Chapter I: Act I

_A Chinese Studio with windowed walls of woodwork and oil-paper. At back of centre a dais, and behind that a picture showing an interior opening into a garden. In the foreground of the picture appears a hanging lantern, and below it a mandoline and a jar holding a spray of plum-blossom. To the right of the stage a sliding door opens into street: to the left stairs lead upward to interior, forward of that a door also to interior. It is morning: six or seven students squat painting. Between every two of them is a small stand for paint-pots, brushes, etc. All are very lazy and desultory at their work: the only industrious one is_ TIKIPU, _who, in shabby menial attire, grinds colours with weary persistence. The students yawn, stretch, and whine; and resume work in a perfunctory way at intervals upon shop-signs, lanterns, etc. On the dais sits_ YUNGLANGTSI, _a mountain of indolent fat: sunk in profound slumber he squats before his easel. Street-criers are heard without calling their wares._

1ST CRIER. Only ten sen! Only ten sen! Any buy?

2ND CRIER. Ay-ay-ay-ay-ay-eh!

1ST CRIER. [_Nearer._] Only ten sen! Any buy?

HITI. The next person who asks me if I’ll buy--I’ll murder!

1ST CRIER. [_Intruding head._] Any buy?

HITI. Get out--Mosquito!... Oh, Tikipu, you stagnant fool, _do_ keep them out!

[TIKIPU _goes to shut door_.

NAU. If honourable Shivering-fit has that door shut, long-suffering Foresight will go mad.

HITI. Judging from its present whereabouts, Foresight will not have to go far.

NAU. Oh, brilliant, scintillating wit! What repartee!

HAN. O Firebrands of genius, don’t make it any hotter than it is!

1ST CRIER. Only ten sen! Any buy?

[HITI _gives long-drawn sigh of exasperation_:
TEE-PEE _pats his back soothingly_.

TEE. There, there, Hiti, cheer up! It will soon be over. The Feast of Lanterns begins at noon. Then, on the auspicious stroke, we shut up shop. Mr. Yunglangtsi, how does your august Serenity bear the inconsiderateness of this piffling heat?

LIL. Hush! Don’t speak to him! He’s inspired!

TEE. I see--as usual! This inspiration is becoming permanent!

LIL. It is the incubation of the Event, Tee-Pee!

HITI. Trust what the starry Oracles foretell:
Wait till the chicken taps upon the shell.

[_He taps_ YUNGLANGTSI’S _head with his fan_.
YUNGLANGTSI _snores softly_.

NAU. O starry Oracles! Did you hear that?

[YUNGLANGTSI _snores again_.

NEW. Ugh! When are the sanguinary Event and the starry Oracle going to pay us our back wages, that’s what I want to know?

HITI. Look not to Heaven to make or mar
Your fortunes, ye that toil!
Who hung his pot upon a star,
His broth forgot to boil.

[_He gets up and begins to roam round._

NAU. Oh, poetry!

NEW. Ah! It’s all very well for fancy-price first-footers like you to talk! You think it’s all a subliminal joke. Still balancing yourselves on the giddy curriculum, you are: so fed up with the fat of your own fancies that you haven’t found out what a tip-top, ship-shape take-in you’ve tumbled to!

[HITI _leans over and fans him soothingly_.

NEW. [_Continuing._] Ah! To you it’s only a joke! But when’s the value of our antediluvian premiums coming back to us? What are we doing here now? Stuffing up our ears with stale old lectures we all know by heart,--just because _you_’ve come in on the giddy make-believe? Talk of the Event! Here, you Hippopotamus, take that!

[_Slaps_ YUNGLANGTSI _on the back_.

TEE. Really! You might have woken him.

NEW. That _would_ be an Event, that would!

HAN. Well, anyhow, the Event won’t pay _us_. Starvation-point, nought-nought-recurring--can’t afford to wait for it.

HITI. What grovelling Curiosity can’t make out is why they should be marrying him to _her_.

HAN. Why not?

HITI. Consider what she was--a little Korean slave-girl who couldn’t even speak the language! And what is she now?--future bride of the incomparable Mr. Yunglangtsi, who sits there awaiting the fulfilment of his starry destiny--the Oracle which announces that he is to become the greatest of living artists.

LIL. Ugh! Olangtsi will have to be dead by then.

HITI. Oh no! Tiring of his exalted capacities he will hand them on to Yunglangtsi. It will be the occasion for a fresh lecture, as thus: ‘Gentlemen-pupils, apprentices, and paid workmen....’

NEW. _Un_paid workmen, you mean.

HITI. Sh! ‘Your immediate and polite attention.--’ (At the word ‘attention’ you will lay down your brushes, fold your hands submissively, and wait.) ‘In the instruction which it has been my honourable privilege to bestow all these years on your stubbornly benighted intelligences--’ (At these words you bow your heads) [_hits fellow-student over head with a mahl-stick_] (as an acknowledgment of what unprofitable Stick-in-the-muds you all are.)... ‘I have endeavoured to set before you the traditions of Wiowani, the greatest of all the ancient Masters, whose only surviving representative and follower I am--’ (At the word ‘am’ the complete Kow-tow is necessary), ‘and whose last and greatest masterpiece, entitled “The Threshold of the Muses,” here hangs before you for your instruction.’ (At these words you all turn and look at the great masterpiece as though you had never seen it before.)

[_General derisive applause._ HITI _in hitting
at_ NAU-TEE _knocks over paint-pot_.

NAU. There! that was _your_ fault!

HITI. And _your_ paint-pot.

