"Let me beg of you not to. By all you hold sacred let me implore you not to confuse me with questions." He drew himself up and thumped his chest with his fist. "I have a feeling for swineherding; it is enough."
Merriwig began to like the man; it was just how he felt about the thing himself.
"I once carried on a long technical conversation with a swineherd," he said reminiscently, "and we found we had much in common. It is an inspiring life."
"It was in just that way," said the stranger, "that I discovered my own natural bent towards it."
"How very odd! Do you know, there's something about your face that I seem to recognise?"
The stranger decided to be frank.
"I owe this face to you," he said simply.
Merriwig looked startled.
"In short," said the other, "I am the late King of Barodia."
Merriwig gripped his hand.