Coastal Bulgaria Tours

Discover Burgas

Coastal Bulgaria Tours Day 1

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This time we suggest that our coastal Bulgaria tours begin from Burgas instead of Sofia. (daily tour Sofia) The second biggest on the Bulgarian coast, after Varna, Burgas is a modern city where one can find traits of the mysterious middle Ages. All you need to do is visit the most remarkable places in the city.

Firstly, our tour starts with `St. Cyril and Methodius` Cathedral – one of the most beautiful churches in Bulgaria.

Then, we will have the chance to learn about the traditional culture and way of life of old Burgas in the Ethnographic Museum.

Coastal Bulgaria tours and the Sea Garden of the city

Burgas` largest and best-known public park, is rich in flowers, trees and sculptures. It is located along the city`s coast on Black Sea and it houses a casino, the `Marine Casino`, Also, a small zoo and an open-air theatre where the annual International Folklore Festival takes place. A nice walk there with a great Black Sea view will refresh us. And not only that but it will make us ready for a visit to the island of `St. Anastasia`. After that, the second half of the day we will spend right there – on the island, which is the most romantic place on the Burgas Bay. A small ship, from the Bridge in the Sea Garden, will take us there. (private Bosphorus tours)

Apart from the delicious authentic Burgas dishes, which we will definitely try, we will enjoy the history of the island as well. It is surely one of the places to visit in Bulgaria. It is veiled in mystery and many legends and stories can be heard about it. The island is the only one that has a church – `The Ascension`, which is part of the monastery that once existed there.

After the visit to the island, we will go back to the hotel.

Coastal Bulgaria Tours Day 2

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After breakfast we leave for the ancient town of Sozopol. Tourists, on their holidays to Bulgaria, come to Sozopol for the beauty of the sea and for its rich, ancient history. The town can be paradise not only for the ones who love ancient architecture, but also for those interested in the unique archaeological relics. Even if you are not, there is no other way but to get inspired by the antiquity and grandeur of this small town.

Sozopol is on the Black Sea coast, in the southern part of Burgas Bay. It is divided into two parts – Old and New Town between which is the Sea Garden. The Old Town is on the small Skamniy Peninsula which has connection, through artificial embankment and breakwater, with the island of St Cyricus. There the archaeologists found unique temples – one is from the archaic century while the other is from the elinistic.

Two other islands in coastal Bulgaria tours are waiting for us. These are the island of St Ivan (St John) and the small island of St Peter, which is next to it. Boats and a small ship from the harbour of Sozopol, will take us there. Tourist paths lead to the archaeological monument – `St John the Baptist` Monastery.

Read the rest of the tour on link coastal Bulgaria tours.

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Bulgarian Coast

A small town with big `heart` ready to welcome everybody, who love beauty, on their holidays to Bulgarian coast

Sozopol – a city with soul

A small town which attracts with its picturesque sunsets, the coziness of its small streets and the peaceful laps of waves… Sozopol is the oldest settlement on the Bulgarian coast. It is located in the south-east of Bulgaria, around 30 km south of Burgas, in a beautiful bay.

bulgarian coast

Tourists, on their private tours Bulgaria, come to Sozopol for the beauty of the sea, of the Bulgarian coast, and for Sozopol’s rich, ancient history. Antiquities crop up behind the narrow corners of the narrow ancient streets. Even if you`ve somehow gone the wrong direction, you shouldn`t be worried. You would, definitely find yourselves at some fascinating place.

Today`s Sozopol is still a place where life is busy. Especially in summer. There one can meet people who belong to the world of cinema, theatre and music…

A Bulgaria tour can take you to a place with rich history

Make sure your private tours Bulgaria take you to Sozopol – the city with soul. This is one of the best places to visit on Bulgarian coast.

The archaeological exploration of the site gives a proof of more than six thousand years of cultural tradition. The remains of primitive houses, ceramic pottery, stone and bronze tools serve as evidence of the busy everyday life of the local population.

bulgarian coast

Sozopol’s first name was Apollonia Pontica (that is ‘Apolonia on the Black Sea’). It got its name after and in honour of the God of Apollonius. This was a God of various functions but in ancient Apollonia, particularly, people respected him as a healer. Apollonia Pontica was founded in the year 610 BC as a Hellenic colony, a city-country. Today, people use this old name for the annually held Festival of Arts in Sozopol.

