The undertaker now hired him by the day to hold up the curtains of fine cloth, by which he earned just enough to support himself.  In a few months he grew quite strong again, but whenever he heard the mourners’ doleful songs, in which they regretted that they could not change places with the corpse, burst into violent fits of sobbing and shed streams of tears over which they lost all control, then he used to go home and imitate their performance.

Being a man of intelligence, he very soon mastered the art and finally became the most expert mourner in Ch`ang-an.  It happened that there were two undertakers at this time between whom there was a great rivalry.  The undertaker of the east turned out magnificent hearses and biers, and in this respect his superiority could not be contested.  But the mourners he provided were somewhat inferior.  Hearing of our young man’s skill, he offered him a large sum for his services.  The eastern undertaker’s supporters, who were familiar with the repertoire of his company, secretly taught the young man several fresh tunes and showed him how to fit the words to them.  The lessons went on for several weeks, without any one being allowed to know of it.  At the end of that time the two undertakers agreed to hold a competitive exhibition of their wares in T`ien-men1 Street.  The loser was to forfeit 50,000 cash to cover the cost of the refreshments provided.  Before the exhibition an agreement was drawn up and duly signed by witnesses.

A crowd of several thousand people collected to watch the competition.  The mayor of the quarter got wind of the proceedings and told the chief of police.  The chief of police told the governor of the city.  Very soon all the gentlemen of Ch`ang-an were hurrying to the spot and every house in the town was empty.  The exhibition lasted from dawn till midday.  Coaches, hearses and all kinds of funeral trappings were successively displayed, but the undertaker of the west could establish no superiority.  Filled with shame, he set up a platform in the south corner of the square.  Presently a man with a long beard came forward, carrying a hand-bell and attended by several assistants.  He wagged his beard, raised his eyebrows, folded his arms across his chest and bowed.  Then, mounting the platform, he sang the “Dirge of the White Horse.”  When it was over, confident of an easy victory, he glared round him, as if to imply that his opponents had all vanished.  He was applauded on every side and was himself convinced that his talents were a unique product of the age and could not possibly be called into question.

After a while the undertaker of the east put together some benches in the north corner of the square, and a young man in a black hat came forward, attended by five assistants and carrying a bunch of hearse-plumes in his hand.  It was the young man of our story.

He adjusted his clothes, looked timidly up and down, and then cleared his throat and began his tune with an air of great diffidence.