The Prime Minister looked at the Chancellor, the Chancellor looked at the Treasurer, the Treasurer looked at the Chamberlain, the Chamberlain looked at the Principal Bonze, the Principal Bonze looked at the Second Bonze, who, to his great surprise, looked at him in return.
“When the turn comes to me,” murmured the inferior functionary, “I would say somewhat.”
“Speak!” commanded the Emperor.
“O Uncle of the stars,” said the Bonze, “there are those in your Majesty’s dominions who possess the power of lengthening life, who have, in fact, discovered the Elixir of Immortality.”
“Let them be immediately brought hither,” commanded the Emperor.
“Unhappily,” returned the Bonze, “these persons, without exception, belong to the abominable sect of Lao-tsze, whose members your Majesty long ago commanded to cease from existence, with which august order they have for the most part complied. In my own diocese, where for some years after your Majesty’s happy accession we were accustomed to impale twenty thousand annually, it is now difficult to find twenty, with the utmost diligence on the part of the executioners.”
“It has of late sometimes appeared to me,” said the Emperor, “that there may be more good in that sect than I have been led to believe by my counsellors.”
“I have always thought,” said the Prime Minister, “that they were rather misguided than wilfully wicked.”
“They are a kind of harmless lunatics,” said the Chancellor; “they should, I think, be made wards in Chancery.”
“Their money does not appear different from other men’s,” said the Treasurer.