This was not done to insult Emperor
Euphrates, but to further magnify His Majesty. Noses had much to do
with majesty, as any proper emperor could tell you. It was Borla's
formal thinking posture.
Finally, Borla nodded his head in satisfaction, and bowed peremptorily
before looking up at his Emperor wisely.
"Puffat," rumbled Borla, who had a very deep voice, "is the offspring
of a distant but honorable relation on your mother's sister's
daughter's cousin's side, thrice--Ahem!; removed, in each instance."
"Ah! 'Thrice', you say? A most noble number," Emperor Euphrates agreed,
raising his eyebrows and then frowning over the more meaningful
possible aspects of this curious twist of fate.
"Quite so, your Majesty," agreed Borla dryly and noncommittally.
Emperor Euphrates turned to the widows and waved encouragement with an
imploring motion of his right hand, using the common bartering gesture
of the market place, and imploring them with a partially raised, cupped
hand.
"Say on," said Emperor Euphrates, with a brief, commanding nod of royal
encouragement.
One called Puffat, said three or four women, who all began to speak at
once and in various overweening affectations and mannerisms -the dreary
virtues of long-ago beauties, these- had been extremely sick and in
pain beyond torment with the gain-green in his leg, when Kadrug had
taken over the sluice gates, and slain Rababull with the edge of the
sword when he valiantly went forth to battle.
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