“Land of caitiff curs!” cried Media.
“Isle, whose future is in its past. Hearth-stone, from which its children run,” said Babbalanja.
“I can not read thy chronicles for blood, Verdanna,” murmured Mohi.
Gliding near, we would have landed, but the rolling surf forbade. Then thrice we circumnavigated the isle for a smooth, clear beach; but it was not found.
Meanwhile all still conversed.
“My lord,” said Yoomy, “while we tarried with King Bello, I heard much of the feud between Dominora and this unhappy shore. Yet is not Verdanna as a child of King Bello’s?”
“Yes, minstrel, a step-child,” said Mohi.
“By way of enlarging his family circle,” said Babbalanja, “an old lion once introduced a deserted young stag to his den; but the stag never became domesticated, and would still charge upon his foster-brothers. —Verdanna is not of the flesh and blood of Dominora, whence, in good part, these dissensions.”
“But Babbalanja, is there no way of reconciling these foes?”
“But one way, Yoomy:—By filling up this strait with dry land; for, divided by water, we Mardians must ever remain more or less divided at heart. Though Kaleedoni was united to Dominora long previous to the union of Verdanna, yet Kaleedoni occasions Bello no disquiet; for, geographically one, the two populations insensibly blend at the point of junction. No hostile strait flows between the arms, that to embrace must touch.”