At that moment a procession of monks in gray robes walked slowly, solemnly past. They were chanting vespers.
"They are on their way to the Temple of Heaven," explained one of the handmaidens, "where they will murmur their hymns to the rumble of fish-head drums."
"Everything is so interesting," said Yuhan.
"They are Taoists," interjected another girl, the youngest of the group. She could not have been over nine years old. "And I, too, can sing one of their songs. Would you like me to sing it to you?"
"Very much," said Yuhan, thankful for the informality of the little one.
"Good," said the child. "You will be a kind mistress. I want always to wait upon you."
"If the Prince so wishes, I shall be very happy."
Then the little handmaiden sang, softly, so that none but their ears alone might hear:
"The violet palace shines.
There resides,
Invisible and mysterious,
The Supreme One
Who looks down upon Earth.
O Noble and High Supreme Heaven,
Here are set out the stones
That we offer to you.
Look down upon us.
May the smoke of the sacrifice ascend to you."