Follow the rest of the story on link Bulgarian coast.

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Ancient Bulgaria tour

On the steps of Ancient Bulgaria tour

Ancient Bulgaria Tour Day 1

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Ancient Bulgaria Tour starts – Sofia – Perperikon – Kardzhali, 290km 3:30 hours` drive

We welcome you for your ancient Bulgaria tour in the city of Sofia. Then we leave for the town of Kardzhali. Kardzhali is a town in the Eastern Rhodopes and the area where the town is located now has been inhabited since Neolithic. When the Thracian tribes settled there they developed a highly advanced civilization. There are many stone castles and palaces that the Thracians built in the region. We will visit the most significant one of them, Perperikon. The medieval archaeological complex Perperikon is one of the most ancient monumental megalithic structures, entirely carved into the rocks. It is one of the most popular Bulgaria destinations. For thousands of years this place has been used by the people to worship their gods.

Then we will proceed to Kardzhali where we will have lunch.

Check in into a hotel and stay in Kardzhali overnight.

Ancient Bulgaria Tour Day 2

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Kardzhali – Tatul – Armira Villa – Plovdiv, 320 km 5:10 hours` drive

We will start the day with a visit to another Thracian megalithic monument near the village of Tatul. It is one of the most imposing monuments on the territory of Bulgaria.

Next stop in our Bulgaria holiday will be the ancient Roman Villa which is 2000 years old. It belonged to a Thracian aristocrat who received the status of a Roman citizen and he built a holiday residence. That was the most impressive and rich private villa of the time on Bulgarian lands. The name of the villa is Villa Armira.

The tour above or below has been copied from You can read the rest of the story on ancient Bulgaria tour.

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The Invisible Wound part 8

“Then she said that she had entrusted a bundle of letters to my late wife; she could not possibly keep them at her own house owing to their peculiar character, and asked whether I would be good enough to return them to her. I felt a chill down my spine as I listened to her. With assumed calm I asked her what those contained? She trembled at the question and said:

“ `Your wife was the most faithful and loyal woman I ever met. She did not ask what they contained; she even gave me her word never to look into them.”

“ `Where did she keep your letters?`

“ `She said she kept them under lock and key in the drawer of her sewing-table. They are tied with a pink ribbon. You will easily recognize them. Thirty letters in all.`

“I took her to the room where the sewing-table stood and opened the drawer. I took out the bundle and handed it to her.

“ `Are these the letters?`

“She reached out for them eagerly. I dared not raise my eyes for fear she might read something in them. She left soon afterward.

Hastiness and cruelty

“Exactly one week after the burial a stinging pain visited the spot on my hand where the drop of blood fell on that terrible night. The rest you know. I know it is nothing but auto-suggestion, but I cannot rid myself of it. It is my punishment for the hastiness and cruelty with which I murdered my innocent and lovely girl.

I no longer try to struggle against it. I am going to join her and will try to obtain her pardon. She will surely forgive me. She will love me just as she loved me when she lived. I thank you, Doctor, for all you have done for me.”

Read More about War with the Normans part 15


The Invisible Wound part 7

“We chatted, had supper together and went to bed as usual, each in Our own room. I had by that time decided upon a course of action Which I would carry out with the stubbornness of a maniac. What a miserable deception on the part of nature to endow sin with such an open face, I said to myself as I entered her room at midnight and looked at her beautiful innocent face as she slept. The poison had taken effect in my soul and had eaten itself through every vein of my body. I placed my right hand silently on her neck and pressed it with all my might. For a moment she opened her eyes and looked at me astounded, then closed them again and died. She did not make a move in self- defense, but died as quietly as though she were in a dream.

Authority to investigate

She bore no grudge against me even for killing her. One drop of blood oozed through her lips and dropped on my hand—you know the spot. I only noticed it in the morning after it was already dried. We buried her without much ado. I lived out in the country on a private estate and there was no controlling authority to investigate. Besides, no one would have thought anything about the matter, for the woman was my wife. She had no relations and no friends, and there were no questions to answer. I purposely sent out notifications of her death after the funeral, in order to escape the importunities of other people.

