"My lord, it is because, that when we think, we think so little of
ourselves."

"I thought as much," said Mohi, "for no sooner do I undertake to be
sociable with myself, than I am straightway forced to beat a retreat."

"Ay, old man," said Babbalanja, "many of us Mardians are but sorry
hosts to ourselves. Some hearts are hermits."

"If not of yourself, then, Yoomy, of whom else do you think?"
asked Media.

"My lord, I seldom think," said Yoomy, "I but give ear to the voices
in my calm."

"Did Babbalanja speak?" said Media. "But no more of your reveries;"
and so saying Media gradually sunk into a reverie himself.

The rest did likewise; and soon, with eyes enchanted, all reclined:
gazing at each other, witless of what we did.

It was Media who broke the spell; calling for Vee-Vee our page, his
calabashes and cups, and nectarines for all.

Eyeing his goblet, Media at length threw himself back, and said:
"Babbalanja, not ten minutes since, we were all absent-minded; now,
how would you like to step out of your body, in reality; and, as a
spirit, haunt some shadowy grove?"

"But our lungs are not wholly superfluous, my lord," said Babbalanja,