Then his singing paused, and he stood for a moment to cry out softly in the vernacular of the region: 'Best be Donor Elohim, King of All, who make bread to spring forth from the earth,' in a sort of nasal bleat. The bleat being finished, he sat again, and commenced eating. The wanderer had come a long way indeed, thought Brother Francis, who knew of no adjacent realm governed by a monarch with such an unfamiliar name and such strange pretensions.

A Canticle for Leibowitz