“It has sufficed,” replied Chang Tao. “How is your own incomparable stomach?”
Pe-lung pointed to the empty bed of the deflected river and moved his head from side to side as one who draws an analogy to his own condition. “But of your more pressing enterprise,” he continued, with sympathetic concern: “have you persevered to a fruitful end, or will it be necessary—?” And with tactful feeling he indicated the gesture of propelling an antagonist over the side of a precipice rather than allude to the disagreeable contingency in spoken words.
“When the oil is exhausted the lamp goes out,” admitted Chang Tao, “but my time is not yet come. During the visionary watches of the night my poising mind was sustained by Forces as you so presciently foretold, and my groping hand was led to an inspired solution of the truth.”
“This points to a specific end. Proceed,” urged Pe-lung, for Chang Tao had hesitated among his words as though their import might not be soothing to the other’s mind.
“Thus it is given me to declare: she who is called Melodious Vision is rightly of the house of Shen, and Fuh-sang is no less innate of your exalted tribe. The erring gnome, in spite of his misdeed, was but a finger of the larger hand of destiny, and as it is, it is.”
“This assurance gladdens my face, no less for your sake than for my own,” declared Pe-lung heartily. “For my part, I have found a way to enlarge you in the eyes of those whom you solicit. It is a custom with me that every thousand years I should discard my outer skin—not that it requires it, but there are certain standards to which we better-class dragons must conform. These sloughs are hidden beneath a secret stone, beyond the reach of the merely vain or curious. When you have disclosed the signs by which I shall have securance of Fuh-sang’s identity I will pronounce the word and the stone being thus released you shall bear away six suits of scales in token of your prowess.”
Then replied Chang Tao: “The signs, assuredly. Yet, omnipotence, without your express command the specific detail would be elusive to my respectful tongue.”
“You have the authority of my extended hand,” conceded Pe-lung readily, raising it as he spoke. “Speak freely.”
“I claim the protection of its benignant shadow,” said Chang Tao, with content. “You, O Pe-lung, are one who has mingled freely with creatures of every kind in all the Nine Spaces. Yet have you not, out of your vast experience thus gained, perceived the essential wherein men and dragons differ? Briefly and devoid of graceful metaphor, every dragon, esteemed, would seem to possess a tail; beings of my part have none.”
For a concise moment the nature of Pe-lung’s reflection was clouded in ambiguity, though the fact that he became entirely enveloped in a dense purple vapour indicated feelings of more than usual vigour. When this cleared away it left his outer form unchanged indeed, but the affable condescension of his manner was merged into one of dignified aloofness.