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Chapter Twenty-three. The Spring Festival |
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procession of men to the dance |
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At last comes the moment when the men, whirling their spears and dao as though setting out on the war-path, rush through the village with wild cries. With their tossing feathers, and the gaily dyed goat's hair waving from weapons and head-dress, they look like fantastic birds, and, like birds in the mating season, they rejoice in the glory of their brilliant spring dress, that reduces the weaker sex to comparative insignificance. |
