{"collection":"myth-cosmogony","full_text_available":true,"graph_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/api/page/gutenberg_8771/graph","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/page/gutenberg_8771","id":"gutenberg_8771","license":"Public Domain (US)","rights_basis":"gutenberg_metadata_copyright_false","source":"gutenberg","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/8771","summary":null,"tags":["Allegories","Banned Books from Anne Haight's list","Category: American Literature","Category: Mythology, Legends & Folklore","Category: Novels","Category: Science-Fiction & Fantasy","Fantasy","Fantasy fiction","Historical fiction","Middle Ages -- Fiction"],"text":"JURGEN\n\n_A Comedy of Justice_\n\n\n\nBy\n\nJAMES BRANCH CABELL\n\n1922\n\n\n\n   _\"Of JURGEN eke they maken mencioun,\n   That of an old wyf gat his youthe agoon,\n   And gat himselfe a shirte as bright as fyre\n   Wherein to jape, yet gat not his desire\n   In any countrie ne condicioun.\"_\n\n\n\n\n\n\nTO\n\nBURTON RASCOE\n\n     Before each tarradiddle,\n   Uncowed by sciolists,\n   Robuster persons twiddle\n   Tremendously big fists.\n\n     \"Our gods are good,\" they tell us;\n   \"Nor will our gods defer\n   Remission of rude fellows'\n   Ability to err.\"\n\n     So this, your JURGEN, travels\n   Content to compromise\n   Ordainments none unravels\n   Explicitly ... and sighs.\n\n\n\n\n\n      *       *       *       *       *\n\n\n\"Others, with better moderation, do either entertain the vulgar\nhistory of Jurgen as a fabulous addition unto the true and authentic\nstory of St. Iurgenius of Poictesme, or else we conceive the literal\nacception to be a misconstruction of the symbolical expression:\napprehending a veritable history, in an emblem or piece of Christian\npoesy. And this emblematical construction hath been received by men\nnot forward to extenuate the acts of saints.\"\n\n                                        --PHILIP BORSDALE.\n\n\n\"A forced construction is very idle. If readers of _The High\nHistory of Jurgen_ do not meddle with the allegory, the allegory\nwill not meddle with them. Without minding it at all, the whole is\nas plain as a pikestaff. It might as well be pretended that we\ncannot see Poussin's pictures without first being told the allegory,\nas that the allegory aids us in understanding _Jurgen_.\"\n\n                                        --E. NOEL CODMAN.\n\n\n\"Too urbane to advocate delusion, too hale for the bitterness of\nirony, this fable of Jurgen is, as the world itself, a book wherein\neach man will find what his nature enables him to see; which gives\nus back each his own image; and which teaches us each the lesson\nthat each of us desires to learn.\"\n\n                                        --JOHN FREDERICK LEWISTAM.\n\n\n      *       *       *       *       *\n\n\n\n\n_CONTENTS_\n\n        A FOREWORD: WHICH ASSERTS NOTHING\n\n      I WHY JURGEN DID THE MANLY THING\n\n     II ASSUMPTION OF A NOTED GARMENT\n\n    III THE GARDEN BETWEEN DAWN AND SUNRISE\n\n     IV THE DOROTHY WHO DID NOT UNDERSTAND\n\n      V REQUIREMENTS OF BREAD AND BUTTER\n\n     VI SHOWING THAT SEREDA IS FEMININE\n\n    VII OF COMPROMISES ON A WEDNESDAY\n\n   VIII OLD TOYS AND A NEW SHADOW\n\n     IX THE ORTHODOX RESCUE OF GUENEVERE\n\n      X PITIFUL DISGUISES OF THRAGNAR\n\n     XI APPEARANCE OF THE DUKE OF LOGREUS\n\n    XII EXCURSUS OF YOLANDE'S UNDOING\n\n   XIII PHILOSOPHY OF GOGYRVAN GAWR\n\n    XIV PRELIMINARY TACTICS OF DUKE JURGEN\n\n     XV OF COMPROMISES IN GLATHION\n\n    XVI DIVERS IMBROGLIOS OF KING SMOIT\n\n   XVII ABOUT A COCK THAT CROWED TOO SOON\n\n  XVIII WHY MERLIN TALKED IN TWILIGHT\n\n    XIX THE BROWN MAN WITH QUEER FEET\n\n     XX EFFICACY OF PRAYER\n\n    XXI HOW ANA\u00cfTIS VOYAGED\n\n   XXII AS TO A VEIL THEY BROKE\n\n  XXIII SHORTCOMINGS OF PRINCE JURGEN\n\n   XXIV OF COMPROMISES IN COCAIGNE\n\n    XXV CANTRAPS OF THE MASTER PHILOLOGIST\n\n   XXVI IN TIME'S HOUR-GLASS\n\n  XXVII VEXATIOUS ESTATE OF QUEEN HELEN\n\n XXVIII OF COMPROMISES IN LEUK\u00ca\n\n   XXIX CONCERNING HORVENDILE'S NONSENSE\n\n    XXX ECONOMICS OF KING JURGEN\n\n   XXXI THE FALL OF PSEUDOPOLIS\n\n  XXXII SUNDRY DEVICES OF THE PHILISTINES\n\n XXXIII FAREWELL TO CHLORIS\n\n  XXXIV HOW EMPEROR JURGEN FARED INFERNALLY\n\n   XXXV WHAT GRANDFATHER SATAN REPORTED\n\n  XXXVI WHY COTH WAS CONTRADICTED\n\n XXXVII INVENTION OF THE LOVELY VAMPIRE\n\nXXXVIII AS TO APPLAUDED PRECEDENTS\n\n  XXXIX OF COMPROMISES IN HELL\n\n     XL THE ASCENSION OF POPE JURGEN\n\n    XLI OF COMPROMISES IN HEAVEN\n\n   XLII TWELVE THAT ARE FRETTED HOURLY\n\n  XLIII POSTURES BEFORE A SHADOW\n\n   XLIV IN THE MANAGER'S OFFICE\n\n    XLV THE FAITH OF GUENEVERE\n\n   XLVI THE DESIRE OF ANA\u00cfTIS\n\n  XLVII THE VISION OF HELEN\n\n XLVIII CANDID OPINIONS OF DAME LISA\n\n   XLIX OF THE COMPROMISE WITH KOSHCHEI\n\n      L THE MOMENT THAT DID NOT COUNT\n\n\n\n\nA FOREWORD\n\n_\"Nescio quid cert\u00e8 est: et Hylax in limine latrat.\"_\n\n\n\n\n_A Foreword: Which Asserts Nothing._\n\n\nIn Continental periodicals not more than a dozen articles in all\nwould seem to have given accounts or partial translations of the\nJurgen legends. No thorough investigation of this epos can be said\nto have appeared in print, anywhere, prior to the publication, in\n1913, of the monumental _Synopses of Aryan Mythology_ by Angelo\nde Ruiz. It is unnecessary to observe that in this exhaustive digest\nProfessor de Ruiz has given (VII, p. 415 _et sequentia_) a\nsummary of the greater part of these legends as contained in the\ncollections of Verville and B\u00fclg; and has discussed at length and\nwith much learning the esoteric meaning of these folk-stories and\ntheir bearing upon questions to which the \"solar theory\" of myth\nexplanation has given rise. To his volumes, and to the pages of Mr.\nLewistam's _Key to the Popular Tales of Poictesme_, must be\nreferred all those who may elect to think of Jurgen as the\nresplendent, journeying and procreative sun.\n\nEqually in reading hereinafter will the judicious waive all\nallegorical interpretation, if merely because the suggestions\nhitherto advanced are inconveniently various. Thus Verville\nfinds the Nessus shirt a symbol of retribution, where B\u00fclg,\nwith rather wide divergence, would have it represent the dangerous\ngift of genius. Then it may be remembered that Dr. Codman says,\nwithout any hesitancy, of Mother Sereda: \"This Mother Middle is\nthe world generally (an obvious anagram of _Erda es_), and this\nSereda rules not merely the middle of the working-days but the\nmidst of everything. She is the factor of _middleness_, of\nmediocrity, of an avoidance of extremes, of the eternal compromise\nbegotten by use and wont. She is the Mrs. Grundy of the L\u00e9shy; she is\nComstockery: and her shadow is common-sense.\" Yet Codman speaks with\ncertainly no more authority than Prote, when the latter, in his\n_Origins of Fable_, declares this epos is \"a parable of ... man's\nvain journeying in search of that rationality and justice which his\nnature craves, and discovers nowhere in the universe: and the shirt\nis an emblem of this instinctive craving, as ... the shadow symbolizes\nconscience. Sereda typifies a surrender to life as it is, a giving up\nof man's rebellious self-centredness and selfishness: the anagram being\n_se dare_.\"\n\nThus do interpretations throng and clash, and neatly equal the\ncommentators in number. Yet possibly each one of these unriddlings,\nwith no doubt a host of others, is conceivable: so that wisdom will\ndwell upon none of them very seriously.\n\nWith the origin and the occult meaning of the folklore of Poictesme\nthis book at least is in no wise concerned: its unambitious aim has\nbeen merely to familiarize English readers with the Jurgen epos for\nthe tale's sake. And this tale of old years is one which, by rare\nfortune, can be given to English readers almost unabridged, in view\nof the singular delicacy and pure-mindedness of the Jurgen mythos:\nin all, not more than a half-dozen deletions have seemed expedient\n(and have been duly indicated) in order to remove such sparse and\nunimportant outcroppings of medi\u00e6val frankness as might conceivably\noffend the squeamish.\n\nSince this volume is presented simply as a story to be read for\npastime, neither morality nor symbolism is hereinafter educed, and\nno \"parallels\" and \"authorities\" are quoted. Even the gaps are left\nunbridged by guesswork: whereas the historic and mythological\nproblems perhaps involved are relinquished to those really\nthoroughgoing scholars whom erudition qualifies to deal with such\ntopics, and tedium does not deter....\n\nIn such terms, and thus far, ran the Foreword to the first issues of\nthis book, whose later fortunes have made necessary the lengthening\nof the Foreword with a postscript. The needed addition--this much at\nleast chiming with good luck--is brief. It is just that fragment\nwhich some scholars, since the first appearance of this volume, have\nasserted--upon what perfect frankness must describe as not\nindisputable grounds--to be a portion of the thirty-second chapter\nof the complete form of _La Haulte Histoire de Jurgen_.\n\nAnd in reply to what these scholars assert, discretion says nothing.