points truncated for convenience. Around this there were six seats, made of
ebony inlaid with silver discs.
Sister Cybele left the others to take her seat as president of the circular
table. Simon Iff himself sat at the head of the triangle, placing Cyril Grey and
the Mahathera Phang at the other corners. Lord Antony Bowling was at his
left, Lisa at his right; Morningside faced him from the base.
When all were seated, Sister Cybele rose, struck a bell that stood at her
hand, and said:
"Do what thou wilt shall be the whole of the Law. O Master of the Temple,
what is thy will?"
Simon Iff rose in his place. "It is my will to eat and drink," said he.
"Why shouldst thou eat and drink?"
"To sustain my body in strength."
"Why is it thy will that thy body may be sustained in strength?"
"That it may aid me in the accomplishment of the Great Work."
At this word all rose, and chanted solemnly in chorus, "So mote it be."
"Love is the law, love under will," said Sister Cybele softly, and sat down.
"Of course it's a most absurd superstition," remarked Morningside to
Simon Iff, "to think that Food [79] sustains the body. It is sleep that does that.
Food merely renews the tissues.
"I agree entirely," said Cyril, before Iff could answer, "and I am about to
renew my tissues to the extent of a dozen of these excellent Cherbourg
prawns — to begin with!"
"My dear man," said Lord Antony, "prawns are much better at the end of a
dinner — as you'd know if you had been to Armenia lately."
When Morningside said something absurd, it merely meant that he was
airing his fads; when Lord Antony did so, it meant a story. And all his stories
were good ones. Simon Iff jumped at the opening. He turned immediately,
and asked for the yarn.
"It's rather long," said Bowling, a little dubiously. "But it's very, very
beautiful."
Unacknowledged quotations gave a curious fascination to his narrative
style. People became interested through the psychological trick involved.
They recognized, yet could not place, the remark, and they were stirred by the
magick of association, just as one becomes interested in a stranger who
reminds one of — one can't quite think who.
"At the close of a dark afternoon," pursued Lord Antony, "a huntsman of