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"And Elder Brother said I was not to tell you and he said he would pinch me and burn me with a hot needle if I told and if I do not tell he gives me pence."

And Wang Lung, beside himself at this, shouted out,

"Tell what, you who ought to die?"

And the boy looked about him and said desperately, seeing that his father would choke him if he did not answer,

"He has been away three nights altogether, but what he does I do not know, except that he goes with the son of your uncle, our cousin."

Wang Lung loosed his hand then from the boy's neck and he flung him aside and he strode forth into his uncle's rooms, and there he found his uncle's son, hot and red of face with wine, even as his own son, but steadier of foot, for the young man was older and accustomed to the ways of men. Wang Lung shouted at him,

"Where have you led my son?"

And the young man sneered at Wang Lung and he said,

"Ah, that son of my cousin's needs no leading. He can go alone."

But Wang Lung repeated it and this time he thought to himself that he would kill this son of his uncle's now, this impudent scampish face, and he cried in a terrible voice,

"Where has my son been this night?"

Then the young man was frightened at the sound of his voice and he answered sullenly and unwillingly, dropping his impudent eyes,

"He was at the house of the whore who lives in the court that once belonged to the great house."

When Wang Lung heard this he gave a great groan, for the whore was one well known of many men and none went to her except poor and common men, for she was no longer young and she was willing to give much for little. Without stopping for food he went out of his gate and across his fields, and for once he saw nothing of what grew on his land, and noted nothing of how the crop promised, because of the trouble his son had brought to him. He went with his eyes fixed inward, and he went through the gate of the wall about the town, and he went to the house that had been great.

The heavy gates were swung back widely now, and none ever closed them upon their thick iron hinges, for any who would might come and go in these days, and he went in, and the courts and the rooms were filled with common people, who rented the rooms, a family of common people to a room. The place was filthy and the old pines hewed down and those left standing were dying, and the pools in the courts were choked with refuse.

But he saw none of this. He stood in the court of the first house and he called out,

"Where is the woman called Yang, who is a whore?"

There was a woman there who sat on a three-legged stool, sewing at a shoe sole, and she lifted her head and nodded toward a side door opening on the court and she took up her sewing again, as though many times she had been asked this question by men.

Wang Lung went to the door and he beat on it, and a fretful voice answered,

"Now go away, for I am done my business for this night and must sleep, since I work all night."

But he beat again, and the voice cried out, "Who is it?"

He would not answer, but he beat yet again, for he would go in whether or not, and at last he heard a shuffling and a woman opened the foor, a woman none too young and with a weary face and hanging, thick lips, and coarse white paint on her forehead and red paint she had not washed from her mouth and cheeks, and she looked at him and said sharply,

"Now I cannot before tonight and if you like you may come as early as you will then in the night, but now I must sleep."

But Wang Lung broke roughly into her talking, for the sight of her sickened him and the thought of his son here he could not bear, and he said,

"It is not for myself---I do not need such as you. It is for my son."

And he felt suddenly in his throat a thickening of weeping for his son. Then the woman asked,

"Well, and what of your son?"

And Wang Lung answered and his voice trembled,

"He was here last night."

"There were many sons of men here last night," replied the Woman, "and I do not know which was yours."