Page:Frank Owen - The Scarlett Hill, 1941.djvu/190

RV 185 (LI PO). His horizons were too far-sweeping. He loved the mountains and the sea; the rhythm of forest trees, the silent enchantment of a desert night. At some time or other he had journeyed to every province. It was his boast that he had passed the night drunk at the foot of every sacred mountain in China. And yet, he never wearied of plodding to the top of Tai Shan, the most sacred of all mountains, a mountain that has been worshipped by men of all religions since the beginning of history. He sighed, realizing his deficiencies. He lived lustily and robustly. Time enough had he to pause at every wayside inn. Time for everything, in fact, but devotion to his own household. He quickly drank three cups of wine to banish thoughts of such trivial things.

He glanced up as a wild-looking, mud-smeared apparition appeared before him. Though evidently he had but recently recovered from a bloody nose, the apparition was grinning. After a little research Li Po discovered that it was his friend Chih-chang.

Despite his dishevelment, Chih-chang was still debonair. He bowed formally, seized Li Po's winecup and drained it.

Li Po sighed. "Alas, now I shall have to pay for the wine."

In explanation of his disappearance, Chih-chang said, "Nature called me to the garden to study the bright sky. I stepped aside to let a snorting dragon pass, and fell down a well. Had it not been empty I might have been forced to drink much water to keep from drowning, for I cannot swim." RV 185 (185)