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Just then Mongan glanced to the right whence the people were coming. Then he pulled the hood of his cloak over his ears and over his brow. "Alas!" said he in a deep and anguished voice. Mac an Da'v turned to him. "Is it a pain in your stomach, master?" "It is not," said Mongan. "Well, what made you make that brutal and belching noise?" "It was a sigh I gave," said Mongan.
There were seven vats of wine, and as Mongan loved wine he was very happy, and he drank more on that occasion than any one had ever noticed him to drink before.
"You ought to be at Dun Fiathac avenging the murder of your father," replied the cleric, "and you ought to be ashamed of yourself for not having done it long ago. You can play chess with your wife when you have won the right to leisure." "But how can I kill my wife's father?" Mongan exclaimed. "By starting about it at once," said the cleric. "Here is a way of talking!" said Mongan.
"Should you pass those hags," she continued, "and no one has yet passed them, you must meet Ailill of the Black Teeth, the son of Mongan Tender Blossom, and who could pass that gigantic and terrible fighter?" "It is not easy to find the daughter of Morgan," said Art in a melancholy voice. "It is not easy," Crede' replied eagerly, "and if you will take my advice "
Fiachna Duv has only a small force with him at this moment, and we can burn his palace as he burned your father's palace, and kill himself as he killed your father, and crown you King of Ulster rightfully the way he crowned himself wrongfully as a king." "I begin to think that you own a lucky tongue, my black-faced friend," said Mongan, "and I will go with you."
His face went red as a sunset, and the veins swelled in his neck and his forehead. "Do you say that?" he cried to Duv Laca. "I do," said Duv Laca. "Let the King of Leinster take her," said Mongan. Duv Laca and the King of Leinster went apart then to speak together, and the eye of the king seemed to be as big as a plate, so fevered was it and so enlarged and inflamed by the look of Duv Laca.
Cailte had been one of the most renowned of Finn's companions; he had come now from the Great Plain to save his old master. You will note that remark of the latter's when Cailte let the fact escape him that he, Mongan, had been Finn: "Hush! it is wrong for the to reveal a secret." That was the feeling of the Christian redactors. Reincarnation was not a thing for baptized lips to speak about.
For her husband was at once more than himself and less than himself. He was less than himself because he was now Mongan. He was more than himself because he was one who had long disappeared from the world of men.
"There never was a year when Tibraide''s were as plentiful as they are this year. There is a Tibraide' outside and a Tibraide' inside, and who knows but there are some more of them under the bed. The place is crawling with them," said he. Mongan pointed at Tibraide'. "Don't you know who that is?" he cried. "I know who he says he is," said the Chamberlain.
"I and the file yonder have made a wager about the death of Fothad Airgtech," said Mongan. "The file said he died at Dubtar in Leinster; I said it was false." "Then the file has lied," said the warrior. "Thou wilt repent of that," cried Forgoll. "That is not a good speech," said the warrior. "I will prove what I say." Then he turned to Mongan. "We were with thee, Finn MacCool," said he,
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