Chapter VI

Let us retrace our steps. The reader will recall how the adorable Cheng-Si, daughter of the unfortunate Sun-Yen, had agreed, in order to procure help for her father, to become the victim that the Korean merchants were to offer the hungry monsters of the Yellow Sea.

When the vessel that bore the young girl had reached the open sea and the merchants had finished a session of prayer, they summoned Cheng-Si before them.

“The time for the sacrifice has come,” they told her. “Now you may retire, purify your body, put on your most beautiful gown. We will wait for you here.”

Cheng-Si obeyed their commands with resignation. She soon appeared on the deck, fresh as a new rose. One might have thought that she was going to her wedding instead of her death.

The traders had prepared a magnificent altar covered with white and bearing curiously carved incense burners. From the midst of the incense arose fragrant blue clouds of myrrh. At each end of the table burned an immense candle, the flames from which flickered to and fro in the breeze.

The girl was stationed between the two candles, in front of the incense burners. The merchants knelt and began to pray. Cheng-Si, the fair, consigned her soul to Heaven. Not that she experienced regret at leaving this life, but her last thoughts were of the blind father whom she had forsaken.

Her prayers concluded, the girl, without showing a trace of emotion, threw herself resolutely into the sea while the vessel continued on its way. Cheng-Si, who fully expected to drown in a few minutes, perceived with astonishment that she was resting on the surface of the water. In her plunge she had struck an obstacle and this obstacle was nothing else than a gigantic sea turtle. The animal kept on swimming, without seeming to be incommoded by his unusual burden. The young girl naturally seized this unlooked for chance of salvation. She allowed herself to be borne by the turtle and soon she enjoyed such a feeling of security that she fell asleep and a vision came to her. Her mother appeared before her, borne on the fleecy sheets of a cloud, and left with her these words:

“My daughter, be not afraid. Heed what I have to say to you and, above all things, follow my advice. Do not forsake the turtle who has saved your life until he has carried you safely to the shore.” With this message, the vision vanished.

Upon awakening, Cheng-Si glanced about her in all directions and noticed an island in the near distance. “Doubtless that is to be my future home,” she said to herself. “My dream is already beginning to come true. I shall follow my dear mother’s advice.”

The turtle, arriving close to the shore, turned aside into a deep subterranean passage and kept on swimming for several hours until it reached a point where the channel was very narrow. The innocent Cheng-Si jumped ashore crying:

“Thank you, good turtle, for saving my life.”

While the large animal turned and swam back toward the sea the girl tried to comprehend the situation in which she found herself. Amidst the deep darkness she was seized with a great fear. “Alas!” she cried, “poor me! I have escaped death only for a little while. How can I get out of this cave?” Suddenly she saw a ray of sunlight that filtered through the rocky vault above her head. She turned in this direction and saw two small polished stone flasks which shone in the sunlight. Lying conspicuously close by was a letter addressed to Cheng-Si herself. The young girl had had so many adventures in so short a time that this strange coincidence did not cause her any surprise. Breaking the seal on the letter, she read the following:

“Drink the contents of these two bottles. One of them will wash away the fatigue of your long voyage. The other will clarify your ideas about the strange events which no doubt have troubled you.”

Cheng-Si drank the two beverages and she immediately felt a renewed energy flowing through her veins. Her head was as clear as a bell. She picked her way carefully along the sides of the cavern in the direction whence the sunlight came. Her way was soon blocked by a pile of dirt which she painfully dug aside with her own hands. Presently she had made an opening large enough to admit her slender body. Drawing herself up through the hole she found that she was in the hollow trunk of an immense tree whose roots reached way down into the floor of the cave.

Cheng-Si enjoyed to the fullest measure the dazzling bright daylight. She was in an enchanted garden. Not only were there trees of luxuriant green foliage, spreading gorgeous blossoms caressed by the soft, sweet breath of variegated butterflies, and bees and birds, but the air itself was laden with an intoxicating perfume. A huge wall served to close the garden from outside view. In the centre arose a magnificent dwelling which harmonized nicely with its surroundings.

After a few minutes rest, Cheng-Si picked her way carefully through the briars and brambles covering the trunk of the tree and began to stroll about the garden.

Now it so happened that the beautiful house and this fairy garden were the residence and place of recreation for the young King whom Ja-Jo-Mi, the unscrupulous, in his wickedness, had exiled, as we have previously seen. His captivity had already lasted for several months. The young Prince, giving himself up to a bitter melancholy, could not take his thoughts from the memory of his parents. Ceaselessly he thought of his father and his mother, both of whom had shown him such tender affection. At times he would ponder over the future where he could see no issue from the plight in which he found himself but death.