NAU. Pah! Here, Swab, come and mop this foolish mess up!

[TIKIPU _obeys_.

NEW. What meek Interrogation wants to know is--when are we going to strike for our pay?

TEE. To-day, if we could catch him. He always keeps an honourable alibi when Mrs. Back-of-the-House is out.

LIL. [_To_ TEE-PEE.] Oh, I wish you wouldn’t go putting your blue brush into my red, you purple idiot!

TEE. [_To_ TIKIPU, _pushing him_.] There, clumsy, clumsy!

[TIKIPU _stumbles_.

NEW. Don’t spread yourself over me, you larded swine!

NAU. Get out, Goose-fat!

{ Mangle him!
STUDENTS. { Crimp him!
{ Dibble his ribs!

HAN. Oh! empty him away somewhere! Empty him away!

[_They all beat and pelt_ TIKIPU _back to his
corner with pellets of bread, balls of paper,
mahl-sticks, etc._ PEE-AH-BEE _throws a shoe
at him_. TIKIPU _returns to his grinding
with meek, dogged indifference. Enter
behind, meanwhile_, MEE-MEE _carrying a
water lily on a stand, which with obeisance
she sets on the dais in front of_ YUNGLANGTSI.
_She is retiring again when one
of the students catches sight of her._

TEE. Oh, Mee-Mee!

[_Beckons to her._

MEE. [_Turning with a curtsey._] Ah!--say?

TEE.} Come and sing to us! LIL.} Bring us some tea!

MEE. Plesently: my merciful and mighty Mistless, hon’ble Mrs. Back-of-de-House, not gone out yet!

STUDENTS. [_Aghast]._ Oh!

[_Exit_ MEE-MEE.

PEE. [_Who has not spoken before._] H’m! You all thought she’d gone; _I_ didn’t. Tikipu, you had better submissively behave yourself. Bring me that shoe!

[TIKIPU _brings it_. PEE-AH-BEE _hits him with
it and puts it on_. HITI-TITI _while roaming
round the room picks up a sign-board with
a hole in it, and considers it for a while with
his back to the others_.

HITI. Hanky ... Hanky-panky.... Does the honourable Mr. Han-Kin not hear?

HAN. Belated Politeness, did you speak?

HITI. Humbleness begs to inquire what Hoki-poki at the tea-shop said, when you took him his sign-board a month behind time?

HAN. He was out.

HITI. And so with honourable caution, to secure payment, we brought it back again?

HAN. No ... we left it.

HITI. And he, putting his favourable foot into it, has returned it.... Allow me to present you with the signed article:--The Hocus-pocus of Hanky-panky by Hoki-poki. [_Presents sign-board._] That’s art-criticism!

HAN. [_Indifferently._] My usual fate: too good for the public taste.

PEE. Yes--so Mrs. Back-of-the-House thought. It was _she_ who put her foot through it.

HAN. Elephant! Grey-mare elephant!

[_Attempts to preserve his look of high disdain._

VOICE. [_Without._ Anything to shell to-day?

_Enter_ JOSI-MOSI.

JOSI. Any bits, chips, scraps, rag, bone, old clothes? Not any? Mr. Olangtsi seems not at home.

NEW. Well, if he is you can’t see him. You take your judicious hook!

JOSI. Don’t want to see him.... Shay! no honourable gentleman got nothing to--er--to--eh? Not got any old oil-skins, any old frames, any old lanterns, any old pictures not quite de fashion? ... any old ...

HAN. Here! What will indigent Avarice give me for that?

[_Offers damaged sign-board._

JOSI. Well, if you wash to throw in a pair of old shoes to pay me for my trouble.... Yesh.... I’d take it.

HAN. Humble but conscious Merit is much obliged. If it means no business, exalted Abasement had better clear out. There’s work going on here--see?

JOSI. Work?

HAN. Yes, _work_, unpaid, and over-time!

JOSI. Huh! Shuppose it wash _you_, den, sittin’ up here at work wid a light all last night? eh? and till de morning--and de night before dat too, ugh?

[TIKIPU _stops guiltily, raises his head, and listens_.

TEE. Working all last ni----? Not in here?

JOSI. It wash in here!

TEE. Tikipu, don’t you still sleep here? Who was that?

TIKI. [_With confusion._] That was Mr. Olangtsi. He’s very busy getting his new picture finished.

LIL. At _night_!

TIKI. Yes!--but--but he doesn’t want any one to know.... O honourable young Masters, he would be very angry were you to say I told you!

TEE. Does Mare’s-nest-Invention mean to tell me that superannuated Capacity goes painting at night?

TIKI. Oh, yes ... I know it.... Broken-slumber is kept awake by it.

JOSI. And all dat trouble over putting a bit of paint and paper togedder!

TEE. Painting is a wonderful art, Mr. Josi-Mosi.

JOSI. Ish it?

TEE. A picture is a very wonderful thing.

JOSI. Ish it?

TEE. Yes ... sometimes.... That picture illustriously behind you now,--you know the story about that?

JOSI. I knew dere wash a story: I never knew dat anybody believed it--except to keep up de price.

TEE. Ah! you should get Tikipu to tell it you! He believes it ... don’t you, Tiki?

TIKI. The Master himself tells it.

HITI. The Master himself owns the picture, stupid! But go on!--I always like to hear it again.

JOSI. Yesh, go on!

TIKI. You see, it was very long ago. It is easy not to believe what happened three hundred years ago.

JOSI. Yesh--very eashy: I’ve found dat out. Go on!

