“Your meaning is perhaps well-intentioned, gracious Hien,” said Thang-li at length, “but as an offer of disinterested assistance your words lack the gong-like clash of spontaneous enthusiasm.  Nevertheless, if you will inconvenience yourself to the extent of climbing this not really difficult tree for a short distance you will be able to grasp some outlying portion of this one’s body without any excessive fatigue.”

“Mandarin,” replied Hien, “to touch even the extremity of your incomparable pig-tail would be an honour repaying all earthly fatigue—­”

“Do not hesitate to seize it, then,” said Thang-li, as Hien paused.  “Yet, if this person may without ostentation continue the analogy, to grasp him firmly by the shoulders must confer a higher distinction and would be even more agreeable to his own feelings.”

“The proposal is a flattering one,” continued Hien, “but my hands are bound down by the decree of the High Powers, for among the most inviolable of the edicts is it not written:  ’Do the lame offer to carry the footsore; the blind to protect the one-eyed?  Distrust the threadbare person who from an upper back room invites you to join him in an infallible process of enrichment; turn aside from the one devoid of pig-tail who says, “Behold, a few drops daily at the hour of the morning sacrifice and your virtuous head shall be again like a well-sown rice-field at the time of harvest”; and towards the passing stranger who offers you that mark of confidence which your friends withhold close and yet again open a different eye.  So shall you grow obese in wisdom’?”

“Alas!” exclaimed Thang-li, “the inconveniences of living in an Empire where a person has to regulate the affairs of his everyday life by the sacred but antiquated proverbial wisdom of his remote ancestors are by no means trivial.  Cannot this possibly mythical obstacle be flattened-out by the amiable acceptance of a jar of sea snails or some other seasonable delicacy, honourable Hien?”

“Nothing but a really well-grounded encouragement as regards Fa Fei can persuade this person to regard himself as anything but a solitary outcast,” replied Hien, “and one paralysed in every useful impulse.  Rather than abandon the opportunity of coming to such an arrangement he would almost be prepared to give up all idea of ever passing the examination for the second degree.”

“By no means,” exclaimed Thang-li hastily.  “The sacrifice would be too excessive.  Do not relinquish your sleuth-hound-like persistence, and success will inevitably reward your ultimate end.”

“Can it really be,” said Hien incredulously, “that my contemptible efforts are a matter of sympathetic interest to one so high up in every way as the renowned Chief Examiner?”

“They are indeed,” replied Thang-li, with that ingratiating candour that marked his whole existence.  “Doubtless so prosaic a detail as the system of remuneration has never occupied your refined thoughts, but when it is understood that those in the position of this person are rewarded according to the success of the candidates you will begin to grasp the attitude.”