Looking at it Alan bethought him of his City days and of the hundreds
of thousands of pounds capital with which this unique proposition might
have been floated. Afterwards they were carried to the places where
the gems were found, stuck about in the clay, like plums in a pudding,
though none ever sought them now. But all these things interested the
Asika not at all.
"What is the good of gold," she asked of Alan, "except to make things
of, or the bright stones except to play with? What is the good of
anything except food to eat and power and wisdom that can open the
secret doors of knowledge, of things seen and things unseen, and love
that brings the lover joy and forgetfulness of self and takes away the
awful loneliness of the soul, if only for a little while?"
Not wishing to drift into discussion on the matter of love, Alan asked
the priestess to define her "soul," whence it came and whither she
believed it to be going.
"My soul is I, Vernoon," she answered, "and already very, very old. Thus
it has ruled amongst this people for thousands of years."
"How is that?" he asked, "seeing that the Asika dies?"
"Oh! no, Vernoon, she does not die; she only changes.
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