“Why should I cling to life any longer? This everlasting loneliness, is it not the most cruel of punishments? Yes, it is better to die,” mourned the young Prince so sadly that at his approach even the birds stopped singing.

This very day he was determined to carry out his dismal plans. He carefully made all his preparations. A rope tightly attached to the bough of a tree at one end with the other end passed around his neck would be his instrument of deliverance. The poor victim of Ja-Jo-Mi said his last prayers. In a few minutes his body would be swinging into space. But the Prince hesitated. He had just seen a young girl, a beautiful vision in white, strolling along the shady paths of his garden.

“Who in the world can that be?” queried the Prince. “It seems that I am not here all alone, after all. I must solve this mystery.”

He forgot his plans of suicide; his melancholy mood disappeared. A single glimpse of a woman had had this potent effect on him--believe it or not. He untied the cord from about his neck and started in headlong pursuit after the charming apparition. ’Twas effort wasted! The girl turned around a tree and vanished as if by magic.

The young Prince was sorely perplexed. He questioned whether he was not dreaming. But no, his eyes had clearly seen. Later on, when the curtain of twilight began to lower its darkness the prisoner entered his house to seek slumber but all night long he was haunted by the memory of the girl he had seen in his garden and he could not sleep.

Almost before daybreak, he dressed in great haste and left the house. A butterfly hovered about his head. He tried to catch it but could not. He stubbornly gave chase, following it in its many turns and wanderings about the garden. Suddenly the insect disappeared in the hollow trunk of a tree. The young man had closely watched the insect’s flight, and feeling certain now of capturing his prey, he advanced with open hands. He expected to find a butterfly, and, behold, he discovered a beautiful young girl before him. So great was his surprise that he recoiled for a moment, but quickly suppressing this instinctive impulse, he went toward her, saying:

“Excuse me, for having disturbed you in your retreat. I stumbled upon it purely by accident. I was chasing a butterfly that took refuge in the trunk of this tree, and in trying to catch it I came upon you.”

Cheng-Si needed these words to reassure her. At the sight of the young man she was seized with an unusual fear. Her agitation prevented her from speaking, but the young King continued:

“I am very sorry to have troubled you. Calm yourself. May I ask where you live?”

“I have no parents, or home, sir. I was walking by the seashore when I fell into the water. A turtle caught me on his back and carried me to this island where I have been for several days.”

“Like you, I am an orphan,” the Prince went on. “I am a son of the late King of Korea. After my father’s death I was banished to this island by the Prime Minister, Ja-Jo-Mi. Both of us have been unfortunate it seems. But, wouldn’t you like to come and rest yourself for awhile in my house?”

“Thank you very much. But as you are a prisoner you are not free to allow this, are you?”

“Be at ease about that. It is quite true that I am a prisoner, but no one disturbs my lonely life. They think that behind these high thick walls, outside of which they have stationed a number of soldiers, it would be useless to inflict upon me other guards or restrictions. You can follow me fearlessly. Come, it will rest you a bit.”

Cheng-Si followed the young man. Hand in hand they went toward the exile’s home, exchanging very few words.

“Here, this will be your room,” said the young King. “I will leave you to make yourself at home.”

Cheng-Si, once alone, reflected upon what had happened to her. “This young man is charming and very likable,” was her thought. “Like me, he has undergone great hardships.”

As for Ki-Si, he had totally forgotten that only a short time before he had planned to take his own life. He could think of nothing but his beautiful guest. He was drawn from his meditation by the arrival of the servant who came each day to bring his food.

“Good,” said the young King. “Place it on that table and leave me. I shall serve myself to-day.”

When the servant had gone, Ki-Si went for the girl.

“Will you share my meagre dinner?” he asked.

“Gladly, sir.”

They seated themselves and began to eat.

“How happy I am to take my repast in your company,” said the young Prince.

“Why, sir, how is that?”

“Because I have been here alone for so long.”

“Yes, I should think it must be very dreary for you.”

When the meal was over they went for a walk in the garden, the King meanwhile relating all his troubles to Cheng-Si, who was greatly moved thereby, and said:

“Do not take things too hardly, my friend. Have patience. Later, when you regain the throne, you will forget these unhappy days.”

“No,” said the young man. “There will be no throne for me. Ja-Jo-Mi will have me killed.”

Cheng-Si gave him a little pat on the cheek and said,

“Don’t be sad, my friend. Cheer up. The future will smile upon you.”

Several weeks passed. One afternoon, the two went to sit down upon a bench in the garden, as was their custom. The young Prince laughed scornfully, as he pointed out to Cheng-Si the graves scattered here and there in the sun-kissed grass.

