New Year festival, had resulted in the indefinite postponement of the Poetry Club. Now spring had come and at last there was time for a meeting. But now it was Bao-yu’s condition that prevented them. Liu Xiang-lian’s conversion and subsequent disappearance, San-jie’s suicide, Er-jie’s hounding to death by Xi-feng, the grave deterioration in Fivey’s health caused by the hardships of her night’s imprisonment – all these shocks and distresses following hard upon one another had eventually reduced him to a state of mental collapse. He was beginning to look and act like a halfwit and his speech was frequently disordered and nonsensical. Aroma and the other maids were frightened out of their wits. They dared not tell Grandmother Jia about it; instead they did what they could to distract him by amusing him and making him laugh.

Early one morning he woke up to the sound of laughter, peals upon peals of it from the neighbouring room. Aroma smiled at him when she saw that he was awake.

‘It’s Aventurin,’ she said, giving Parfumée the name that Bao-yu had insisted on. ‘You’d better go and rescue her. She’s got Skybright and Musk holding her down and tickling her.’

Bao-yu slioped on his squirrel-lined gown and went into the outer room to look. The three girls were on the kang, their bedding still not folded and none of them yet dressed. Sky-bright, wearing only a tunic of leek-green Hangchow silk and a pair of red silk drawers and with her hair hanging loose over her shoulders, knelt above Parfumée’s body, straddling her as if riding a horse; Musk, wearing little but a red breast-binder and an old gown that she had wrapped round herself like a cloak, was tickling Parfumée under the armpits; Parfumée herself, in flower-patterned shirt, red trousers and green stockings, lay on her back drumming her heels on the kang and laughing so much that she seemed in some danger of asphyxiation.

‘Two big ones against one little one,’ said Bao-yu, laughing.‘I shall have to see about that!’

He got on the kang and began tickling Skybright. Skybright, being very ticklish, at once began shrieking and let go of Parfumée in order to tickle him back, which gave Parfumée the opportunity of getting on top of har and holding her down. Aroma stood watching these antics with amusement.

‘Why don’t you get dressed, all of you?’ she said. ‘It won’t be so funny if you catch cold.’

At that moment Casta came in.

‘Mrs Zhu thinks she left a handkerchief here last night. Have any of you seen it, please?’

‘Yes,’ said Swallow. ‘I picked it up off the floor, but I didn’t know whose it was. I’ve only just washed it and hung it out to dry. I’m afraid it won’t be dry yet.’

Casta was greatly amused by the four figures struggling on the kang.

‘You’re certainly a lively lot here, larking about like this so early in the morning!’

Bao-yu disengaged himself to talk.

‘Don’t you lot ever play, then? There are enough of you.’

‘Mrs Zhu isn’t much of a one for playing,’ said Casta, ‘and she keeps a pretty tight rein on the others – Miss Qin and the two Miss Lis. It’s very quiet there now that Miss Qin is sleeping over at Her Old Ladyship’s again. It will be quieter still next winter when the two Miss Lis go back to their own home. Look how quiet it’s become at Miss Bao’s place since Caltrop went back to Mr Pan. It’s as though several people had left. Poor Miss Shi is quite lost without her!’

By coincidence it was Xiang-yun’s maid Kingfisher who walked in just at that moment. She had a message for Bao-yu.

‘Miss Shi says come quickly, Master Bao. They’ve, got a very good poem for you to look at.’

‘Who have?’ said Bao-yu. ‘What sort of poem?’

‘The young ladies. They’re all together in the Drenched Blossoms Pavilion. You’ll see when you get there.’

Bao-yu rushed through his toilet and hurried outside to join them. He found Dai-yu, Bao-chai, Xiang-yun, Bao-qin and Tan-chun clustered round the sheet of paper on which the poem was written.

‘Have you only just got up?’ the girls jeered when they saw him coming. ‘We’ve all been up for hours!’

‘It’s more than a year now since our Poetry Club met,’ said one of them, ‘yet in all that time no one seems to have felt the urge to get it going again. Springtime, when everything in nature is renewing itself, seems an appropriate time for reestablishing it.’

