lover,
And my thoughts are the leaves that listen.
Autumn, Autumn, touch not my leaf-thoughts!
Cast them not down when the pool is grey,
And the teal no more sail two and two
With their breasts above one shadow.

_Shun_

Come to me, Wong Fe! I feel that you have blown through my door like
a rose petal, and will drift away again, leaving me not a footprint
to kiss.

_Wong Fe_

Neither in life nor in death shall I leave you, my lord. Though I seem
to die, and these graces that please you fall to earth like
willow-blossoms, it is not I that will lie on the sand.

_Shun_

Why do you speak of death, Wong Fe?

_Wong Fe_

Because I am so happy. The sages say that we can have no fairer fortune
than to die in our happiest moment.

_Shun_

Do not speak of death. The word blisters the air, though your lips be as
two drops of June rain.

_Wong Fe_

But how sweet to die when I am fairest in your eyes! Every year, at this
time, you would walk down the peach-flower lanes and recall the glow of
my cheek. Oh, Heaven, let me not be a faded wife in the blooming time of
the year!

_Shun_

Thy soul, Wong Fe, is the flower of my worship.

_Wong Fe_

And death would give my soul wholly to you. I should be near you always.
Then morning would not call you to the peaks, leaving me behind in the
tear-dew.

_Shun_

To-morrow we shall go together. Your shadow will be with mine on the
rocks, and under the fir-trees we shall forget the valley.

_Wong Fe_

And the world? Oh, my lord, there are distances farther than the peaks
of Siang, and they will call you from me. It cannot be that you who have
known all lands will be content with one. I would see the strange people
you have made your brothers, would listen to their dreams, and read the
future with their hearts. There are dangers you would not let my body
share--I do not ask that--but my soul, you could forbid it nothing.

_Shun_

What have you heard? What has Makuro said to you?

_Wong Fe_

What should he say but that the cakes were good, and the tea had the
flavor of the fields of Hunan?

_Shun_

We must join our friends. Where do they wait?

_Wong Fe_

They listen for the boat that will stop at the foot of the orchard. Why
do they go? Old friends should not be so brief in greeting. Could they
not stay one night?

_Shun_

No--no. (_Sits down_.) They must go.

_Wong Fe_ (_laying her hand on his shoulder_)

What voice dost thou hear,