Vasantasena laughed. “I believe you know where you can sell it!” she said, in an obvious effort to lower the conversation to a plane on which she might have the advantage.
“I know you do not believe that,” said the Lama.
Vasantasena sighed. “How do you learn such knowledge?” she asked. “You seem to know everything. I am not ignorant. A hundred men come here, and none of them can make a fool of me, but—”
“Perhaps you are not a fool,” the Lama interrupted.
“No, I am not a fool. I can whisper a word here and a word there, and some of the evil that would have been done dies still-born—and some of the good that might never have been born has birth. And as for me, what does it matter? And yet—sometimes I think it does matter about me. And sometimes I think I will give all my money to the poor—”
“And rob them,” said the Lama.
“Rob them of what?” She stared at him blankly.
“Of the moment. It is not wise to deprive them of the moment. At the moment of our utmost need, we learn.”
“Yours is a heartless creed,” she retorted, glancing at the money in the bowl beside her. “That money would feed a thousand people.”
“Nothing is heartless,” said the Lama. “It is better to eat consequences now than to put off the day of retribution. Better the sting of an insect now than a serpent’s bite a year hence. Better an experience in this life than a thousand-fold the bitterness in lives to come.”