Page:Frank Owen - The Wind That Tramps the World (1929).djvu/97

 love with a gorgeous girl who lived in a spirit city. Perhaps she had been dead for fifty years. His life lay in ruins. He was very wealthy but his wealth was not sufficient to bring that wondrous girl to him. He could not have been more despondent if he had been the veriest beggar in the market-place. He lost his desire for food. Samshu held no allure. He grew thin and haggard. Old Woo Ling-foh had gone off on a pilgrimage to the South so he could not accompany him to the city once again.

Weeks rolled by. They lengthened into months. And Hwei-Ti remained in his garden. Desiring, dreaming, yearning for the magic city and the lovely girl.

And he thought of the prediction of the old philosopher, that he would not live six months. He believed it to be true for he was ill from longing. He was on the threshold of death and he did not care. There was naught left to him in the world. Gold and jewels—what need had he for such worthless baubles? They could not buy happiness.

Then again came Woo Ling-foh.

"I am dying," murmured Hwei-Ti, "and before I finally expire I wish once more to visit the wondrous Blue City."

"I wonder," mused Woo Ling-foh. "I wonder whether death is really death or is it life? Is it the birth of the soul, for surely when it is set free from the body, to wander untrammeled through the universe, it cannot be death. However vain speculations interest