The Warning Voice Read online

  He tiptoed out again and taking his stand behind a rock, began hitching up his clothes. Musk and Ripple, who were standing behind him, suppressed a giggle:

  ‘Why don’t you squat down to take off your underthings? You’ll get the wind on your belly, standing up like that!’

  The two junior maids who had been following behind Musk and Ripple, as soon as they saw the reason for the halt, hurried off to the tea-kitchen for hot water to wash his hands.

  Bao-yu had finished and was just turning back to the waiting maids when two womenservants appeared, walking in his direction. Seeing this dark figure lurking amongst the rocks, they loudly demanded who it was.

  ‘It’s Bao-yu,’ said Ripple. ‘Don’t shout at him like that, you’ll scare the daylights out of him!’

  ‘Oh I am sorry,’ said the woman who had shouted. ‘What an awful thing to do – and today of all days! How are you, young ladies? Having a nice holiday? You certainly deserve it, after all your work during the rest of the year.’

  As they came closer, Musk asked them what they were carrying.

  ‘It’s some things from Her Old Ladyship for Miss Faithful and Miss Aroma,’ said the woman. ‘She suddenly thought of them, while she was watching the play.’

  ‘Oh?’ said Ripple. ‘I thought it was The Orphan’s Revenge they were watching, not The Magic Casket!’

  ‘Take the lids off and let’s have a look,’ said Bao-yu.

  The two women squatted on their haunches and held out the food-boxes while Musk and Ripple took off the lids. Bao-yu leaned over and looked into them. Each one contained a selection of the very choicest of the various sweet and savoury confections they had been eating at the party. He nodded approvingly before hurrying on. Musk and Ripple threw down the lids – somewhat carelessly – and hurried after him.

  ‘Now those two women seemed very nice,’ said Bao-yu. ‘They were certainly very civil. Think how hard they must work every day, yet they could still say those nice things about you – none of that boasting about how busy they are and how much they do for us that you get from some of these people.’

  ‘Oh, those two are all right,’ said Musk. ‘Some of them are really terrible, though.’

  ‘They can’t help being stupid,’ said Bao-yu. ‘Being more intelligent than they are, you ought to feel sorry for them. You only have to be a bit more forebearing with them and they’d give you no trouble.’

  While he was speaking, they were passing through the gateway of the Garden. The old women drinking and playing cards in the tea-kitchen had been taking it in turns to get up and peep outside so as not to be taken off their guard, and seeing Bao-yu through the gate, they came hurrying out after him.

  In the gallery leading to the hall where the party was he came upon the two little maids who had gone to fetch hot water. They had been waiting there for some time, one with a basin of water, the other with a towel over her arm and a pot of hand lotion. Ripple first tested the water with her hand.

  ‘The older you grow the more stupid you get,’ she said to the girl. ‘This water is stone cold.’

  ‘Blame the weather, miss,’ said the girl. ‘I was afraid the water would cool quickly so I poured it out boiling from the kettle, but you see it makes no difference.’

  Just at that moment an old woman chanced to be passing by with a kettle full of freshly-boiled water.

  ‘Here, missus,’ the girl with the basin called after her, ‘do us a favour! Come over and pour some in this basin, will you?’

  ‘This is for Her Old Ladyship’s tea,’ said the old woman. ‘Go and get some yourself, young lady – walking won’t spoil your feet!’

  ‘I don’t care who it’s for,’ said Ripple, ‘but if you won’t pour that water out for her, I shall come and do it myself.’

  The old woman turned. Recognizing Ripple, she hurriedly lifted the kettle up and poured some water into the basin.

  ‘That’s enough,’ said Ripple. ‘Really, a person of your age ought to have more sense! We know it’s Her Old Ladyship’s. Do you suppose we’d have dared ask for it if we weren’t entitled to?’

  The old woman smiled apologetically:

  ‘My eyesight’s not too good. I didn’t recognize this young lady as one of yours.’

  When Bao-yu had finished washing, the other girl poured some of the lotion onto his palm and he rubbed it into his hands. Ripple and Musk took advantage of the hot water to wash their own hands too, and after rubbing a little of the lotion into them, followed Bao-yu back into the hall.

