in multitudes—­that accounts for the innumerable living shapes you see there.  But not only that—­the sparks are passed from one body to another by way of generation, and can never hope to cease being so until they are worn out by decay.  Lowest of all, you have the Sinking Sea itself.  There the degenerate and enfeebled life of the Matterplay streams has for its body the whole sea.  So weak is it’s power that it can’t succeed in creating any shapes at all but you can see its ceaseless, futile attempts to do so, in those spouts.”

“So the slow development of men and women is due to the feebleness of the life germ in their case?”

“Exactly.  It can’t attain all its desires at once.  And now you can see how immeasurably superior are the phaens, who spring spontaneously from the more electric and vigorous sparks.”

“But where does the matter come from that imprisons these sparks?”

“When life dies, it becomes matter.  Matter itself dies, but its place is constantly taken by new matter.”

“But if life comes from Faceny, how can it die at all?”

“Life is the thoughts of Faceny, and once these thoughts have left his brain they are nothing—­mere dying embers.”

“This is a cheerless philosophy,” said Maskull.  “But who is Faceny himself, then, and why does he think at all?”

Leehallfae gave another wrinkled smile.  “That I’ll explain too.  Faceny is of this nature.  He faces Nothingness in all directions.  He has no back and no sides, but is all face; and this face is his shape.  It must necessarily be so, for nothing else can exist between him and Nothingness.  His face is all eyes, for he eternally contemplates Nothingness.  He draws his inspirations from it; in no other way could he feel himself.  For the same reason, phaens and even men love to be in empty places and vast solitudes, for each one is a little Faceny.”

“That rings true,” said Maskull.

“Thoughts flow perpetually from Faceny’s face backward.  Since his face is on all sides, however, they flow into his interior.  A draught of thought thus continuously flows from Nothingness to the inside of Faceny, which is the world.  The thoughts become shapes, and people the world.  This outer world, therefore, which is lying all around us, is not outside at all, as it happens, but inside.  The visible universe is like a gigantic stomach, and the real outside of the world we shall never see.”

Maskull pondered deeply for a while.

“Leehallfae, I fail to see what you personally have to hope for, since you are nothing more than a discarded, dying thought.”

“Have you never loved a woman?” asked the phaen, regarding him fixedly.

“Perhaps I have.”

“When you loved, did you have no high moments?”

“That’s asking the same question in other words.”

“In those moments you were approaching Faceny.  If you could have drawn nearer still, would you not have done so?”