“Why are you laughing like that?” she questioned.

“Why,” he replied absently, and as if speaking in a trance. “I am laughing when I think that life is nothing more than a long mockery of bitterness and sorrow and lasts so briefly after all. Like the flies that spend their lifetime in a single sun’s ray, we live but a moment. We strive for honors and glory and what not. And to what purpose, since death gathers all of us under a common shroud and places us on an equality. Friendship and love alone can bind mankind to one another.”

Then he was silent. The contrast between his own sentiments and the aspect of Nature was striking. The most profound sadness filled his heart. Everything out-of-doors on the contrary seemed to be dancing in a delightful frolic of love.

Ki-Si, his head close to the pearly shell-like ear of Cheng-Si, continued:

“See that butterfly yonder! He is robbing that little white flower. Perhaps he is intoxicated with its perfume; perhaps he is leaving a kiss on its rosy lips? Ah, these insects are happier than we mortals.”

Cheng-Si was pensive. She was thinking of the many troubles that had made the young Prince esteem life so lightly. But she said to herself that if he could so easily detect love and the loveable in Nature, his soul could not be entirely immune to the sentiment itself. Possibly she was beloved by her companion.

She said to him merrily, “Chase away your sorrow. You will not always be unhappy. As the Spring-time follows Winter, so laughter follows tears. Soon the moon will be shining, for the moon loves the sun and will pursue it into the darkness of night. When it rains the earth is refreshed and gladdened.”

The sun was sinking below the horizon in a blaze of gold and glory. Everything marked the hour of rest and peace. The birds were flying to their nests, shaking the branches in their flight. A great silence lay over all Nature. The young Prince took Cheng-Si’s delicate little hand in his and murmured,

“I love you.”

“I love you,” was the girl’s answer.

After this tender confession, the two remained for a long time without saying a word, buried in a deep reverie, happy in their mutual love.

When they had gone home and had finished their evening repast, Ki-Si said to the young girl:

“It is customary in our country for parents to give their children in marriage, but we are orphans, so what shall we do to get married?”

“Let’s marry ourselves,” replied Cheng-Si, naively.

“Good, let’s get ready for the ceremony.”

They drew up a large table and covered it with a red cloth. Two candles--signifying youth; a needle and thread--signifying union; and incense burners, were placed on this improvised altar before which the betrothed pair knelt to pray to Heaven, after which they drank the sacramental wine from the same cup.

The ceremony was over. Love soon invited them to its wedding joys and the following days were filled with an ineffable happiness and delight.

Now it came to pass one night that the Prince had a dream. He saw in his dream a large bottle the upper portion of which had been broken, whence a crimson stream was slowly flowing. Ki-Si awoke with a start and aroused his companion. “Ja-Jo-Mi is going to kill me,” he cried with a sob. “I shall be forced to desert you, soul of my soul. Listen to my dream.”

Cheng-Si, too, fell a victim to despair. “Let’s save ourselves while we can,” she cried. “We will set fire to our house and try to reach the seacoast. Ja-Jo-Mi will believe that you are dead.”

“No,” vetoed the King. “It will be futile. I have had a dream which tells me of misfortune which I shall try in vain to escape.”

“But, I think,” rejoined Cheng-Si, who had regained her composure, “that you are wrong to be so alarmed at this dream. It does not have the meaning which you attribute to it. When one breaks the neck of a bottle one holds it carefully by the bottom. This means that your people are determined to convey to you their good wishes, and the blood which trickles from the bottle signifies the royal purple with which you will be vested.”

This explanation assuaged Ki-Si’s griefs but imperfectly. Nevertheless he said to Cheng-Si:

“Well, suppose we leave. Let the fire burn up this place. I have spent too many sad days here.”

Placing burning brands in various parts of the house they hurried into the garden. They made their way to the hollow tree where Ki-Si had discovered his treasure and through it descended into the cave. Shortly they were by the seaside.

How could they go any farther? They had no boat. The young King, rather than fall alive into the hands of Ja-Jo-Mi, determined to kill himself. He ran toward the water but Cheng-Si like a flash seized her husband by his gown and showered upon him gentle reproaches:

“Why would you desert me? Is it not my duty to follow you wherever you may go, even to the bottom of the sea? If you are bound to die, let us die together.”

“No, my dear, you are young. I met you by chance. It is not fitting that your fate should be thus linked to mine. Life for you may yet be a happy one. Let me go. Let me die alone.”

But Cheng-Si clung desperately to her lover. She wanted to follow him into the Valley of the Shadows; in fact, she would have preferred to have preceded him into the Darkness.

* * * * *

_Here endeth the sixth stage of our legend._

VII