by Cao Xueqin
‘Have you been writing any poetry recently, coz?’ Bao-yu went on to inquire.
‘Not much, not since the last meeting of the club.’
He laughed. ‘You can’t fool me. I heard you chanting. How did it go now?
Why grieve to watch
The wheel of Karma turn?
A moonlike purity remains
My constant goal…
I found your setting very striking. You did write it didn’t you?’
Dai-yu: ‘How did you come to hear it?’
Bao-yu: ‘I heard you playing when I was walking back from Smartweed Loggia a few days ago. The music was so lovely and I didn’t want to interrupt you, so I just listened quietly for a while and then went on my way. There is one thing I’ve been meaning to ask you. I noticed that in the first part you use a level-tone rhyme, but suddenly change to an oblique tone at the end. Why is that?’
Dai-yu: ‘That is free composition. One doesn’t have to abide by any rules. One just goes wherever the inspiration takes one.’
Bao-yu: ‘I see! I’m afraid such subtleties were lost on my untrained ears.’
Dai-yu: ‘True lovers of music have always been few.’
Bao-yu realized that without meaning to he had said the wrong thing, and was afraid that he had alienated Dai-yu. He sat there for a while. There was so much he wanted to say, but he was now too nervous to open his mouth again. Dai-yu had also spoken without thinking, and on reflection she wished that she had not been so scathing, and withdrew silently into her shell. Her silence only increased Bao-yu’s own misgivings, and finally in some embarrassment he stood up and said:
‘I must be on my way to see Tan. Please don’t get up.’
‘Give her my regards when you see her, will you?’ said Dai-yu.
‘I will,’ he replied, and departed. Dai-yu saw him to the door, then returned to her chair and sat brooding to herself.
‘Bao-yu’s been so odd recently. He doesn’t seem to say what he’s thinking. He’s friendly one minute and distant the next. I wonder what it means?’
Nightingale came in.
‘Have you finished copying for today, Miss? Shall I put your writing things away now?’
‘i shan’t be doing any more,’ replied Dai-yu. ‘You can clear them away.’
Dai-yu went into the inner room and lay down on her bed, slowly turning all these things over in her mind. Nightingale came in to ask if she would like some tea.
‘No, thank you. I just want to be alone and lie down for a bit.’
‘Very well, Miss.’
Nightingale went out, to find Snowgoose standing in the doorway, staring oddly in front of her. She went up to her and said:
‘What’s the matter with you?’
Snowgoose was lost in thought, and the question gave her quite a turn.
‘Sh! Don’t say a word! I’ve heard something very strange. If I tell you, you must promise not to breathe a word to anyone.’
As she said this Snowgoose shot her lips out in the direction of Dai-yu’s bedroom, then began walking away, nodding to Nightingale to follow her. They reached the foot of the terrace and she began again in a whisper:
‘Have you heard that Bao-yu’s engaged to be married?’
Nightingale gave a start.
‘I don’t believe you! It can’t be true!’
‘It is! Nearly everyone knows except us.’
‘Who told you?’
‘Scribe. His fiancée is a prefect’s daughter. She’s very good-looking and comes from a wealthy family.’
As Snowgoose was speaking, Nightingale heard Dai-yu cough and thought she could hear her getting up again. Worried that she might come out and overhear them, she took Snowgoose by the hand and motioned to her to be silent. She looked inside, but all seemed quiet. She asked Snowgoose in a low whisper:
‘What exactly did Scribe say?’
‘Do you remember,’ replied Snowgoose, ‘a day or two ago you sent me to Miss Tan’s to thank her for something? Well, she wasn’t home, but Scribe was. We started chatting, and one of us happened to mention Master Bao and his naughty ways. Scribe said: “When will Master Bao ever grow up? He doesn’t take anything seriously. And to think that he’s engaged to be married now – and still as silly as ever!” I asked her if the engagement had been settled, and she said that it had and that the go-between was a Mr Wang, a close relation on the Ning-guo side, so the whole thing was a foregone conclusion.’