‘Yes,’ said Xiang-yun. ‘We founded it in the autumn, which is a time of decay. Perhaps that’s why it didn’t thrive. If we re-establish it now, when everything is burgeoning, it is bound to flourish! And this “Flower of the Peach” is such a splendid poem: I think we ought to rename our club “The Peach-flower Club“. What do the rest of you think?’

‘I think it’s an excellent idea,’ said Bao-yu. ‘May I see the poem?’

‘Let’s all go and see Farmer Sweetrice and discuss this business of reviving the Poetry Club with her,’ said the others.

They got up in a body and began to go, Bao-yu reading the poem as he went.

The Flower of the Peach

Peach pink the tender flowers outside the window blow; Peach pink on sleepy face the morning colours glow. Tree-flowers outside the room and lady-flower inside: Only a few short steps the flowery forms divide. Slyly the conspiring wind tugs at the blind below: Tree-flowers would peep inside if they could do so.

Outside the window tree-flowers are blooming still; Inside the window lady-flower looks ill. If the flowers could understand, surely they would grieve? The anxious wind flaps the blind against the window-sill.

The anxious wind flaps the blind; spring crowns the courtyard trees; Spring sights fill the lady’s eyes, but bring her heart no ease. In her closed, untrodden court the moss grows green on the stones: She leans there at the sunset hour, in the soft evening breeze.

In the soft breeze the lady’s face is wet with many a tear. Her silken peach-skirt billows out, the peach-trees to be near. The peach-flowers and the peach-leaves nod in a rich array: The leaves, against the peach-pink, dark emerald appear. A thousand trees, ten thousand trees, crowding close together, Walls and buildings everywhere in a red mist smother.

Heaven’s new bed-spread is burning on the dawn loom of the skies: It’s time now for sleeping lady-flower from dreams of spring to rise. Her maid comes in with a golden bowl as she leaves her coral bed, And the peach-pink stain from her sleepy face the chilly water dyes.

If with the water’s rosy hue comparison be made, Carmine tears and dewy flowers seem of the self-same shade. Yet lady’s tears and flowers in this unalike I find, That the flowers are still and smiling, but the tears flow unallayed. As she gazes on the smiling flowers, her tears at last grow dry; But as they dry, the springtime ends and the flowers fade.

The flowers fade, and an equal blight the lady’s fair cheek palls. The petals drift; she is weary; and soon the darkness falls. A nightingale is singing a dirge for the death of spring, And moonlight steals through the casement and dapples the silent walls.

Bao-yu uttered no word of praise when he had finished reading it, he simply went on staring stupidly at the paper. He wanted to cry, but was ashamed that the girls should see his tears and brushed them away with a hurried movement of his hand.

‘How did you get hold of this poem?’ he asked them.

‘First guess who wrote it,’ said Bao-qin mischievously.

‘River Queen,’ said Bao-yu. ‘Who else?’

‘Really?’ said Bao-qin. ‘Well, as a matter of fact, I did.’

‘I don’t believe you,’ said Bao-yu, smiling back at her. “The tone of voice is entirely different from yours.’

“That just shows how little you know about poetry,’ said Bao-qin. ‘Not all of Du Fu’s poems have the complexity of “Autumn Thoughts“. He is equally capable of lines like

Rain-fattened plum-buds crimson splashed,

or

The wind’s green duckweed-trails on the water bright.’

‘That’s as may be,’ said Bao-yu, ‘but I don’t believe Cousin Chai would allow you to write such melancholy verses. And in any case, though I am sure you have the talent to write verses like this if you wanted to, I don’t believe you would want to. Cousin Lin writes like this because she has had actual experience of grief.’

The girls all laughed.

They had now reached Sweet-rice Village. Li Wan was shown the poem and – it goes without saying – was full of praise. After some discussion it was decided unanimously that the first meeting of the revived Poetry Club should be held the very next day, which as it happened, would be the second of the third month. The club was to be renamed ‘The Peach-flower Club’ and Dai-yu was to be its president.

Next day, as soon as lunch was over, everyone met in the Naiad’s House and began discussing the question of a subject. Dai-yu proposed that each of them should compose a hundred couplets on ‘Peach-blossom’.

‘Don’t be ridiculous!’ said Bao-chai. ‘Even if we succeeded in writing so many, there have been such a lot of poems written on this subject in the past that we should be sure to find ourselves repeating what has been said before; and we couldn’t in any case do anything to equal your “Flower of the Peach“. Think of something else.’

