Page:Frank Owen - The Wind That Tramps the World (1929).djvu/124

 inspired were like the music of mountain-brooks. So great they were, she could not resist them.

Their marriage is still recalled by the older people of China. It took place on a day when the lotuses were in bloom and the garden was heavy with the sweet perfume of wistaria, plum-blossoms and peonies. Even the sun smiled more brightly that day and showered the garden with a warm golden glow.

The years were friendly to them. For a while it seemed as though the future were to be a perfect poem. And then into the harmony of their lives came Ping Yung, a wandering musician. He told wondrous tales of the ruins of old Cambodia. He sang of the gorgeous temples and antiquities which lie buried in the heart of a dense jungle, of a once mighty country now deserted, a country whose people had reached the highest pinnacle of culture as artists and sculptors only to vanish, forming one of the most unfathomable mysteries of all time.

It stirred the romance in the blood of Lao Tzu. He yearned to roam off to those ruins of enchantment. In a moment of ecstasy he confided his desires to Shun Hua.

"If I could journey down to Cambodia," he said, "I could write poetry that would make me famous throughout the whole of Asia."

His words brought sadness to the heart of Shun Hua. She felt as though some evil spirit were clutching at their happiness. But she was a woman of China so