Pavilion of Women: A Novel of Life in the Women's Quarters Read Online Free PDF

continually smoothed it. Now her pleasure was mingled with fear lest her hair was curling again before Liangmo’s mother’s eyes. She loved Madame Wu, but she feared her. No one ever saw a hair misplaced on Madame Wu’s graceful head. Then she put out both hands to receive the gift and forgot her fears.
    “My mother’s pearls!” she breathed.
    “She gave them to me, but I am too old for pearls,” Madame Wu said. “Now everything happens for good in this house. You declared your happiness today, and I had these pearls ready to give you.”
    “I have always craved these pearls,” Meng said. She opened the box and gazed down at the jewels.
    “Put them on,” Liangmo commanded her.
    Meng obeyed. Her soft cheeks blushed more deeply. They were all watching her, even the little boy. But her slender fingers did not fumble as she fastened the pearls in her ears.
    “I used to put them in my ears and beg my mother to let me keep them,” she confessed.
    “Now you have earned them,” Madame Wu said. She turned to her son. “See how rosy the pearls have become. They were silver gray.”
    It was true. The pearls looked rose pink against Meng’s soft flesh.
    “Ai ya,” Lien cried. “She must not look too pretty or the baby will be a girl!”
    They laughed, and Madame Wu closed the laughter by saying as she rose to depart, “I would welcome a girl. After all, there must be female in the world as well as male. We forget it, but it is true, is it not, Meng?”
    But Meng was too shy to answer such a question.
    It was the hour of the birthday feast. Madame Wu had taken her place at the left of Old Lady, who because of her age and generation had the highest seat. Mr. Wu sat on his mother’s right, and on the other side of him sat Liangmo. Tsemo, the second son, sat on Madame Wu’s left, and on Tsemo’s left the third son, Fengmo. Yenmo, the fourth son, was still a child of seven. But he had come to live in his father’s rooms, and now he stood in the circle of his father’s arm. Thus one by one each member was in his place, and below the sons the two sons’ wives sat, Meng with her child on her knee, and a maidservant stood near to take it away if it became troublesome. Old Lady was proud of her great-grandchild but easily impatient, whereas Madame Wu had endless patience.
    Indeed, nothing seemed to fret her. Her smooth pearl-colored face looked with pleasure on this great gathering of her family. At six other tables, of eight places each, there were uncles and aunts and cousins and friends and their children, and at one table Madame Kang presided. All had sent gifts to Madame Wu before this day. These gifts were of many kinds—pairs of vases, packages of dates, boxes of soft cakes and sweets, scrolls of silk upon which were pasted characters cut out of gold paper, each carrying a good wish. There were many other gifts. Mr. Wu had added two bolts of heavy brocaded silk, and Old Lady had added two boxes of fine tea for her personal gift.
    The family gift had been expensive. They had ordered a painting, by the best artist in the city, of the Goddess of Long Life. All the guests agreed as to its beauty when they came to offer their first greetings to Madame Wu. The picture hung in the place of honor, and even its details were correct. The goddess held the immortal peach in her hand. By her side was a stag, red bats flew about her head in blessing, and from her girdle hung the gourd containing the elixir of life. Even long-lived herbs were not forgotten by the artist; he had tied them to her staff.
    On the wall behind Madame Wu hung a square of red satin upon which were sewn the characters for long life cut out of black velvet. Against this bright satin Madame Wu’s dark head was dainty and austere.
    To all the greetings and good wishes of the guests Liangmo responded for Madame Wu. Before the guests were seated, he and Meng had gone to each table and thanked the guests, for their mother, as the eldest son and