human
It is my will that thou speak to me and declare this thing, Rrisa, said he, decisively.
gpt
Say, thou, hath no man of the _Nasara_ faith ever penetrated as far as to the place of thy birth?
human
Ah, so? exclaimed the Master, a touch of eagerness in his grave, impassive voice.
gpt
Who were they?
human
Two of the French blood, Master, and one of the Russian.
gpt
And what happened to them, then?
human
They--died, Master.
gpt
Thou dost mean, thy people did slay them?
human
They died, all three, repeated Rrisa, in even tones.
gpt
The jackals devoured them and the bones remained. Those bones, I think, are still there. In our dry country--bones remain, long.
human
Hm! Yea, so it is! But, tell me, thou, is it true that in thy country the folk slay all _Nasara_ they lay hands on, by cutting with a sharp knife? Cutting the stomach, so?
gpt
Since you do force me to speak, against my will, _M'almé_--you being of the _Nasara_ blood--I will declare the truth. Yea, that is so.
human
A pleasant custom, surely! And why always in the stomach? Why do they never stab or cut like other races?
gpt
There are no bones in the stomach, to dull the edges of the knives, _M'almé_.
human
Quite practical, that idea!