Donjalolo was now in high spirits, thinking of the rich store of reliable information about to be furnished.
“Zuma,” said he, addressing the foremost of the company, “you and Varnopi were directed to explore the island of Rafona. Proceed now, and relate all you know of that place. Your narration heard, we will list to Varnopi.”
With a profound inclination the traveler obeyed.
But soon Donjalolo interrupted him. “What say you, Zuma, about the secret cavern, and the treasures therein? A very different account, this, from all I have heard hitherto; but perhaps yours is the true version. Go on.”
But very soon, poor Zuma was again interrupted by exclamations of surprise. Nay, even to the very end of his mountings.
But when he had done, Donjalolo observed, that if from any cause Zuma was in error or obscure, Varnopi would not fail to set him right.
So Varnopi was called upon.
But not long had Varnopi proceeded, when Donjalolo changed color.
“What!” he exclaimed, “will ye contradict each other before our very face. Oh Oro! how hard is truth to be come at by proxy! Fifty accounts have I had of Rafona; none of which wholly agreed; and here, these two varlets, sent expressly to behold and report, these two lying knaves, speak crookedly both. How is it? Are the lenses in their eyes diverse-hued, that objects seem different to both; for undeniable is it, that the things they thus clashingly speak of are to be known for the same; though represented with unlike colors and qualities. But dumb things can not lie nor err. Unpack thy hampers, Zuma. Here, bring them close: now: what is this?”
“That,” tremblingly replied Zuma, “is a specimen of the famous reef- bar on the west side of the island of Rafona; your highness perceives its deep red dyes.”