“Mr. Blackwood is wrong,” said Hsiao, with decision, “in rejecting life. One should reject nothing that is in accordance with Nature. And Wang Li is wrong to spend his years in a state of unconsciousness. For even now as he talks to you he is unconscious. He is not even conscious that he is unconscious—otherwise there would be in his mind the shadow of pride, which is a shadow of passion. He is with eternity, and only peripherally speaks. Yuan, I fear, is going the same way. For me, the object of life is enjoyment. One is born and one will die. In between one has life. I do not reject it. I accept it and gratify my senses while they can be gratified. I perceive the unnameable, but one can perceive without embracing. When one has returned to the unnameable one will have no senses. In the meantime, from the point of view of the senses, death is a fact; life’s another.” “Neither is a fact,” said Wang, his eyes lit with a terrifying gleam of amusement. “There is only one Fact. From it all apparent distinctions derive. In it they disappear.” “Do you mean to say,” clamoured Sprot incredulously, “that I ... Me ...” (he pointed to himself) “am not a fact?” “You are as the shadow of a non-existing cloud passing over a lawn that isn’t there,” said Quentin, with a wink at Hsiao. “Did I hear a voice?” asked Wang. “How can I, that am not, hear a voice from nothing?” And Sprot clasped his head in desperation, proving himself to himself by the hardness of his skull. 24 The meal came to an end in a somewhat startling manner, for Wang ceased abruptly from conversation and entered a trance of contemplation, while Hsiao went fast asleep. “This,” said Lord Sombrewater to Ambrose, “is a great compliment. I quite see that it may be regarded as the last gesture of true refinement.” He rose, and with Frew-Gaff and Ruby followed Lychnis and Yuan, who were strolling among the paths of the bamboo grove. “I desire to hear more of the conversation of that young man,” he remarked. “I don’t believe he is young,” said Sprot to Ambrose. “I shouldn’t be surprised to find he was a hundred. I don’t like these people. Did you ever hear such views? And I think it very wrong to let Lychnis go walking off confidentially like that with a young married man. He’s sure to be married. And anyway, he’s a foreigner—more than a foreigner. In my opinion a Chinaman’s more than foreign—like a frog. You don’t suppose”—he came closer to Ambrose—“you don’t suppose Lychnis would ... I mean, a nice young girl wouldn’t....” “I should recommend you, as a mental exercise,” said Ambrose, “to formulate to yourself more precisely what is in your mind. It makes my record of the conversation more precise.” Lord Sombrewater beckoned, and he joined the brilliant figures in the bamboo grove. Yuan was discoursing of the bamboo and Lychnis listening bright-eyed.