were without warmth, or perhaps he was in truth grow* ing old as Lady T'ai Chên had so boldly asserted.
Kao Li-shih who watched over the Emperor, with eyes that could even peer into his heart, was distressed. At the coming of Lady T'ai Chên, he had pitied the Empire; at her going, he pitied the Emperor.
"Your Majesty," he gently suggested, "why not send for her, the one woman capable of restoring your happiness?"
"No, no," said the Emperor, "she must stay away."
After all, if he gave in, he would lose face.
A few days later, Kao came to him again.
"Lady T'ai Chên has sent for her clothes," he said, "and all her belongings."
"They shall not leave this Palace!" cried the Emperor. Never had he appeared so belligerently, so powerfully majestic. There was nothing face-losing in such an attitude. "Tell her that if she wishes to wear her clothes, she must wear them here!"
Poor Lady T'ai Chên. Before such sweeping power, what could she do? She had practically no clothes to wear, and she was far too modest to go naked except in the privacy of her own apartment at the Palace, so she returned to the Emperor. Never had she looked so demure, so meek. On her face was such a penitent expression she might indeed have been envied by nuns. No woman in all history has been better versed in the supreme art of humility. She threw herself at Ming Huang's feet, wrapped her arms about his knees, wept softly and implored forgiveness.
