As for Lychnis and Yuan, they had gone on ahead. They looked as if they were swimming in a gloom of stalks. One was going now deeper into the Lake, into a pool of shadows, into a treeless, inter-stellar space, lit only by the faint emanation of some distant, strange sun. The empty universe was inhabited by flights of fish, like angels going on heavenly errands, and also by monstrous shapes of fiendish though fish-like aspect. “If these are the work of God,” said Ambrose, “I am hitherto imperfectly acquainted with the full variety of His resources.” “Of God,” replied Wang, “by the hand of my great-grandson, Yuan. Some experiments of his.” “I must bring my friend Sprot to see them,” said Ambrose, and received a wink of consciousness from the Sage’s right eye. Old Wang and his two descendants had a power of divination in the matter of character and motive that was quite extraordinary. From Wang especially there was nothing hidden. “My great-grandson considers,” the old philosopher went on, “that, while he is taking an interest in appearances, a man may as well lend a hand in the temporary work of evolution, and add, by reason of his conscious artistry, a certain distinction, either of ugliness or beauty, to what sometimes appears to be the product of a bungler working in the dark. It is the function of the artist to give point, to relieve, to dramatize. For example——” He pointed abruptly to a glorious creature that floated past like a sun, raying out veils of splendour, and again to a slender torpedo-shape marvellously adapted for speed. “No doubt also you have remarked the rarity of the birds in these parts, and the perfect colour and shape of the flowers. Yuan’s. Nothing but a certain indifference to the scientific point of view on the part of his numerous relations has prevented him from experimenting with the human species.” “I am willing,” said Quentin, “to act as his agent, or vehicle, in any experiments he may make with the human species, provided they are of a creative, and not of a merely negative, order.” “How,” asked Ambrose, “does he justify his pre-occupation with objective existences?” “He does not justify it,” said Wang, with what might have been taken for a great-grandfatherly groan; “he boasts of it. It is a phase, of course. It will pass. In time he will embrace his duty and become a Sage.” “In the meantime,” remarked Hsiao, “his activities greatly enhance the amenities of the landscape and multiply the conveniences of life.” Rounding a turn in the tunnel they came on Lychnis and Yuan, who were both gazing upward. High overhead floated the red hull of a coracle, and on either side of it a paddle, like a web foot, occasionally broke the surface. “Fulke and Ruby, I have no doubt,” said Yuan. “Lazy, are they not? Or else urgently discussing something.” “Don’t let’s bother about them,” she replied. “Go on. Tell me more about strange things.”