"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.