‘Nothing,’ said Blue Mantle, ‘is too good for the Chosen of the Gods. All that we have is yours, to the very last day of your life you have only to command, and we obey. You will like to eat in seclusion. And afterwards you will let us behold the whole person of the Chosen of the Gods.’
Quentin retired into the purple tent, with the fruits and the cocoa-nut. As you know, a cocoa-nut is not handy to get at the inside of, at the best of times, so Quentin set that aside, meaning to ask Blue Mantle later on for a gimlet and a hammer.
When he had had enough to eat he peeped [p82 out again. Blue Mantle was on the watch and came quickly forward.
‘Now,’ said he, very crossly indeed, ‘tell me how you got here. This Chosen of the Gods business is all very well for the vulgar. But you and I know that there is no such thing as magic.’
‘Speak for yourself,’ said Quentin. ‘If I’m not here by magic I’m not here at all.’
‘Yes, you are,’ said Blue Mantle.
‘I know I am,’ said Quentin, ‘but if I’m not here by magic what am I here by?’
‘Stowawayishness,’ said Blue Mantle.
‘If you think that why don’t you treat me as a stowaway?’
‘Because of public opinion,’ said Blue Mantle, rubbing his nose in an angry sort of perplexedness.