Page:Frank Owen - The Scarlett Hill, 1941.djvu/29

 fault with the gentle curves of her body. Sometimes, however, when she was sure she was not observed, she had burned tapers to her joss, bowed her head penitently, and chanted words of solemnity and devotion. But she could not help adding a supplication,—"And, please, Honorable God, do not make me too fat." She was troubled about something that was not a trouble.

Today, however, she was happy. An oriole perched on the low branch of a near-by tree. She saw his reflection in the water. He nodded approvingly. She broke off a red hibiscus blossom and placed it in her hair, her long blue-black hair, with the sheen of a starlit night in autumn. She unfastened her hair and let it fall in gentle waves about her shoulders, making sure that the hibiscus blossom remained in place beside her small pink ear. It was good to be sixteen, no longer a child.

She smiled at her own reflection in the water mirror. She had put away childish things. In her smile there was all the allure of legendary goddesses who had charmed men. Above all else, that was the work of women. Her teeth as she smiled had the sheen of pearls. Her mouth was provocatively red, and as strong as wine. Men who drank of her beauty were captivated.

It was good to appear fragile, and yet have a will that could conquer generals. Thankful, she was, to be born in those enlightened days of the T'angs when women were powers at Court. Within the lifetime of her uncle, a masterful woman had seized the reins of government and assumed the title of Empress of China. Perhaps—She was afraid to complete the thought. However, she