“Your mind, O all-wisest, is only comparable to the peacock’s tail in its spreading brilliance!” exclaimed Wong Pao, well assured of an easy triumph.
Kiau Sun, however, remained silent, but he observed closely the benignly impartial expression of the Emperor’s countenance.
When the indicated time arrived, only two persons could have been observed within the circumference of the Western Hill of the city—a blind mendicant who had lost his way and an extremely round-bodied mandarin who had been abandoned there by his carriers when they heard the terms of the edict. But about the Eastern Hill the throng was so great that for some time after it was unusual to meet a person whose outline had not been permanently altered by the occasion. Even Kiau Sun was present.
On a protected eminence stood N’ang Wei. Near him was Wong Pao, confidently awaiting the moment when the Emperor should declare himself. When, therefore, the all-wisest graciously made a gesture of command, Wong Pao hastened to his side, an unbecoming elation gilding the fullness of his countenance.
“Wong Pao,” said the Illimitable, “the people are here in gratifying profusion. The moment has thus arrived for you to consummate your triumph over Kiau Sun.”
“Omnipotence?” queried Wong Pao.
“The silver that you were to distribute freely to all who came. Doubtless you have a retinue of slaves in attendance with weighty sacks of money for the purpose?”
“But that was only in the nature of an imagined condition, Sublime Being, designed to test the trend of their preference,” said Wong Pao, with an incapable feeling of no-confidence in the innermost seat of his self-esteem. “This abject person did not for a single breathing-space contemplate or provide for so formidable an outlay.”
A shadow of inquiry appeared above the eyebrows of the Sublimest, although his refined imperturbability did not permit him to display any acute emotion.
“It is not entirely a matter of what you contemplated, merchant, but what this multitudinous and, as we now perceive, generally well-armed concourse imagined. Greatly do we fear that when the position has been explained to them, the breathing-space remaining, O Wong Pao, will not be in your body. What,” continued the liberal-minded sovereign, turning to one of his attending nobles, “what was it that happened to Ning-lo who failed to satisfy the lottery ticket holders in somewhat similar circumstances?”