“I felt no pangs of conscience. I had been cruel, but she had deserved it. I did not hate her. I could easily forget her. No murderer committed his deed with more indifference than I did.

“When I arrived at the house, the Countess had just driven up. She was too late for the funeral, as I intended she should be. She was under a tremendous strain. The terror and the unexpectedness of the news almost dazed her. She spoke in a queer manner and I could not make out her meaning as she tried to console me. I didn`t listen to her with any interest, it is true, for I was in no need of consolation. Then she took hold of my hand in an intimate manner and said she would like to entrust a secret to me, adding that she hoped I would not take advantage of it.

Read More about Falcon part 3


The Invisible Wound part 6

“I can`t say what it was that brought me to the belief that this was but pretense. Man is foolish enough to seek misery in the midst of his greatest happiness.

“She had a small sewing-table, the drawer of which she always kept locked. This began to torture me. I often noticed that she never left the key in the drawer and she never left it unlocked. What could she have to conceal so carefully? I became mad with jealousy. I did not believe her innocent eyes, her kisses and loving embraces. Perhaps all this was but cunning deceit?

“One day the Countess came to fetch her and managed to persuade her to spend the day at the Castle. I promised that I should follow later in the afternoon.

“The carriage had scarcely pulled out of the yard when I began trying to open the drawer of the sewing-table. One of the many keys I tried at last opened it. Rummaging among the many feminine effects under a folder of silk, I discovered a bundle of letters. One could recognize them at the first glance. They were, of course, love letters, tied together with a pink ribbon.

`I did not stop to consider that it was not honorable to commit such an indiscretion: looking for secrets of my wife`s girlhood days! Something urged me to go on; perhaps they belonged to a later period— lance she had borne my name? I untied the ribbon and read the letters One after the other.

“It was the most terrible hour of my life.

Stupid husbands

“They revealed the most unpardonable treachery ever committed against a man. They were written by one of my most intimate friends. And their tone. … They revealed the tenders intimacy and deepest passion. How he urged her to secrecy! What he said about stupid husbands ! How he advised her what to do to keep her husband in ignorance ! Every one of them had been written after our marriage. And I thought I was happy! I don`t want to describe my feelings. I drank my poison to the least drop. Then I folded the letters and returned them to hiding-place, locking the drawer again.

“I knew that if I did not go to the Castle she would return in the evening. That was precisely what happened. She sprang gaily out of I he carriage and rushed to meet me on the porch, kissing and embracing me with the utmost tenderness. I pretended that nothing was amiss.

Read More about The Story of Ming-Y part 5


The Invisible Wound part 5

“I never experienced or heard anything like this before.”

There was nothing to be done but to repeat the operation. Everything passed off as it had the first time. The pain stopped, and though the patient experienced a great relief, this time he failed to smile, and when he thanked the doctor it was with a sad and depressed expression.

“You needn`t be surprised if I am back again in a month,” he said as he took leave.

“You mustn`t think of it.”

“It is as sure as there`s a God in heaven,” he said, with an air of finality. “Au revoir.”

The surgeon discussed the case with several of his colleagues, each of whom expressed a different opinion. Not one, however, could offer a satisfactory explanation.

A month passed and the patient did not appear. Another few weeks, and then, instead of the patient, came a letter from his place of residence. The surgeon opened it with pleasure, thinking that the pain had not returned. The letter ran as follows:

Burning coal

“Dear Doctor: I do not want to leave you in any doubt as to the origin of my trouble, and do not care to carry the secret of it into my grave, or perhaps elsewhere. I wish to acquaint you with the history of my terrible illness. It has returned three times now and I do not intend to go on struggling against it any longer. I am only able to write this letter by placing a burning coal on the spot as an antidote against the hellish flames that burn it within.

“Six months ago I was a very happy man. I was rich and contented;

I found pleasure in everything that appeals to a man of thirty-five. I married a year ago. It was a love match. A very beautiful, kindly and cultured young lady was my wife. She had been companion to a Countess not far from my estate. She loved me and her heart was full of gratitude. For six months the time passed happily, each day bringing greater happiness than the last.

