The Wind That Tramps the World
"Why do you not listen to the myriads of voices in the wind?" asked Hi Ling drowsily.
"Because my ear is not timed to catch the sound."
"You do not try. If you really listened, you could hear."
"I would rather hear your voice."
"That is foolish," declared Hi Ling. "No human voice is as softly alluring as the voices one sometimes discovers in the wind."
"Nevertheless," repeated Steppling stubbornly, "I would rather hear you talk."
Hi Ling shrugged his shoulders. He could not understand how anyone should prefer the natural voice to magic.
"What do you wish me to say?" he asked finally.
"Tell me the story of your life," replied John Steppling bluntly, "the story of the jade vase and the moon lantern."
Hi Ling hesitated. "I have never told that to a living soul," he said slowly.
"Nevertheless, you must tell it to me."
"You would only smile," said Hi Ling. "You would hold my story up to ridicule, and if you did I would kill you. I should hate to do that Never in my life has the blood of any animal been upon my hand."
"Scarcely a compliment," drawled Steppling, "to call Ime an animal." He was not angry. He merely made the comment to draw on conversation.
"I meant no offense," Hi Ling hastened to assure
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