With a show of special interest, accompanied by an insinuating smile, Rahula said: “Hast thou a secret in the fabrication of this drink unknown to other makers?” Setos shook his head in vigorous negation and continued giving his order for refreshing drinks. Ildiko preferred pulque. Rahula ordered metheglin, a spiced drink made by boiling fragments of beeswax and honey together, allowing it to ferment after it has been skimmed and clarified. “Wilt thou hold it impertinent in me to ask thee,” continued Rahula, as soon as she could attract the attention of Setos, “to what process thou art indebted for the superior quality of thy wine of maguey?” “It is made from the guava plant cut in the dark of the moon, but roasted and matured in the light of that orb. Care in manipulation does the rest.” Then lowering his voice and making a grimace as he winked, knowingly, he continued: “No one suspects that my bottles are made of pliant glass and that only the covering is of goats’ skin.” Standing with faces toward the east, they bowed their heads reverently; without a word they drank, not heartily, but in moderate sips. When they had swallowed the third mouthful, they resumed their seats. The women nibbled at honey-cakes and salted nuts, while Setos rolled a cigarette. Before lighting it, he said: “Akaza, the hierophant, announced in the Council Chamber at meridian that a visit of state is soon to be made to the high-priestess, Kerœcia. Thou art to be my companions to the Yo-Semite, where the Monbas tribes are at the festival of renewal.” “Must we countenance the rites of these childish worshipers of the four elements?” demanded Rahula. Intolerance was one of the bonds of sympathy between them. “I raised that question in Council, but Akaza vouchsafed no decided answer.” Both were silent for a moment, busy with the same train of thought. “Oh, that we had some of the flying vehicles of thy invention in Atlantis! We could then make the journey without hardship or fatigue,” said Ildiko. Setos and Rahula quickly exchanged a meaning look, then cast furtive glances about to see if Ildiko had been overheard. “Let us go hence,” said Setos, irritably. “Speech is the pale, silvery reflection of the moon, my daughter, while silence is the golden rays of the sun and the wisdom of the gods. I charge thee keep a closer watch over thy tongue. It is an unruly member and performs the same office as a two-edged sword.” When it came time to separate, Setos said: “Akaza leads us. Yermah and Orondo go also; while Alcamayn remains and serves in our stead. I do not doubt the loyalty of our new subjects; but Yermah seems to find it prudent to leave some of his own countrymen at the helm.” He spoke in a dissatisfied way—the reflex of his own mind. It is impossible for the best of us to see beyond the reflection of ourselves; so, Setos attributed to Yermah motives which would have actuated himself in a similar situation.