She would walk miles along the highway to meet me when I had to go to the town and would not stay away even at the home of her former mistress, where she often visited, for more than a few hours. Her longing for me made the others of her party uncomfortable. She would never dance with another man, and would confess it as a great crime if she happened to dream of some one else in her sleep. She was a lovely and innocent child.

Read More about Siegfried and Kriemhild part 6


The Invisible Wound part 4

“Stop,” he shouted, afraid lest the sufferer should sever a vein. “Since you believe it must be done, very well, I`ll do it.”

He then prepared for the operation. When it came to the actual cutting the doctor advised his patient to turn his head away, for people are generally upset at the sight of their own blood.

“Quite unnecessary,” said the other. “I must direct your hand so that you may know how far to cut.”

The stranger took the operation stoically and was helpful with his directions. His hand never even trembled, and when the round spot had been carved out he sighed a sigh of happy relief, as if a load had been taken off his shoulders.

“You don`t feel any pain now?” asked the surgeon.

“Not the least,” he said with a smile. “It is as if the pain had been cut off and the slight irritation caused by the cutting seems like a cool breeze after a hot spell. Just let the blood run. It soothes me.”

After the wound was bandaged, the stranger looked happy and contented. He was a changed man. He gratefully pressed the doctor`s hand with his own left hand.

“I am very grateful to you, indeed.”

The surgeon visited the patient at his hotel for several days after the operation and learned to respect the man, who occupied a high position in the county. He was learned and cultured, and was a member of one of the best families in the land.

After the wound was completely healed the stranger returned to his country home.

Tormenting pain

Three weeks later the patient again appeared at the surgeon s office. His hand was again in a sling and he complained of the same tormenting pain in the very spot where it hurt him before the operation.

His face looked like wax, and cold perspiration glistened on his brow. He sank into an armchair, and without saying a word held out his right hand for the doctor to look at.

“Good Lord, what has happened?”

“You didn`t cut it deep enough,” he groaned. “The pain returned; it is even worse than before. I am almost done for. I did not want to trouble you again, so I just bore it, but I can`t bear it any longer. You must operate again.”

The surgeon examined the spot. The place where he had operated was quite healed, and covered with fresh skin. Not one of the veins seemed disturbed, the pulse was normal. There was no fever, yet the man was trembling in every limb.

Read More about The Invisible Wound part 7


The Invisible Wound part 3

“Is that where it hurts?”

“Yes. Terribly.”

“Do you feel the pressure when I place my finger on it?”

The man could not answer, but the tears that came into his eyes told the story.

“It`s extraordinary. I can see nothing.”

“Neither do I, but the pain is still there and I would rather die than go on this way.”

The surgeon examined it all over again, with a microscope, took the man`s temperature, and finally shook his head.

“The skin is perfectly healthy. The arteries are normal; not the slightest inflammation or swelling. It is as normal as any hand can be.” “I think it is a bit redder on the spot.”


The stranger made a circle on the back of his hand about the size of a farthing: “Here.”

The doctor looked at the man. He began to think that he had to deal with a lunatic.

“You will have to stay in town and I shall try to help you within the next few days,” he said.

“I cannot wait a minute. Do not think, doctor, that I am insane, or under any delusion. This invisible wound hurts me terribly and I want you to cut out just that round part as far as the bone.”

“I am not going to do it, sir.”

“Why not?”

“Because there is nothing the matter with your hand. It is as healthy as my own.”

“You seem to think I am a madman, or that I am deceiving you,” said the patient as he drew out of his wallet a thousand-florin banknote and placed it on the table. “You see I am in earnest. The matter is important enough for me to pay a thousand for it. Please perform the operation.”

“If you offered me all the money in the world I would not touch a healthy limb with the operating knife.”

“Why not?”

Taking advantage

“Because it would not be according to professional ethics. All the world would call you an idiot and would accuse me of taking advantage of your weakness, or declare that I could not diagnose a wound that did not exist.”

“Very well, sir. Then I shall ask you another favor. I shall undertake the operation myself, though my left hand is rather clumsy at such things. All I will ask of you, is to take care of the wound after I operate on it.”

