A grimace of pain was Allister’s only answer.
“And was the sleep of this poor worm’s wise and illustrious benefactor filled with the jassmine-incense of celestial happiness?”
“May your flesh be jellied and your bones splintered,” was Allister’s discourteous shot into the trumpet. “May your ancestors——”
“Harmless is the bluster of the paper tiger,” interrupted Ssu Yin, with a playful malice. He went on in a more kindly vein: “A gem cannot be polished without friction, or a man perfected without adversity. The friction has been thine, Elder Brother, even as it is written; also the adversity; but a wise man also has said that the gods cannot help him who loses opportunities.”
“Oh, drop the classics, Ssu Yin, and tell me what you’re driving at!”
“The Elder Brother must set his feet unto new paths, or he will learn to walk soon in the Eternal Shades.”
“I’m through, Ssu Yin. No more chandoo for me. Tomorrow——”
“The man who overestimates himself is like a rat falling into a scale and weighing himself.”
Allister was stung by the contempt of his host’s words, but he feared to retort. His sense of need came more fully upon him. His head swam, leadenly, and his tongue was thick.