\nFor this fragment was, of course, unknown when the High History was\nfirst put into English, and there in consequence appears, here,\nlittle to be won either by endorsing or denying its claims to\nauthenticity. Rather, does discretion prompt the appending, without\nany gloss or scholia, of this fragment, which deals with\n\n    _The Judging of Jurgen._\n\nNow a court was held by the Philistines to decide whether or no King\nJurgen should be relegated to limbo. And when the judges were\nprepared for judging, there came into the court a great tumblebug,\nrolling in front of him his loved and properly housed young ones.\nWith the creature came pages, in black and white, bearing a sword, a\nstaff and a lance.\n\nThis insect looked at Jurgen, and its pincers rose erect in horror.\nThe bug cried to the three judges, \"Now, by St. Anthony! this Jurgen\nmust forthwith be relegated to limbo, for he is offensive and lewd\nand lascivious and indecent.\"\n\n\"And how can that be?\" says Jurgen.\n\n\"You are offensive,\" the bug replied, \"because this page has a sword\nwhich I choose to say is not a sword. You are lewd because that page\nhas a lance which I prefer to think is not a lance. You are\nlascivious because yonder page has a staff which I elect to declare\nis not a staff. And finally, you are indecent for reasons of which a\ndescription would be objectionable to me, and which therefore I must\ndecline to reveal to anybody.\"\n\n\"Well, that sounds logical,\" says Jurgen, \"but still, at the same\ntime, it would be no worse for an admixture of common-sense. For you\ngentlemen can see for yourselves, by considering these pages fairly\nand as a whole, that these pages bear a sword and a lance and a\nstaff, and nothing else whatever; and you will deduce, I hope, that\nall the lewdness is in the insectival mind of him who itches to be\ncalling these things by other names.\"\n\nThe judges said nothing as yet. But they that guarded Jurgen, and\nall the other Philistines, stood to this side and to that side with\ntheir eyes shut tight, and all these said: \"We decline to look at\nthe pages fairly and as a whole, because to look might seem to imply\na doubt of what the tumblebug has decreed. Besides, as long as the\ntumblebug has reasons which he declines to reveal, his reasons stay\nunanswerable, and you are plainly a prurient rascal who are making\ntrouble for yourself.\"\n\n\"To the contrary,\" says Jurgen, \"I am a poet, and I make\nliterature.\"\n\n\"But in Philistia to make literature and to make trouble for\nyourself are synonyms,\" the tumblebug explained. \"I know, for\nalready we of Philistia have been pestered by three of these makers\nof literature. Yes, there was Edgar, whom I starved and hunted until\nI was tired of it: then I chased him up a back alley one night, and\nknocked out those annoying brains of his. And there was Walt, whom I\nchivvied and battered from place to place, and made a paralytic of\nhim: and him, too, I labelled offensive and lewd and lascivious and\nindecent. Then later there was Mark, whom I frightened into\ndisguising himself in a clown's suit, so that nobody might suspect\nhim to be a maker of literature: indeed, I frightened him so that he\nhid away the greater part of what he had made until after he was\ndead, and I could not get at him. That was a disgusting trick to\nplay on me, I consider. Still, these are the only three detected\nmakers of literature that have ever infested Philistia, thanks be to\ngoodness and my vigilance, but for both of which we might have been\nno more free from makers of literature than are the other\ncountries.\"\n\n\"Now, but these three,\" cried Jurgen, \"are the glory of Philistia:\nand of all that Philistia has produced, it is these three alone,\nwhom living ye made least of, that to-day are honored wherever art\nis honored, and where nobody bothers one way or the other about\nPhilistia.\"\n\n\"What is art to me and my way of living?\" replied the tumblebug,\nwearily. \"I have no concern with art and letters and the other lewd\nidols of foreign nations. I have in charge the moral welfare of my\nyoung, whom I roll here before me, and trust with St. Anthony's aid\nto raise in time to be God-fearing tumblebugs like me, delighting in\nwhat is proper to their nature. For the rest, I have never minded\ndead men being well-spoken-of. No, no, my lad: once whatever I may\ndo means nothing to you, and once you are really rotten, you will\nfind the tumblebug friendly enough. Meanwhile I am paid to protest\nthat living persons are offensive and lewd and lascivious and\nindecent, and one must live.\"\n\nThen the Philistines who stood to this side and to that side said in\nindignant unison: \"And we, the reputable citizenry of Philistia, are\nnot at all in sympathy with those who would take any protest against\nthe tumblebug as a justification of what they are pleased to call\nart. The harm done by the tumblebug seems to us very slight, whereas\nthe harm done by the self-styled artist may be very great.\"\n\nJurgen now looked more attentively at this queer creature: and he\nsaw that the tumblebug was malodorous, certainly, but at bottom\nhonest and well-meaning; and this seemed to Jurgen the saddest thing\nhe had found among the Philistines. For the tumblebug was sincere in\nhis insane doings, and all Philistia honored him sincerely, so that\nthere was nowhere any hope for this people.\n\nTherefore King Jurgen addressed himself, as his need was, to submit\nto the strange customs of the Philistines. \"Now do you judge me\nfairly,\" cried Jurgen to his judges, \"if there be any justice in\nthis mad country. And if there be none, do you relegate me to limbo\nor to any other place, so long as in that place this tumblebug is\nnot omnipotent and sincere and insane.\"\n\nAnd Jurgen waited....\n\n\n\n\n*       *       *       *       *\n\n\n\n JURGEN\n\n ... _amara lento temperet risu_\n\n\n\n\n1.\n\nWhy Jurgen Did the Manly Thing\n\n\nIt is a tale which they narrate in Poictesme, saying: In the old\ndays lived a pawnbroker named Jurgen; but what his wife called him\nwas very often much worse than that. She was a high-spirited woman,\nwith no especial gift for silence. Her name, they say, was Adelais,\nbut people by ordinary called her Dame Lisa.\n\nThey tell, also, that in the old days, after putting up the shop-windows\nfor the night, Jurgen was passing the Cistercian Abbey, on his way home:\nand one of the monks had tripped over a stone in the roadway. He was\ncursing the devil who had placed it there.\n\n\"Fie, brother!\" says Jurgen, \"and have not the devils enough to bear\nas it is?\"\n\n\"I never held with Origen,\" replied the monk; \"and besides, it hurt\nmy great-toe confoundedly.\"\n\n\"None the less,\" observes Jurgen, \"it does not behoove God-fearing\npersons to speak with disrespect of the divinely appointed Prince of\nDarkness. To your further confusion, consider this monarch's\nindustry! day and night you may detect him toiling at the task\nHeaven set him. That is a thing can be said of few communicants and\nof no monks. Think, too, of his fine artistry, as evidenced in all\nthe perilous and lovely snares of this world, which it is your\nbusiness to combat, and mine to lend money upon. Why, but for him we\nwould both be vocationless! Then, too, consider his philanthropy!\nand deliberate how insufferable would be our case if you and I, and\nall our fellow parishioners, were to-day hobnobbing with other\nbeasts in the Garden which we pretend to desiderate on Sundays! To\narise with swine and lie down with the hyena?--oh, intolerable!\"\n\nThus he ran on, devising reasons for not thinking too harshly of the\nDevil. Most of it was an abridgement of some verses Jurgen had\ncomposed, in the shop when business was slack.\n\n\"I consider that to be stuff and nonsense,\" was the monk's glose.\n\n\"No doubt your notion is sensible,\" observed the pawnbroker: \"but\nmine is the prettier.\"\n\nThen Jurgen passed the Cistercian Abbey, and was approaching\nBellegarde, when he met a black gentleman, who saluted him and said:\n\n\"Thanks, Jurgen, for your good word.\"\n\n\"Who are you, and why do you thank me?\" asks Jurgen.\n\n\"My name is no great matter. But you have a kind heart, Jurgen. May\nyour life be free from care!\"\n\n\"Save us from hurt and harm, friend, but I am already married.\"\n\n\"Eh, sirs, and a fine clever poet like you!\"\n\n\"Yet it is a long while now since I was a practising poet.\"\n\n\"Why, to be sure! You have the artistic temperament, which is not\nexactly suited to the restrictions of domestic life. Then I suppose\nyour wife has her own personal opinion about poetry, Jurgen.\"\n\n\"Indeed, sir, her opinion would not bear repetition, for I am sure\nyou are unaccustomed to such language.\"\n\n\"This is very sad. I am afraid your wife does not quite understand\nyou, Jurgen.\"\n\n\"Sir,\" says Jurgen, astounded, \"do you read people's inmost\nthoughts?\"\n\nThe black gentleman seemed much dejected. He pursed his lips, and\nfell to counting upon his fingers: as they moved his sharp nails\nglittered like flame-points.\n\n\"Now but this is a very deplorable thing,\" says the black gentleman,\n\"to have befallen the first person I have found ready to speak a\nkind word for evil. And in all these centuries, too! Dear me, this\nis a most regrettable instance of mismanagement! No matter, Jurgen,\nthe morning is brighter than the evening. How I will reward you, to\nbe sure!\"\n\nSo Jurgen thanked the simple old creature politely. And when Jurgen\nreached home his wife was nowhere to be seen. He looked on all sides\nand questioned everyone, but to no avail. Dame Lisa had vanished in\nthe midst of getting supper ready--suddenly, completely and\ninexplicably, just as (in Jurgen's figure) a windstorm passes and\nleaves behind it a tranquillity which seems, by contrast, uncanny.