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Nobody has a greater respect and esteem for Merolchazzar than I have, but I mean to say, what! Not right, I mean, going off worshipping gods no one has ever heard of!
And you can say I said it!" "She is beautiful?" "Your majesty, she is, in the best and deepest sense of the word, a pippin!" King Merolchazzar was groping wildly for his robes. "Tell her to wait!" he cried. "Go and amuse her. Ask her riddles! Tell her anecdotes! Don't let her go. Say I'll be down in a moment. Where in the name of Zoroaster is our imperial mesh-knit underwear?"
Now let the flowers bend their heads and the gazelle of the mountains confess itself a cripple. Princess, your slave!" And King Merolchazzar, with that easy grace so characteristic of Royalty, took her hand in his and kissed it. As he did so, he gave a start of surprise. "By Hec!" he exclaimed. "What hast thou been doing to thyself? Thy hand is all over little rough places inside.
The chariot drove on, till now it took the road adjoining the royal Linx. A wall lined a portion of this road, and suddenly, from behind this wall, there rent the air a great shout of laughter. "Pull up!" cried Ascobaruch to the charioteer. He had recognized that laugh. It was the laugh of Merolchazzar. Ascobaruch crept to the wall and cautiously poked his head over it.
The fact is, King Merolchazzar was in love, and his suit was not prospering. Enough to upset any man. Royal love affairs in those days were conducted on the correspondence system. A monarch, hearing good reports of a neighbouring princess, would despatch messengers with gifts to her Court, beseeching an interview.
I'm a peaceable man, and I've made it a rule never to mix in politics, but if you happened to say to me as we were sitting here, just as one reasonable man to another if you happened to say, 'Ascobaruch, I think it's time that definite steps were taken, I should reply frankly, 'My dear old High Priest, I absolutely agree with you, and I'm with you all the way. You might even go so far as to suggest that the only way out of the muddle was to assassinate Merolchazzar and start with a clean slate."
The meeting had dispersed after passing a unanimous vote of censure on King Merolchazzar, and the High Priest was refreshing himself in the vestry for the meeting had taken place in the Temple of Hec with a small milk and honey. "Some speech!" began Ascobaruch in his unpleasant, crafty way. None knew better than he the art of appealing to human vanity. The High Priest was plainly gratified.
Presently a sound behind her caused her to turn, and she perceived a godlike man hurrying across the terrace pulling up a sock. And at the sight of him the Princess's heart sang within her like the birds down in the garden. "Hope I haven't kept you waiting," said Merolchazzar, apologetically. He, too, was conscious of a strange, wild exhilaration.
"Now," said Merolchazzar, "slow back and keep your e'e on the ba'!" A month later, Ascobaruch returned from his trip. He had received no word from the High Priest announcing the success of the revolution, but there might be many reasons for that. It was with unruffled contentment that he bade his charioteer drive him to the palace.
On the broad terrace outside his palace, overlooking the fair expanse of the Royal gardens, King Merolchazzar of Oom stood leaning on the low parapet, his chin in his hand and a frown on his noble face. The day was fine, and a light breeze bore up to him from the garden below a fragrant scent of flowers. But, for all the pleasure it seemed to give him, it might have been bone-fertilizer.
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