of a rivulet was like sweet poetry. What a waste of material it was. "And yet the Spirit, like the perennial spring of the valley, never dies."
He broke a gorgeous chrysanthemum from its stem and pressed it to his lips. One of the Palace Ladies walked near a bamboo bridge. Mei flowers were twined in her hair. Against the blue sky, she made a picture that was a voiceless poem. Near by there were willow trees, and where there are willow trees there are orioles, especially if there is water as well. Now a flock of them had gathered, heeding the call of their comrades, "Sik, sik, siki, tsac, tsac, tsac." How graceful they looked with their black foreheads, pointed bills, red legs and yellow wings. Ming Huang was very fond of orioles. Sometimes he called them, "The Golden Robed Gentlemen," or "The Singing Boys of the Red Tree."
As he watched them, the sight took his mind off more somber things. A thrush joined them. A thrush or two usually heeded that call to bathe with the orioles.
Many slender girls strolled in the garden, swaying gracefully. The breeze stirred the young bamboos which bent over the brook as though about to drink.
The Emperor sighed. In the garden at least, there was peace.
Not far away, Kao Li-shih, the Grand Eunuch, walked serenely among the flowers. Stalwart and strong, more than six and a half feet tall, he was powerful enough to throw any wrestler. He appeared like a rtian among men, and yet alas he could grow no beard. Had
things been otherwise ordained, he might have been