  Calling for a kettle of warm wine, Bao-yu now took his turn at pouring for the ladies, beginning with Mrs Li and Aunt Xue. They protested smilingly and begged him to go back to his seat, but Grandmother Jia insisted that he should pour for them.

  ‘He’s young,’ she said. ‘Let him do it. But let us empty our cups first for this round.’

  She drained her winecup as she said this. Lady Xing and Lady Wang followed suit and the other two ladies felt constrained to imitate their example.

  ‘Pour out for the girls too,’ said Grandmother Jia. ‘And do it properly. See that they empty their cups first before you fill them.’

  ‘Yes, Grandma,’ said Bao-yu, and proceeded from table to table, pouring for everyone in turn. When he got to Dai-yu he hesitated, knowing that for her this sort of drinking was an impossibility; but Dai-yu held her cup up to his lips and he drained its contents for her at a gulp.

  ‘Thank you,’ she said, smiling gratefully. Bao-yu refilled the winecup.

  ‘Don’t go drinking cold wine, Bao-yu,’ Xi-feng called out to him. ‘It’ll make your hand shake. You won’t be able to write properly or draw a straight bow.’

  ‘I haven’t been drinking cold wine,’ said Bao-yu.

  ‘I know, I know,’ said Xi-feng gaily. ‘I was only joking.’

  When Bao-yu had finished pouring out for all the girls – all, that is, except Jia Rong’s wife Hu-shi, who, being of a generation below his, had to have her drink poured out for her by a maid – he went onto the verandah outside and poured for Cousin Zhen and the men. Having done so, he sat and chatted with them for a while before going back into the hall and resuming his seat with the ladies.

  Presently soup was served and, shortly after, little First Moon dumplings of sweetened rice-flour. Grandmother Jia expressed concern for the boy-actors outside in the cold:

  ‘Tell them to break off for a bit, poor little things! Let them have some hot soup and some good hot food to eat before they go on again. They can have some of these cakes and things, and some of these dumplings.’

  A few minutes later, the stage in the courtyard having by now fallen silent, two blind female ballad-singers, both of them familiar visitors to the house, were led in by the women. A couple of high stools were placed behind them, on which Grandmother Jia invited them to be seated, and their instruments were handed to them, a pipa lute and a three-stringed ‘samisen’ guitar. Grandmother Jia asked Mrs Li and Aunt Xue what story they would like to hear.

  ‘Anything,’ they said.

  Grandmother Jia turned to the two women:

  ‘Have you added anything new to your repertoire lately?’

  ‘Yes,’ said one of the women. ‘We’ve got a new story set in the Five Dynasties period, after the fall of Tang.’

  ‘What’s it called?’ Grandmother Jia asked her.

  ‘It’s called The Phoenix Seeks a Mate,’ said the woman.

  ‘Well, the name sounds all right,’ said Grandmother Jia. ‘Can you give us an idea what it’s about, then we can decide whether we want to hear it or not?’

  ‘This story took place in the time of the Five Dynasties after the decline of the Tang,’ said the woman. ‘There was in those days a certain gentleman called Wang Zhong who, after having served as Chief Minister under two successive reigns, had retired because of old age to live on his estate in the country. Now this Wang Zhong had an only son whose name was Wang Xi-feng –’

  This set everyone laughing.

&
nbsp; ‘Feng’s double, evidently,’ said Grandmother Jia.

  One of the womenservants gave the blind ballad-singer a prod:

  ‘Don’t talk such nonsense! That’s our Mrs Lian’s name.’

  ‘Carry on, carry on!’ said Grandmother Jia.

  The blind woman rose to her feet:

  ‘I’m dreadfully sorry, Mrs Lian. I had really no idea it was your name.’

  ‘Do carry on,’ said Xi-feng, laughing. ‘That’s quite all right. Coincidences over names are the commonest thing in the world.’