\nNothing could explain the mystery, short of magic: and Jurgen on a\nsudden recollected the black gentleman's queer promise. Jurgen\ncrossed himself.\n\n\"How unjustly now,\" says Jurgen, \"do some people get an ill name for\ngratitude! And now do I perceive how wise I am, always to speak\npleasantly of everybody, in this world of tale-bearers.\"\n\nThen Jurgen prepared his own supper, went to bed, and slept soundly.\n\n\"I have implicit confidence,\" says he, \"in Lisa. I have particular\nconfidence in her ability to take care of herself in any\nsurroundings.\"\n\nThat was all very well: but time passed, and presently it began to\nbe rumored that Dame Lisa walked on Morven. Her brother, who was a\ngrocer and a member of the town-council, went thither to see about\nthis report. And sure enough, there was Jurgen's wife walking in the\ntwilight and muttering incessantly.\n\n\"Fie, sister!\" says the town-councillor, \"this is very unseemly\nconduct for a married woman, and a thing likely to be talked about.\"\n\n\"Follow me!\" replied Dame Lisa. And the town-councillor followed her\na little way in the dusk, but when she came to Amneran Heath and\nstill went onward, he knew better than to follow.\n\nNext evening the elder sister of Dame Lisa went to Morven. This\nsister had married a notary, and was a shrewd woman. In consequence,\nshe took with her this evening a long wand of peeled willow-wood.\nAnd there was Jurgen's wife walking in the twilight and muttering\nincessantly.\n\n\"Fie, sister!\" says the notary's wife, who was a shrewd woman, \"and\ndo you not know that all this while Jurgen does his own sewing, and\nis once more making eyes at Countess Dorothy?\"\n\nDame Lisa shuddered; but she only said, \"Follow me!\"\n\nAnd the notary's wife followed her to Amneran Heath, and across the\nheath, to where a cave was. This was a place of abominable repute. A\nlean hound came to meet them there in the twilight, lolling his\ntongue: but the notary's wife struck thrice with her wand, and the\nsilent beast left them. And Dame Lisa passed silently into the cave,\nand her sister turned and went home to her children, weeping.\n\nSo the next evening Jurgen himself came to Morven, because all his\nwife's family assured him this was the manly thing to do. Jurgen\nleft the shop in charge of Urien Villemarche, who was a highly\nefficient clerk. Jurgen followed his wife across Amneran Heath until\nthey reached the cave. Jurgen would willingly have been elsewhere.\n\nFor the hound squatted upon his haunches, and seemed to grin at\nJurgen; and there were other creatures abroad, that flew low in the\ntwilight, keeping close to the ground like owls; but they were\nlarger than owls and were more discomforting. And, moreover, all\nthis was just after sunset upon Walburga's Eve, when almost anything\nis rather more than likely to happen.\n\nSo Jurgen said, a little peevishly: \"Lisa, my dear, if you go into\nthe cave I will have to follow you, because it is the manly thing to\ndo. And you know how easily I take cold.\"\n\nThe voice of Dame Lisa, now, was thin and wailing, a curiously\nchanged voice. \"There is a cross about your neck. You must throw\nthat away.\"\n\nJurgen was wearing such a cross, through motives of sentiment,\nbecause it had once belonged to his dead mother. But now, to\npleasure his wife, he removed the trinket, and hung it on a barberry\nbush; and with the reflection that this was likely to prove a\ndeplorable business, he followed Dame Lisa into the cave.\n\n\n\n\n2.\n\nAssumption of a Noted Garment\n\n\nThe tale tells that all was dark there, and Jurgen could see no one.\nBut the cave stretched straight forward, and downward, and at the\nfar end was a glow of light. Jurgen went on and on, and so came\npresently to a centaur: and this surprised him not a little, because\nJurgen knew that centaurs were imaginary creatures.\n\nCertainly they were curious to look at: for here was the body of a\nfine bay horse, and rising from its shoulders, the sun-burnt body of\na young fellow who regarded Jurgen with grave and not unfriendly\neyes. The Centaur was lying beside a fire of cedar and juniper wood:\nnear him was a platter containing a liquid with which he was\nanointing his hoofs. This stuff, as the Centaur rubbed it in with\nhis fingers, turned the appearance of his hoofs to gold.\n\n\"Hail, friend,\" says Jurgen, \"if you be the work of God.\"\n\n\"Your protasis is not good Greek,\" observed the Centaur, \"because in\nHellas we did not make such reservations. Besides, it is not so much\nmy origin as my destination which concerns you.\"\n\n\"Well, friend, and whither are you going?\"\n\n\"To the garden between dawn and sunrise, Jurgen.\"\n\n\"Surely, now, but that is a fine name for a garden! and it is a\nplace I would take joy to be seeing.\"\n\n\"Up upon my back, Jurgen, and I will take you thither,\" says the\nCentaur, and heaved to his feet. Then said the Centaur, when the\npawnbroker hesitated: \"Because, as you must understand, there is no\nother way. For this garden does not exist, and never did exist, in\nwhat men humorously called real life; so that of course only\nimaginary creatures such as I can enter it.\"\n\n\"That sounds very reasonable,\" Jurgen estimated: \"but as it happens,\nI am looking for my wife, whom I suspect to have been carried off by\na devil, poor fellow!\"\n\nAnd Jurgen began to explain to the Centaur what had befallen.\n\nThe Centaur laughed. \"It may be for that reason I am here. There is,\nin any event, only one remedy in this matter. Above all devils--and\nabove all gods, they tell me, but certainly above all centaurs--is\nthe power of Koshchei the Deathless, who made things as they are.\"\n\n\"It is not always wholesome,\" Jurgen submitted, \"to speak of\nKoshchei. It seems especially undesirable in a dark place like\nthis.\"\n\n\"None the less, I suspect it is to him you must go for justice.\"\n\n\"I would prefer not doing that,\" said Jurgen, with unaffected\ncandor.\n\n\"You have my sympathy: but there is no question of preference where\nKoshchei is concerned. Do you think, for example, that I am frowzing\nin this underground place by my own choice? and knew your name by\naccident?\"\n\nJurgen was frightened, a little. \"Well, well! but it is usually the\ndeuce and all, this doing of the manly thing. How, then, can I come\nto Koshchei?\"\n\n\"Roundabout,\" says the Centaur. \"There is never any other way.\"\n\n\"And is the road to this garden roundabout?\"\n\n\"Oh, very much so, inasmuch as it circumvents both destiny and\ncommon-sense.\"\n\n\"Needs must, then,\" says Jurgen: \"at all events, I am willing to\ntaste any drink once.\"\n\n\"You will be chilled, though, traveling as you are. For you and I\nare going a queer way, in search of justice, over the grave of a\ndream and through the malice of time. So you had best put on this\nshirt above your other clothing.\"\n\n\"Indeed it is a fine snug shining garment, with curious figures on\nit. I accept such raiment gladly. And whom shall I be thanking for\nhis kindness, now?\"\n\n\"My name,\" said the Centaur, \"is Nessus.\"\n\n\"Well, then, friend Nessus, I am at your service.\"\n\nAnd in a trice Jurgen was on the Centaur's back, and the two of them\nhad somehow come out of the cave, and were crossing Amneran Heath.\nSo they passed into a wooded place, where the light of sunset yet\nlingered, rather unaccountably. Now the Centaur went westward. And\nnow about the pawnbroker's shoulders and upon his breast and over\nhis lean arms glittered like a rainbow the many-colored shirt of\nNessus.\n\nFor a while they went through the woods, which were composed of big\ntrees standing a goodish distance from one another, with the\nCentaur's gilded hoofs rustling and sinking in a thick carpet of\ndead leaves, all gray and brown, in level stretches that were\nunbroken by any undergrowth. And then they came to a white roadway\nthat extended due west, and so were done with the woods. Now\nhappened an incredible thing in which Jurgen would never have\nbelieved had he not seen it with his own eyes: for now the Centaur\nwent so fast that he gained a little by a little upon the sun, thus\ncausing it to rise in the west a little by a little; and these two\nsped westward in the glory of a departed sunset. The sun fell full\nin Jurgen's face as he rode straight toward the west, so that he\nblinked and closed his eyes, and looked first toward this side, then\nthe other. Thus it was that the country about him, and the persons\nthey were passing, were seen by him in quick bright flashes, like\npictures suddenly transmuted into other pictures; and all his\nmemories of this shining highway were, in consequence, always\nconfused and incoherent.\n\nHe wondered that there seemed to be so many young women along the\nroad to the garden. Here was a slim girl in white teasing a great\nbrown and yellow dog that leaped about her clumsily; here a girl sat\nin the branches of a twisted and gnarled tree, and back of her was a\nbroad muddied river, copper-colored in the sun; and here shone the\nfair head of a tall girl on horseback, who seemed to wait for\nsomeone: in fine, the girls along the way were numberless, and\nJurgen thought he recollected one or two of them.\n\nBut the Centaur went so swiftly that Jurgen could not be sure.\n\n\n\n\n3.