“Greater than I am?”
“Greater than thou, O Emperor!”
Shun-yuen gave a little gasp.
“Thou hast said it,” he spake. “Who or what, then, is this Imagination?”
“It is that which penetrates and possesses even me, Wu Taotsz.”
“Thee? Then it is thou who art greater than I?”
“It is I, by virtue of that power.”
“What, then, can this Imagination do that I cannot do?”
“There is nothing which it cannot do, Shun-yuen. At its summons the world crawls prostrate at its feet; the Emperors bow their necks; wealth, beauty, power throng to worship it; nay, it can reach down the starry bodies from the skies and weld them into a single sphere, as potters knead clay, incomparably stupendous. Ask me what it can do!”
The Emperor glanced about him. His eyes had suddenly assumed a perplexed and troubled look; he shook his head slightly. The vague emotions and aspirations which had lately dejected him returned with redoubled force, and he thought, What is to seek here that this Imagination could perchance supply?