But just at that moment a servant came in from outside and summoned them away.

‘The elder Lady Wang is here. Will you all come over to pay her your respects, please.’

So off they trooped to talk to Wang Zi-teng’s wife. They had to stay and have dinner with her and after that show her over the garden. It was lighting-up time before she went.

Next day was Tan-chun’s birthday. Yuan-chun had sent two little eunuchs well in advance of the date with her presents (various ornaments for Tan-chun’s room). There were presents from all the other members of the family as well, of course, but we will spare the reader a list. After lunch Tan-chun had to change into her most formal clothes and go around all the apartments making her kotows.

‘My poetry club seems to have got off to rather a bad start,’ said Dai-yu ruefully. ‘I’d forgotten about her birthday. Today and tomorrow will be completely taken up with it. Even though there will be no formal birthday with players and so forth, we are sure to have to spend all day in the front with Grandmother and Aunt Wang. There’s sure not to be any time left for a meeting.’

She postponed the meeting until the fifth.

On the morning of the fifth, after lunch, while the girls stood talking with Grandmother Jia, letters from Jia Zheng arrived. Bao-yu brought them with him when he came to make his regular morning call. He opened the one addressed to his grandmother and read it out to her. Most of it was taken up with greetings and inquiries about her health, but there was also something about returning to the capital some time in the sixth month. There were other letters in the same packet dealing with personal or domestic matters which were opened and read by Jia Lian and Lady Wang. Everyone was of course delighted to hear that he was coming back so soon.

But once again the Poetry Club was fated to be unlucky. Not long before this date the betrothal had been announced of Wang Zi-teng’s daughter to the Marquis of Bao-ning’s son (the wedding to be in the fifth month) and Xi-feng had lately taken to spending three or four days in a row at the Wang residence, helping her aunt with the entertaining occasioned by this important event. As ill luck would have it, when Wang Zi-teng’s lady called to collect Xi-feng on the fifth, she insisted that all her other nephews and nieces should come too and spend the day ‘enjoying themselves’ at her place. Grandmother Jia and Lady Wang decreed that Bao-yu, Tan-chun, Dai-yu and Bao-chai should go as a representative selection. It was out of the question to object that they had better things to do; the four of them had to go back to their own rooms and change into their most formal clothes before accompanying Wang Xi-feng and their aunt to the Wang family residence. It was lighting-up time before they returned.

As soon as he got back to Green Delights, Bao-yu threw himself down to rest. Aroma seized the opportunity to offer him a little serious advice. He really must try and pull himself together, she said, and apply himself whenever possible to his books, so as to be ready for his father’s return. Bao-yu did some rapid calculations on his fingers.

‘It’s a bit early for that yet,’ he said.

‘It isn’t only the books,’ said Aroma. ‘Your calligraphy is even more important. Even if you can get by on the books, what are you going to show him when he asks to see your calligraphy?’

Bao-yu smiled unconcernedly.

‘I’m always doing calligraphy. There must be masses of it. Surely you keep it for me, don’t you?’

‘Certainly we keep it for you,’ said Aroma. ‘I got it out to have a look at only yesterday, while you were away. Five hundred and sixty sheets: for all the years since you first started, that’s all you’ve got to show. If you ask me, I think that from tomorrow onwards you ought to concentrate all your energies on copying. If you could copy two or three sheets of calligraphy a day, then by the time he gets back, even though you won’t be able to show him a sheet for every day, you should have enough to get by with.’

Bao-yu heard her with some alarm. He had a look at the collected sheets himself. It was true. There simply wasn’t enough there to convince anyone that he had been practising calligraphy every day.

‘All right,’ he said. ‘Beginning from tomorrow, I’ll write a hundred characters every morning.’

He was still discussing this when they went to bed.

Next morning, as soon as he had washed and combed his hair, he sat down at the window and began painstakingly copying kai-shu characters out of a sample-book. Grandmother Jia thought he must be ill when he did not appear with the others for his duty-call, and sent someone over to inquire. Bao-yu returned with the messenger to wish her good morning and explain.

‘I’ve been practising calligraphy,’ he told her. ‘That’s what’s made me late.’

Grandmother Jia was delighted.