Nightingale put her head thoughtfully to one side. ‘How very strange!’ she thought to herself.
‘Why has no one in the family mentioned it?’ she asked Snowgoose.
‘That’s Her Old Ladyship’s idea – so Scribe said. It’s in case Bao-yu finds out and is distracted from his studies. She made me promise not to tell a soul, and said she would blame me if word got around.’
Snowgoose pointed towards the house.
That’s why I haven’t mentioned it in front of her. But today when you asked, I thought I could tell you the truth.’
As she was speaking there was a loud squawk from the parrot:
‘Miss Lin’s back! Put the kettle on!’
The two maids had the fright of their lives and turned round expecting to see Dai-yu. But seeing no one, and realizing their mistake, they scolded the bird and went inside. They found Dai-yu at her chair. She was out of breath and had clearly only just sat down. Nightingale asked rather awkwardly if she wanted any tea or water.
‘Where have you two been all this time?’ asked Dai-yu. ‘No one came when I called.’
She walked back to the kang and lay down once more facing the wall, telling them to let down the bed-curtains. They did so and left the room, each secretly thinking to herself that she had overheard them, but neither daring to say so.
Dai-yu, brooding on her bed, had heard them whispering outside and had crept to the door to eavesdrop. Details of their conversation eluded her but the main substance was clear. She felt as though plunged into a great ocean. The prophecy contained in her nightmare was to be fulfilled after all. Bitterness and grief overwhelmed her. There was only one way of escape left. She must die. She must not live to see this dreaded thing take place. Without Bao-yu what would life be worth anyway? She had no parents of her own to turn to. Surely if she neglected herself daily from now on, in a few months she would be able to undermine her health and leave this world and all its troubles behind her?
Having formed this resolution, without bothering to pull up her quilt or put on any extra clothes she closed her eyes and pretended to be asleep. Nightingale and Snowgoose came in several times to wait on her, but seeing no sign of movement did not dare disturb her, even for dinner. Later, when the lamps were lit, Nightingale peeped through the curtains and saw that she had fallen asleep with her covers in a crumpled heap at her feet. Afraid she might catch cold, Nightingale gently pulled them over her. Dai-yu lay still until she had gone, then pushed them back again.
Meanwhile Nightingale questioned Snowgoose again:
‘Are you sure you weren’t making it up?’
‘Of course I wasn’t!’ replied Snowgoose rather indignantly.
Nightingale: ‘But how did Scribe come to know?’
Snowgoose: ‘It was Crimson that heard it first at Mrs Lian’s.’
Nightingale: ‘I think Miss Lin must have overheard us. I can tell that something has upset her greatly. We must be careful never to mention it again.’
The two maids tidied up and made themselves ready for bed. Nightingale went in to see how Dai-yu was and found the quilt in the same crumpled heap as before. She pulled it lightly back. That night passed without further event.
The next morning Dai-yu rose early without waking either of the maids, and sat up on her own, lost in thought. Nightingale awoke to find her already up and said in surprise:
‘You’re up very early this morning, Miss!’
‘I know I am,’ replied Dai-yu rather curtly. ‘It’s because I went to sleep so early last night.’
Nightingale quickly dressed and woke Snowgoose, and the two of them waited on Dai-yu at her toilet. She sat staring into the mirror. Tears began to stream down her face, and her silk scarf was soon wet through. In the poet’s words:
A wasted face
reflected in the spring stream;
And pity flows
from face to mirror’d face
and back again.
Nightingale stood by, not daring to utter a single comforting word, for fear that she would say the wrong thing and cause further anguish. Dai-yu sat motionless for a considerable while, then finally began her morning toilet, negligently, her eyes still brimming with tears. When it was done, she remained sitting where she was for a few minutes, then asked Nightingale to light some of the Tibetan incense.
‘But Miss,’ protested Nightingale, ‘you’ve hardly had any sleep. What do you want to go lighting incense for? You’re surely not going to start copying the sutra again are you?’
Dai-yu nodded.
‘But you woke so early, Miss. If you start writing now you’ll exhaust yourself.’
