Deeper than ever plummet sounded was Mien-yaun’s wretchedness now.  Desperation took possession of him.  Nothing prevented him from severing his carotid artery but the recollection that only the vulgar thus disposed of themselves.  He thought of poison, whose sale was present death in Pekin, according to established law.  Suicide by poison being a forbidden luxury, it recommended itself nimbly unto Mien-yaun’s senses.  He did remember an apothecary whose poverty, if not his will, would consent to let him have a dram of poison.  He was about acting on this inspiration, when a message was brought to him from Tching-whang, that, at his daughter’s most earnest prayer, one solitary interview would be permitted the lovers.

Like an arrow, Mien-yaun flew to the arms of Ching-ki-pin.  She was, then, true to him.  She told him so; she swore it.  Hope revived.  He thought no longer of the apothecary.  Since Ching-ki-pin was faithful, he asked no higher bliss.

A hundred plans were discussed, and all declared ineffectual to accomplish their union.  Still they suggested impracticabilities.

“Let us run away,” said Mien-yaun.

“Think of my feet,” said Ching-ki-pin, reproachfully;—­“am I a Hong-Kong woman, that I should run?”

It is only in Hong-Kong that the Chinese women permit their feet to grow.

Mien-yaun was full of heroic resolutions.  Hitherto, besides being born great, he had had greatness thrust upon him.  Now he would achieve greatness.  He would secure not only wealth, but also a more enduring fame than he had before enjoyed.  He saw many avenues to eminence opening before him.  He would establish a periodical devoted to pictorial civilization.  If civilization did not bring it success, he would illustrate great crimes and deadly horrors, in the highest style of Art, and thus command the attention of the world.  Or he would establish a rival theatre.  Two playhouses already existed in Pekin, each controlled by men of high integrity, great tact, and undenied claims to public support.  He would overturn all that.  He would start without capital, sink immense sums, pay nobody, ruin his company, and retire in triumph.  Or he would become a successful politician, which was easier than all, for nothing was needed in this career but strong lungs and a cyclopaedia.  Many other methods of achieving renown did he rehearse, all of which seemed feasible.

Ching-ki-pin, too, thought she might do something to acquire wealth.  She painted beautifully, with no sign of perspective to mar her artistic productions.  She warbled like a nightingale.  She understood botany better than the great Chin-nong, who discovered in one day no less than seventy poisonous plants, and their seventy antidotes.  Could she not give lessons to select classes of young ladies in all these several accomplishments?  She was dying to do something to help defeat the machinations of their evil Quei-shin, the mother-in-law.