grief of Loo Siang. He called to his carriers to set down his sedan chair and then amid a vast amount of puffs and grunts, for he was very fat, he climbed from the chair and walked over to converse with the man of misery. He had recognized Loo Siang as the famed gardener who had so persistently been stalked by adversity.
Zok Tsung was interested. He owned much land surrounding his palace and he longed to have it made into a garden of rare beauty. But so far he had been unable to find a man capable of translating his wishes. His workers in the soil were little more than coolies. They flayed the soil, rather than attempting to cultivate it with reverence. And the soil was sullen. It refused to respond.
Now Zok Tsung was a crafty individual and when he beheld the gardener weeping in the ruins, he licked his lips as though in anticipation of a delectable meal. He sought converse with Loo Siang who, in his desolate state, was of a mind to pour out his troubles.
"And now," he finished brokenly, "the gods must be laughing for they have crushed me until I lack even a few grain of rice for my evening meal."
Zok Tsung was voluble in his sympathy and he said, "Arise, and come with me. In this world we are all brothers and I should not enjoy my food were I to know that you were hungry."
As in a dream, Loo Siang walked beside the sedan chair of the Mandarin. He could not believe so distinguished a person was honoring him. Perhaps the gods were no longer laughing so loudly.
The Madarin's house was of a splendor to dazzle poor Loo Siang and he walked as in a dream as he was led to a magnificent room. His tom clothes were taken from him. He was bathed and dressed in garments of fine material. Then he was taken to a large banquet hall where food had been set the like of which he had never seen in all his existence. The meal lasted three hours and consisted of forty-seven courses. And as they ate, slender girls danced for them, girls as fragile as porcelain. On the air was a warm fragrance. And among these girls was Lari Kim, one of the thousand slave girls of the Mandarin. She smiled tenderly at Loo Siang and that moment he became as much a slave as she, a slave of the Mandarin, since to remain near her he would be forced to stay under the Mandarin's rule.
Zok Tsung smiled as he noticed the flames of passion kindle in the eyes of the gardener's heart. He was not angry, but pleased Lari Kim gave him the hold he needed on Loo Siang. She must be dangled before him like a tasty bit of roast pork.
When at last the feast was over and the dancing girls had departed, Loo Siang was in a pliable mood.
"I need a gardener," the Mandarin said slowly, "and I have come to the conclusion that you are the gardener I need. Work for me at good wages until you have accumulated sufficient money to buy a place of your own."
Loo Siang, thinking of Lari Kim, readily agreed to the proposal. Thanks to the generosity of the Mandarin some day he would again be a landowner, perhaps even wealthy enough to purchase the exquisite Lari Kim.
So Loo Siang took up his new work and at once a change came over the garden. As he walked down the white marble paths there was discernible a gentle murmuring in the treetops. The trees were voicing their satisfaction over the new master of the flowers. And peace returned to the heart of Loo Siang who no longer mourned for the loss of his house. From the soil he drew strength even as do the plants and the trees. And now the earth became abundantly fruitful.
Occasionally Lari Kim, slender, fragile,
