Nurse Wang, Tzu Chüan and other girls entered at once upon their attendance on Tai-yü in the green gauze rooms,

while Pao-yü‘s wet-nurse, dame Li, together with an elderly waiting-maid, called Hsi Jen, were on duty in the room with the large bed.

This Hsi Jen had also been, originally, one of dowager lady Chia’s servant-girls. Her name was in days gone by, Chen Chu.

As her venerable ladyship, in her tender love for Pao-yü, had feared that Pao-yü‘s servant girls were not equal to their duties,

she readily handed her to Pao-yü, as she had hitherto had experience of how sincere and considerate she was at heart.

Pao-yü, knowing that her surname was at one time Hua, and having once seen in some verses of an ancient poet,

the line “the fragrance of flowers wafts itself into man,” lost no time in explaining the fact to dowager lady Chia, who at once changed her name into Hsi Jen.

This Hsi Jen had several simple traits. While in attendance upon dowager lady Chia, in her heart and her eyes there was no one but her venerable ladyship,

and her alone;

and now in her attendance upon Pao-yü,

her heart and her eyes were again full of Pao-yü,

and him alone. But as Pao-yü was of a perverse temperament

and did not heed her repeated injunctions, she felt at heart exceedingly grieved.

At night, after nurse Li had fallen asleep, seeing that in the inner chambers, Tai-yü,

Ying Ko and the others had not as yet retired to rest,

she disrobed herself, and with gentle step walked in.

“How is it, miss,” she inquired smiling, “that you have not turned in as yet?”

Tai-yü at once put on a smile.

“Sit down, sister,” she rejoined,

pressing her to take a seat.

Hsi Jen sat on the edge of the bed.