‘Keep it up, my boy! When you are studying or practising your calligraphy, it doesn’t matter if you don’t come here at all. You may tell your mother I said so.’

Bao-yu went round to Lady Wang’s apartment to do so. His mother was unimpressed.

‘It’s too late to begin sharpening your weapons on the field of battle,’ she said. ‘Getting in a panic now will do you no good. Even if you work all day and all night, you won’t be able to make up for all the time you have wasted. More likely all you will succeed in doing is making yourself ill.’

‘I’ll be all right,’ said Bao-yu.

Bao-chai and Tan-chun, who happened to be present, reassured her.

‘We can’t memorize his texts for him,’ they said, ‘but we could at least help him out with his calligraphy. If each of us copied a sheet of characters for him every day to add to what he has done himself, he ought to have enough calligraphy to get by with. That’s one hurdle at least he’d be over. It would save Sir Zheng from getting angry and Bao-yu from making himself ill.’

Lady Wang smiled and nodded.

When Dai-yu heard that Jia Zheng was coming home, she knew that he would be sure to ask Bao-yu about his lessons and that anything which distracted him from them would be merely adding to his troubles. Because of this she deliberately made no more mention of the Poetry Club, and in order that he should not suspect her real reason for dropping it, pretended that she was beginning to find the whole thing rather a bore.

Tan-chun and Bao-chai each produced a sheet of characters a day to add to his collection, and Bao-yu himself, by doubling the time he spent on calligraphy, managed to produce two hundred or sometimes as much as three hundred characters a day. By the end of the third month he had already added considerably to his stock of sheets.

One day towards the end of the month he was going over this stock and had just estimated that fifty or sixty more sheets would probably be enough, when Nightingale arrived with a roll of something from Dai-yu. On opening it out he found it to consist of several sheets, all of the same dark-yellow bamboo paper, covered with tiny ‘fly’s-head’ kai-shu characters which she had copied, in a hand very similar to his own, from sample-books of Zhong Yu’s and Wang Xi-zhi’s calligraphy. Bao-yu was so pleased that he clasped his hands and made Nightingale a bow before hurrying over to thank her mistress in person.

Shortly after that he received some more sheets of calligraphy that Xiang-yun and Bao-qin had been copying for him. Now, when he put the whole lot together, he found that, though there was nothing like a sheet a day for every day since he first started, there was already a sufficient quantity to get by with. This was a great relief. He could now forget about calligraphy for the time being and concentrate on revision. His aim was to go three or four times over each of the texts.

While he was still busily engaged in this revision, a tidal wave hit a certain part of the coast, causing damage and loss of life in a number of neighbouring communities. After reading the reports sent in by the local authorities, the Emperor issued a Rescript commanding Jia Zheng to visit the area on his way back in order to supervise relief. It now seemed unlikely that he would be able to reach home before the end of the seventh month. When he heard this, Bao-yu threw aside his books and reverted to the drifting, aimless way of life that was customary with him.

Spring was now almost over. Xiang-yun, feeling rather bored, had been watching the drifting willow-floss and amusing herself by composing a little poem about it. It was a song-lyric, in the form of a Ru-meng-ling’.

‘Not chewed-off ends of the sky’s embroidery? ‘What are they?’ – ‘Raise the blind a bit and see.’ ‘A white hand snatches some and draws it in, Pursued by the swallows’ chiding din. Oh stay, oh stay! The lovely spring drifts after you away.

Xiang-yun was rather pleased with her little poem and wrote it out on a slip of paper to show Bao-chai. After that she went to look for Dai-yu and showed it to her. Dai-yu read it and smiled.

‘It’s good. Both charming and original.’

‘We’ve never done song-lyrics at any of our poetry meetings,’ said Xiang-yun. ‘Why don’t you call a meeting for tomorrow and we’ll all do some? It would make a nice change.’

Dai-yu was becoming infected by Xiang-yun’s enthusiasm.

‘It’s a good idea,’ she said. ‘I will.’

‘It’s a lovely day today,’ said Xiang-yun. ‘Why not have the meeting today?’

‘I don’t see why not,’ said Dai-yu.

