than have your fingers meet in your hand? And to
what end your eternal inquisitions? You have nothing to substitute.
You say all is a lie; then out with the truth. Philosopher, your devil
is but a foolish one, after all. I, a demi-god, never say nay to these
things."

"Yea, my lord, it would hardly answer for Oro himself, were he to come
down to Mardi, to deny men's theories concerning him. Did they not
strike at the rash deity in Alma?"

"Then, why deny those theories yourself? Babbalanja, you almost affect
my immortal serenity. Must you forever be a sieve for good /grain to
run through, while you retain but the chaff? Your tongue is forked.
You speak two languages: flat folly for yourself, and wisdom for
others. Babbalanja, if you have any belief of your own, keep it; but,
in Oro's name, keep it secret."

"Ay, my lord, in these things wise men are spectators, not actors;
wise men look on, and say 'ay.'"

"Why not say so yourself, then?"

"My lord, because I have often told you, that I am a fool, and not wise."

"Your Highness," said Mohi, "this whole discourse seems to have grown
out of the subject of Necessity and Free Will. Now, when a boy, I
recollect hearing a sage say, that these things were reconcilable."

"Ay?" said Media, "what say you to that, now, Babbalanja?"

"It may be even so, my lord. Shall I tell you a story?"

"Azzageddi's stirring now," muttered Mohi.

"Proceed," said Media.

"King Normo had a fool, called Willi, whom he loved to humor. Now,
though Willi ever obeyed his lord, by the very instinct of his
servitude, he flattered himself that he was free; and this conceit it
was, that made the fool so entertaining to the king. One day, said
Normo to his fool,--'Go, Willi, to yonder tree, and wait there till I
come,' 'Your Majesty, I will,' said Willi, bowing beneath his jingling
bells; 'but I presume your Majesty has no objections to my walking on
my hands:--I am free, I hope.' 'Perfectly,' said Normo, 'hands or
feet, it's all the same to me; only do my bidding.' 'I thought as
much,' said Willi; so, swinging his limber legs into the air, Willi,
thumb after thumb, essayed progression. But soon, his bottled blood so
rushed downward through his neck, that he was fain to turn a somerset
and regain his feet. Said he, 'Though I am free to do it, it's not so
easy turning digits into toes; I'll walk, by gad! which is my other
option.' So he went straight forward, and did King Normo's bidding in
th