\n\nThe Garden between Dawn and Sunrise\n\n\nThus it was that Jurgen and the Centaur came to the garden between\ndawn and sunrise, entering this place in a fashion which it is not\nconvenient to record. But as they passed over the bridge three fled\nbefore them, screaming. And when the life had been trampled out of\nthe small furry bodies which these three had misused, there was none\nto oppose the Centaur's entry into the garden between dawn and\nsunrise.\n\nThis was a wonderful garden: yet nothing therein was strange.\nInstead, it seemed that everything hereabouts was heart-breakingly\nfamiliar and very dear to Jurgen. For he had come to a broad lawn\nwhich slanted northward to a well-remembered brook: and\nmultitudinous maples and locust-trees stood here and there,\nirregularly, and were being played with very lazily by an irresolute\nwest wind, so that foliage seemed to toss and ripple everywhere like\ngreen spray: but autumn was at hand, for the locust-trees were\ndropping a Dana\u00eb's shower of small round yellow leaves. Around the\ngarden was an unforgotten circle of blue hills. And this was a place\nof lucent twilight, unlit by either sun or stars, and with no\nshadows anywhere in the diffused faint radiancy that revealed this\ngarden, which is not visible to any man except in the brief interval\nbetween dawn and sunrise.\n\n\"Why, but it is Count Emmerick's garden at Storisende,\" says Jurgen,\n\"where I used to be having such fine times when I was a lad.\"\n\n\"I will wager,\" said Nessus, \"that you did not use to walk alone in\nthis garden.\"\n\n\"Well, no; there was a girl.\"\n\n\"Just so,\" assented Nessus. \"It is a local by-law: and here are\nthose who comply with it.\"\n\nFor now had come toward them, walking together in the dawn, a\nhandsome boy and girl. And the girl was incredibly beautiful,\nbecause everybody in the garden saw her with the vision of the boy\nwho was with her. \"I am Rudolph,\" said this boy, \"and she is Anne.\"\n\n\"And are you happy here?\" asked Jurgen.\n\n\"Oh, yes, sir, we are tolerably happy: but Anne's father is very\nrich, and my mother is poor, so that we cannot be quite happy until\nI have gone into foreign lands and come back with a great many lakhs\nof rupees and pieces of eight.\"\n\n\"And what will you do with all this money, Rudolph?\"\n\n\"My duty, sir, as I see it. But I inherit defective eyesight.\"\n\n\"God speed to you, Rudolph!\" said Jurgen, \"for many others are in\nyour plight.\"\n\nThen came to Jurgen and the Centaur another boy with the small\nblue-eyed person in whom he took delight. And this fat and indolent\nlooking boy informed them that he and the girl who was with him were\nwalking in the glaze of the red mustard jar, which Jurgen thought\nwas gibberish: and the fat boy said that he and the girl had decided\nnever to grow any older, which Jurgen said was excellent good sense\nif only they could manage it.\n\n\"Oh, I can manage that,\" said this fat boy, reflectively, \"if only I\ndo not find the managing of it uncomfortable.\"\n\nJurgen for a moment regarded him, and then gravely shook hands.\n\n\"I feel for you,\" said Jurgen, \"for I perceive that you, too, are a\nmonstrous clever fellow: so life will get the best of you.\"\n\n\"But is not cleverness the main thing, sir?\"\n\n\"Time will show you, my lad,\" says Jurgen, a little sorrowfully.\n\"And God speed to you, for many others are in your plight.\"\n\nAnd a host of boys and girls did Jurgen see in the garden. And all\nthe faces that Jurgen saw were young and glad and very lovely and\nquite heart-breakingly confident, as young persons beyond numbering\ncame toward Jurgen and passed him there, in the first glow of dawn:\nso they all went exulting in the glory of their youth, and\nforeknowing life to be a puny antagonist from whom one might take\nvery easily anything which one desired. And all passed in\ncouples--\"as though they came from the Ark,\" said Jurgen. But the\nCentaur said they followed a precedent which was far older than the\nArk.\n\n\"For in this garden,\" said the Centaur, \"each man that ever lived\nhas sojourned for a little while, with no company save his\nillusions. I must tell you again that in this garden are encountered\nnone but imaginary creatures. And stalwart persons take their hour\nof recreation here, and go hence unaccompanied, to become aldermen\nand respected merchants and bishops, and to be admired as captains\nupon prancing horses, or even as kings upon tall thrones; each in\nhis station thinking not at all of the garden ever any more. But now\nand then come timid persons, Jurgen, who fear to leave this garden\nwithout an escort: so these must need go hence with one or another\nimaginary creature, to guide them about alleys and by-paths, because\nimaginary creatures find little nourishment in the public highways,\nand shun them. Thus must these timid persons skulk about obscurely\nwith their diffident and skittish guides, and they do not ever\nventure willingly into the thronged places where men get horses and\nbuild thrones.\"\n\n\"And what becomes of these timid persons, Centaur?\"\n\n\"Why, sometimes they spoil paper, Jurgen, and sometimes they spoil\nhuman lives.\"\n\n\"Then are these accursed persons,\" Jurgen considered.\n\n\"You should know best,\" replied the Centaur.\n\n\"Oh, very probably,\" said Jurgen. \"Meanwhile here is one who walks\nalone in this garden, and I wonder to see the local by-laws thus\nviolated.\"\n\nNow Nessus looked at Jurgen for a while without speaking: and in the\neyes of the Centaur was so much of comprehension and compassion that\nit troubled Jurgen. For somehow it made Jurgen fidget and consider\nthis an unpleasantly personal way of looking at anybody.\n\n\"Yes, certainly,\" said the Centaur, \"this woman walks alone. But\nthere is no help for her loneliness, since the lad who loved this\nwoman is dead.\"\n\n\"Nessus, I am willing to be reasonably sorry about it. Still, is\nthere any need of pulling quite such a portentously long face? After\nall, a great many other persons have died, off and on: and for\nanything I can say to the contrary, this particular young fellow may\nhave been no especial loss to anybody.\"\n\nAgain the Centaur said, \"You should know best.\"\n\n\n\n\n4.\n\nThe Dorothy Who Did Not Understand\n\n\nFor now had come to Jurgen and the Centaur a gold-haired woman,\nclothed all in white, and walking alone. She was tall, and lovely\nand tender to regard: and hers was not the red and white comeliness\nof many ladies that were famed for beauty, but rather it had the\neven glow of ivory. Her nose was large and high in the bridge, her\nflexible mouth was not of the smallest: and yet whatever other\npersons might have said, to Jurgen this woman's countenance was in\nall things perfect. Perhaps this was because he never saw her as she\nwas. For certainly the color of her eyes stayed a matter never\nrevealed to him: gray, blue or green, there was no saying: they\nvaried as does the sea; but always these eyes were lovely and\nfriendly and perturbing.\n\nJurgen remembered that: for Jurgen saw this was Count Emmerick's\nsecond sister, Dorothy la D\u00e9sir\u00e9e, whom Jurgen very long ago (a many\nyears before he met Dame Lisa and set up in business as a\npawnbroker) had hymned in innumerable verses as Heart's Desire.\n\n\"And this is the only woman whom I ever loved,\" Jurgen remembered,\nupon a sudden. For people cannot always be thinking of these\nmatters.\n\nSo he saluted her, with such deference as is due to a countess from\na tradesman, and yet with unforgotten tremors waking in his staid\nbody. But the strangest was yet to be seen, for he noted now that\nthis was not a handsome woman in middle life but a young girl.\n\n\"I do not understand,\" he said, aloud: \"for you are Dorothy. And yet\nit seems to me that you are not the Countess Dorothy who is Heitman\nMichael's wife.\"\n\nAnd the girl tossed her fair head, with that careless lovely gesture\nwhich the Countess had forgotten. \"Heitman Michael is well enough,\nfor a nobleman, and my brother is at me day and night to marry the\nman: and certainly Heitman Michael's wife will go in satin and\ndiamonds at half the courts of Christendom, with many lackeys to\nattend her. But I am not to be thus purchased.\"\n\n\"So you told a boy that I remember, very long ago. Yet you married\nHeitman Michael, for all that, and in the teeth of a number of other\nfine declarations.\"\n\n\"Oh, no, not I,\" said this Dorothy, wondering. \"I never married\nanybody. And Heitman Michael has never married anybody, either, old\nas he is. For he is twenty-eight, and looks every day of it! But who\nare you, friend, that have such curious notions about me?\"\n\n\"That question I will answer, just as though it were put reasonably.\nFor surely you perceive I am Jurgen.\"\n\n\"I never knew but one Jurgen. And he is a young man, barely come of\nage--\" Then as she paused in speech, whatever was the matter upon\nwhich this girl now meditated, her cheeks were tenderly colored by\nthe thought of it, and in her knowledge of this thing her eyes took\ninfinite joy.\n\nAnd Jurgen understood. He had come back somehow to the Dorothy whom\nhe had loved: but departed, and past overtaking by the fleet hoofs\nof centaurs, was the boy who had once loved this Dorothy, and who\nhad rhymed of her as his Heart's Desire: and in the garden there was\nof this boy no trace. Instead, the girl was talking to a staid and\npaunchy pawnbroker, of forty-and-something.\n\nSo Jurgen shrugged, and looked toward the Centaur: but Nessus had\ndiscreetly wandered away from them, in search of four-leafed\nclovers. Now the east had grown brighter, and its crimson began to\nbe colored with gold.