TIKI. Wiowani, the great painter, when he painted that picture, was old and tired of life, and he longed for rest.... So he painted a little porch, and a garden; and in the porch just one spray of blossom in an old blue jar to remind him of youth, an instrument of music to remind him of song, and overhead a lantern to give light when it grew dark.... And when the picture was done the Emperor himself came to look at it.... And, as he looked, he said: ‘Oh, Wiowani, in there, it seems to me, is rest! Would that you and I could go and live in a place like that for ever!’

And while he spoke the lantern began to glow.
Softly shedding its light on the floor below.
And the garden beyond grew dim, form within form,
But all the porch was brimming and bright and warm,--
A home with its doors thrown wide for a well-loved guest.
And out of the dusk of the garden a wind came, blest
With the scent of flowers, all cool from the rising dew;
And lo,--in its depth at last,--there, born anew,
The picture passed, and was changed to a world of rest!

TEE. [_Derisively._] Oh, go on, Tikipu, go on, go on!

TIKI.

Then, all at once, Wiowani reached a hand:
‘Come,’ he said, ‘come with me! for this is the land
You seek, and thither I go!’
And into the picture he stept, and turning slow
Watched to see
Whether the Emperor would follow, or no.
Follow? Not he!--Not having the soul
Of a painter, how could he reach the goal?
So Wiowani went in by the door,
Stood, and beckoned, then turned about
And vanished away!
And the light of the lantern faded out
As fades a star at the dawn of day;
And the picture was only a picture once more!

JOSI. Ugh!... It’s a very intereshting shtory; but I don’t happen to want to buy de picture--even with Mr. Wiowani thrown in.

HAN. That’s a stupid story, you know. What business has a picture with any perspective? You might as well talk of walking into a piece of music as walking into a picture!

HITI. Ah! you are an old-fashioned purist, Han-Kin.

HAN. I’m not: I am simply a scientist. Latest science says that you can’t tell whether a thing is flat or round at twenty feet distance from the eye. Stereoscopic sight is a mere accident, and only means that you have got too close to an object to treat it artistically. Paint your foregrounds as if they were twenty feet away, and keep your distances as flat as the palm of your hand,--and there you have art and science rolled into one!

TEE. Ah, Han-Kin has been reading the old legend--the oldest of all--and he calls himself a scientist!

HAN. What old legend?

TEE. How the gods of the first creation made everything flat, and put it into a picture-book which they called the Book of Life, so that they could just turn over the leaves and amuse themselves without any trouble.

LIL. Yes,--and then one day they left it out in the rain, and it got wet and began to push out of bounds, and grow and swell in all directions. And so we got the world as it is--full of ups and downs, and behinds and befores, and corners that you can’t see round. Horrible, untidy, disgusting!

NEW. Well, but what can an artist do? He must copy it!

LIL. Copy it! Where does Repeating-pattern find art in that? Mere pig on pork _I_ call it. What art has to do is--put things back into shape as the gods originally intended. Make your picture submissively flat--and there you’ve got religious art. A picture that looks as if you could walk into it makes me sick. Who _wants_ to walk into it? Wiowani was an exalted ass to my thinking.

HITI. Any way he wasn’t an impressionist, that’s one comfort.

HAN. And how does comforted Ignorance define an impressionist?

HITI. Any blinkered fool who can’t see an outline, and couldn’t draw it if he did.

[_Grins through damaged sign-board._

HAN. If presumptuous Incapacity imagines that innuendo can prevent art from following science--

HITI. } Follow science--follow fiddle-sticks--follow its PEE. } nose! Art can’t follow anything: it’s a law to LIL. } [_Together._] itself. Art is the handmaid of Religion: Science NEW. } has nothing whatever to do with it. Science be....

TEE. Oh, it’s no use quarrelling about theories. We all paint either what we think will tell, or what we think will sell:--those are the only two schools _I_ know of. If you are a naturalist, you paint pink flesh and green trees.

NEW. Naturally!

TEE. If a luminist,--blue flesh and pink trees.

HAN. Certainly!

TEE. If a symbolist,--green flesh and brown trees. If you are a vibrantist you see spots, if a chiaroscurist you see blots, if you are academic you use hard outlines and polished surfaces and call it ‘finish.’

LIL. No, I don’t!

HITI. Yes, he does!

TEE. If an impressionist you avoid outlines, leave an accidental surface, and call it ‘quality.’ But you all really _see_ exactly alike----

ALL. We don’t!

TEE. The thing is sometimes to avoid seeing. Pee-Ah-Bee does it by screwing his nose into his canvas and painting by his sense of touch.

HITI. Don’t be touchy, Pee-Ah-Bee; your nose _was_ there,--there’s paint on it.

TEE. Hanky-panky does it at arm’s length with his eyes shut,--finding his accidental effects so much better than his scientific ones. New-Lyn does it on sea-air and pilchards,--wears a tarpaulin, and paints with a catspaw in a south-west wind.

NEW. I do it on my own, anyhow!

PEE. While Tee-Pee’s art consists in always starting brilliantly on some new sort of paper, putting his initials on it and then dropping it for another sort.

JOSI. And Mrs. Back-of-de-House does like Mr. Wiowani: as soon as a picture is finished she walks into it.

[_General laughter._

LIL. Sh-h-h!

[_Within the house_ MRS. OLANGTSI’S _voice is
heard raised in anger, loud and voluble.
All slink back to their places._ JOSI-MOSI
_shuffles off with his pickings to a corner.
Enter_ MRS. OLANGTSI, _followed by_ OLANGTSI.
MRS. OLANGTSI _threads her way through
obsequiously shifted easels towards_ TIKIPU,
_and fetches him a box on the ear_.

