tensified, as though they were trying to tell her with voices of perfume that they were still her subjects. Yes, in the flowers there was comfort. Once there had been an Empress. . . The monkey was departing. She watched his tiny figure go skipping down the path. With this vexing enemy gone, her dream blossomed anew.
3.
Some time later, Yuhan followed in the footsteps of her uncle to the section of the garden hallowed by the Hall of Ancestors. Once each month, a family gathering took place within its reverenced shelter. It was by far the most gracious and dignified of all the buildings surrounding the garden. Here pomp and simple ceremony blended. To breathe deeply of the peaceful air was a privilege. The longest wall was given over to an altar of hardwood upon which small lacquered tablets were arranged according to precedence. For centuries, the greatest calligraphists of the province had recorded the names of Yang ancestors, the earlier ones with round symbols, the later ones with brush strokes as light as fleeting clouds.
On such occasions the family wore their finest clothes. Yang Yuan-kuei took his place before the altar, beside his wife. The four daughters and two sons of his elder brother, and therefore his own children, grouped about them. A scene that had been re-enacted over and over again, millions of times, since the beginning of China, the beginning of worship.
