Gaffer. Amal, my dear, I bow to nothing in sea or mountain; but if the doctor joins in with this uncle of yours, then I with all my magic must own myself beaten.
Amal. No. Uncle shan't tell the doctor. And I promise to lie quiet; but the day I am well, off I go with the Fakir and nothing in sea or mountain or torrent shall stand in my way.
Madhav. Fie, dear child, don't keep on harping upon going! It makes me so sad to hear you talk so.
Amal. Tell me, Fakir, what the Parrots' Isle is like.
Gaffer. It's a land of wonders; it's a haunt of birds. There's no man; and they neither speak nor walk, they simply sing and they fly.
Amal. How glorious! And it's by some sea?
Gaffer. Of course. It's on the sea.
Amal. And green hills are there?
Gaffer. Indeed, they live among the green hills; and in the time of the sunset when there is a red glow on the hillside, all
the birds with their green wings flock back to their nests.