MRS. O. Take that!

[TIKIPU _winces, but goes on grinding, glancing
round apprehensively as she retires_.
OLANGTSI _follows at her heels, showing himself
a careful understudy of all her masterful
ways_.

OLANG. Yes, that!

[_Boxes_ TIKIPU _as though the initiative were
his own_.

MRS. O. [_To Students._] So you pretend you’ve all been hard at work, do you?

OLANG. Ay: you may pretend, but you don’t deceive _me_!

TEE. [_Ignoring_ OLANGTSI.] August Lady, we were only correcting Tikipu for his persistent indolence. The commotion which you heard just now was caused by his resistance. We now perceive that correction on _our_ part was superfluous.

OLANG. Superfluous? Of course! I can chastise Tikipu for myself--as much as I think necessary:--that is, with assistance from the right quarter. Gentlemen, your immediate and polite attention.

MRS. O. [_To_ HAN-KIN, _who endeavours to conceal sign-board_.] Yes--you’d better put it out of sight! Any more things like that, and out of this shop you go.

OLANG. Yes: anything more of _that_ kind, and you leave my studio instantly.

MRS. O. Shop, I said.

OLANG. Studio is more correct.

MRS. O. Shop!

OLANG. Shop, as far as you are concerned, my dear; and--of course--shop as far as _he_ is concerned. Understand:--

Out of this shop
Neck and crop!

That’s a rhyme, my dear.... I don’t know any rhyme to studio.

MRS. O. Nor I. You’d better begin your lecture instead of wasting time arguing with me.

[MRS. OLANGTSI _begins labelling a row of lanterns_.

OLANG. Yes, yes--as I was about to remark,--Gentlemen, pupils, and--and others, your immediate and polite attention. The instruction it has so long been my assiduous effort to bestow on your--ah--slowly dawning intelligences, is to-day relaxed when at the stroke of noon we start to celebrate the Feast of Lanterns--the Feast of those lanterns which are so largely supplied from this emporium of the arts.

MRS. O. Shop.

OLANG. Yes--as I was saying--shop. But before we turn to scenes of distraction and relaxation I am here once more to remind you of your high and privileged calling in the traditions of Wiowani, the greatest of all the ancient Masters, whose only surviving follower and representative I am, and whose last and greatest masterpiece here stands before you for your instruction.

[STUDENTS _turn_: NAU-TEE _knocks over_ HITI’S
_paint-pot_.

HITI. Propinquitous idiot!

OLANG. This august picture, as you all know----

YUNG. [_Awaking._] I want my tea, I’m waiting for my tea. Tea--Tea--Tea!

MRS. O. [_Going to inner door._] Mee-Mee, bring in the tea! [_To_ JOSI.] Oh, you are there, are you? Here, take that rubbish away! [_Gives him sign-board._] When’s that money-lender man of yours coming? [_Aside._]

JOSI. Preshently. He’s going to see de public executions first: den he’ll come.

YUNG. Executions? When are the executions, Josi-Mosi?

JOSI. Twelve o’clock, of course, before de Feasht commenshes. You’ll see ’em: dey come dish way.

YUNG. Phwit! Ha--ha! [_Slaps his knee._

OLANG. Ach! you low fellow! That wakes you, does it? That amuses you! Oh, what’s the use of trying to make an artist of you?

YUNG. [_Sulkily._] _I_ didn’t want to be an artist. I wanted to be a grocer. I _was_ a grocer once. I am still.

OLANG. How dare you say so? How dare you?

YUNG. The certificate says so: I’ve got the certificate. See! That says----[_He produces certificate._

OLANG. It says nothing! [_Snatching it._] Your name is not on it.

YUNG. Because you painted it out!

OLANG. It no longer concerns you! In future you will please to let it alone. [_Pockets it._

YUNG. You always disliked me, father!

OLANG. I didn’t _always_ dislike you! How dare you say that? I dislike your manners--who wouldn’t? I dislike your appearance, I dislike your tastes, and I dislike your character.... More than that I--I--don’t say.

YUNG. [_Whimpering._] He’s taken my certificate!

MRS. O. What have you taken his certificate for? Let him have it, if it amuses him!

YUNG. [_Whimpering still._] It was red: it had white letters on it, and it said----

OLANG. My dear, do you not know that in this country for a grocer to be also an artist is illegal? and _can you not see_ that if you allow him always to go fancying himself a grocer he will never become a painter?

YUNG. [_Sobbing._] It said----

MRS. O. No, I can’t; there’s no sense in it! You are always saying what Art wants is imagination. Well--let him practise imagining himself a grocer.

_Enter_ MEE-MEE _from house_.

YUNG. [_Weeping._] It said I was to be a grocer, not an artist!

MRS. O. [_To_ JOSI.] Here, you can go! Tell him--as soon after twelve as he can.

JOSI. I’ll bring him.

[_Exit_ JOSI-MOSI.

MEE. Will any of yo’ Condescensions tea? Have some? [_To_ YUNGLANGTSI, _who on taking it stops weeping_.] t’ank!... Have some?... t’ank! [_She goes round offering to all in turn in the same words._] Have some?... t’ank!

MRS. O. [_Aside to_ OLANGTSI.] See that they are all gone before he comes!

OLANG. Gone? Gone? I shan’t be able to get them to go--not till I have paid them!