‘What does that matter? The sooner it’s finished the better. I only want to do it to keep myself occupied anyway. And in days to come you will have my writing to remember me by.’
As she said this tears began to pour down her cheeks, and Nightingale was no longer able to offer consolation but burst into tears herself.
Dai-yu was resolved that from this day forward she would deliberately destroy her health. She soon lost her appetite, and gradually began to waste away. Bao-yu visited her whenever he could after school, but although there were a million things she wanted to tell him, her consciousness that they were no longer children inhibited her from showing her affection by teasing him in the old way, and rendered her powerless to express what was preying on her mind. Bao-yu for his part would have liked to talk with her sincerely and offer her some genuine comfort; but he was afraid of aggravating her illness by offending her in some way, and so when he did see her, he merely inquired politely how she was feeling and added a few words of encouragement. Theirs was a true case of estrangement in the very extremity of love.
Grandmother Jia and Lady Wang showed a motherly concern for Dai-yu, which however went no further than calling in the doctor. Not knowing the inner source of her illness, they put it down to her sickly constitution, and Nightingale and Snowgoose were much too afraid to tell them the truth. Dai-yu weakened day by day. After a fortnight her stomach had shrunk to the point where she could no longer bring herself to eat even gruel. Every conversation she overheard during the day seemed to her to be connected in some way with Bao-yu’s marriage. Every servant she saw from Green Delights seemed to be involved in the preparations. When Aunt Xue came to visit her, Bao-chai’s absence confirmed her suspicions. She began to hope that no one would come to see her. She refused to take her medicine. Her only remaining wish was to be left alone, and to die as quickly as possible. In her dreams she constantly heard people addressing the new ‘Mrs Bao’, and her mind grew totally obsessed with the idea, like the proverbial drinker who, seeing a curved bow reflected in his cup, is convinced that he has swallowed a snake.
A few weeks of this self-imposed starvation and it seemed as if she must soon die. Even the thinnest of gruels was now an impossibility. Her breathing was scarcely perceptible. She was hanging on by the slenderest thread. To learn whether she was to survive this crisis or not, please turn to the next chapter.
Chapter 90
A poor girl loses a padded jacket and puts up with some obstreperous behaviour
A young man accepts a tray of sweetmeats and is put out by some devious goings-on
During the first week or so of Dai-yu’s decline, when Grandmother Jia and her aunts had taken it in turns to visit her, she had still possessed strength enough to make an occasional response to their inquiries. But now she would eat nothing whatsoever, and for several days had hardly said a word. The strange thing was that although at times she seemed unconscious, there were periods when she was perfectly lucid. They began to suspect something, and interrogated Nightingale and Snowgoose more than once. But the maids were too scared to say what they knew. Nightingale for her part, while she would have liked to discover the latest news from Scribe, feared that the truth would only provide a further shock and hasten the hour of Dai-yu’s death, and so when she saw Scribe, she avoided the subject completely. Snowgoose, as the transmitter of the news, felt responsible for Dai-yu’s condition and longed for a hundred tongues to cry out ‘I never said a word!’ She too, when questioned, maintained a close silence.
Nightingale, seeing that Dai-yu would eat nothing, and judging that all hope was now gone, stood by her bedside crying for a while, then went outside and whispered to Snowgoose:
‘Go in and watch her carefully. I’m going straight over to tell Her Old Ladyship, Her Ladyship and Mrs Lian. She has definitely taken a turn for the worse today.’
She departed, and Snowgoose went in to take her place. She found Dai-yu lying very still, as if in a deep sleep. Being only a child with no experience of such things, she took this state for death itself, and began to feel both tearful and frightened. If only Nightingale would hurry up and come back! At that very moment she heard footsteps outside the window. That must be Nightingale now! Breathing a sigh of relief, she stood up at once and went to the doorway of the inner chamber, lifting the door-curtain in expectation. She heard the swish of the outer door-curtain, and in came not Nightingale but Scribe, sent by Tan-chun to inquire how Dai-yu was. Seeing Snowgoose standing in the inner doorway, she asked:
‘How is Miss Lin?’
