running stream in which ducks and swans swam gracefully about. Among all the white beautiful birds there was one black swan. Each merchant noticed it and cursed. They imagined that it was an evil omen.
And now they beheld Mai-da coming down a flower path. Each merchant stepped forward. "Beloved!" he cried. But the ducks and swans were making such a clamor that she did not hear them. Nor did she even notice their approach. Her arms were held out to a young man who was just stepping out of a small boat at the tiny river's edge. The next moment she was in his arms.
The five merchants gazed upon the scene horrified. For of each merchant, Mai-da was the beloved woman, the woman whom he worshipped above all others. No wonder she was beautiful, magnificent to gaze upon, for each of the merchants had given of his best to her. She bloomed and became more gorgeous, fed on the worship of these men. The beauty of women is painted with love. The adoration of many people creates the soft tones and colors that bring out her perfection of grace and form.
Ling Yoong had always gazed upon her with eyes of enchantment. She was like a rare jewel. Her eyes sparkled like diamonds, her lips were rubies, her teeth were pearls, and her hands were pink coral. Now he saw her in the blackness of her duplicity. The fire died in her eyes, the glow of her lips faded, her teeth became less white, her hands lost their pink freshness. He was disenchanted. And he turned away.
Dien Lee had seen her body, silk-soft and glowing. He had loved to strip her nude that he might array her in fine silks. But now the silk-bloom had gone from her body. It would be sacrilege to array her in these rare silks he had brought. Her body was ordinary. It was purchasable. It could be used by any man who could pay the price. His silks deserved a better mistress than Mai-da. And he turned away. For the first time his vision was clear. He could see her as she really was.
And Chu Kai the dreamer and philosopher gazed upon her sadly. He had always thought of her as a lovely poem. There was music in her voice. There was fragrance on her lips. But now the poetry was harsh. It lacked design. Gone was all rhythm and harmony. It held no allure for him. The music was stilled. Sadly he turned away.
Chu Chen had always loved the grace of Mai-da, the lovely manner in which she came toward him. She was like a dryad of the hills; her step was fairy magic, her laugh was music. But now he looked at her coldly. No longer did she have grace for him. When a woman shares her grace with all men it belongs to none. And Chu Chen turned away. Above all he was a business man. His business with Mai-da was done.
Then Voong Wo the tea merchant gazed upon her. Inasmuch as for years he had dealt in tea he was keenly sensitive to every change of mood. How he had loved to walk at night with Mai-da through the garden, his arm about her waist, his hand cupping the soft warm curve of her breast! And when she yielded to him he had imagined that something divine was happening to him. He was ennobled, transformed, transcended. Now he gazed at her with harsh eyes. There was really nothing extraordinary about her appearance. She was kissing the boatman in a rather vulgar manner. And Voong Wo, too, turned away.