The surgeon saw with astonishment that the man was quite serious, and watched him take off his coat and turn up his shirt sleeve. The man even took out his pocket knife, for want of any other instrument. Before the doctor could intervene, the stranger had made a deep incision in his hand.

Read More about Siegfried and Kriemhild part 3


The Invisible Wound part 2

The Invisible Wound

Early one morning before the famous surgeon was even out of his bed he received an urgent caller who insisted that his case could not be postponed even for a minute; he demanded instant attention. The surgeon dressed hurriedly and rang for his valet.

“Let the patient come in,” he said.

The man who entered appeared to belong to the best class of society. His pale face and nervous demeanor betrayed physical suffering. His right hand was tied up in a sling and, although he could control his features, a painful groan escaped from his lips now and again.

“Please be seated. What can I do for you?”

“I haven`t been able to sleep for a week. There is some trouble with my right hand. I cannot make out what it is. It may be cancer or some other terrible disease. At first it did not bother me much, but lately it began to bum. I have not had a moment`s relief. It pains me terribly. The pain increases hourly, becoming more and more agonizing and unbearable. I have come to town to consult you. If I have to bear it another hour, I shall go mad. I want you to bum it out or cut it out, or do something with it.”

The surgeon reassured the patient by declaring that it was not perhaps necessary to operate.

r`No, no,” the man insisted. “It will have to be operated on. I came purposely to have the diseased part cut out. Nothing else can help.
He lifted his hand from the sling with considerable effort, and continued:

“I must ask you not to be surprised if you do not see any visibie wound on my hand. The case is quite unusual.”

The doctor assured the patient that he was not in the habit of being nurprised at unusual things. Still, after looking at it, he dropped the hand in sheer astonishment, for there seemed to be absolutely nothing the matter with it. It looked like any other hand; it was not even discolored. Yet it was evident that the man suffered terrific pains, for the way he caught his right hand with his left when the doctor let it fall, demonstrated that fact quite conclusively.

“Where does it hurt you?”

He pointed to a round spot between the two large veins, but snatched the hand back when the physician cautiously touched the spot with the tip of his finger.

Read More about War with the Normans part 1


The Invisible Wound part 1



It would be possible to begin the history of the short story in Hungary with the transplanted legends of St. Francis in the Ehrenfeld manuscript, one of the first books in Hungarian literature, dating from the Middle Ages. In the ballads and romances and epics of the Sixteenth and Seventeenth Centuries we have discovered episodes that might have been fitted into a framework showing the historical development in the art of narrative among the Hungarians. But as a matter of fact, the earlier centuries are barren of important short stories.

It was only in the Eighteenth Century that modem Hungarian literature really began. The Kisfaludi brothers, who came toward the end of the century, were among its pioneers. Karoly Kisfaludi, though better known as a dramatist, may be taken as a typical figure, and the story chosen to represent his achievement is in itself a capital example of the art.

The Nineteenth Century, crowded as it was with war, revolution, and political unrest, was the most fruitful period in Hungarian literature. Though the drama and the lyric poem were brought to a high point of development, the novel and the tale were no less assiduously developed. The two dominating figures of the time, so far as fiction is concerned, were Jokai and Mikszath. Both lived long lives and wrote a great deal; both were essentially national, and were loved by their people.

Of the more recent writers, Ferenc Molnar is the most distinguished. Unlike Jokai and Mikszath, Herczeg, Gyulay, and the rest, he is a cosmopolitan.

Karoly Kisfaludi (1788-1830)

Karoly Kisfaludi and his brother Alexander are among the great pioneers in modern Hungarian literature. Though Karoly is chiefly celebrated as a dramatist, he managed, during his brief and adventurous life, to write some extraordinary short tales. He was, in the words of a Hungarian critic, “a thorough Bohemian, of a dreamy yet light-hearted disposition.” A classic writer, he yet was able to impart to his stories an air of actuality which makes them seem as if they were written for the present generation. The Invisible Wound comprises most of the elements required by the strictest critics for the composition of a short story, and yet it conveys that indescribable quality of vitality that seems to persist in all art, regardless of rules and theories.

The translation of the story was made by Mr. Joseph Szebenyei for this volume, and appears here for the first time in English. Acknowledgment is hereby made to the translator for permission to use the MS.

