Tuen knit her brows in a puzzled frown, for she knew nothing about the law, but she said, indifferently:
"Well, it does not matter, since the man is still alive. Here is the ring I promised you, and the cash shall be counted out at once. Wang, go with him."
But the boy stood staring at her, as if loath to leave, and such unusual lack of appreciation of cash struck Tuen as marvellous. What a strange creature he was not to be in a hurry for his money! She looked at him attentively, and she saw that he was short and very slender, with a bright, intelligent face, but his water-soaked garments were of the coarse blue cloth worn by the lower class, and his occupation was evidently that of a common sailor. Still looking at him, she said, slowly:
"Take the ring, and perhaps sometime it will serve you well, for none can tell what may be."
The boy bowed gravely, still apparently fascinated by her youth and beauty. Perhaps it was the admiration she read in his face, perhaps but an impulse that caused Tuen to ask abruptly:
"Chang-li," he answered, with another bow, for he had evidently become impressed with the superiority of this young girl.
"You may go," she said, with sudden dignity, waving her hand in dismissal. "I will remember it."
The boy turned reluctantly away, and as he did so, he did not place the ring upon his finger, but hid it in his bosom. And when he heard that this lovely creature was the daughter of a Viceroy who went as a present to the Emperor, he wondered at her graciousness, and carefully treasured the ring, although he was offered much money for it, and he was very poor.
And one day, many years after, when a proclamation was issued, commanding one Chang-li, who had been given a ring as a reward for rescuing a drowning man from the river, to come to court and present this ring, he had cause to be glad that he had treasured it.
The calm monotony of Tuen's life continued uninterrupted after the episode with the sailor. She would talk with Wang for hours, of the kind friends she had left in the Viceroy's yâmen, and again of that secluded court to which she went, concerning which many marvellous stories were told throughout the land; and at other times she would sit spellbound for half a day, listening to the long-spun-out stories of blind Szu. They were now in the Imperial Canal, that stupendous monument of man's ingenuity, for on account of the work and the time required to complete them, it and the Great Wall stand unrivalled by any effort of man in any other part of the world. The waters of the canal were clearer than those of the great river they had left, but there was the same press of boats, their number greatly augmented by the many grain-junks that bear the tribute of rice to Peking. It was also a thrilling experience to Tuen to see the boats pass the sluices, where the waters raged as if waiting for something to suck down into their turbulent depths. The small boats darted through the openings without hindrance, but the larger ones must get through by a tedious and somewhat dangerous process, and often it would make Tuen shudder to watch them. The cumbrous barges would first be dragged forward slowly, by means of ropes attached to large windlasses and worked from the bank, while against the sides of the pier were arranged cushions of rope to lighten any shock received. Thus were the boats carefully let over, so that they could proceed on their way. When they reached the temple of the Dragon King, who is the special ruler of the waters, the loud firing of crackers came from all the boats, while libations were poured out, and many strings of gilt paper burned in honor of this terrible god of the waters. Tuen, who was by nature most devout, and stood in wholesome fear of the gods, took great pleasure in these ceremonies, and lit incense sticks until the huge porcelain bowl she had selected for this purpose was filled with ashes. Satisfied with her devotions, she made herself comfortable on many cushions and sent for Szu to attend her at once. When he had seated himself, and she waited for him to begin, he pursed up his mouth reflectively, and then smiled. Perhaps because still somewhat offended by her doubts of the truthfulness of the narrative of Woo How, or perchance because he wished her to know that few women had been both wise and good, he said in a half-scornful way: