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Is not this the wondrous ink of which it was written: Po-nien-jou-chi, i-tien-jou-ki, 'After centuries I remain firm as stone, and the letters that I make like lacquer'? And how divine the charm of this composition! the song of Kao-pien, prince of poets, and Governor of Sze-tchouen five hundred years ago!" "Kao-pien! darling Kao-pien!" murmured Sië, with a singular light in her eyes.
The paper upon which they were written had a pale yellow tint, and was light as a fabric of gossamer; but the characters were antiquely beautiful, as though they had been traced by the brush of Heï-song Ché-Tchoo himself, that divine Genius of Ink, who is no bigger than a fly; and the signatures attached to the compositions were the signatures of Youen-tchin, Kao-pien, and Thou-mou, mighty poets and musicians of the dynasty of Thang!
"Kao-pien is also my favorite. Dear Ming-Y, let us chant his verses together, to the melody of old, the music of those grand years when men were nobler and wiser than to-day." And their voices rose through the perfumed night like the voices of the wonder-birds, of the Fung-hoang, blending together in liquid sweetness.
The alley Ping-Khang, situated in the street Kiao, was the place where dwelt the great courtesans of the dynasty of Thang! Did she not sing the songs of Kao-pien?
And the themes they selected were always the most difficult, those of the poets of the Thang dynasty; the songs they sang were also the songs of five hundred years before, the songs of Youen-tchin, of Thou-mou, of Kao-pien above all, high poet and ruler of the province of Sze-tchouen.
And upon the brush-case and the paper-weight she gave your son, are there not characters which read, 'Pure object of art belonging to Kao, of the city of Pho-hai'? That city no longer exists; but the memory of Kao-pien remains, for he was governor of the province of Sze-tchouen, and a mighty poet.
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