valed, she was filled with intense joy. Her heart was
beating and throbbing with love for another, and in that instant
Ju-Kiouan's whole life was changed. It was foolish in her to fall
violently in love with a reflection, of whose reality she knew
nothing, but after all she was only acting like nearly all young
girls who take a husband for his white teeth or his curly hair,
knowing nothing whatever of his real character.

Tchin-Sing had also perceived the charming reflection of the
young girl. "I am dreaming," he cried. "That beautiful image upon
the water is the combination of sunshine and the perfume of many
flowers. I recognize it well. It is the reflection of the image
within my own heart, the divine unknown whom I have worshiped all
my life."

Tchin-Sing was aroused from his monologue by the voice of his
father, who called him to come at once to the grand saloon.

"My son," said he, "here is a very rich and very learned man
who seeks you as a husband for his daughter. The young girl has
imperial blood in her veins, is of a rare beauty, and possesses
all the qualities necessary to make her husband happy."

Tchin-Sing, whose heart was bursting with love for the reflection
seen from the pavilion, refused decidedly. His father, carried
away with passion, heaped upon him the most violent imprecations.

"Undutiful child," said he, "if you persist in your obstinacy, I
will have you confined in one of the strongest fortresses of the
empire, where you will see nothing but the sea beating against
the rocks, and the mountains covered with mist. There you will
have leisure to reflect, and repent of your wicked conduct."

These threats did not frighten Tchin-Sing in the least. He
quickly replied that he would accept for his wife the first
maiden who touched his heart, and until then he should listen to
no one.

The next day, at the same hour, he went to the pavilion on
the lake, and, leaning on the balcony, eagerly watched for the
beloved reflection. In a few moments he saw it glisten in the
water, beauteous as a boquet of submerged flowers.

A radiant smile broke over the face of the reflection, which
proved to Tchin-Sing that his presence was not unpleasant to the
lovely unknown. But as it was impossible to hold communication
with a reflection whose substance is invisible, he made a sign
that he would write, and vanished into the interior of the
pavilion. He soon reappeared, bearing in his hand a silvered
paper, u