However, he finally reached a seat in my apartment, and after half an hour’s rest, addressed me as follows:
“I bring thee good news, Little Man-All-Head. His majesty, King Gâ-roo, has graciously resolved to appoint thee one of his Ministers of State. Poly-dotto has informed him that your head is exactly three times larger that the largest Umi-Lobas, and that, consequently, you must be at least three times as wise as any of his counsellors. He is, quite naturally, unwilling that any other monarch should have the use of the vast treasure of wisdom stored in thy head. His design is to treat thee like a son, to surround thee with everything that gold can buy or cunning hands fashion, for thy comfort and amusement; in a word, so to shower honors upon thee that thou shalt soon forget thy home and kinspeople.”
The effect of Migrô-Zaltô’s words upon me was indescribable.
I felt as if my heart were about to beat its last.
It was only by the greatest effort that I could pull myself together, stammer out my thanks to his majesty, King Gâ-roo, and save myself from betraying my utterly disconsolate condition.
Behold me now a prisoner for life! For in spite of all these honeyed words, King Gâ-roo now proceeded to double the number of guards set to watch my movements, and thus head off any attempt at escape.
I, of course, pretended not to notice this extra precaution.
In fact, I put a smiling face over my sad heart, and pretended to be perfectly contented; to have given up all thoughts of ever returning home.
I took good care to let Migrô-Zaltô know that I now intended to begin studying the ancient history of his people.
With the princess Hoppâ-Hoppâ, too, I was all kindness and sympathy. But while I was thus engaged in throwing my keepers off their guard, I was diving deep into the folk-lore of the Umi-Lobas.