  The woman sat down again and continued:

  ‘A time came when this old Sir Wang sent his son off to the capital to sit for the examinations. One day, while the young man was on his journey, there was a great downpour of rain and he was forced to seek shelter in a near-by grange. Now it so happened that the owner of this grange was a former acquaintance of old Sir Wang’s called Li, and this old Sir Li invited the young man to spend a few days with him at the grange, accommodating him in his own study. Sir Li had no son of his own, but he had an only daughter called Chuluan, a very accomplished young lady who excelled in everything she turned her hand to, whether it was performing on the qin or playing Go or painting or calligraphy –’

  ‘I can see why it’s called The Phoenix Seeks a Mate,’ said Grandmother Jia. ‘You don’t need to tell me what the story’s about, I can guess already. “Feng” means “phoenix” and “Chu-luan” means “little hen phoenix”. Obviously it’s the story of how Wang Xi-feng seeks to make this Li Chu-luan his wife.’

  ‘I believe Your Old Ladyship has heard this story before,’ said the blind woman, smiling.

  ‘Her Old Ladyship has heard everything,’ someone told her. ‘And what she hasn’t heard she can guess.’

  ‘These stories are all the same,’ said Grandmother Jia, ‘– so tedious! Always the same ideally eligible young bachelors and the same ideally beautiful and accomplished young ladies – at least, they are supposed to be ideal, but there’s certainly nothing ideal about their behaviour – in fact there’s nothing very ladylike about them at all. Invariably, we are told how well-born they are. Their father has been a Prime Minister, or a First Secretary at the very least. They are always their father’s only child and the apple of his eye. They are always amazingly well-educated, a model of decorum, a regular paragon of all the virtues – that is, until the first presentable young man comes along. As soon as he appears on the scene – it doesn’t matter who or what he is – all their book-learning and the duty they owe their parents fly out of the window and the next moment they are “making their plans for the future” and generally carrying on in a way that would bring blushes to the cheek of a cat-burglar – certainly not in the least like respectable, educated young ladies. You would hardly call a young woman who conducted herself like that a “paragon”, however many books she might have read – any more than you would acquit a young fellow charged with highway robbery on the grounds that he was a good scholar. The people who make up these stories give themselves the lie every time they open their mouths.

  ‘And for another thing: if these young women really belonged to cultivated, aristocratic households in which the girls and their mothers were all educated people, then even allowing for the somewhat reduced circumstances owing to their father’s early retirement, you can be sure there would still be plenty of nannies and maids in attendance on them. So how is it that in all of these stories there is only ever a single confidante who knows what her young mistress is getting up to? What are all the other servants supposed to be doing all this time? Of course, this is only another example of the way in which these stories contradict themselves.’

  There was some laughter from the assembled company and someone complimented Grandmother Jia on her perceptiveness in exposing the underlying falseness of these stories.

  ‘There’s always a reason for it,’ the old lady went on. ‘In some cases it’s because the writer is envious of people so much better off than himself, or disappointed because he has tried to obtain their patronage and failed, and deliberately portrays them in this unfavourable light as a means of getting his own back on them. In other cases the writers have been corrupted by reading this sort of stuff before they begin to write any themselves, and, though totally ignorant of what life in educated, aristocratic families is really like, portray their heroines in this way simply because everyone else does so and they think it will please their readers. I ask you now, never mind very grand families like the ones they pretend to be writing about, even in average well-to-do families like ours when do you ever hear of such carryings-on? It’s a wonder their jaws don’t drop off, telling such dreadful lies! For my part, I have never allowed these sort of stories to be told. Even the maids here don’t know about such matters. It’s true that during the past year or two, since I’ve been getting older, and particularly now that the young people are most of the time safely out of the way in the Garden, I do once in a while listen to a snatch or two of one of these stories, when I feel in need of cheering up a bit; but as soon as the children arrive, I make the person telling it stop.’

  Mesdames Li and Xue were thoroughly in agreement:

  ‘That is the general rule in all the best people’s houses. Even in our households the children aren’t allowed to listen to such stories.’

  Xi-feng walked over to pour the old lady a drink:

  ‘Come on, Grannie, that’s enough! Your wine will be getting cold. Drink this first to wet your whistle. You can go on with your lecture afterwards.’

