Even more endearing is the way she offers others her heart rather than gifts; on parting she left no trinket behind. She showed me her thoughts rather than her actions; on leaving she cast no backward glance. Surely a hermit among women, a recluse of the boudoir! If I place her in the highest group, who will deny she deserves it?

Lotus Pink Beauty. Age in her twenties. From her expression, seems to have been long married but without exhaustion of original yin.

Comment:

A beauty soft and graceful, a bearing as light as if dancing. Eyebrows that need no Zhang Chang to paint them, a face that requires none of He Yan's powder. [47] Flesh that is between sleek and spare, its beauty being that its spareness cannot be increased nor its sleekness reduced. Makeup that is between heavy and light, its beauty being that its heaviness looks shallow and its lightness deep.

The affecting thing about her is that the melancholy of her feelings goes unrelieved, like a lotus bud overdue to open; and that the concerns of her heart go unexpressed, like a flower that dreads its fading. She deserves to rank with the first girl ahead of all other blooms and to merit the title of supreme beauty. Only the Oral Examination will determine the top candidate.

After finishing the comments, he remembered someone he had omitted. The beauty of these two goes without saying, he thought, but even the older one has not lost her youthful charm. To take just one feature, her eyes are pure gems; the pupils can positively speak. She sent me glance after glance, but because I was so intent on the others, I never responded-embarrassing thought! Her age may be rather advanced, her looks may have declined somewhat, and she may be a little too plump, but since she was with the others, she must be a relative of some kind. If only out of consideration for them I ought to be more lenient in my grading. Moreover, she was willing to join in the fun and try to get the others to look at me. Obviously she has a lot of savoir faire. If I can only find her, the others, too, will surely fall to my bow. The trouble is I've no idea where to start looking. For the present I'll just enter her in my notebook with a summa rating: first, as a reward for being so responsive; second, as an extension of my love for the other two; and third, so that if I do find her, I can show her this notebook and, after winning her over, gain her help with the others.

He changed the two of two outstanding beauties in the first line to three. Since she was wearing a dark dress, he named her

Black Belle. Age about thirty-five, but looking only fifteen. From her bearing, it would seem that her desires have been long neglected and that her passions are incandescent.

Comment:

Of effervescent feelings and mercurial mood. Her waist may be thicker than a young woman's, but the line of her eyebrows is as arched as any bride's. Her cheeks are as rosy as ever, maintaining their flowerlike, original brightness; her skin still glows, showing its jadelike, pristine beauty.

The most captivating thing about her is the way her glance, without any movement of the eyes, flashes as vividly as lightning amid the mountain crags; and the way, in her walk, without taking so much as a step, she wafts as lightly as clouds over the mountain tops. She deserves to be classed with those who express their feelings through their thoughts rather than their actions. Placed beside the other two beauties, she would not have to concede very much.

After completing his comments, he drew three large circles beside each of the names, then folded up the notebook and tucked it into his pocket. From that day forward he no longer cared whether he went to the temple to look at girls. He was preoccupied with the three beauties, but although he spent every daylight hour walking the streets with his notebook, he could find no trace of them.

The Knave has more experience than anyone else, Vesperus said to himself, and he knows this area well. Why not go and ask him? There is one problem, though. He promised to find me a mistress, and since he hasn't been around the last few days, I expect he's gone off in search of one. If I mention this to him, he'll assume I've found a suitable girl and give up his responsibilities. Moreover, without a name to go by, where would he start looking? I'll keep the matter to myself for a few days. He may find someone and come and tell me about her. You never know. One can have too much of everything in life except beautiful girls. Even if he produces dozens of them, I'll deal with his recommendations first and still have time for these three later. Thenceforth after rising each morning he either went out hoping to run into the Knave or else waited anxiously in his rooms.

One day while crossing the street he spotted his friend and hailed him. "Brother, about that promise you made me the other day. How is it I've had no response? You haven't forgotten, by any chance?"

"It's been on my mind every hour of the day. How could I possibly forget? The trouble is that there are plenty of ordinary girls out there but very few excellent ones. I've been searching all this time, and only now have I come up with one or two. In fact I was just on my way over to report when I ran into you."

Vesperus's face broke into a broad smile. "In that case this street is hardly the place to talk. Come over to my lodgings."

Linking hands, the two men walked to his lodgings. Once there, Vesperus dismissed his boys and shut his door so that he and the Knave could discuss the happy prospect in private.

Whose wife will be so fortunate as to get the services of this eminently qualified lover? And whose husband will be so unfortunate as to arouse the attentions of this devilish adulterer? There is no need, gentle reader, to remain in doubt, for the answers will be found in the next chapter.

Fiction writers always confine themselves to narrative as distinct from discourse. Or, if they do write discourse, they develop a piece to serve as prologue to the narrative and then, after reaching the transitio, [48] quickly wind it up, evidently fearing a hopeless confusion. How can they conduct a philosophical discussion while poised for the fray? The author of this book is the only one who can display calm amid the panic and cool amid the heat. Into every tense passage of narrative he inserts a piece of leisurely discourse, posing and answering his questions in such an orderly fashion that the reader, far from finding it a distraction, is loath to see it end. When the author has finished his discourse and takes up the narration again, he is able to make it dovetail perfectly with what has gone before. A true master of the art! Ever since he invented this mode, he has been the only one capable of practicing it. Those who imitate his technique merely earn the reader's boredom.