Chapter 78

Babbalanja Solus

Of the House of the Afternoon something yet remains to be said.

It was chiefly distinguished by its pavement, where, according to the
strange customs of the isle, were inlaid the reputed skeletons of
Donjalolo's sires; each surrounded by a mosaic of corals,--red,
white, and black, intermixed with vitreous stones fallen from the
skies in a meteoric shower. These delineated the tattooing of the
departed. Near by, were imbedded their arms: mace, bow, and spear, in
similar marquetry; and over each skull was the likeness of a scepter.

First and conspicuous lay the half-decayed remains of Marjora, the
father of these Coral Kings; by his side, the storied, sickle-shaped
weapon, wherewith he slew his brother Teei.

"Line of kings and row of scepters," said Babbalanja as he gazed.
"Donjalolo, come forth and ponder on thy sires. Here they lie, from
dread Marjora down to him who fathered thee. Here are their bones,
their spears, and their javelins; their scepters, and the very
fashion of their tattooing: all that can be got together of what they
were. Tell me, oh king, what are thy thoughts? Dotest thou on these
thy sires? Art thou more truly royal, that they were kings? Or more a
man, that they were men? Is it a fable, or a verity about Marjora and
the murdered Teei? But here is the mighty conqueror,--ask him. Speak
to him: son to sire: king to king. Prick him; beg; buffet;
entreat; spurn; split the globe, he will not budge. Walk over and
over thy whole ancestral line, and they will not start. They are not
here. Ay, the dead are not to be found, even in their graves. Nor
have they simply departed; for they willed not to go; they died not
by choice; whithersoever they have gone, thither have they been
dragged; and if so be, they are extinct, their nihilities went not
more against their grain, than their forced quitting of Mardi. Either
way, something has become of them that they sought not. Truly, had
stout-hearted Marjora sworn to live here in Willamilla for ay, and
kept the vow, _that_ would have been royalty indeed; but here he
lies. Marjora! rise! Juam revolteth! Lo, I stamp upon thy scepter;
base menials tread upon thee where thou hest! Up, king, up! What? no
reply? Are not these bones thine? Oh, how the living triumph over the
dead! Marjora! answer. Art thou? or art thou not? I see thee not; I
hear thee not; I feel thee not; eyes, ears, hands, are worthless to
test thy being; and if thou art, thou art something beyond all human
thought to compass. We must have other faculties to know thee by.
Why, thou art not even a sightless sound; not the echo of an echo;
here are thy bones. Donjalolo, methinks I see thee fallen upon by
assassins:--which of thy fathers