\n\n\"Yes, I have heard of this other Jurgen,\" says the pawnbroker. \"Oh,\nMadame Dorothy, but it was he that loved you!\"\n\n\"No more than I loved him. Through a whole summer have I loved\nJurgen.\"\n\nAnd the knowledge that this girl spoke a wondrous truth was now to\nJurgen a joy that was keen as pain. And he stood motionless for a\nwhile, scowling and biting his lips.\n\n\"I wonder how long the poor devil loved you! He also loved for a\nwhole summer, it may be. And yet again, it may be that he loved you\nall his life. For twenty years and for more than twenty years I have\ndebated the matter: and I am as well informed as when I started.\"\n\n\"But, friend, you talk in riddles.\"\n\n\"Is not that customary when age talks with youth? For I am an old\nfellow, in my forties: and you, as I know now, are near\neighteen,--or rather, four months short of being eighteen, for it is\nAugust. Nay, more, it is the August of a year I had not looked ever\nto see again; and again Dom Manuel reigns over us, that man of iron\nwhom I saw die so horribly. All this seems very improbable.\"\n\nThen Jurgen meditated for a while. He shrugged.\n\n\"Well, and what could anybody expect me to do about it? Somehow it\nhas befallen that I, who am but the shadow of what I was, now walk\namong shadows, and we converse with the thin intonations of dead\npersons. For, Madame Dorothy, you who are not yet eighteen, in this\nsame garden there was once a boy who loved a girl, with such love as\nit puzzles me to think of now. I believe that she loved him. Yes,\ncertainly it is a cordial to the tired and battered heart which\nnowadays pumps blood for me, to think that for a little while, for a\nwhole summer, these two were as brave and comely and clean a pair of\nsweethearts as the world has known.\"\n\nThus Jurgen spoke. But his thought was that this was a girl whose\nequal for loveliness and delight was not to be found between two\noceans. Long and long ago that doubtfulness of himself which was\ncloser to him than his skin had fretted Jurgen into believing the\nDorothy he had loved was but a piece of his imaginings. But\ncertainly this girl was real. And sweet she was, and innocent she\nwas, and light of heart and feet, beyond the reach of any man's\ninventiveness. No, Jurgen had not invented her; and it strangely\ncontented him to know as much.\n\n\"Tell me your story, sir,\" says she, \"for I love all romances.\"\n\n\"Ah, my dear child, but I cannot tell you very well of just what\nhappened. As I look back, there is a blinding glory of green woods\nand lawns and moonlit nights and dance music and unreasonable\nlaughter. I remember her hair and eyes, and the curving and the feel\nof her red mouth, and once when I was bolder than ordinary--But that\nis hardly worth raking up at this late day. Well, I see these things\nin memory as plainly as I now seem to see your face: but I can\nrecollect hardly anything she said. Perhaps, now I think of it, she\nwas not very intelligent, and said nothing worth remembering. But\nthe boy loved her, and was happy, because her lips and heart were\nhis, and he, as the saying is, had plucked a diamond from the\nworld's ring. True, she was a count's daughter and the sister of a\ncount: but in those days the boy quite firmly intended to become a\nduke or an emperor or something of that sort, so the transient\ndiscrepancy did not worry them.\"\n\n\"I know. Why, Jurgen is going to be a duke, too,\" says she, very\nproudly, \"though he did think, a great while ago, before he knew me,\nof being a cardinal, on account of the robes. But cardinals are not\nallowed to marry, you see--And I am forgetting your story, too! What\nhappened then?\"\n\n\"They parted in September--with what vows it hardly matters now--and\nthe boy went into G\u00e2tinais, to win his spurs under the old Vidame de\nSoyecourt. And presently--oh, a good while before Christmas!--came\nthe news that Dorothy la D\u00e9sir\u00e9e had married rich Heitman Michael.\"\n\n\"But that is what I am called! And as you know, there is a Heitman\nMichael who is always plaguing me. Is that not strange! for you tell\nme all this happened a great while ago.\"\n\n\"Indeed, the story is very old, and old it was when Methuselah was\nteething. There is no older and more common story anywhere. As the\nsequel, it would be heroic to tell you this boy's life was ruined.\nBut I do not think it was. Instead, he had learned all of a sudden\nthat which at twenty-one is heady knowledge. That was the hour which\ntaught him sorrow and rage, and sneering, too, for a redemption. Oh,\nit was armor that hour brought him, and a humor to use it, because\nno woman now could hurt him very seriously. No, never any more!\"\n\n\"Ah, the poor boy!\" she said, divinely tender, and smiling as a\ngoddess smiles, not quite in mirth.\n\n\"Well, women, as he knew by experience now, were the pleasantest of\nplayfellows. So he began to play. Rampaging through the world he\nwent in the pride of his youth and in the armor of his hurt. And\nsongs he made for the pleasure of kings, and sword-play he made for\nthe pleasure of men, and a whispering he made for the pleasure of\nwomen, in places where renown was, and where he trod boldly, giving\npleasure to everybody, in those fine days. But the whispering, and\nall that followed the whispering, was his best game, and the game he\nplayed for the longest while, with many brightly colored playmates\nwho took the game more seriously than he did. And their faith in the\ngame's importance, and in him and his high-sounding nonsense, he\nvery often found amusing: and in their other chattels too he took\nhis natural pleasure. Then, when he had played sufficiently, he held\na consultation with divers waning appetites; and he married the\nhandsome daughter of an estimable pawnbroker in a fair line of\nbusiness. And he lived with his wife very much as two people\ncustomarily live together. So, all in all, I would not say his life\nwas ruined.\"\n\n\"Why, then, it was,\" said Dorothy. She stirred uneasily, with an\nimpatient sigh; and you saw that she was vaguely puzzled. \"Oh, but\nsomehow I think you are a very horrible old man: and you seem doubly\nhorrible in that glittering queer garment you are wearing.\"\n\n\"No woman ever praised a woman's handiwork, and each of you is\nparticularly severe upon her own. But you are interrupting the\nsaga.\"\n\n\"I do not see\"--and those large bright eyes of which the color was\nso indeterminable and so dear to Jurgen, seemed even larger\nnow--\"but I do not see how there could well be any more.\"\n\n\"Still, human hearts survive the benediction of the priest, as you may\nperceive any day. This man, at least, inherited his father-in-law's\nbusiness, and found it, quite as he had anticipated, the fittest of\nvocations for a cashiered poet. And so, I suppose, he was content. Ah,\nyes; but after a while Heitman Michael returned from foreign parts,\nalong with his lackeys, and plate, and chest upon chest of merchandise,\nand his fine horses, and his wife. And he who had been her lover could\nsee her now, after so many years, whenever he liked. She was a handsome\nstranger. That was all. She was rather stupid. She was nothing\nremarkable, one way or another. This respectable pawnbroker saw that\nquite plainly: day by day he writhed under the knowledge. Because, as\nI must tell you, he could not retain composure in her presence, even\nnow. No, he was never able to do that.\"\n\nThe girl somewhat condensed her brows over this information. \"You\nmean that he still loved her. Why, but of course!\"\n\n\"My child,\" says Jurgen, now with a reproving forefinger, \"you are\nan incurable romanticist. The man disliked her and despised her. At\nany event, he assured himself that he did. Well, even so, this\nhandsome stupid stranger held his eyes, and muddled his thoughts,\nand put errors into his accounts: and when he touched her hand he\ndid not sleep that night as he was used to sleep. Thus he saw her,\nday after day. And they whispered that this handsome and stupid\nstranger had a liking for young men who aided her artfully to\ndeceive her husband: but she never showed any such favor to the\nrespectable pawnbroker. For youth had gone out of him, and it seemed\nthat nothing in particular happened. Well, that was his saga. About\nher I do not know. And I shall never know! But certainly she got the\nname of deceiving Heitman Michael with two young men, or with five\nyoung men it might be, but never with a respectable pawnbroker.\"\n\n\"I think that is an exceedingly cynical and stupid story,\" observed\nthe girl. \"And so I shall be off to look for Jurgen. For he makes\nlove very amusingly,\" says Dorothy, with the sweetest, loveliest\nmeditative smile that ever was lost to heaven.\n\nAnd a madness came upon Jurgen, there in the garden between dawn and\nsunrise, and a disbelief in such injustice as now seemed incredible.\n\n\"No, Heart's Desire,\" he cried, \"I will not let you go. For you are\ndear and pure and faithful, and all my evil dream, wherein you were\na wanton and be-fooled me, was not true. Surely, mine was a dream\nthat can never be true so long as there is any justice upon earth.\nWhy, there is no imaginable God who would permit a boy to be robbed\nof that which in my evil dream was taken from me!\"\n\n\"And still I cannot understand your talking, about this dream of\nyours--!