老僧垂淚 The Old Monk's Tears
那老和尚見了這般寶貝,果然動了奸心,走上前,對三藏跪下,眼中垂淚道:「我弟子真是沒緣。」三藏攙起道:「老院師有何話說?」他道:「老爺這件寶貝方才展開,天色晚了,奈何眼目昏花,不能看得明白,豈不是無緣?」三藏教:「掌上燈來,讓你再看。」那老僧道:「爺爺的寶貝已是光亮,再點了燈,一發晃眼,莫想看得仔細。」行者道:「你要怎的看才好?」老僧道:「老爺若是寬恩放心,教弟子拿到後房,細細的看一夜,明早送還老爺西去,不知尊意何如?」那老和尚见了这般宝贝,果然动了奸心,走上前,对三藏跪下,眼中垂泪道:「我弟子真是没缘。」三藏搀起道:「老院师有何话说?」他道:「老爷这件宝贝方才展开,天色晚了,奈何眼目昏花,不能看得明白,岂不是无缘?」三藏教:「掌上灯来,让你再看。」那老僧道:「爷爷的宝贝已是光亮,再点了灯,一发晃眼,莫想看得仔细。」行者道:「你要怎的看才好?」老僧道:「老爷若是宽恩放心,教弟子拿到后房,细细的看一夜,明早送还老爷西去,不知尊意何如?」
逐句解 Line by line
The old monk, beholding so great a treasure, was moved — sure enough — to a covetous heart;
果然 ("sure enough") is the narrator conceding Sanzang's point in a single adverb. 動了奸心 answers 必動其心 graph for graph. 這般 takes bān.
he came forward, knelt down before Sanzang, and said with tears standing in his eyes, "Your disciple is truly without the bond."
緣 (yuán) is karmic affinity, the bond that makes a meeting possible at all. To plead 沒緣 of a robe that lies open before one's own eyes is a falsehood dressed in the vocabulary of the faith. And 弟子 — "your disciple" — from a grand-patriarch to a passing traveller: rank is a thing he sets down the moment it costs him.
Sanzang raised him up. "What has the venerable master to say?" He answered, "This treasure of your reverence's has only now been spread open, and the day has darkened;
攙起, to raise a man by the arm — the same verb used of the pages who brought him in. Sanzang, who called him 老院主 at their first meeting, now promotes him to 老院師, as one does a weeping man.
"and my eyes being dim and clouded, I cannot see it plainly. Is that not to be without the bond?"
看得明白 takes the neutral de. The excuse is beautifully made: he asks for nothing, accuses no one, and lays the blame on his own eyes.
Sanzang directed: "Bring up a lamp, and let him look again."
教 is the causative jiào. Sanzang answers the problem that was stated — the failing light — and does not hear the problem that was not.
The old monk said, "Your reverence's treasure is bright of itself. Light a lamp and it will dazzle the more; there is no hope of seeing it in any detail."
一發, "all the more." The objection cannot be answered, because it is true: the cassock gives its own light, and a lamp beside it would only dazzle. Each complaint the old man makes is honest, and their sum is a theft.
The Pilgrim said, "How would you have it, then, in order to see it well?"
Wukong asks the one question that must not be asked, and asks it in the flat voice of a man who suspects nothing whatever. He has spent this entire scene not listening to his master.
The old monk said, "If your reverence would be broad in kindness and easy in mind, let your disciple carry it to the back chamber,
寬恩放心 — "broaden your kindness, loosen your heart." Every graph of the request is a graph naming the other man's virtue. It is a technique, and it works.
"to study it minutely through the night; and in the morning I will send it back, and your reverence may go west. I do not know your honoured mind on the matter?"
送還: 還 is huán, "to give back." The word is spoken by a man who has no intention of doing so — and it is the very word Wukong will use of the fire-shield he borrows from Heaven tonight and returns before breakfast.
Not one word the old monk speaks in this passage is false, and the whole of it is a lie. The day has darkened. His eyes are dim. The cassock does give its own light, and a lamp set beside it would dazzle rather than help. He asks for nothing until he is asked what he wants, and even then he asks only to look, and only for a night, and offers to send it back at dawn. Wú Chéng'ēn has constructed a perfect confidence trick out of nothing but true statements and the word 緣.
The vocabulary is what damns him. 緣 — karmic affinity — is among the gravest words in the Buddhist lexicon: it names why a soul meets a teacher, why a pilgrim finds a scripture, why Sanzang and Wukong are on the same road at all. The old monk uses it twice, as a lever, about a piece of cloth. 弟子, "disciple," he applies to himself, kneeling, before a man half his age in the Order and a fraction of it in years. And when he says 送還, "I will send it back," he is using the honest word for the transaction his disciples will spend the night trying to make unnecessary. The theft is complete before a hand has been laid on anything.