“That is very clever of you,” said Pan. “I go to sleep too,” said Brigid. “It is clever of you also, my darling. Do you go to sleep when your mother talks?” “Oh, no,” she answered. “If we went to sleep then our mother would pinch us and say that we were a bad breed.” “I think your mother is wise,” said Pan. “What do you like best in the world, Seumas Beg?” The boy thought for a moment and replied: “I don’t know, sir.” Pan also thought for a little time. “I don’t know what I like best either,” said he. “What do you like best in the world, Shepherd Girl?” Caitilin’s eyes were fixed on his. “I don’t know yet,” she answered slowly. “May the gods keep you safe from that knowledge,” said Pan gravely. “Why would you say that?” she replied. “One must find out all things, and when we find out a thing we know if it is good or bad.” “That is the beginning of knowledge,” said Pan, “but it is not the beginning of wisdom.” “What is the beginning of wisdom?” “It is carelessness,” replied Pan. “And what is the end of wisdom?” said she. “I do not know,” he answered, after a little pause. “Is it greater carelessness?” she enquired. “I do not know, I do not know,” said he sharply. “I am tired of talking,” and, so saying, he turned his face away from them and lay down on the couch. Caitilin in great concern hurried the children to the door of the cave and kissed them good-bye. “Pan is sick,” said the boy gravely. “I hope he will be well soon again,” the girl murmured. “Yes, yes,” said Caitilin, and she ran back quickly to her lord. BOOK II. THE PHILOSOPHER’S JOURNEY CHAPTER X When the children reached home they told the Philosopher-the result of their visit. He questioned them minutely as to the appearance of Pan, how he had received them, and what he had said in defence of his iniquities; but when he found that Pan had not returned any answer to his message he became very angry. He tried to persuade his wife to undertake another embassy setting forth his abhorrence and defiance of the god, but the Thin Woman replied sourly that she was a respectable married woman, that having been already bereaved of her wisdom she had no desire to be further curtailed of her virtue, that a husband would go any length to asperse his wife’s reputation, and that although she was married to a fool her self-respect had survived even that calamity. The Philosopher pointed out that her age, her appearance, and her tongue were sufficient guarantees of immunity against the machinations of either Pan or slander, and that he had no personal feelings in the matter beyond a scientific and benevolent interest in the troubles of Meehawl MacMurrachu; but this was discounted by his wife as the malignant and subtle tactics customary to all husbands.