Madam Chrysanthemum) by her Western lover, who, good God! bought her whole soul and heart with such a trifling gift as that. “Yes, it is that. Poor Madam Chrysanthemum,” I exclaimed in a dream even to frighten one who sat by me.
I got off the car at the proper place to hurry to my college; but my mind was still occupied with the handkerchief of the Madam Chrysanthemum whom I saw in the car. She is honest and true, I thought. I arrived at the college some time before my class hour; I sat on the chair in the professors’ room; and I suddenly thought if 1 were not a Madam Chrysanthemum who had not a cotton handkerchief but a stray knowledge of English literature which I take out from my bosom and look upon in the class-room. It is, indeed, the little knowledge, almost valueless, like a handkerchief with which a foreigner, especially an English-speaking one, might blow his nose; but I got it by selling my whole soul and heart. I am honest and true, like that Madam Chrysanthemum in my dream; do you dare laugh at me?