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The Story of Ming-Y part 11

Did she not sing the songs of Kao- pien? And upon the brush-case and the paper-weight’she gave your son, are there not characters which read, `Pure object of art belonging to Kao of the city of Pho-haV? That city no longer exists; but the memory of Kao-pien remains, for he was governor of the province of Sze-tchouen, and a mighty poet. And when he dwelt in the land of Chou, was not his favorite the beautiful wanton Sie—Sie-Thao, unmatched for grace among all the women of her day. It was he who made her a gift of those manuscripts of song; it was he who gave her those objects of rare art. Sie-Thao died not as other women die. Her limbs may have crumbled to dust; yet something of her still lives in this deep wood, her Shadow still haunts this shadowy place.”

Mists of the morning

Tchang ceased to speak. A vague fear fell upon the three. The thin mists of the morning made dim the distances of green, and deepened the ghostly beauty of the woods. A faint breeze passed by, leaving a trail of blossom-scent—a last odor of dying flowers—thin as that which clings to the silk of a forgotten robe; and, as it passed, the trees seemed to whisper across the silence, “Sie-Thao.”

Fearing greatly for his son, Pelou sent the lad away at once to the city of Kwang-tchau-fu. And there in after years, Ming-Y obtained high dignities and honors by reason of his talents and his learning; and he married the daughter of an illustrious house, by whom he became the father of sons and daughters famous for their virtues and their accomplishments. Never could he forget Sie-Thao; and yet it is said that he never spoke of her—not even to his children when they begged him to tell them the story of two beautiful objects that always lay upon his writing table; a lion of yellow jade, and a brush-case of carven agate.

Read More about The Story of Saidjah part 7


The Story of Ming-Y part 10

Then Ming-Y produced the gifts that Sie had given him—the lion of yellow jade, the brush-case of carven agate, also some original compositions made by the beautiful lady herself. The astonishment of Tchang was now shared by Pelou. Both observed that the brush-case of agate and the lion of jade bore the appearance of objects that had lain buried in the earth for centuries, and were of a workmanship beyond the power of living man to imitate; while the compositions proved to be veritable masterpieces of poetry, written in the style of the poets of the Dynasty of Thang.

“Friend Pelou,” cried the High Commissioner, “let us immediately accompany the boy to the place where he obtained these miraculous things and apply the testimony of our senses to this mystery; the boy is no doubt telling the truth; yet his story passes my understanding.” And all three proceeded toward the place of the habitation of Sie.

Most pinkly

But when they had arrived at the shadiest part of the road, where the perfumes were most sweet and the mosses were greenest, and the fruits of the wild peach flushed most pinkly, Ming-Y, gazing though the groves, uttered a cry of dismay. Where the azure-tiled roof had risen against the sky, there was now only the blue emptiness of air; where the green-and-gold facade had been, there was visible only the flickering of leaves under the aureate autumn light; and where the broad terrace had extended, could be discerned only a ruin—a tomb so ancient, so deeply gnawed by moss, mat the name graven upon it was no longer decipherable. The home of Sie had disappeared.

All suddenly the High Commissioner smote his forehead with his hand, and turning to Pelou, recited the well-known verse of the ancient poet Tching-Kou:

“Surely the peach-flowers blossom over the tomb of Sie-Thao.”

“Friend Pelou,” continued Tchang, “the beauty who bewitched your son was no other than she whose tomb stands there in ruin` before us! Did she not say she was wedded to Ping Khang? There is no family of that name but Ping-Khang is indeed the name of a broad alley in the city near. There was a dark riddle in all that she said. She called herself Sie of Moun-Hiao; there is no person of that name, there is no street of that name; but the Chinese characters Mown and Hiao, placed together, form the character, `Kiao.` Listen! The alley Ping-Khang, situated in the street Kiao, was the place where dwelt the great courtesans of the dynasty of Thang!

