Tell me, Mopo, tell me now, was it a true tale." "Nay, O king! surely the Mother of the Heavens was maddened by the Heavens when she sang that song," I answered.

"I know nothing of it, O king." "Thou knowest naught of it, Mopo ?" said the king.

And again he looked at me terribly through the reek of the fire.

"Thou knowest naught of it, Mopo?
Surely thou art a-cold; thy hands shake with cold.

Nay, man, fear not--warm them, warm them, Mopo.