“Most illustrious of mortals,” I said, turning a somersault—­the Ghargarese manner of interrupting a discourse without offense—­“I am as the dust upon your beard, but in my own country I am esteemed no fool, and right humbly do I perceive that you are ecxroptug nemk puttog peleemy.”

This expression translates, literally, “giving me a fill,” a phrase without meaning in our tongue, but in Ghargarese it appears to imply incredulity.

“The gaieties of the King’s court,” I continued, “must be expensive.  The courtiers of the sovereign’s entourage, the great officers of the realm—­surely they are not condemned to wealth, like common criminals!”

“My son,” said Juptka-Getch, tearing out a handful of his beard to signify his tranquillity under accusation, “your doubt of my veracity is noted with satisfaction, but it is not permitted to you to impeach my sovereign’s infallible knowledge of character.  His courtiers, the great officers of the realm, as you truly name them, are the richest men in the country because he knows them to be the greatest rascals.  After each annual reapportionment of the national wealth he settles upon them the unallotted surplus.”

Prostrating myself before the eminent philosopher, I craved his pardon for my doubt of his sovereign’s wisdom and consistency, and begged him to cut off my head.

“Nay,” he said, “you have committed the unpardonable sin and I cannot consent to bestow upon you the advantages of death.  You shall continue to live the thing that you are.”

“What!” I cried, remembering the Lalugwumps and Gnarmag-Zote, “is it thought in Ghargaroo that death is an advantage, a blessing?”

“Our Sacred Books,” he said, “are full of texts affirming the vanity of life.”

“Then,” I said, “I infer that the death penalty is unknown to your laws!”

“We have the life penalty instead.  Convicted criminals are not only enriched, as already explained, but by medical attendance kept alive as long as possible.  On the contrary, the very righteous, who have been rewarded with poverty, are permitted to die whenever it pleases them.

“Do not the Sacred Books of your country teach the vanity of life, the blessedness of poverty and the wickedness of wealth?”

“They do, O Most Illustrious, they do.”

“And your countrymen believe?”

“Surely—­none but the foolish and depraved entertain a doubt.”

“Then I waste my breath in expounding laws and customs already known to you.  You have, of course, the same.”

At this I averted my face and blushed so furiously that the walls of the cave were illuminated with a wavering crimson like the light of a great conflagration!  Thinking that the capital city was ablaze, Juptka-Getch ran from the cave’s mouth, crying, “Fire, fire!” and I saw him no more.

AN EXECUTION IN BATRUGIA