“Babbalanja,” said Mohi, “my lord has been pleased to pronounce Verdanna crazy; now, may not her craziness arise from the irritating, tantalizing practices of Dominora?”

“Doubtless, Braid-Beard, many of the extravagances of Verdanna, are in good part to be ascribed to the cause you mention; but, to be impartial, none the less does Verdanna essay to taunt and provoke Dominora; yet not with the like result.  Perceive you, Braid-Beard, that the trade-wind blows dead across this strait from Dominora, and not from Verdanna?  Hence, when King Bello’s men fling gibes and insults, every missile hits; but those of Verdanna are blown back in its teeth:  her enemies jeering her again and again.”

“King Bello’s men are dastards for that,” cried Yoomy.  “It shows neither sense, nor spirit, nor humanity,” said Babbalanja.

“All wide of the mark,” cried Media.  “What is to be done for Verdanna?”

“What will she do for herself?” said Babbalanja.

“Philosopher, you are an extraordinary sage; and since sages should be seers, reveal Verdanna’s future.”

“My lord, you will ever find true prophets, prudent; nor will any prophet risk his reputation upon predicting aught concerning this land.  The isles are Oro’s.  Nevertheless, he who doctors Verdanna aright, will first medicine King Bello; who in some things is, himself a patient, though he would fain be a physician.  However, my lord, there is a demon of a doctor in Mardi, who at last deals with these desperate cases.  He employs only pills, picked off the Conroupta Quiancensis tree.”

“And what sort of a vegetable is that?” asked Mohi.  “Consult the botanists,” said Babbalanja.

CHAPTER XLIX They Draw Nigh To Porpheero; Where They Behold A Terrific Eruption

Gliding away from Verdanna at the turn of the tide, we cleared the strait, and gaining the more open lagoon, pointed our prows for Porpheero, from whose magnificent monarchs my lord Media promised himself a glorious reception.

“They are one and all demi-gods,” he cried, “and have the old demi-god feeling.  We have seen no great valleys like theirs:—­their scepters are long as our spears; to their sumptuous palaces, Donjalolo’s are but inns:—­their banquetting halls are as vistas; no generations run parallel to theirs:—­their pedigrees reach back into chaos.

“Babbalanja! here you will find food for philosophy:—­the whole land checkered with nations, side by side contrasting in costume, manners, and mind.  Here you will find science and sages; manuscripts in miles; bards singing in choirs.

“Mohi! here you will flag over your page; in Porpheero the ages have hived all their treasures:  like a pyramid, the past shadows over the land.