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- 9402
- extracted_at
- 2026-01-30T20:48:09.931Z
- extracted_by
- structure-extraction-lambda
- start_line
- 9307
- text
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“Ah, my lord! what seraphic sounds have ye driven from me!”
“Sounds! Sure, there’s naught heard but yonder murmuring surf; what
other sound heard you?”
“The thrilling of my soul’s monochord, my lord. But prick not your ears
to hear it; that divine harmony is overheard by the rapt spirit alone;
it comes not by the auditory nerves.”
“No more, Azzageddi! No more of that. Look yonder!”
“A most lovely wood, in truth. And methinks it is here the sage
Doxodox, surnamed the Wise One, dwells.”
“Hark, I hear the hootings of his owls,” said Mohi.
“My lord, you must have read of him. He is said to have penetrated from
the zoned, to the unzoned principles. Shall we seek him out, that we
may hearken to his wisdom? Doubtless he knows many things, after which
we pant.”
The lagoon was calm, as we landed; not a breath stirred the plumes of
the trees; and as we entered the voiceless shades, lifting his hand,
Babbalanja whispered:—“This silence is a fit introduction to the
portals of Telestic lore. Somewhere, beneath this moss, lurks the
mystic stone Mnizuris; whereby Doxodox hath attained unto a knowledge
of the ungenerated essences. Nightly, he bathes his soul in
archangelical circumlucencies. Oh, Doxodox! whip me the Strophalunian
top! Tell o’er thy Jynges!”
“Down, Azzageddi! down!” cried Media. “Behold: there sits the Wise One;
now, for true wisdom!”
From the voices of the party, the sage must have been aware of our
approach: but seated on a green bank, beneath the shade of a red
mulberry, upon the boughs of which, many an owl was perched, he seemed
intent upon describing divers figures in the air, with a jet-black
wand.
Advancing with much deference and humility, Babbalanja saluted him.
“Oh wise Doxodox! Drawn hither by thy illustrious name, we seek
admittance to thy innermost wisdom. Of all Mardian, thou alone
comprehendest those arcane combinations, whereby to drag to day the
most deftly hidden things, present and to come. Thou knowest what we
are, and what we shall be. We beseech thee, evoke thy Tselmns!”
“Tetrads; Pentads; Hexads; Heptads; Ogdoads:—meanest thou those?”
“New terms all!”
“Foiled at thy own weapons,” said Media.
“Then, if thou comprehendest not my nomenclature:—how my science? But
let me test thee in the portico.—Why is it, that as some things extend
more remotely than others; so, Quadammodotatives are larger than
Qualitatives; forasmuch, as Quadammodotatives extend to those things,
which include the Quadammodotatives themselves.”
“Azzageddi has found his match,” said Media.
“Still posed, Babbalanja?” asked Mohi.
“At a loss, most truly! But I beseech thee, wise Doxodox! instruct me
in thy dialectics, that I may embrace thy more recondite lore.”
“To begin then, my child:—all Dicibles reside in the mind.”
“But what are Dicibles?” said Media.
“Meanest thou, Perfect or Imperfect Dicibles?” Any kind you please;—
but what are they?”
“Perfect Dicibles are of various sorts: Interrogative; Percontative;
Adjurative; Optative; Imprecative; Execrative; Substitutive;
Compellative; Hypothetical; and lastly, Dubious.”
“Dubious enough! Azzageddi! forever, hereafter, hold thy peace.”
“Ah, my children! I must go back to my Axioms.”
“And what are they?” said old Mohi.
“Of various sorts; which, again, are diverse. Thus: my contrary axioms
are Disjunctive, and Subdisjunctive; and so, with the rest. So, too, in
degree, with my Syllogisms.”
“And what of them?”
“Did I not just hint what they were, my child? I repeat, they are of
various sorts: Connex, and Conjunct, for example.”
“And what of them?” persisted Mohi; while Babbalanja, arms folded,
stood serious and mute; a sneer on his lip.
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