\"\n\n\"Why, it seemed to me I had lost the most of myself; and there was\nleft only a brain which played with ideas, and a body that went\ndelicately down pleasant ways. And I could not believe as my fellows\nbelieved, nor could I love them, nor could I detect anything in\naught they said or did save their exceeding folly: for I had lost\ntheir cordial common faith in the importance of what use they made\nof half-hours and months and years; and because a jill-flirt had\nopened my eyes so that they saw too much, I had lost faith in the\nimportance of my own actions, too. There was a little time of which\nthe passing might be made endurable; beyond gaped unpredictable\ndarkness: and that was all there was of certainty anywhere. Now tell\nme, Heart's Desire, but was not that a foolish dream? For these\nthings never happened. Why, it would not be fair if these things\never happened!\"\n\nAnd the girl's eyes were wide and puzzled and a little frightened.\n\"I do not understand what you are saying: and there is that about\nyou which troubles me unspeakably. For you call me by the name which\nnone but Jurgen used, and it seems to me that you are Jurgen; and\nyet you are not Jurgen.\"\n\n\"But I am truly Jurgen. And look you, I have done what never any man\nhas done before! For I have won back to that first love whom every\nman must lose, no matter whom he marries. I have come back again,\npassing very swiftly over the grave of a dream and through the\nmalice of time, to my Heart's Desire! And how strange it seems that\nI did not know this thing was inevitable!\"\n\n\"Still, friend, I do not understand you.\"\n\n\"Why, but I yawned and fretted in preparation for some great and\nbeautiful adventure which was to befall me by and by, and dazedly I\ntoiled forward. Whereas behind me all the while was the garden\nbetween dawn and sunrise, and therein you awaited me! Now assuredly,\nthe life of every man is a quaintly builded tale, in which the right\nand proper ending comes first. Thereafter time runs forward, not as\nschoolmen fable in a straight line, but in a vast closed curve,\nreturning to the place of its starting. And it is by a dim\nforeknowledge of this, by some faint prescience of justice and\nreparation being given them by and by, that men have heart to live.\nFor I know now that I have always known this thing. What else was\nliving good for unless it brought me back to you?\"\n\nBut the girl shook her small glittering head, very sadly. \"I do not\nunderstand you, and I fear you. For you talk foolishness and in your\nface I see the face of Jurgen as one might see the face of a dead\nman drowned in muddy water.\"\n\n\"Yet am I truly Jurgen, and, as it seems to me, for the first time\nsince we were parted. For I am strong and admirable--even I, who\nsneered and played so long, because I thought myself a thing of\nno worth at all. That which has been since you and I were young\ntogether is as a mist that passes: and I am strong and admirable,\nand all my being is one vast hunger for you, my dearest, and I will\nnot let you go, for you, and you alone, are my Heart's Desire.\"\n\nNow the girl was looking at him very steadily, with a small puzzled\nfrown, and with her vivid young soft lips a little parted. And all\nher tender loveliness was glorified by the light of a sky that had\nturned to dusty palpitating gold.\n\n\"Ah, but you say that you are strong and admirable: and I can only\nmarvel at such talking. For I see that which all men see.\"\n\nAnd then Dorothy showed him the little mirror which was attached to\nthe long chain of turquoise matrix about her neck: and Jurgen\nstudied the frightened foolish aged face that he found in the\nmirror.\n\nThus drearily did sanity return to Jurgen: and his flare of passion\ndied, and the fever and storm and the impetuous whirl of things was\nended, and the man was very weary. And in the silence he heard the\npiping cry of a bird that seemed to seek for what it could not find.\n\n\"Well, I am answered,\" said the pawnbroker: \"and yet I know that\nthis is not the final answer. Dearer than any hope of heaven was\nthat moment when awed surmises first awoke as to the new strange\nloveliness which I had seen in the face of Dorothy. It was then I\nnoted the new faint flush suffusing her face from chin to brow so\noften as my eyes encountered and found new lights in the shining\neyes which were no longer entirely frank in meeting mine. Well, let\nthat be, for I do not love Heitman Michael's wife.\n\n\"It is a grief to remember how we followed love, and found his\nservice lovely. It is bitter to recall the sweetness of those vows\nwhich proclaimed her mine eternally,--vows that were broken in their\nmaking by prolonged and unforgotten kisses. We used to laugh at\nHeitman Michael then; we used to laugh at everything. Thus for a\nwhile, for a whole summer, we were as brave and comely and clean a\npair of sweethearts as the world has known. But let that be, for I\ndo not love Heitman Michael's wife.\n\n\"Our love was fair but short-lived. There is none that may revive\nhim since the small feet of Dorothy trod out this small love's life.\nYet when this life of ours too is over--this parsimonious life which\ncan allow us no more love for anybody,--must we not win back,\nsomehow, to that faith we vowed against eternity? and be content\nagain, in some fair-colored realm? Assuredly I think this thing will\nhappen. Well, but let that be, for I do not love Heitman Michael's\nwife.\"\n\n\"Why, this is excellent hearing,\" observed Dorothy, \"because I see\nthat you are converting your sorrow into the raw stuff of verses. So\nI shall be off to look for Jurgen, since he makes love quite\notherwise and far more amusingly.\"\n\nAnd again, whatever was the matter upon which this girl now\nmeditated, her cheeks were tenderly colored by the thought of it,\nand in her knowledge of this thing her eyes took infinite joy.\n\nThus it was for a moment only: for she left Jurgen now, with the\nfriendliest light waving of her hand; and so passed from him, not\nthinking of this old fellow any longer, as he could see, even in the\ninstant she turned from him. And she went toward the dawn, in search\nof that young Jurgen whom she, who was perfect in all things, had\nloved, though only for a little while, not undeservedly.\n\n\n\n\n5.\n\nRequirements of Bread and Butter\n\n\n\"Nessus,\" says Jurgen, \"and am I so changed? For that Dorothy whom I\nloved in youth did not know me.\"\n\n\"Good and evil keep very exact accounts,\" replied the Centaur, \"and\nthe face of every man is their ledger. Meanwhile the sun rises, it\nis already another workday: and when the shadows of those two who\ncome to take possession fall full upon the garden, I warn you, there\nwill be astounding changes brought about by the requirements of\nbread and butter. You have not time to revive old memories by\nchatting with the others to whom you babbled aforetime in this\ngarden.\"\n\n\"Ah, Centaur, in the garden between dawn and sunrise there was never\nany other save Dorothy la D\u00e9sir\u00e9e.\"\n\nThe Centaur shrugged. \"It may be you forget; it is certain that you\nunderestimate the local population. Some of the transient visitors\nyou have seen, and in addition hereabouts dwell the year round all\nmanner of imaginary creatures. The fairies live just southward, and\nthe gnomes too. To your right is the realm of the Valkyries: the\nAmazons and the Cynocephali are their allies: all three of these\nnations are continually at loggerheads with their neighbors, the\nBaba-Yagas, whom Morfei cooks for, and whose monarch is Oh, a person\nvery dangerous to name. Northward dwell the Lepracauns and the Men\nof Hunger, whose king is Clobhair. My people, who are ruled by\nChiron, live even further to the north. The Sphinx pastures on\nyonder mountain; and now the Chim\u00e6ra is old and generally derided,\nthey say that Cerberus visits the Sphinx at twilight, although I was\nnever the person to disseminate scandal--\"\n\n\"Centaur,\" said Jurgen, \"and what is Dorothy doing here?\"\n\n\"Why, all the women that any man has ever loved live here,\" replied\nthe Centaur, \"for very obvious reasons.\"\n\n\"That is a hard saying, friend.\"\n\nNessus tapped with his forefinger upon the back of Jurgen's hand.\n\"Worm's-meat! this is the destined food, do what you will, of small\nwhite worms. This by and by will be a struggling pale corruption,\nlike seething milk. That too is a hard saying, Jurgen. But it is a\ntrue saying.\"\n\n\"And was that Dorothy whom I loved in youth an imaginary creature?\"\n\n\"My poor Jurgen, you who were once a poet! she was your masterpiece.\nFor there was only a shallow, stupid and airy, high-nosed and\nlight-haired miss, with no remarkable good looks,--and consider what\nyour ingenuity made from such poor material! You should be proud of\nyourself.\"\n\n\"No, Centaur, I cannot very well be proud of my folly: yet I do not\nregret it. I have been befooled by a bright shadow of my own\nraising, you tell me, and I concede it to be probable. No less, I\nserved a lovely shadow; and my heart will keep the memory of that\nloveliness until life ends, in a world where other men follow\npantingly after shadows which are not even pretty.\"\n\n\"There is something in that, Jurgen: there is also something in an\nold tale we used to tell in Thessaly, about a fox and certain\ngrapes.\"\n\n\"Well, but look you, Nessus, there is an emperor that reigns now in\nConstantinople and occasionally does business with me. Yes, and I\ncould tell you tales of by what shifts he came to the throne--\"\n\n\"Men's hands are by ordinary soiled in climbing,\" quoth the Centaur.