His chair was followed by that of the "Old Buddha'—as the Dowager is familarly called. She was dressed (or rather "'drowned") in dragoned yellow satin. Her face is long and wan, with high cheekbones, big mouth, and thick lips. Her eyes gleamed like fire. She was as awake and alert as the Emperor seemed inert and indifferent. Nothing escaped the sharpness of her vision. The beggars received tablets of silver and the curious glances of scorn. Everyone remarked how careworn she looked, and that she was quite ten years older since last year. Her personal baggayo occupied the next tew litters and relays of bearers.
Etcetera.
In striking contrast with the weird countenance of the Dowager was the young face of the Empress. Her chair halted for a little, and as it was open there was time for a good view. She seemed rather embarrassed by the crowds and stole nervous, fur-ive glances on either side. She looks an innocent ordinary official's daughter, but the paint, powder, and gow-gaw spoil a pretty face. She was followed by the chief concubines—women of muscle and evident will, but destitute of brains and character. After their baggage came the Heir Apparent, but he was invisible. Then the Royal Princes of the Blood, and finally the Minister of the Grand Council—Yung Lu. These men had the bearing of refinement so conspicuous by its absence in the others. Then next passed a train of carts with the innumerable attendants that are at once the glory and the disgrace of an Asiatic Court.
Text read from the printed page and cleaned; old type leaves the occasional error.