MRS. O. Yes, you will--there’s the execution. Say you’ll pay them to-night.

OLANG. I’ve said that sometimes before.

MRS. O. Say it again! If they don’t believe you, you can shout it; if they still don’t believe you--whisper it.

[MEE-MEE, _coming behind, waits for_ MRS.
OLANGTSI’S _attention_.

OLANG. Will that----?

MRS. O. Yes, if you do it properly.

MEE. High hon’ble Mrs. Back-of-de-House not have any?

MRS. O. No! Take it away!

MEE. Not any next nice new order? No? T’ank!

[_Crosses to_ TIKIPU. _He shakes his head
apprehensively._

MRS. O. What are you doing there?

MEE. Mos’ hon’ble! only to make it go de whole way roun’--not to waste it.

MRS. O. Take it away! Go and get my shoes ready, and my big sunshade, so that I can get out before the shops shut. [_Exit_ MEE-MEE.] Tikipu, as soon as you’ve done what you are at, take round those lanterns; the labels are all on them. Don’t leave them at the wrong doors; and mind, whatever they say, you’re to wait for the money.

OLANG. Yes, recollect you are to wait for the money.

MRS. O. Now, Olangtsi, you can get on with your lecture, and be done with it before I come back.

[_Exit into house._

[_Signal passes between apprentices and craftsmen:
they fold up their easels._

OLANG. Gentlemen, your immediate and polite attention.... Where was I? What had I got to?

NEW. ‘Wait for the money’ was Eloquence’s last hopeful remark. It is what we are all doing now.

OLANG. Silence!

LIL. Mr. Olangtsi, we do not want your lecture! We want our wages: those wages which, Apology begs to point out, are in honourable arrears.

OLANG. Of course, of course! Well, you shall have your money. [_They extend their palms._] Do you think that I am not going to pay you?

[_The two students_, HITI-TITI _and_ NAU-TEE,
_look on grinning_.

HAN. No ... on the contrary--we think that you _are_!

OLANG. You shall be paid to-night.

TEE. It will then be the Feast, during which, as Affluence is no doubt honourably aware, no legal debt is recoverable. Mr. Olangtsi, labour itself is pleasing to us, but the needful is also necessary. How can we feast if our pockets be empty?

OLANG. [_Shouts._] I tell you--you shall be paid to-night.

PEE. By to-night Mrs. Back-of-the-House will have returned. Considerate Master, it makes a difference: before you we can uplift the voice of complaint which at the blast of _her_ nostrils becomes dumb.

OLANG. [_Whispering._] I tell you, you shall be paid to-night.

HAN. [_After gathering the approval of the others._] We accept. But as an honourable precaution--since in the meanwhile Mrs. Back-of-the-House may have returned--we will save Scrub-and-run-errands the trouble of delivering those lanterns. We will deliver them ourselves--and collect the money!

OLANG. Indeed you will do no such thing! Tikipu, take in those lanterns!

[TIKIPU _is set upon. He holds the lanterns
over his head. His arm is dragged down._

OLANG. But, gentlemen, this will be very awkward for me! I consider it a most--a most ungentlemanly proceeding! When my wife hears of it she will----

_Re-enter_ MRS. OLANGTSI. _They all collapse back into their places._

MRS. O. Tikipu, bring on those lanterns and call a coolie. I’ll see to them myself. [_Exit_ TIKIPU _with lanterns_.] Oh, so the lecture’s finished, is it? Well, then, you’d better all get on with your work; and you, Olangtsi, you come with me!... You can all go at twelve.

[_Meekly followed by_ OLANGTSI, _she sallies forth
into street_.

TEE. Well, really!

HAN. If that green Elephant thinks that she can trample upon me!

HITI. Dear Hanky-pancake--she has done it!

LIL. Oh, don’t talk about it, it’s too consecutively sickening!

_Enter_ MEE-MEE. _She clears away cups, looking
inquiringly at each student as she does so._

MEE. H’m! Me t’ink you all velly sad to-day?

TEE. [_Lugubriously._] It’s the Feast of Lanterns, Mee-Mee.

MEE. H’m! Dat not sad.

NEW. Yes it is, if you’ve no money to spend on it.

_Re-enter_ TIKIPU. _He goes back to his work, ignoring_ MEE-MEE.

MEE. What for you want to spend money? You talk, you walk, you run about and you play, you sing and you dance. Dat evellyt’ing to make you happy--in de worl’.

LIL. How can one sing if one has nothing to sing about?

MEE. You sing about yo’self. All de worl’ sing about itself: how nice to be oneself. Dat not true? _I_ sing--_I_ show you! [_She prepares centre of stage for dance and song._] Dis goin’ to be velly beautiful, but it cost not’ing! Dere’s a river; dere’s a lily; an’ dis is me--and dere is you all lookin’ like ducks on de water. Yes.... Now!

[_Takes guitar and sings._

‘Will you have a sing-song, a lill’-song, a long-song?’
Cly de ducks aquacking on de Ying-Kai banks.
Any song dat _you_ sing--sho’ to be de wrong song?
‘S’all I no sing you any song?’--No, t’anks!

Lill’ golden lily, dat is lying in de water,
Golden lily willy-nilly holding to de banks;
Lift up yo’ head an’ see de Chi’man’s daughter;
Tip-toe she go--just so. No, t’anks!

Lill’ golden lily, wid yo’ open eye a-winking,
All de while you wonder why de worl’ so ill at ease!
What has you been hopin’ fo’? What has you been t’inking?
What you say you want? Pick-me-quick? Yes, please!

