攙扶假道 Raising the False Adept
這怪從草科裡爬出，對長老馬前，乒乓的只情磕頭。三藏在馬上見他是個道者，卻又年紀高大，甚不過意。連忙下馬攙道：「請起，請起。」那怪道：「疼，疼，疼。」丟了手看處，只見他腳上流血。三藏驚問道：「先生啊，你從那裡來？因甚傷了尊足？」这怪从草科里爬出，对长老马前，乒乓的只情磕头。三藏在马上见他是个道者，却又年纪高大，甚不过意。连忙下马搀道：「请起，请起。」那怪道：「疼，疼，疼。」丢了手看处，只见他脚上流血。三藏惊问道：「先生啊，你从那里来？因甚伤了尊足？」
逐句解 Line by line
The fiend crawled out from the brush and, before the Elder's horse, knocked his head on the ground with a will, thump upon thump.
草科 (cǎo kē), a “clump of grass, thicket.” 乒乓 (pīng pāng) is onomatopoeia for the knocking of the forehead; 只情 (zhǐ qíng), “with a will, to one's heart's content” — the demon overacts his gratitude.
Tripitaka, from his horse, saw that he was a Daoist, and moreover well on in years, and felt exceedingly ill at ease.
年紀高大 (nián jì gāo dà), “far advanced in age.” 甚不過意 (shèn bù guò yì), “extremely discomfited, sorely embarrassed” — here 甚 is the intensifier shèn, “exceedingly,” not the interrogative shén. The old man's kowtowing shames the compassionate monk.
Hastily he dismounted and, helping him up, said: “Rise, please, rise.”
攙 (chān), “to support by the arm, to help (someone) up.” The master's reflexive courtesy toward the seeming elder draws him bodily into the demon's reach.
The fiend said: “It hurts, it hurts, it hurts.”
疼 (téng), “to ache, to hurt” — the tripled cry milks the pose of injury, staying the master at his side.
Letting go his hand to look, he saw that blood ran down the man's foot.
丟了手 (diū le shǒu), “let go his hold.” 看處 (kàn chù), “on looking” — the storyteller's phrase marking the moment of observation; the sight of blood clinches the master's sympathy.
Startled, Tripitaka asked: “Sir, where have you come from? On account of what were your honored feet injured?”
那裡 (nǎ lǐ) is here the interrogative “where from,” so 那 is read nǎ. 因甚 (yīn shén), “on account of what, why” — the interrogative shén. 尊足 (zūn zú), “your honored feet,” a courteous form of address.
The demon plays his part with relish — crawling out, kowtowing “thump upon thump,” crying “it hurts, it hurts” — and each gesture works precisely on Tripitaka's tenderness. The master's dismounting to raise a groaning old man is courtesy turned into peril: the very reflexes of his compassion, his reluctance to see an elder abase himself, bring him down from his horse and to the fiend's side.
The passage is a small study in how virtue is exploited. Tripitaka's “exceedingly ill at ease” (甚不過意) at being kowtowed to by an aged Daoist, and his startled solicitude at the sight of blood, are the openings the demon counted on. His courteous questions — where from, how hurt — invite the elaborate false tale that follows, and the interrogatives (nǎ, shén) mark the master walking, in good faith, straight into the trap.