She told the servants to prepare some suitably dainty things to eat, while a couple of them went off to summon the other cousins to the meeting. Meanwhile Dai-yu and Xiang-yun agreed that ‘Willow Floss’ should be the subject of the poems and decided on the stanza-patterns that they should conform to. All this was written down on a sheet of paper which was pasted up on the wall. When the cousins arrived, they first of all read the notice on the wall and then read Xiang-yun’s poem. Some little time after that was devoted to praising it.

‘I’m not much good at song-lyrics,’ said Bao-yu, ‘but I suppose I had better do what I can.’

Everyone drew lots then to see which stanza-forms they were to use. Bao-chai lit a stick of Sweet Dreams incense, and then everyone settled down to think. Dai-yu was the first to have something ready and write it down. Just as she had finished, Bao-qin began hurriedly writing hers.

‘I’ve thought of mine,’ said Bao-chai, ‘but I’d like to look at yours first before I show it to you.’

Tan-chun laughed.

‘Why does the incense seem to be burning so quickly today? I’ve only done the first half of mine.’ She turned to Bao-yu. ‘How about you? Have you done yours yet?’

Bao-yu had in fact written a few lines of one, but, feeling dissatisfied with what he had written, had crossed it all out and begun again, by which time the incense had almost burned itself out.

‘Bao-yu’s failed to make the grade as usual,’ said Li Wan, laughing. ‘But what about Miss Plantain?’

Tan-chun promptly began to write down what she had composed. The others read the words as she wrote them. It was the first half of a Nan-ge-zi lyric.

Once in the air you start, The creatures of the wind, the breezes’ sport, Not to be bound or held back by any art, To north and south and east and west You drift apart.

‘Very good,’ said Li Wan. ‘But why don’t you finish it?’

Bao-yu had been willing to concede defeat. When he saw that the incense was running out, he could see no point in writing an indifferent conclusion just for the sake of finishing, and so he had laid down his brush and occupied himself instead in reading what Tan-chun had written. As he did so, he had a sudden inspiration, and picking up his brush again, quickly scribbled out a second half for it:

Your drifting fate not fear: I understand the message that you bear. Though orioles mourn and the flowers’ end seems near, Spring will return, but I must wait Another year.

The girls were amused.

‘You’re a funny fellow. You can’t do your own, yet you can do someone else’s without any trouble. It’s very good, but unfortunately it doesn’t count.’

They had a look at Dai-yu’s poem then. It was a Tang-duoling.

The pollen is spent in the Island of Flowers; From the House of the Swallow the perfume has fled. The fluff-balls dance, Pursue, embrace, Their floating lives, as our lives, quickly sped, That, craving Beauty, Find it dead.

The creatures of nature, they too know our sorrow, Their beauty, like ours, must soon end in decay. Our fate, like theirs, Uncertain hangs, Wed to the wind, our bridegroom of a day, Who cares not if we Go or stay.

The others admired it, but with reservation.

‘Pity it’s so gloomy,’ they said. ‘Still, there’s no denying, it is very good.’

Then they had a look at Bao-qin’s. She had written a Xi-jiang-yue:

In the Han palace gardens a scatter thin and slight, But along the Sui embankment in legions falling: Spring’s three-month handiwork before the wind in flight, A day-dream of pear-blossom on a moonlit night.

In many a courtyard petals fall through the air, And the floss collects like fragrant snow on the casements: In North and South the same sight is seen now everywhere, But for the sad exile most hard to bear.

‘A more virile type of melancholy,’ said the others, laughing. ‘Very typical! That “In many a courtyard…” couplet is good.’

‘I don’t agree,’ said Bao-chai. ‘I think it suffers from the same pessimism as Cousin Dai’s. Willow floss is a light and airy thing. It seems to me that the best way to avoid the clichés that this subject invites is to give it a light and airy treatment. That is the principle on which I have tried to compose my poem; but you may not think I have succeeded.’

‘Don’t be so modest!’ said the others. ‘It’s sure to be good. Come on, hand it over! Permit us to admire!’

It was a Lin-jiang-xian that she had written.

In mazy dances over the marble forecourt, Wind-whorled, into trim fluff-balls forming –

‘Bravo!’ said Xiang-yun. ‘“Wind-whorled, into trim fluff-balls forming”: that line is better than anything the rest of us have written.’

They read on.

Like fluttering moths or silent white bees swarming: Not for us a tomb in the running waters, Or the earth’s embalming.