[_Speaks._] Lill’ golden lily! Ah, ho! [_She picks the flower and puts it into her hair._] Dat’s all you’ll hear about it _dis_ time. Wish you so happy Feast! Goo’-bye!

[_Runs off laughing._

STUDENTS. Mee-Mee, come back! Mee-Mee, Mee-Mee!

YUNG. [_Awaking._] Who was making that _beastly_ row? [_Drums of execution-procession are heard._] What’s that?

TEE. [_Looking out._] It’s the execution! Ah ha! Here they come!

YUNG. Who-whoop! Who-whoop!

[_Exeunt all, except_ TIKIPU, _in great haste._

[TIKIPU _throws himself forward over the stand
where he has been grinding, and buries his
face in his arms. Enter_ MEE-MEE: _she
advances sympathetically, but timidly._

MEE. Tiki.... Tikipu.... Have dey been beating you again? Eh? [_Goes up to him._] Tiki, what is you clying for? [_Touches him._] You clying?

TIKI. [_Rousing himself with an effort._] No, I wasn’t crying, Mee-Mee; I was only asleep.... Crying! Ha! [_He gets up._] Every one gone?

MEE. Yes ... dere’s de to-be-made-dead men jus’ gone by!... Oh, hear! Oh, see! [_She runs to door and peeps out._ TIKIPU _crosses to picture and sits gazing at it._] Oh, look, Tiki! dere’s a big pig lying asleep out in de street! All de people go by--he not care--he sleep.

TIKI. H’m.... Like Yunglangtsi--eh?

MEE. Oh ... you _wicked_! Hee, hee, hee! Yes!--he Yunglangsti--just dat!... [_To the pig outside._] Say! You waitin’ for yo’ little wife to come? Plaps she mally some one else while you waitin’, eh? Grrr! Grrrr! [_She shuts door._] Hee, hee, hee, hee! You don’t like Yunglangtsi?

TIKI. [_Yawning._] Do you?

MEE. Mm-yah! When he sleep he seem velly nice. Me not like him, plaps, if he wake too much!... Tiki! you ’sleep, too?... Say?--you sittin’ up all las’ night?

TIKI. Sitting up?

MEE. [_Nods._] M’m ... she know: she lie awake an’ watch de light, den she go to sleep--plaps: den she wake.... De light still dere.... Tiki! what de matter wid you? [_Shakes him._] Is you in love?

TIKI. [_Rousing himself._] In lo.... Oh! it’s no use telling you, Mee-Mee; you wouldn’t understand. You are only a woman.

MEE. H’m.... Onl’.... Dat velly big only! ... dat half de worl’.... What is yo’self?... Only a man! You isn’t _quite_ a man yet--else you never say foolish t’ing like dat!... ‘Only!’

TIKI. Ah, well! I mean it’s a secret, something you don’t know anything about. There are many mysteries in the world, Mee-Mee. This one is mine.

MEE. Mistless--yo’ mistless? Some one bigger than Mrs. Back-of-de-House?

TIKI. Yes, bigger than Mrs. Back-of-the-House!

MEE. Dat possible? No!... Tiki...?

TIKI. Yes? Well?

MEE. Me got seclet too; one gleat big seclet! And oh--so nice!... One you not know, Tiki ... eh?... Man dat sol’ me know ... man dat bought me know. Nobody else know at all.... Me velly vallable!

TIKI. [_Indifferently._] Oh, I daresay!... Here! Mee-Mee! stay as you are! [_Takes up drawing-board from_ YUNGLANGTSI’S _easel_.] I’ll do your portrait. This is Yunglangtsi’s, there’s nothing on it. He’ll think he did it in his sleep.

[_He begins sketching. She stands smiling._

MEE. H’m! T’ink he’s bin havin’ nice dream, den!

TIKI. What was it brought you here, Mee-Mee?

MEE. Money.

TIKI. What? D’you mean to say you’ve got money?

MEE. Not no--not’ing dat kind, leas’ little bit at all.

TIKI. But you said----

MEE. No--say not’ing like dat!--Me bought wife for dat man’s son to mally. Not nice thought dat, eh, what?

TIKI. But why ever does he want to marry _you_, Mee-Mee?

MEE. H’m, dat my lill’ seclet! Though me got no money left, me born under Star. Star say,--man dat mally me gleat artis’. He no artis’ now, eh? He only got to mally me--den he become! See?

TIKI. Oh! So that is why he always sits idle and never works? It’s all going to be done for him?

MEE. Yes, so! Jus’ waitin’ fo’ me to come and make him big artis’.

TIKI. And when is that to be?

MEE. When de Star come say right time--den mally.

TIKI. How soon?

MEE. Oh! not for long time yet--t’ree year.

TIKI. I suppose the Star makes the date very particular?

MEE. Evellybody velly particular. Me not velly particular. Gleat artis’ not velly good husband, me t’ink.

TIKI. Oh yes! Why not? Look at Mr. Olangtsi! He’s a very good husband, in a way.

MEE. He gleat artis’?

TIKI. He _was_, Mee-Mee, he’s a little old now.

MEE. He mally under star, eh?

TIKI. No: he married under an eclipse, I fancy. Only don’t you say I said so. There! that’s finished now.

[_He puts down drawing-board._

MEE. Oh! dat wonderful!

TIKI. Don’t you tell, mind! Now off with you! We’ll leave it here for Yunglangtsi. [_Starts tidying up._] Some one’s coming, Mee-Mee.

[_Exit_ MEE-MEE, TIKIPU _passes into pantry_.