Snowgoose nodded to her to come in and Scribe entered the inner room with her. She noticed that Nightingale was not there, and when she looked at Dai-yu and saw how feebly she was breathing, a look of horror came over her face.
‘Where’s Nightingale gone?’ she asked.
To tell their Ladyships,’ replied Snowgoose.
Certain that Dai-yu, if not actually dead, was by this time at any rate ‘dead to the world’, Snowgoose decided to take advantage of Nightingale’s absence to question Scribe. Taking her by the hand, she asked in a whisper:
‘Did you really mean what you said the other day – about Mr Wang, and Master Bao’s betrothal?’
‘Of course I did!’ replied Scribe.
‘When was it settled?’
‘I never said it was! What I told you was just what I’d heard from Crimson. Later I was at Mrs Lian’s myself, and heard her say to Patience that the whole thing was something the Master’s literary gentlemen had thought up, to please him and provide themselves with a connection. As it happened Lady Xing didn’t even think it a good match. But even if she had approved, everyone knows how unreliable her judgement is. Besides, Her Old Ladyship already has someone else in mind for Master Bao, someone here in the Garden. Lady Xing had no idea of that, of course, and Her Old Ladyship only allowed them to go ahead with the normal inquiries for the Master’s sake. Mrs Lian said Her Old Ladyship wants Bao-yu to marry one of his cousins, and her mind is quite made up, so any other proposals are a waste of time.’
Snowgoose was beside herself.
Then our mistress is dying for nothing!’ she exclaimed.
‘What do you mean?’ asked Scribe.
‘Don’t you know? The other day Miss Lin overheard me telling Nightingale about the betrothal – that’s why she has brought herself to this terrible state now.’
‘Sh!’ whispered Scribe. ‘She might hear you!’
‘She’s completely dead to the world,’ replied Snowgoose. ‘Look – she can’t last more than a day or two now.’
As she was speaking, the door-curtain was drawn aside and in came Nightingale.
‘For goodness’ sake!’ she exclaimed. ‘Can’t you two do your gossiping somewhere else? You might as well drive her to her death!’
‘I simply cannot believe such strange goings-on,’ muttered Scribe.
‘My
dear Scribe,’ retorted Nightingale, ‘don’t misunderstand me please. I didn’t mean to offend you, But you must be so stupid to gossip like that.’
The three of them were interrupted by a sudden cough from Dai-yu’s bed on the kang. Nightingale hurried to the bedside, while Snowgoose and Scribe stood in silence. Nightingale bent down and whispered to Dai-yu, who was lying with her face to the wall:
‘Would you like some water, Miss?’
There was a barely audible ‘yes’ and Snowgoose promptly filled a cup half-full with hot water and handed it to Nightingale, who held it in the palm of her hand. Scribe meanwhile had moved towards the kang and was about to speak to Dai-yu when Nightingale motioned to her not to say anything and she checked herself. They stood waiting. After a short interval Dai-yu coughed again and Nightingale inquired at once:
‘Would you like the water now, Miss?’
There was another faint ‘yes’ and Dai-yu seemed to want to lift her head, but was too feeble to do so. Nightingale climbed up onto the kang by her side and, holding the cup in her hand, first tested the water to make sure it was not too hot, then raised it to Dai-yu’s mouth, supporting her head until the rim of the cup reached her lips. Dai-yu took a sip, and Nightingale was about to remove the cup when she saw that Dai-yu wanted some more. She held the cup where it was. Dai-yu drank again, shook her head to show that it was enough, took a deep breath and lay down once more. After a pause she opened her eyes a fraction and asked:
‘Was that Scribe I heard talking just now?’
‘Yes, Miss,’ replied Nightingale.
Scribe was still in the room and came up to the kang at once to convey Tan-chun’s message. Dai-yu stared at her for a minute and nodded. After a pause she said:
‘When you go home, give Miss Tan my regards will you?’
Scribe took this to mean that Dai-yu wanted her to leave and made her way quietly out of the room.