\n\n\"And 'Jurgen,' this emperor says to me, not many months ago, as he\nsat in his palace, crowned and dreary and trying to cheat me out of\nmy fair profit on some emeralds,--'Jurgen, I cannot sleep of nights,\nbecause of that fool Alexius, who comes into my room with staring\neyes and the bowstring still about his neck. And my Varangians must\nbe in league with that silly ghost, because I constantly order them\nto keep Alexius out of my bedchamber, and they do not obey me,\nJurgen. To be King of the East is not to the purpose, Jurgen, when\none must submit to such vexations.' Yes, it was C\u00e6sar Pharamond\nhimself said this to me: and I deduce the shadow of a crown has led\nhim into an ugly pickle, for all that he is the mightiest monarch in\nthe world. And I would not change with C\u00e6sar Pharamond, not I who am\na respectable pawnbroker, with my home in fee and my bit of tilled\nland. Well, this is a queer world, to be sure: and this garden is\nvisited by no stranger things than pop into a man's mind sometimes,\nwithout his knowing how.\"\n\n\"Ah, but you must understand that the garden is speedily to be\nremodeled. Yonder you may observe the two whose requirements are to\nrid the place of all fantastic unremunerative notions; and who will\ndevelop the natural resources of this garden according to generally\napproved methods.\"\n\nAnd from afar Jurgen could see two figures coming out of the east,\nso tall that their heads rose above the encircling hills and\nglistened in the rays of a sun which was not yet visible. One was a\nwhite pasty-looking giant, with a crusty expression: he walked with\nthe aid of a cane. The other was of a pale yellow color: his face\nwas oily, and he rode on a vast cow that was called \u00c6dhumla.\n\n\"Make way there, brother, with your staff of life,\" says the yellow\ngiant, \"for there is much to do hereabouts.\"\n\n\"Ay, brother, this place must be altered a deal before it meets with\nour requirements,\" the other grumbled. \"May I be toasted if I know\nwhere to begin!\"\n\nThen as the giants turned dull and harsh faces toward the garden,\nthe sun came above the circle of blue hills, so that the mingled\nshadows of these two giants fell across the garden. For an instant\nJurgen saw the place oppressed by that attenuated mile-long shadow,\nas in heraldry you may see a black bar painted sheer across some\nbrightly emblazoned shield. Then the radiancy of everything twitched\nand vanished, as a bubble bursts.\n\nAnd Jurgen was standing in the midst of a field, very neatly plowed,\nbut with nothing as yet growing in it. And the Centaur was with him\nstill, it seemed, for there were the creature's hoofs, but all the\ngold had been washed or rubbed away from them in traveling with\nJurgen.\n\n\"See, Nessus!\" Jurgen cried, \"the garden is made desolate. Oh,\nNessus, was it fair that so much loveliness should be thus wasted!\"\n\n\"Nay,\" said the Centaur, \"nay!\" Long and wailingly he whinneyed,\n\"Nay!\"\n\nAnd when Jurgen raised his eyes he saw that his companion was not a\ncentaur, but only a strayed riding-horse.\n\n\"Were you the animal, then,\" says Jurgen, \"and was it a quite\nordinary animal, that conveyed me to the garden between dawn and\nsunrise?\" And Jurgen laughed disconsolately. \"At all events, you\nhave clothed me in a curious fine shirt. And, now I look, your\nbridle is marked with a coronet. So I will return you to the castle\nat Bellegarde, and it may be that Heitman Michael will reward me.\"\n\nThen Jurgen mounted this horse and rode away from the plowed field\nwherein nothing grew as yet. As they left the furrows they came to a\nsignboard with writing on it, in a peculiar red and yellow\nlettering.\n\nJurgen paused to decipher this.\n\n\"Read me!\" was written on the signboard: \"read me, and judge if you\nunderstand! So you stopped in your journey because I called,\nscenting something unusual, something droll. Thus, although I am\nnothing, and even less, there is no one that sees me but lingers\nhere. Stranger, I am a law of the universe. Stranger, render the law\nwhat is due the law!\"\n\nJurgen felt cheated. \"A very foolish signboard, indeed! for how can\nit be 'a law of the universe', when there is no meaning to it!\" says\nJurgen. \"Why, for any law to be meaningless would not be fair.\"\n\n\n\n\n6.\n\nShowing that Sereda Is Feminine\n\n\nThen, having snapped his fingers at that foolish signboard, Jurgen\nwould have turned easterly, toward Bellegarde: but his horse\nresisted. The pawnbroker decided to accept this as an omen.\n\n\"Forward, then!\" he said, \"in the name of Koshchei.\" And thereafter\nJurgen permitted the horse to choose its own way.\n\nThus Jurgen came through a forest, wherein he saw many things not\nsalutary to notice, to a great stone house like a prison, and he\nsought shelter there. But he could find nobody about the place,\nuntil he came to a large hall, newly swept. This was a depressing\napartment, in its chill neat emptiness, for it was unfurnished save\nfor a bare deal table, upon which lay a yardstick and a pair of\nscales. Above this table hung a wicker cage, containing a blue bird,\nand another wicker cage containing three white pigeons. And in this\nhall a woman, no longer young, dressed all in blue, and wearing a\nwhite towel by way of head-dress was assorting curiously colored\ncloths.\n\nShe had very bright eyes, with wrinkled lids; and now as she looked\nup at Jurgen her shrunk jaws quivered.\n\n\"Ah,\" says she, \"I have a visitor. Good day to you, in your\nglittering shirt. It is a garment I seem to recognize.\"\n\n\"Good day, grandmother! I am looking for my wife, whom I suspect to\nhave been carried off by a devil, poor fellow! Now, having lost my\nway, I have come to pass the night under your roof.\"\n\n\"Very good: but few come seeking Mother Sereda of their own accord.\"\n\nThen Jurgen knew with whom he talked: and inwardly he was perturbed,\nfor all the L\u00e9shy are unreliable in their dealings.\n\nSo when he spoke it was very civilly. \"And what do you do here,\ngrandmother?\"\n\n\"I bleach. In time I shall bleach that garment you are wearing. For\nI take the color out of all things. Thus you see these stuffs here,\nas they are now. Clotho spun the glowing threads, and Lachesis wove\nthem, as you observe, in curious patterns, very marvelous to see:\nbut when I am done with these stuffs there will be no more color or\nbeauty or strangeness anywhere apparent than in so many dishclouts.\"\n\n\"Now I perceive,\" says Jurgen, \"that your power and dominion is more\ngreat than any other power which is in the world.\"\n\nHe made a song of this, in praise of the L\u00e9shy and their Days, but\nmore especially in praise of the might of Mother Sereda and of the\nruins that have fallen on Wednesday. To Chetverg and Utornik and\nSubbota he gave their due. Pyatinka and Nedelka also did Jurgen\ncommend for such demolishments as have enregistered their names in\nthe calendar of saints, no less. Ah, but there was none like Mother\nSereda: hers was the centre of that power which is the L\u00e9shy's. The\nothers did but nibble at temporal things, like furtive mice: she\ndevastated, like a sandstorm, so that there were many dustheaps\nwhere Mother Sereda had passed, but nothing else.\n\nAnd so on, and so on. The song was no masterpiece, and would not be\nbettered by repetition. But it was all untrammeled eulogy, and the\nold woman beat time to it with her lean hands: and her shrunk jaws\nquivered, and she nodded her white-wrapped head this way and that\nway, with a rolling motion, and on her thin lips was a very proud\nand foolish smile.\n\n\"That is a good song,\" says she; \"oh, yes, an excellent song! But\nyou report nothing of my sister Pandelis who controls the day of the\nMoon.\"\n\n\"Monday!\" says Jurgen: \"yes, I neglected Monday, perhaps because she\nis the oldest of you, but in part because of the exigencies of my\nrhyme scheme. We must let Pandelis go unhymned. How can I remember\neverything when I consider the might of Sereda?\"\n\n\"Why, but,\" says Mother Sereda, \"Pandelis may not like it, and she\nmay take holiday from her washing some day to have a word with you.\nHowever, I repeat, that is an excellent song. And in return for your\npraise of me, I will tell you that, if your wife has been carried\noff by a devil, your affair is one which Koshchei alone can remedy.\nAssuredly, I think it is to him you must go for justice.\"\n\n\"But how may I come to him, grandmother?\"\n\n\"Oh, as to that, it does not matter at all which road you follow.\nAll highways, as the saying is, lead roundabout to Koshchei. The one\nthing needful is not to stand still. This much I will tell you also\nfor your song's sake, because that was an excellent song, and nobody\never made a song in praise of me before to-day.\"\n\nNow Jurgen wondered to see what a simple old creature was this\nMother Sereda, who sat before him shaking and grinning and frail as\na dead leaf, with her head wrapped in a common kitchen-towel, and\nwhose power was so enormous.\n\n\"To think of it,\" Jurgen reflected, \"that the world I inhabit is\nordered by beings who are not one-tenth so clever as I am! I have\noften suspected as much, and it is decidedly unfair. Now let me see\nif I cannot make something out of being such a monstrous clever\nfellow.\"\n\nJurgen said aloud: \"I do not wonder that no practising poet ever\npresumed to make a song of you. You are too majestical. You frighten\nthese rhymesters, who feel themselves to be unworthy of so great a\ntheme. So it remained for you to be appreciated by a pawnbroker,\nsince it is we who handle and observe the treasures of this world\nafter you have handled them.