_Enter_ JOSI-MOSI _and_ COSI-MOSI.

JOSI. Any one in?... Come in, Coshi.... Dere’sh only de boy! Take a look at de furniture now you’ve got de chance. Dat’s de picture--over dere.... And don’t forget you give me ten per shent on what you make from de introduction, Coshi.

COSI. That won’t do. ’Tisn’t worth it. Five.

JOSI. Coshi, I’m your only broder; shplit de difference and make it nine.

COSI. What’s the good of your being my brother, when you are so shabby I can’t own you.

JOSI. Ugh! Dere ain’t much to choose between you and me for shabbiness, Coshi; I’ve got a shabby coat, but you’ve got a shabby shoul!... How much did you shay?

[TIKIPU _re-enters_.

COSI. Five’s my figure.

JOSI. Five’s mine.... What do you think of de picture?

[TIKIPU _starts_.

COSI. Seems genuine enough, but I wouldn’t give three hundred yen for _dat_. Dat style’s gone out of fashion now.

_Re-enter_ MEE-MEE.

TIKI. You--you are not going to take away that picture, are you?

COSI. Why not?

TIKI. Oh!

COSI. ’Tisn’t yours, is it?

MEE. [_Removing cup._] If yo’ please! T’ank!

COSI. Hello! Who’s dat?

[_Exit_ MEE-MEE.

JOSI. Dat’s de little gell I told you about. Dey bought her seven years ago.

COSI. She’d be a good security, she would. In three years’ time she’d be a good bargain for me.... [_To_ TIKIPU _derisively_.] Does dat--dat gel belong to you, too?

[TIKIPU _shakes his head indifferently_.

_Enter_ MR. _and_ MRS. OLANGTSI.

MRS. O. Oh, you’ve come earlier than you said. Well, have you told him what we want? Here, [_to_ TIKIPU, _who is showing too much interest_], you can go and wait outside.

[_Exit_ TIKIPU.

JOSI. Yesh, I’ve told him.

MRS. O. What did you say his name was?

JOSI. Mr. Cosi-Mosi--name fifty per shent de same, but no relation. Go on--you tell him what you want.

MRS. O. Three hundred yen’s what I want. Have you got it?

COSI. Have I got it? Yesh--_you_ haven’t: dat’s de point! Next point--have you got anything dat’ll cover it?

OLANG. Of course! My word is my bond. I will give you my word----

MRS. O. Hold your tongue!

COSI. [_Ignoring_ OLANGTSI.] How long d’you want it for?

MRS. O. Three years.

COSI. What’s your security?

MRS. O. Everything you see here.

COSI. Not enough.

MRS. O. [_Pointing half contemptuously._] There’s a picture.

COSI. Yesh, I’ve seen dat.

OLANG. Understand, that is a most valuable picture! I would not part from it for any sum you like to name!

COSI. I wouldn’t like to name any sum. It’s out of date; and it’s in a bad state of preservation.

OLANG. Then you know nothing about it! Its preservation is perfect.

COSI. Dat’s what I mean: its been _over_-preserved. It ought to have been destroyed long ago.... Have you got nothing better dan dat to raise money on?

OLANG. Than that? No.

MRS. O. Than that? Yes? Have you never heard of our son, Yunglangtsi?

COSI. No.

MRS. O. Well, I’ll tell you! Seven years ago his future was foretold from the stars. In three years from now he’ll have become the greatest of living artists.

JOSI. [_Aside._] Don’t you believe it, Coshi.

COSI. Is he making a living now?

MRS. O. He’s alive. What more do you want?

JOSI. [_Aside._] Don’t you believe dat either, Coshi. He’s only half-alive.

COSI. Can you show me any of his work?

JOSI. [_Aside._] Dats got ’em!

MRS. O. No, I can’t,--and for a good enough reason, too. Every picture he paints he sells right away.

OLANG. That is true: we have not a single piece of his work unsold.

COSI. Very good. Den when he’s got a piece to sell I’ll call again and look at it.... Good morning.

OLANG. [_Suddenly catching sight of the drawing._] Stop!... Look--look here, my dear. This is most extraordinary! Here is something that has not been sold.

MRS. O. Ah! Now! Say what you like. Look at that!

_Enter_ YUNGLANGTSI. _Making gesture of execution with his hand, he
shuffles in chuckling._

YUNG. Phit! Phit! Ah ha! I’ve been to the executions, mother. Three of them were hanged, and two had their heads cut off! They did make such funny faces! Phit!

OLANG. How could he have done it? Why, it’s--it’s wonderful!... When did you do this?

YUNG. Do that? Why, that’s Mee-Mee, of course.

JOSI. Yes, dat’s Mee-Mee, right enough.

MRS. O. There, that shows you!

OLANG. The Star! The Star! It is the beginning of the Event. This day three years it will come true!

MRS. O. [_Aside._] Don’t be a fool! _He_ never did that. It was one of the others.

COSI. Here, about dish money; dat little gal--why’ve you said nothing about her? She belong to you, eh?

MRS. O. Yes. Well?

YUNG. Mee-Mee belongs to _me_: you may take Mee-Mee, if you’ll give me back my certificate!

OLANG. Be silent!

[_Exit_ YUNGLANGTSI.

COSI. Well, make a security of her and you shall have de money--wid de other securities too, mind you! Dere’s no knowing: she might die.

OLANG. Mee-Mee a security! No, no, that is impossible!

MRS. O. Why is it impossible, I should like to know?