The filaments whence we are formed remain unchanging, No matter what separates or unifies. Do not, earth-child, our rootlessness despise: When the strong wind comes he will whirl us upwards Into the skies.

They thumped the table enthusiastically.

‘Undoubtedly this poem is the best. There is a more haunting melancholy perhaps in River Queen’s poem and more liveliness and charm in Cloud Maiden’s; but all in all this is far and away the best poem. This time Little Xue and Plantain Lover fail to make the grade. We shall have to think of a penalty.’

‘That’s fair enough,’ said Bao-qin, laughing, ‘but what about someone who failed to submit anything at all? What should his penalty be?’

‘Don’t worry about him,’ said Li Wan. ‘He will be punished too – exemplarily!’

Just at that moment there was a crashing noise outside the window which made them jump. It sounded as if an outer casement had somehow come unfastened and fallen into the bamboos. The maids ran outside to look. Other maids, who had been waiting outside there all the time, told them what it was: a large kite shaped like a butterfly which had fallen down and got caught in the tops of the bamboo.

‘What a beauty!’ said the maids from inside. ‘I wonder whose it is. They must have cut the string. Let’s try and get it down.’

‘I recognize that kite,’ said Bao-yu. ‘It belongs to Uncle She’s new girl, Carmine. Let’s take it down and give it back to her.’

‘There must be other kites like that besides hers,’ said Nightingale. ‘I think it’s silly to say that it must be hers. Anyway, I don’t care. I’m going to get it down for us.’

‘How mean you are, Nightingale!’ said Tan-chun. ‘You’ve got a kite of your own already. And if you keep someone else’s, aren’t you afraid of catching their bad luck?’

‘You’re right,’ said Dai-yu. ‘We don’t know whose bad luck it mightn’t be bringing us. Take it away! Let’s take out our kite and get rid of our bad luck.’

Nightingale told the maids, who had by this time succeeded in getting the kite down, to take it to the women at the gate and hand it into their keeping. If anyone came looking for it, they were to give it back to them. The other maids rushed off excitedly to fetch Dai-yu’s kite. It was the kind called a ‘pretty lady’. While two of them carried out the kite, one of them brought out a stool to stand on, another fastened the crosspiece to the raising-stick, and another paid the string out from the winder. Bao-chai stood with the other cousins at the gate of the courtyard, directing operations. She told the girls to fly the kite in the open ground outside the courtyard.

‘This kite of yours isn’t nearly as pretty as Cousin Tan’s,’ Bao-qin told Dai-yu. ‘She has one shaped like a phoenix, with wings that move.’

‘Why don’t you get yours and fly it then?’ Bao-chai said, turning to Tan-chun’s maid Ebony.

Ebony hurried off excitedly to do so. Bao-yu, catching the enthusiasm, sent a maid off to fetch one of his own.

‘Bring the big fish one that Lai Da’s wife sent me yesterday,’ he told the girl.

After a long time gone, the girl came back empty-handed.

‘Skybright flew it yesterday and let it go.’

‘Really!’ said Bao-yu. ‘And I hadn’t even flown it once myself.’

Tan-chun laughed.

‘Never mind! At least she’s got rid of your bad luck for you!’

‘All right,’ said Bao-yu to the girl. ‘Go and fetch the big crab one.’

The girl went off and returned accompanied by two or three other maids carrying a large pretty lady kite and a winder.

‘Miss Aroma says she gave the crab one to Master Huan yesterday. She says why don’t you fly this one instead? It was sent to you yesterday by Mrs Lin.’

Bao-yu inspected it. The pretty lady was certainly a beautifully constructed creature. He was secretly pleased and told the girls to fly it.

Tan-chun’s kite had also arrived by now and Ebony was already standing on a little hill getting it up with the assistance of a few helpers. Bao-qin had sent for her kite, a large red bat, and Bao-chai, beginning to share the excitement herself, had had hers fetched too: it was a line of seven large geese flying one behind the other. Soon all the kites but one were up in the air being flown successfully. Bao-yu’s pretty lady was the exception. He said it was because the maids didn’t know how to do it properly and insisted on flying it himself; but after a good deal of manoeuvring he could get her no higher than the roof, and even then it was only to flop down weakly again upon the ground. Bao-yu was getting into quite a state and the perspiration stood out in beads upon his brow. The cousins all laughed. At this he became so exasperated that he picked the kite up, threw it down on the ground again, and pointed his finger at it in anger.

