“Thy tale is amusing,” commented Kayenna, “and the moral is as irrelevant as a moral should be; but both are far and wide from the purport of my question: How is a poor, weak woman to soothe the chagrin and placate the anger of two mighty monarchs, when they find that nature hath been greater than herself and they together?”
But Shacabac had naught to answer; for, indeed, the same problem had been puzzling his head for many days, and making that head seem to fit very loosely on his shoulders. It was a sad business all round; and he cursed the hour in which he had been tempted from his scholarly seclusion to aid in the wild schemes of a desperate woman; saying to himself, “A bird on toast is worth two on a bonnet,” which indeed is a truth that any child might comprehend.
CHAPTER X.
Surely, thou dost not expect strangers to pay for thy books. And, surely, thou wouldst not ask thy friends to buy them. Seek some other way of achieving wealth through letters. And let me know if thou findest it.—The Pauper Poet.
Right royal was the welcome given to the caravan and its illustrious passengers on reaching the suburbs of the capital of Nhulpar. Imposing ranks of soldiery, horse and foot, lined both sides of the broad road for at least five miles without the gates. On entering the city, they found the streets carpeted with roses, hung on both sides with gorgeous banners, and canopied with evergreen arches spangled with flowers of every hue.
Before coming into the presence of the king, they were treated to a rare feast of intellect. First, a chorus of ten thousand school-children, attired in white, sang a hymn of welcome, consisting of three hundred and forty stanzas, each replete with a tender thought or dainty conceit. Then followed an address from the chief men of the city, setting forth at much length the ancient friendship existing between the two nations,—a friendship which was now about to be cemented more firmly than ever. With great felicity and originality of thought the speaker pointed out that the people of Ubikwi and the people of Nhulpar were of the same origin, speaking the same language, that of Omar and Abdullah. “We must be friends,” he said, “for the sake of our common blood, our common language, and the common Koran which teaches us all. A quarrel between two such peoples would be a crime against humanity.”
If the speaker overlooked the fact that such crimes had been committed once or twice already, with the enthusiastic consent of both parties, that was neither here nor there. The sentence was well turned, and that is enough to expect of a state oration.
Kayenna and her suite, most of them being mutes, listened with rare courtesy and patience to the addresses which followed; but Shacabac, who had not yet broken his fast,—and it was now high noon,—was visibly and audibly wearied by the ceremonies, and devoted one hundred and sixty-three pages of his inimitable diary to a scathing denunciation of the vice of prolixity.
There were addresses from