"A good commentary on old Bardianna, Yoomy," said Babbalanja, "who
somewhere says, that no Mardian can out with his heart, for his
unyielding ribs are in the way. And indeed, pride, or something akin
thereto, often holds check on sentiment. My lord, there are
those who like not to be detected in the possession of a heart."

"Very true, Babbalanja; and I suppose that pride was at the bottom of
your old Ponderer's heartless, unsentimental, bald-pated style."

"Craving pardon, my lord is deceived. Bardianna was not at all proud;
though he had a queer way of showing the absence of pride. In his
essay, entitled,--"On the Tendency to curl in Upper Lips," he thus
discourses. "We hear much of pride and its sinfulness in this Mardi
wherein we dwell: whereas, I glory in being brimmed with it;--my sort
of pride. In the presence of kings, lords, palm-trees, and all those
who deem themselves taller than myself, I stand stiff as a pike, and
will abate not one vertebra of my stature. But accounting no Mardian
my superior, I account none my inferior; hence, with the social, I am
ever ready to be sociable."

"An agrarian!" said Media; "no doubt he would have made the headsman
the minister of equality."

"At bottom we are already equal, my honored lord," said Babbalanja,
profoundly bowing--"One way we all come into Mardi, and one way we
withdraw. Wanting his yams a king will starve, quick as a clown; and
smote on the hip, saith old Bardianna, he will roar as loud as the
next one."