O my Son, hear this Wisdom of Experience, how at thy first Sight, when I put thee into the Arms of Ahitha, thy sweet Stepmother my concubine, such was thy Beauty that she became enamoured of thee, crying aloud; Ay me, an such be the Fruit of thy Magick, o my Master, then let me, me also, even me, give myself utterly to this Holy Art! Then did I, becoming heavy in Spirit, make Question of her, saying: To what End? And at this was she confounded and brought into Bewilderment; but after a great While, fumbling in her Mind, made Answer, like a Scarecrow in a Field, so was it for Rags and Tatters of Thought. Thus yet more atrabilious and sluggard was this Liver of thy Father, so that I fell into a Gloom night unto Weeping. Then she beholding me with Amazement cried upon me thus: Art thou not glad in Heart, o my Master? At this I gave a Sigh even as one night unto Death. And She: if this be so, then is no need anymore for me to give myself to Magick. Thereat, perceiving yet again the Just Universal of Our Lord Pan, was I swallowed up (like unto Jonah of the Old Fable) in the Belly of the Whale called Laughter, and it seemeth to me at this present Writing that I am like to abide therein for the Time that remaineth to me in this Body.