Lao-Tze watched her staggering approach with pleasure, much taken by the old genes apparent in her translucent skin and shining hair.

"Thank goodness, you're here. I thought you might be off communing," she said.

"My dear girl, I have many vices. Communing is not among them."

"That's not what they say down there."

"Ah. You actually listen to what they say down there?"

Tsien sighed. "I ran away from home as soon as I was of age, and I have been living at the foot of this mountain for three years. I'm sure my parents think I have gone to America to make my fortune as a porn star."

"Three years? Not bad. Most of them, as soon as they get wind of me, can't wait to blister their soles and skedaddle right on up."

"My patience came not from virtue, but from curiousity. I wanted to know what kind of people come to see you. I took a room in the last inn below, and every day I watched the road and made notes on those whom I saw taking the hard-to-see trail slanting upward from the high road."

Lao-Tze was grinning. "How wonderful. You are, I believe, the world's first Taoist sociologist. How have you supported yourself?"

Tsien blushed deeply. "I read palms."

Lao-Tze laughed. "It gets better and better. Surely only a minor sin, my girl. Please, tell me more."

"Three years." She looked at Lao-Tze sharply, and the old man appreciated that to one so young three years seemed nearly an eternity. He was deeply flattered by her dedication.

"And what have you learned in these three years?"

"Many things. Many things I did not expect to learn."

With every sentence, Lao-Tze was more impressed. The look in her eyes as she said this last filled his heart with hope.

"But one thing above all I have learned. Or noticed. Actually, it was one of the first things I noticed. For a long time it didn't seem important, but last winter with every passing day it came to seem more and more the only thing that was important. I decided that the first fine day I would come and ask you about it-- though, please, I had decided two years ago that I would never bother you. I have seen so much stupidity among your trail-takers, and so little important pain."

Lao-Tze sucked in his breath. He glanced at the heavens, grateful that the gods still had surprises for him. He suddenly lost interest in the conversation. She had already said enough to thaw him after a hundred winters. But young flowers must be respected and handled gently. "And what was it you noticed?"

Tsien drew a dog-eared organizer from under her coat and opened to. "Why is it that, let me see, something over 99.8 percent of those who come this way are men?"

Lao-Tze looked at her sharply. He was truly astonished. "You really don't know?"

She looked at him, waiting.

"Normally, you understand, at this stage I either produce a wise and/or witty parable, or tell a dirty joke, or I do something in my own inimitable idiot savant way. For you, though, a straight answer, or as straight an answer as I can muster."

Still she waited.

Lao-Tze said, "This lumberjack got a job in Alaska. He worked for three months and was about to go crazy from being so horny. He asked the boss how everybody stood it. The boss told him to try the barrel outside the shower. He said everbody swears by the barrel. Next day the lumberjack came up to the boss and said, 'That barrel is great. I'm going to use it every day.' The boss said, 'You can use it every day except Friday.' The lumberjack looked puzzled and said, 'Why not Friday?' 'Friday's your day in the barrel.'"