‘If you weren’t a lady, I’d stamp on you and smash you into pieces!’

Dai-yu laughed.

“The string isn’t fastened on right. If you could get someone to refasten it for you properly, it would fly just as well as any other.’

Bao-yu sent someone to take the kite back for restringing and fetch him another pretty lady that he could fly in the mean time.

All the cousins were now standing with their faces turned upwards, watching the kites as they soared higher and higher into the sky. A maid came round offering them all sweets. Presently there was a cry from Nightingale:

‘The wind’s getting stronger, Miss. Do you want to release it now?’

Dai-yu made her handkerchief into a pad for her hand and tested the tension on the string. The wind was certainly pulling it with some force. She took over the winder from Nightingale and let it run free, so that the kite could pull itself away in the wind. There was a whirring noise as the last of the string ran out. Dai-yu asked the others if any of them would like to cut it for her.

‘No, we’ve all got our own,’ they said. ‘You do yours first.’

‘It’s fun to see them fly away,’ said Dai-yu, ‘and yet it seems rather a pity.’

‘But that’s the main reason for flying kites,’ said Li Wan, ‘the pleasure of seeing them fly away. Not to mention the fact that it is supposed to get rid of your bad luck. You of all people ought to let yours go, so as to get rid of your illness.’

‘Come on, Miss, you’ve sent plenty of kites off in your time!’ said Nightingale. ‘Why be so stingy all of a sudden? If you won’t cut it, I’ll cut it for you.’

She snatched a little pair of West Ocean silver scissors out of Snowgoose’s hand and snipped through the kite-string, an inch or so from the winder.

‘Go away, kite!’ she cried merrily. ‘And take my mistress’s illness with you!’

The kite began to swoop and soar. Soon it appeared no bigger than an egg. A few moments later and it was only a dot in the sky. Another moment and it had disappeared from sight altogether.

‘Hurrah! Hurrah!’ cried the cousins, as they watched it disappear.

‘What a pity we don’t know where she will land!’ said Bao-yu. ‘It would be nice if she landed somewhere where there are people and some little child were to find her. But suppose she lands in some uninhabited wilderness: how lonely she will be! I think I shall send my lady after her, to keep her company!’

He asked for the scissors and cut the string himself, and a second pretty lady went hurrying after the first one until it, too, disappeared.

Tan-chun was just about to cut the string of her phoenix when another phoenix appeared in the sky, not far from hers.

‘I wonder whose that is?’ said Tan-chun.

‘Don’t cut yours yet,’ the others cried. ‘It looks as if that one is going to get caught up in it.’

And that is just what happened. The other phoenix drew nearer and nearer until the two strings crossed and tangled. The maids were all for winding Tan-chun’s kite in and capturing the other kite with it, but the owner of the other kite was not prepared to yield, and after a good deal of tugging and heaving on both sides, the strings finally snapped and the two phoenixes flew off companionably together. The cousins clapped their hands delightedly.

‘Well, I’ve released my kite and now I’m tired. I think I shall go in and rest,’ said Dai-yu.

‘Just wait until we’ve released ours,’ said Bao-chai, ‘and then we can all go.’

So she and Xiang-yun and Bao-qin each cut their kite-strings and watched their kites fly away, after which all of the cousins went back to their own apartments.

In spite of the reprieve, Bao-yu dared not abandon his lessons altogether and continued to do a little revision or calligraphy from time to time. When he was feeling bored, he would go out to seek the company of the girls, or go round to the Naiad’s House for a chat. The girls, for their part, knowing how much he was behind with his work, no longer sent anyone to invite him when they met together for poetry-reading or other diversions; and Dai-yu, in her anxiety lest he should once more incur his father’s wrath, frequently feigned sleep when he went round to see her, so as not to be the cause of keeping him from his studies. Bao-yu was reduced to spending more and more time in his own room, where work itself now often took the place of a diversion.

In this manner the summer gradually wore away. Autumn was just beginning when one day two of his grandmother’s maids came round in a very agitated state to summon him.

The purpose of the summons and the reason for their agitation will be explained in the chapter which follows.