“Not I. Old Braid-Beard had no memory then.”
“When, then, wast thou first conscious of being?”
“What time I was teething: my first sensation was an ache.”
“What dost thou, fellow-being, here in Mardi?”
“What doth Mardi here, fellow-being, under me?”
“Philosopher, thou gainest but little by thy questions,” cried Yoomy advancing. “Let a poet endeavor.”
“I abdicate in your favor, then, gentle Yoomy; let me smooth the divan for you;—there: be seated.”
“Now, Mohi, who art thou?” said Yoomy, nodding his bird-of-paradise plume.
“The sole witness, it seems, in this case.”
“Try again minstrel,” cried Babbalanja.