arrived for the third trial, and a third time Yung-lo
took his place in Kwan-yu's factory, surrounded by his courtiers. There
was a look of stern expectancy on his face. Twice he had excused his
underling for failure. Now there could be no thought of mercy. If the
bell did not come from its cast perfect in tone and fair to look upon,
Kwan-yu must be punished with the severest punishment that could be
meted out to man--even death itself. That was why there was a look of
stern expectancy on Yung-lo's face, for he really loved Kwan-yu and did
not wish to send him to his death.

As for Kwan-yu himself, he had long ago given up all thought of success,
for nothing had happened since his second failure to make him any surer
this time of success. He had settled up his business affairs, arranging
for a goodly sum to go to his beloved daughter; he had bought the coffin
in which his own body would be laid away and had stored it in one of the
principal rooms of his dwelling; he had even engaged the priests and
musicians who should chant his funeral dirge, and, last but not least,
he had arranged with the man who would have charge of chopping off his
head, that one fold of skin should be left uncut, as this would bring
him better luck on his entry into the spiritual world than if the head
were severed entirely from the body.

And so we may say that Kwan-yu was prepared to die. In fact, on the
night before the final casting he had a dream in which he saw himself
kneeling before the headsman and cautioning him not to forget the
binding agreement the latter had entered into.

Of all those present in the great foundry, perhaps the devoted Ko-ai was
the least excited. Unnoticed, she had slipped along the wall from the
spot where she had been standing with her mother and had planted herself
directly opposite the huge tank in which the molten, seething liquid
bubbled, awaiting the signal when it should be set free. Ko-ai gazed at
the Emperor, watching intently for the well-known signal. When at last
she saw his head move forward she sprang with a wild leap into the
boiling liquid, at the same time crying in her clear, sweet voice:

"For thee, dear father! It is the only way!"

The molten white metal received the lovely girl into its ardent embrace,
received her, and swallowed her up completely, as in a tomb of liquid
fire.

And Kwan-yu--what of Kwan-yu, the frantic father? Mad with grief at the
sight of his loved one giving up her li