  She turned to the rest of the company:

  ‘The story you’ve just been listening to is called Falsehood Exposed, or The Tale of a Grandmother. It is a story which took place under the reigning dynasty, on this very day of this very month of this very year on this very spot and at this very hour. How can Grannie “with one mouth tell a double tale”? Ah, how indeed! Our tale puts forth two tails. Which tail to wag? Wig-wag. But for the time being we do not inquire which tale is false, which true. Our story turns rather to those people in the party who were admiring the lanterns and watching the play… Just give these two kinsfolk a chance to drink a cup of wine and watch a scene or two more of the play, Grannie, and then you can get on with your Exposure of Falsehood – dynasty by dynasty.’

  She continued unconcernedly pouring wine while her audience convulsed themselves. Even the blind ballad-singers were in stitches.

  ‘You’ve got the gift, Mrs Lian,’ they said. ‘It’s what we call a “hard mouth”. If you were to take up story-telling as a profession, we should be out of business!’

  ‘Don’t let them encourage you,’ said Aunt Xue to Xi-feng, laughing. ‘You must behave yourself. There are people outside listening. This isn’t like every day, you know.’

  ‘It’s only Cousin Zhen outside there,’ said Xi-feng. ‘He and I used to get up to all sorts of mischief together in our younger days. It’s only during the last few years since I’ve grown up and married Lian that I’ve had to start being a bit more strait-laced with him. But even though we have to treat each other like solemn in-laws nowadays, I’m sure he doesn’t mind me fooling about like this. Think of Lao Lai-zi in the Twenty-Four Patterns of Filial Piety, dressing up in children’s clothes at the age of seventy and playing at “dicky-bird” in front of his aged parents to keep them amused. If Cousin Zhen and the other menfolk won’t come in here and play dicky-bird themselves, the fact that I’m taking so much trouble to make Grannie laugh and get her to eat a bit should make them feel pleased and grateful, not critical of my behaviour.’

  ‘It’s true, I haven’t had a really good laugh for days,’ said Grandmother Jia. ‘She has made me laugh so much, I really do feel better for it. I think I’ll have another drop of wine.

  She took a sip from her cup and then turned to address Bao-yu:

  ‘Pour a cup for your Cousin Feng.’

  ‘No need,’ said Xi-feng. ‘Let me share your good health.’

  She took the cup that Grandm
other Jia had just been drinking from and tossed back what remained of the wine in it, then, handing the cup to a maid to take away, she replaced it with a clean one that had been previously warmed in hot water. She then proceeded to do the same for everyone else, removing their dirty cups and replacing them with clean, warmed ones. After that she poured out a fresh supply of wine for everyone before returning to her seat.

  ‘If Your Old Ladyship doesn’t want to hear a story,’ said the blind woman who had spoken before, ‘perhaps you’d like us to do a song for you.’

  ‘Give us “O Captain, Captain”,’ said Grandmother Jia.

  The two women at once began tuning their instruments and presently struck up a lively tune, the words of which were divided alternately between them.

  Grandmother Jia inquired what the time was.

  ‘Midnight,’ said one of the senior womenservants.

  ‘No wonder it’s getting so cold,’ said Grandmother Jia. ‘It really is bitter.’

  Maids were already arriving with more clothes, which they helped their mistresses to change into or put on over what they were already wearing.

  Lady Wang rose, smiling, to her feet:

  ‘Why don’t you go into the room at the back, Mother, where the heated kang is? Mrs Li and my sister are not outsiders; I’m sure they won’t mind. And the rest of us will take care of them for you.’

  ‘Why don’t we all go inside?’ said Grandmother Jia. ‘That will be much cosier.’

  ‘I doubt there’s room for us all,’ said Lady Wang.

  ‘I’ll tell you what,’ said Grandmother Jia. ‘We don’t need all these tables now. Why don’t we have just two or three of them taken inside? We can have them put together to make one big table, then we can all squeeze up round it and keep each other warm. That will be much jollier!’

  Everyone agreed that this was a good idea and got up from their places in preparation for the move. The tables were cleared, the three largest ones were carried into the inner room and put together, and the dessert, with various additions and replacements, was relaid on them inside.