368 CHINESE LITERATURE
Farewell, dear flowers, for ever now^
thus buried as 'twas best, I have not yet divined when I
with you shall sink to rest. I who can bury flowers like this
a laughing-stock shall bej I cannot say in days to come
what hands shall bury me. See how when spring begins to fail
each opening floweret fades; So too there is a time of age
and death for beauteous maids ; And when the fleeting spring is gone,
and days of beauty der, Flowers fall, and lovely maidens die,
and both are known no more"
Meanwhile, Pao-yii's father had received an appoint- ment which took him away to a distance, the consequence being that life went on at home in a giddier round than usual. Nothing the old grandmother liked better than a picnic or a banquet feasting, in fact, of some kind, with plenty of wine and mirth. But now, somehow or other, little things were always going wrong. In every pot of ointment the traditional fly was sure to make its appear- ance ; in every sparkling goblet a bitter something would always bubble up. Money was not so plentiful as it had been, and there seemed to be always occurring some un- foreseen drain upon the family resources. Various mem- bers of one or other of the two grand establishments get into serious trouble with the authorities. Murder, suicide, and robbery happen upon the premises. The climax of prosperity had been reached and the hour of decadence had arrived. Still all went merry as a marriage-bell, and Pao-yii and Tai-yii continued the agreeable pastime of love-making. In this they were further favoured by circumstances. Pao-ch'ai's mother gave up the apart-
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