Read More about The Story of Abou Hassan the Wag or the Sleeper Awakened part 13


The Story of Ming-Y part 9

She brushed the bright drops away, and brought wine and music and the melodious kin of seven silken strings, and would not suffer Ming-Y to speak for one moment of the coming separation. And she sang him an ancient song about the calmness of summer lakes reflecting the blue of heaven only, and the calmness of the heart also, before the clouds of care and of grief and of weariness darken its little world. Soon they forgot their sorrow in the joy of song and wine; and those last hours seemed to Ming-Y more celestial than even the hours of their first bliss.

But when the yellow beauty of morning came their sadness returned, and they wept. Once more Sie accompanied her lover to the terrace steps; and as she kissed him farewell, she pressed into his hand a parting gift—a little brush-case of agate, wonderfully chiseled, and worthy the table of a great poet. And they separated forever, shedding many tears.

Patron standing on the porch

Still Ming-Y could not believe it was an eternal parting. “No!” he thought, “I shall visit her to-morrow; for I cannot live without her, and I feel assured that she cannot refuse to receive me.” Such were the thoughts that filled his mind as he reached the house of Tchang, to find his father and his patron standing on the porch awaiting him. Ere he could speak a word, Pelou demanded:

“Son, in what place have you been passing your nights?”

Seeing that his falsehood had been discovered, Ming-Y dared not make any reply, and remained abashed and silent, with bowed head, in the presence of his father. Then Pelou, striking the boy violently with his staff, commanded him to divulge the secret; and at last, partly through fear of his parent, and partly through fear of the law which ordains that “the son refusing to obey his father shall be punished with one hundred blows of the bamboo,” Ming-Y faltered out the history of his love.

Tchang changed color at the boy`s tale. “Child,“`exclaimed the High Commissioner, “I have no relative of the name of Ping; I have never heard of the woman you describe; I have never heard even of the house which you speak of. But I know also that you cannot dare to lie to Pelou, your honored father; there is some strange delusion in all this affair.”

Read More about The Story of Ming-Y part 7


The Story of Ming-Y part 8

So the summer waxed and waned upon their love, and the luminous autumn came, with its vapors of phantom gold, its shadows of magical purple.

Then it unexpectedly happened that the father of Ming-Y, meeting his son`s employer atTching-tou, was asked by him: “Why must your boy continue to travel every evening to the city, now that the winter is approaching? The way is long, and when he’ returns in the morning he looks foredone with weariness. Why not permit him to slumber in my house during the season of snow?” And the father of Ming-Y, greatly astonished, responded: “Sir, my son has not visited the city, nor has he been to our house all this summer. I fear that he must have acquired wicked habits, and that he passes his nights in evil company—perhaps in gaming, or in drinking with the women of the flower-boats.” But the High Commissioner returned:

“Nay! that is not to be thought of. I have never found any evil in the boy, and there are no taverns nor flower-boats nor any places of dissipation in our neighborhood. No doubt Ming-Y has found some amiable youth of his own age with whom to spend his evenings, and only told me an untruth for fear that I would not otherwise permit him to leave my residence. I beg that you will say nothing to him until I shall have sought to discover this mystery; and this very evening I shall send my servant to follow after him, and to watch whither he goes.”

Great bewilderment

Pelou readily assented to this proposal, and promising to visit Tchang the following morning, returned to his home. In the evening, when Ming-Y left the house of Tchang, a servant followed him unobserved at a distance. But on reaching the most obscure portion of the road, the boy disappeared from sight as suddenly as though the earth had swallowed him. After having long sought after him im vain, the domestic returned in great bewilderment to the house, and related what had taken place. Tchang immediately sent a messenger to Pelou.

In the meantime Ming-Y, entering the chamber of his beloved, was surprised and deeply pained to find her in tears. “Sweetheart,” she sobbed, wreathing her arms around his neck, “we are about to be separated forever, because of reasons which I cannot tell you. From the very first I knew this must come to pass, and nevertheless it seemed to me for the moment so cruelly sudden a loss, so unexpected a misfortune, that I could not prevent myself from weeping!

After this night we shall never see each other again, beloved, and I know that you will not be able to forget me while you live; but I know also that you will become a great scholar, and that honors and riches will be showered upon you, and that some beautiful and loving woman will console you for my loss. And now let us speak no more of grief; but let us pass this last evening joyously, so that your recollection of me may not be a painful one, and that you may remember my laughter rather than my tears.”

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