of them, Nod at the head of
the table--that is, looking towards Mulgarmeerez--and Thumb at the foot,
with Thimble propped up on the one side and Ghibba on the other. Many of
the Mountain-mulgars, however, who eat always sitting on the ground,
soon found this perching on stools at a table irksome for their
pleasure, and squatted themselves down in the thick grasses for
Tishnar's supper. And they feasted on fruits they never before had
tasted nor knew to grow on earth: one, rosy and red and round and small,
with a long, slender stalk and a little pale hard stone, of the colour
of amber, in the middle; one very sweet and globular, jacketed in a
yellow rind, the inside all divided into little juicy wedges as if for a
mouthful each; another rough like lichen, with a tuft of leaves in a
spike, rusty without and pale within; yet another with a hard, smooth
coat like faded copper, but inside a houseful of hundreds of tiny fruits
like seeds of the colour of blood, and running over with pleasant
juices; also Manakin-figs, keeries, and love-apples, quinces, juleeps,
xandimons, and grapes.

There were nuts also--green, coral, and cinnamon, long and little,
hairy, smooth, crinkled, rough, in pairs, dark and double, round-ribbed
and nuggeted--every kind of nut the pouch of Mulgar knows. And they
drank from their goblets thin sweet wine, honey-coloured, and lilac. And
while they ate and drank and made merry, lifting their cups, cracking
their nuts, hungrily supping, a distant and beautiful music clashed in
the air around the feasting travellers, like the music of cymbal and
dulcimer. Nod sat silken-silvery, with every hair enlustred, his
wrinkles gone, his small right hand feeding him, while with his
woman-hand he clasped his Wonderstone, his little face bright as a
child's, with topaz eyes. Rejoiced were the sad-faced Mountain-mulgars
that they had not forsaken the wandering Princes and gone home. They
feasted like men.

And at last, when all were refreshed, they rose and raised their voices
to Tishnar, hoarse, and shrill, turning their faces towards the vast and
silent peak of Mulgarmeerez, that jutted to the stars above their heads.
Then they laid themselves down in the sweet Immanoosa-scented meadow,
and soon, lulled by the noise of the fountains and the faint, wandering
orchard music, they fell asleep. Nod, too, lay down, ruffled with fire,
burning like touchwood, amid the enchanted flowers. But as deeper and
deeper he sank to