When So-yoo heard this he was greatly interested, as his countenance showed. He thanked her, and said: “My name is Yang So-yoo, and my home is in the land of Cho. I am young and not yet married. Only my aged mother is alive, and while the marriage question is one that will need inquiry on the part of both our clans, still consent to the contract may be given even here and now, and so for my part I consent at once, and swear it by the long green hills of Wha-san and the endless reaches of the Wee-soo River.”
The nurse, delighted at her success, took a letter from her sleeve, gave it to So-yoo, who tore it open and found a poem which read:
"Willows waving by the way,
Bade my lord his course to stay,
He, alas, has failed to ken,
Draws his whip and rides again.”
When So-yoo had read the verse and noted its brightness and freshness, he praised it, saying: “No ancient sage ever wrote more sweetly.” Then he unrolled a sheet of watered paper and wrote his reply thus:
"Willow catkins soft and dear,
Bid thy soul to never fear,
Ever may they bind us true,
You to me, and me to you.”
The nurse received it, placed it in her bosom, and went out through the main gateway of the guest-hall, but So-yoo called her again, saying: “The young lady is a native of Chin, while I belong to Cho. Once we separate, a thousand miles come between us. With hills and streams and the windings of the way, it will be difficult indeed to get messages back and forth. We have no go-between to make proof of our contract, so I would like to go by moonlight and see my lady's beautiful face. What think you? In her letter there is some such suggestion, is there not? Please ask her.”
The nurse consented, and on her return gave the message to the maiden. “Master Yang has sworn by the Lotus Hills and the long stretches of the river that he will be your companion. He praised your composition most highly, and wrote a reply which I have brought you.” She then handed it to the lady.
The maiden received the letter, read it, and her face lighted up with joy.
Again the nurse went on to say: “Master Yang has asked if it would be agreeable to you to have him come quietly by moonlight and write another message which you could enjoy together.”
Her answer was: “It is not good form for a young man and a young woman to meet before marriage. I am promised to him, it is true, and that makes a difference. If we meet at night, however, it might cause unseemly rumour, and also my father would reprimand me for it. Let us wait till noon to-morrow and meet in the great hall and there seal our happy contract. Go and tell him, will you?”
The nurse went once again to the inn and told the young master what had been said.
He expressed his regret and made reply: “The lady's pure heart and right ordered words put me to shame.” Several times he urged upon the nurse that there should be no failure in their plans, and so she left.
While Master Yang slept in the guest-house his thoughts were agitated and on the wing, so that he did not rest well. He got up and waited for the crowing of the cock, impatient at the length of the long spring night. Suddenly the morning star began to dawn and the awakening drums to beat. He called his boy and ordered him to feed the donkey. At this point an unexpected inrush of mounted troops greeted the city with all the clamour that goes with an army rabble. Like a great river they went thundering by, hurrying in from the west. In fear he hastily gathered up his effects and looked out into the street, where the whole place seemed filled with armed men and fleeing people. The confusion was indescribable, and the earth rang with the thunders of it, while the wailing of the citizens shook the very sky.
He asked someone standing by what it meant, and was told that it was the rebel Koo Sa-ryong [10]
who had risen against the Government and proclaimed himself Emperor. His Majesty was away on a visit of inspection in Yang-joo, and so the whole capital was in a state of hopeless confusion, with the rebels everywhere robbing the homes of the people. There was word, too, that they had locked the gates of the city so that no one could escape, and were enlisting by force rich and poor, every man who could bear arms.
Master Yang, in a state of fear and bewilderment, got hold of his boy and hastened away with the donkey toward the south mountain, that stood just in front, hoping to hide himself among the rocks or in some cave. He looked up and saw on the highest peak a little thatched house that seemed to hang in the shadows of the clouds, with the voices of cranes echoing about it. Thinking it the home of some dweller in the city, he went to it, picking his way, when suddenly he was confronted by a Taoist genius who, seated on his mat, saw the young man coming toward him. He got up, greeted him, and asked: “Are you making your escape from the confusion of the city, and are you indeed the son of the hermit Yang who lived in Hoiram county?”
So-yoo gave a sudden start of surprise, bowed low, broke out into expressions of wonder, and said in reply: “I am indeed the son of the hermit Yang. Since the departure of my father I have lived with my old mother. I am dull and slow of intellect and have learned next to nothing, and yet presumptuously thinking that I might have some chance to pass the examination, I came as far as Wha-eum when this rebellion blocked my way. In trying to make my escape I entered these mountain recesses and have been so fortunate as to meet your Excellency. God has helped me to such a meeting I know. I have not heard of my father for so long, and as time has gone by my soul waits more impatiently than ever for news from him. As I hear your words I am sure you have definite knowledge of him. I pray you, lord of the fairies, do not withhold anything, but give a son the greatest comfort that can come to him. In what height does my father dwell, please, and how is he in health?”
The fairy master smiled and said in reply: “Your father and I have just had a game of draughts together on Cha-gak mountain peak, and only said good-bye a little time ago; but I cannot tell you where he has gone. His face is not changed a whit, nor has his hair grown grey, so you do not need to be anxious about him.”
Yang replied in tears, saying: “I wish the noble teacher would help me just once to meet my father.”
But the master smilingly replied: “The love between son and father is great, but still mortals and the genii are of two different orders. I should like to help you, but it is impossible. The hills where the genii live are distant, and their ten provinces wide and far-reaching, so that it is impossible to know just where your father dwells. Now that you are here, stay for a time, and when the way opens again it will be all right for you to go.”
Though Yang heard that his father was well, still the fact that the teacher had no intention of bringing about a meeting beclouded his hopes; tears rained from his eyes and his soul was in deep distress. However, the holy man comforted him, saying: “To meet and to part is one of life's common experiences; also to part and to meet again. Why do you cry over the inevitable?”
Then Yang brushed his tears away, thanked him and sat down. The teacher pointed to a harp hanging on the wall and asked: “Can you play that instrument?”