“Obsequious varlets,” said Media, “where tarry your masters?”
“Right royal, and thrice worshipful Lord of Odo, do you take us for our domestics? We are Tapparians, may it please your illustrious Highness; your most humble and obedient servants. We beseech you, supereminent Sir, condescend to visit our habitations, and partake of our cheer.”
Then turning upon their attendants, “Away with ye, hounds! and set our dwellings in order.”
“How know ye me to be king?” asked Media.
“Is it not in your serene Highness’s regal port, and eye?”
“’Twas their menials,” muttered Mohi, “who from the paddlers in charge of our canoes must have learned who my lord was, and published the tidings.”
After some further speech, Media made a social surrender of himself to the foremost of the Tapparians, one Nimni; who, conducting us to his abode, with much deference introduced us to a portly old Begum, and three slender damsels; his wife and daughters.
Soon, refreshments appeared:—green and yellow compounds, and divers enigmatical dainties; besides vegetable liqueurs of a strange and alarming flavor served in fragile little leaves, folded into cups, and very troublesome to handle.
Excessively thirsty, Babbalanja made bold to inquire for water; which called forth a burst of horror from the old Begum, and minor shrieks from her daughters; who declared, that the beverage to which remote reference had been made, was far too widely diffused in Mardi, to be at all esteemed in Pimminee.
“But though we seldom imbibe it,” said the old Begum, ceremoniously adjusting her necklace of cowrie-shells, “we occasionally employ it for medicinal purposes.”