In his musk-scented heaven, however, N’guk slept, as his habit was at the close of each celestial day.  It was with some difficulty that he could be aroused and made to understand the nature of Sun Wei’s profanity, for his mind was dull with the smoke of never-ending incense.

“To-morrow,” he promised, with a benignant gesture, turning over again on his crystal throne, “some time to-morrow impartial justice shall be done.  In the meanwhile—­courteous dismissal attend your opportune footsteps.”

“He is becoming old and obese,” murmured the less respectful of the demons.  “He is not the god he was, even ten thousand cycles ago.  It were well—­”

“But, omnipotence,” protested certain conciliatory spirits, pressing to the front, “consider, if but for a short breath of time.  A day here is as threescore of their years as these mortals live.  By to-morrow night not only Sun Wei, but most of those now dwelling down below, will have Passed Beyond.  But the story of his unpunished infamy will live.  We shall become discredited and our altar fires extinct.  Sacrifice of either food or raiment will cease to reach us.  The Season of White Rain is approaching and will find us ill provided.  We who speak are but Beings of small part—­”

“Peace!” commanded N’guk, now thoroughly disturbed, for the voices of the few had grown into a tumult; “how is it possible to consider with a torrent like the Hoang-Ho in flood pouring through my very ordinary ears?  Your omniscient but quite inadequate Chief would think.”

At this rebuke the uproar ceased.  So deep became the nature of N’guk’s profound thoughts that they could be heard rolling like thunder among the caverns of his gigantic brain.  To aid the process, female slaves on either side fanned his fiery head with celestial lotus leaves.  On the earth, far beneath, cyclones, sand-storms and sweeping water-spouts were forced into being.

“Hear the contemptible wisdom of my ill-formed mouth,” said N’guk at length.  “If we at once put forth our strength, the degraded Wun Sei is ground—­”

“Sun Wei, All-knowing One,” murmured an attending spirit beneath his breath.

“—­the unmentionable outcast whom we are discussing is immediately ground into powder,” continued the Highest, looking fixedly at a distant spot situated directly beyond his painstaking attendant.  “But what follows?  Henceforth no man can be allowed to whisper ill of us but we must at once seek him out and destroy him, or the obtuse and superficial will exclaim:  ’It was not so in the days of—­of So-and-So.  Behold’”—­here the Great One bent a look of sudden resentment on the band of those who would have reproached him—­“’behold the gods become old and obese.  They are not the Powers they were.  It would be better to address ourselves to other altars.’”

At this prospect many of the more venerable spirits began to lose their enthusiasm.  If every mortal who spoke ill of them was to be pursued what leisure for dignified seclusion would remain?