“I will do so!  I will indeed do so!”

Then the nasty youth led his mother into the next room to calm her a little.

“But what are you going to do?” she asked.

“Do you think we can be safe when she has gone to Fan?”

“I am not going to take her to Fan.”

“What are you going to do, then?”

He gave a country laugh, full of suggestion.

* * * * *

Matters so continued until the fifteenth day of the first Moon, the evening of the Feast of Lanterns.  Feng went out to see the illuminations, and also to profit by the opportunities for theft which are always afforded in a crowd.  The evening wore on, and he had not yet returned, when a shout arose among the neighbors.  Feng’s mother opened the door to see what was the matter.  A fire had broken out near there.  In terror, the old woman made haste to carry her furniture into the yard.  Profiting by this confusion, the girl slipped through the door; but in the street she did not know which way to turn.  At last she found the road to the Ts’ao Gate, and was running in that direction when she lost herself again.  However, when at length she asked where The Pavilion of the Quick Hedge might be, she was shown a near way to it.

The attendant was before the door, and she asked him very politely: 

“Ten thousand happinesses!  Is not this the house of Fan and Erh-lang?”

“Certainly it is, small lady.”

“Could you not lead me to him?”

“Assuredly,” he answered.

He showed her the way, calling from the door to his masters; but when Erh-lang, in the pale light of the paper lanterns, recognized the white face of his betrothed, he cried out in dismay:  “Ghost!  Ghost!”

Confident in her love, she advanced toward him piteously repeating: 

“Elder brother!  Elder brother!  I am alive!”

But he kept recoiling in terror, and crying:  “Help!  Help!”

How could he fail to believe himself in the presence of a ghost, when he had witnessed the funeral, and had, that very evening, encountered the wife of Chou in mourning garments?

As she was about to touch him and, cringing against the wall, he could retreat no further, his terror redoubled.  Not knowing what he did, he picked up a heavy stool and struck his dear visitor on the head with it.  She fell back, and her head sounded dully on the stone flags.

Fan ran up at the noise of this.  He saw the woman on the ground, and his brother holding the stool.

“What have you done?” he cried.  “What is the matter?  Was it you who killed her?”

“She is a ghost,” the other said.

“If she were a ghost, she would not bleed.  What have you done?”

Already some ten persons had come up to see what was the matter.  The street guard came in to them and seized Erh-lang, who kept on saying:  “She is the ghost of Chou’s daughter.  I have killed her.”