Tchin-Sing was aroused from his monologue by the voice of his father, who called him to come at once to the grand saloon.

“My son,” said he, “here is a very rich and very learned man who seeks you as a husband for his daughter.  The young girl has imperial blood in her veins, is of a rare beauty, and possesses all the qualities necessary to make her husband happy.”

Tchin-Sing, whose heart was bursting with love for the reflection seen from the pavilion, refused decidedly.  His father, carried away with passion, heaped upon him the most violent imprecations.

“Undutiful child,” said he, “if you persist in your obstinacy, I will have you confined in one of the strongest fortresses of the empire, where you will see nothing but the sea beating against the rocks, and the mountains covered with mist.  There you will have leisure to reflect, and repent of your wicked conduct.”

These threats did not frighten Tchin-Sing in the least.  He quickly replied that he would accept for his wife the first maiden who touched his heart, and until then he should listen to no one.

The next day, at the same hour, he went to the pavilion on the lake, and, leaning on the balcony, eagerly watched for the beloved reflection.  In a few moments he saw it glisten in the water, beauteous as a boquet of submerged flowers.

A radiant smile broke over the face of the reflection, which proved to Tchin-Sing that his presence was not unpleasant to the lovely unknown.  But as it was impossible to hold communication with a reflection whose substance is invisible, he made a sign that he would write, and vanished into the interior of the pavilion.  He soon reappeared, bearing in his hand a silvered paper, upon which he had written a declaration of love in seven-syllabled stanzas.  He carefully folded his verses and placed them in the cup of a white flower, which he rolled in a leaf of the water-lily, and placed the whole tenderly upon the surface of the lake.

A light breeze wafted the lover’s message through the arches of the wall, and it floated so near Ju-Kiouan that she had only to stretch out her hand to receive it.  Fearful of being seen she returned to her private boudoir, where she read with great delight the expressions of love written by Tchin-Sing.  Her joy was all the greater, as she recognized from the exquisite hand-writing and choice versification that the writer was a man of culture and talent.  And when she read his signature, the significance of which she perceived at once, remembering her mother’s dream, she felt that heaven had sent her the long desired companion.

The next day the breeze blew in a different direction, so that Ju-Kiouan was able to send an answer in verse by the same subtle messenger, by which, notwithstanding her girlish modesty, it was easy to see that she returned the love of Tchin-Sing.

On reading the signature, Tchin-Sing could not repress an exclamation of surprise and delight.  “The pearl,” said he, “that is the precious jewel my mother saw glittering on my bosom.  I must at once entreat this young girl’s hand of her parents, for she is the wife appointed for me by the oracle.”