As Ling walked through the streets to his chamber after leaving the house and company of Chang-Ch’un, holding firmly among his garments the thin printed papers to the amount of fifty thousand taels which he had received, and repeatedly speaking to himself in terms of general and specific encouragement at the fortunate events of the past few days, he became aware that a person of mean and rapacious appearance, whom he had some memory of having observed within the residence he had but just left, was continually by his side. Not at first doubting that the circumstance resulted from a benevolent desire on the part of Chang-ch’un that he should be protected on his passage through the city, Ling affected not to observe the incident; but upon reaching his own door the person in question persistently endeavoured to pass in also. Forming a fresh judgment about the matter, Ling, who was very powerfully constructed, and whose natural instincts were enhanced in every degree by the potent fluid of which he had lately partaken, repeatedly threw him across the street until he became weary of the diversion. At length, however, the thought arose that one who patiently submitted to continually striking the opposite houses with his head must have something of importance to communicate, whereupon he courteously invited him to enter the apartment and unweigh his mind.
“The facts of the case appear to have been somewhat inadequately represented,” said the stranger, bowing obsequiously, “for this unornamental person was assured by the benignant Chang-ch’un that the one whose shadow he was to become was of a mild and forbearing nature.”
“Such words are as the conversation of birds to me,” replied Ling, not conjecturing how the matter had fallen about. “This person has just left the presence of the elegant and successful Chang-ch’un, and no word that he spoke gave indication of such a follower or such a service.”