JOSI. [_To_ COSI.] Leave dem alone. You’ve got her.

[_They retire._

OLANG. But, my dear, we--we can’t risk it!

MRS. O. Stuff! I know what I’m about.

OLANG. If before this day three years Mee-Mee goes out of our hands unmarried----

MRS. O. She won’t.... Isn’t this day three years the very day? Before we let her go--she’ll _be_ married.

OLANG. Oh! Ah!... I never thought of that!

MRS. O. You never would.

COSI. Well? Have you agreed?

MRS. O. Yes.

OLANG. Yes--we have agreed.

COSI. All right: den now let’s get it into form. [_Puts on spectacles._] T’ree hundred yen for t’ree years at twenty per cent--as from to-day.

MRS. O. Money down.

COSI. Count it out, Josi; you’ll find it dere.... [_Aside._] It’s de exact amount, Josi; you need only pretend to count it. [COSI-MOSI _begins to fill up form_. JOSI-MOSI, _disappointed of pickings, counts money_.] De first shecurity is de gel--which is your own property?--Name?

JOSI. Mee-Mee. You spell it wid an M.

COSI. Mee-Mee,--to be handed over on demand if the loan is not repaid with all interest due--dis day t’ree year;--dat is de Feast of Lanterns.... De second shecurity is de picture--your own property?--Entitled?

JOSI. ‘De threshold of de Muses.’

COSI. By?

JOSI. Mr. Wiowani.

COSI. Living artist?

JOSI. Deceased--date of death not known.

COSI. Third shecurity ... all furniture and household effects, private and professional, belonging to Mr. Olangtsi.... You call yourself an artist, eh?

OLANG. I do ... that is ... yes.

COSI. Artist ... of ... so ... so ... so.... Date, de ... yes. Dere! Dat’s all right! Now, if you sign dis, I give you de money.

OLANG. But if by any chance I should be unable to repay,--then you take all that I have?

COSI. No, I don’t. De girl and de picture togedder will cover de amount. If de girl should die ... well, of course, if de girl should die ... den you won’t be so well off.

OLANG. You see, my dear----

MRS. O. Sign it!

OLANG. Very well ... I ... I sign, but I sign under protest.... What do I do?

COSI. You deliver this as your act and deed.

OLANG. I deliver this as my act and deed:--and I--I wash my hands of all responsibility in the matter!

COSI. All right ... dere’s de money.

[_Hands bag._

MRS. O. I hope you’ve brought it in silver? Ah, yes. Because there’s the week’s wages to be paid to-night.

OLANG. The whole quarter’s, my dear.

MRS. O. Will you hold your tongue!

COSI. Well, dat’s all.... Honourable good-day to you, and a fortunate Feast.

MRS. O. Honourable good-day.

OLANG. Honourable good-day. Condescend to over-eat yourself, and greatly oblige.

[_Exit_ COSI-MOSI.

MRS. O. Now, after this, you’d better give up painting pictures that won’t sell. It’s no use burning your candle at both ends if you can’t make them meet.

JOSI. Yesh, he was burning his candle last night! Got de picture finished, eh? You might have thrown dat into de shecurity as well.

MRS. O. He’s not getting any picture finished. What d’you mean?

JOSI. Oh, ah! We wash to pretend we didn’t know. All right ... de candle was burning to amuse itself, I shuppose!

OLANG. A candle?... Burning?... Where?

JOSI. In here.

OLANG. When?

JOSI. Last night. When I went to bed dere was a light, ... when I got up dere was a light. Now, Honourable Mrs. Back-of-the-House, dere’s my little commission, please, for de introduction.... How much did we shay it was to be?

OLANG. In here, you say?... Last night?

JOSI. Yesh, and oder nights ash well!... Ten shen, I t’ink we said, eh?

MRS. O. [_Looking fixedly at_ OLANGTSI.] Five, I said.

JOSI. Five!

MRS. O. [_Putting down money._] There’s five for you; its either that or none.

Now you be off! Ah! there’s the Feast begun.

[_Bells start clanging._

JOSI.

Aye, dere’s de Feasht: ‘Eat meat!’ it shays, ‘drink wine!
‘Drink! Drink! Drink! and be happy, all you shwine!’

[_Bells._

[_Exit_ JOSI-MOSI.

OLANG.

A light in here! In here there has been a light,

[_Bells._

Burning until the dawn all through the night!

MRS. O. Yes, we know that. D’you mean it wasn’t you?

OLANG.

A light, a light, a light! Ah! if it’s true,
What does it mean?

MRS. O.

Means some one’s been about
Where he’d no right to be. Now we’ve found out,
I’ll make him smart for it!

OLANG.

Make who? Make who?

MRS. O. Why, who is it that sleeps here?

OLANG.

Tikipu!
What! Tikipu ... you think that it was he?

MRS. O.

That’s to be proved.... Wait till to-night and see!
Do nothing ... say nothing.... Don’t let him guess
That you know anything at all. The less
You say the better!

[_Bells._

[_Exit_ MRS. OLANGTSI.

OLANG.

AH!! A light! A light!
What does it mean? Well, I shall know to-night!

[_Exit_ OLANGTSI.

CHORUS. [_Without._] [_Bells at intervals._]

Ching-a-ring-a-ring-ting, Feast of Lanterns!
Sing the song, and set the gong to sound round the town!
Up and out, and all about, now every man that can turns:
China shall catch fire when the sun goes down!

TIKIPU _re-enters and begins clearing the studio.
The picture catches his eye: he stands motionless
gazing at it._

CURTAIN.