t no longer."

"Royal father, hear your child, and do not compel her to give up her
dearest pleasures. Let her go into a quiet convent where she may lead
a life of study!"

The king sighed deeply at hearing these words. He loved his daughter and
did not wish to wound her. "Kwan-yin," he continued, "do you wish to
pass by the green spring of youth, to give up this mighty kingdom? Do
you wish to enter the doors of a convent where women say farewell to
life and all its pleasures? No! your father will not permit this. It
grieves me sorely to disappoint you, but one month from this very day
you shall be married. I have chosen for your royal partner a man of many
noble parts. You know him by name already, although you have not seen
him. Remember that, of the hundred virtues filial conduct is the chief,
and that you owe more to me than to all else on earth."

Kwan-yin turned pale. Trembling, she would have sunk to the floor, but
her mother and sisters supported her, and by their tender care brought
her back to consciousness.

Every day of the month that followed, Kwan-yin's relatives begged her to
give up what they called her foolish notion. Her sisters had long since
given up hope of becoming queen. They were amazed at her stupidity. The
very thought of any one's choosing a convent instead of a throne was to
them a sure sign of madness. Over and over again they asked her reason
for making so strange a choice. To every question, she shook her head,
replying, "A voice from the heavens speaks to me, and I must obey it."

On the eve of the wedding day Kwan-yin slipped out of the palace, and,
after a weary journey, arrived at a convent called, "The Cloister of the
White Sparrow." She was dressed as a poor maiden. She said she wished to
become a nun. The abbess, not knowing who she was, did not receive her
kindly. Indeed, she told Kwan-yin that they could not receive her into
the sisterhood, that the building was full. Finally, after Kwan-yin had
shed many tears, the abbess let her enter, but only as a sort of
servant, who might be cast out for the slightest fault.

Now that Kwan-yin found herself in the life which she had long dreamt
of leading, she tried to be satisfied. But the nuns seemed to wish to
make her stay among them most miserable. They gave her the hardest tasks
to do, and it was seldom that she had a minute to rest. All day long
she was busy, carrying water from a well at the foot of the convent hill
or gatherin