\"\n\n\"Do you think so?\" says she, more pleased than ever. \"Now, may be\nthat was the way of it. But I wonder that you who are so fine a poet\nshould ever have become a pawnbroker.\"\n\n\"Well, and indeed, Mother Sereda, your wonder seems to me another\nwonder: for I can think of no profession better suited to a retired\npoet. Why, there is the variety of company! for high and low and\neven the genteel are pressed sometimes for money: then the plowman\nslouches into my shop, and the duke sends for me privately. So the\npeople I know, and the bits of their lives I pop into, give me a\ndeal to romance about.\"\n\n\"Ah, yes, indeed,\" says Mother Sereda, wisely, \"that well may be the\ncase. But I do not hold with romance, myself.\"\n\n\"Moreover, sitting in my shop, I wait there quiet-like while tribute\ncomes to me from the ends of earth: everything which men and women\nhave valued anywhere comes sooner or later to me: and jewels and\nfine knickknacks that were the pride of queens they bring me, and\nwedding rings, and the baby's cradle with his little tooth marks on\nthe rim of it, and silver coffin-handles, or it may be an old\nfrying-pan, they bring me, but all comes to Jurgen. So that just to\nsit there in my dark shop quiet-like, and wonder about the history\nof my belongings and how they were made mine, is poetry, and is the\ndeep and high and ancient thinking of a god who is dozing among what\ntime has left of a dead world, if you understand me, Mother Sereda.\"\n\n\"I understand: oho, I understand that which pertains to gods, for a\nsufficient reason.\"\n\n\"And then another thing, you do not need any turn for business:\npeople are glad to get whatever you choose to offer, for they would\nnot come otherwise. So you get the shining and rough-edged coins\nthat you can feel the proud king's head on, with his laurel-wreath\nlike millet seed under your fingers; and you get the flat and\ngreenish coins that are smeared with the titles and the chins and\nhooked noses of emperors whom nobody remembers or cares about any\nlonger: all just by waiting there quiet-like, and making a favor of\nit to let customers give you their belongings for a third of what\nthey are worth. And that is easy labor, even for a poet.\"\n\n\"I understand: I understand all labor.\"\n\n\"And people treat you a deal more civilly than any real need is,\nbecause they are ashamed of trafficking with you at all: I dispute\nif a poet could get such civility shown him in any other profession.\nAnd finally, there is the long idleness between business interviews,\nwith nothing to do save sit there quiet-like and think about the\nqueerness of things in general: and that is always rare employment\nfor a poet, even without the tatters of so many lives and homes\nheaped up about him like spillikins. So that I would say in all,\nMother Sereda, there is certainly no profession better suited to an\nold poet than the profession of pawnbroking.\"\n\n\"Certainly, there may be something in what you tell me,\" observes\nMother Sereda. \"I know what the Little Gods are, and I know what\nwork is, but I do not think about these other matters, nor about\nanything else. I bleach.\"\n\n\"Ah, and a great deal more I could be saying, too, godmother, but\nfor the fear of wearying you. Nor would I have run on at all about\nmy private affairs were it not that we two are so close related. And\nkith makes kind, as people say.\"\n\n\"But how can you and I be kin?\"\n\n\"Why, heyday, and was I not born upon a Wednesday? That makes you my\ngodmother, does it not?\"\n\n\"I do not know, dearie, I am sure. Nobody ever cared to claim kin\nwith Mother Sereda before this,\" says she, pathetically.\n\n\"There can be no doubt, though, on the point, no possible doubt.\nSabellius states it plainly. Artemidorus Minor, I grant you, holds\nthe question debatable, but his reasons for doing so are tolerably\nnotorious. Besides, what does all his flimsy sophistry avail against\nNicanor's fine chapter on this very subject? Crushing, I consider\nit. His logic is final and irrefutable. What can anyone say against\nS\u00e6vius Nicanor?--ah, what indeed?\" demanded Jurgen.\n\nAnd he wondered if there might not have been perchance some such\npersons somewhere, after all. Their names, in any event, sounded\nvery plausible to Jurgen.\n\n\"Ah, dearie, I was never one for learning. It may be as you say.\"\n\n\"You say 'it may be', godmother. That embarrasses me, rather,\nbecause I was about to ask for my christening gift, which in the\npress of other matters you overlooked some forty years back. You\nwill readily conceive that your negligence, however unintentional,\nmight possibly give rise to unkindly criticism: and so I felt I\nought to mention it, in common fairness to you.\"\n\n\"As for that, dearie, ask what you will within the limits of my\npower. For mine are all the sapphires and turquoises and whatever\nelse in this dusty world is blue; and mine likewise are all the\nWednesdays that have ever been or ever will be: and any one of these\nwill I freely give you in return for your fine speeches and your\ntender heart.\"\n\n\"Ah, but, godmother, would it be quite just for you to accord me so\nmuch more than is granted to other persons?\"\n\n\"Why, no: but what have I to do with justice? I bleach. Come now,\nthen, do you make a choice! for I can assure you that my sapphires\nare of the first water, and that many of my oncoming Wednesdays will\nbe well worth seeing.\"\n\n\"No, godmother, I never greatly cared for jewelry: and the future is\nbut dressing and undressing, and shaving, and eating, and computing\npercentage, and so on; the future does not interest me now. So I\nshall modestly content myself with a second-hand Wednesday, with one\nthat you have used and have no further need of: and it will be a\nWednesday in the August of such and such a year.\"\n\nMother Sereda agreed to this. \"But there are certain rules to be\nobserved,\" says she, \"for one must have system.\"\n\nAs she spoke, she undid the towel about her head, and she took a\nblue comb from her white hair: and she showed Jurgen what was\nengraved on the comb. It frightened Jurgen, a little: but he nodded\nassent.\n\n\"First, though,\" says Mother Sereda, \"here is the blue bird. Would\nyou not rather have that, dearie, than your Wednesday? Most people\nwould.\"\n\n\"Ah, but, godmother,\" he replied, \"I am Jurgen. No, it is not the\nblue bird I desire.\"\n\nSo Mother Sereda took from the wall the wicker cage containing the\nthree white pigeons: and going before him, with small hunched shoulders,\nand shuffling her feet along the flagstones, she led the way into a\ncourtyard, where, sure enough, they found a tethered he-goat. Of a\ndark blue color this beast was, and his eyes were wiser than the eyes\nof a beast.\n\nThen Jurgen set about that which Mother Sereda said was necessary.\n\n\n\n\n7.\n\nOf Compromises on a Wednesday\n\n\nSo it was that, riding upon a horse whose bridle was marked with a\ncoronet, the pawnbroker returned to a place, and to a moment, which\nhe remembered. It was rather queer to be a fine young fellow again,\nand to foresee all that was to happen for the next twenty years.\n\nAs it chanced, the first person he encountered was his mother Azra,\nwhom Coth had loved very greatly but not long. And Jurgen talked\nwith Azra of what clothes he would be likely to need in G\u00e2tinais,\nand of how often he would write to her. She disparaged the new shirt\nhe was wearing, as was to be expected, since Azra had always\npreferred to select her son's clothing rather than trust to Jurgen's\ntaste. His new horse she admitted to be a handsome animal; and only\nhoped he had not stolen it from anybody who would get him into\ntrouble. For Azra, it must be recorded, had never any confidence in\nher son; and was the only woman, Jurgen felt, who really understood\nhim.\n\nAnd now as his beautiful young mother impartially petted and snapped\nat him, poor Jurgen thought of that very real dissension and\nseverance which in the oncoming years was to arise between them; and\nof how she would die without his knowing of her death for two whole\nmonths; and of how his life thereafter would be changed, somehow,\nand the world would become an unstable place in which you could no\nlonger put cordial faith. And he foreknew all the remorse he was to\nshrug away, after the squandering of so much pride and love. But\nthese things were not yet: and besides, these things were\ninevitable.\n\n\"And yet that these things should be inevitable is decidedly not\nfair,\" said Jurgen.\n\nSo it was with all the persons he encountered. The people whom he\nloved when at his best as a fine young fellow were so very soon, and\nthrough petty causes, to become nothing to him, and he himself was\nto be converted into a commonplace tradesman. And living seemed to\nJurgen a wasteful and inequitable process.\n\nThen Jurgen left the home of his youth, and rode toward Bellegarde,\nand tethered his horse upon the heath, and went into the castle.\nThus Jurgen came to Dorothy. She was lovely and dear, and yet, by\nsome odd turn, not quite so lovely and dear as the Dorothy he had\nseen in the garden between dawn and sunrise. And Dorothy, like\neverybody else, praised Jurgen's wonderful new shirt.\n\n\"It is designed for such festivals,\" said Jurgen, modestly--\"a\nlittle notion of my own. A bit extreme, some persons might consider\nit, but there is no pleasing everybody. And I like a trifle of\ncolor.\"\n\nFor there was a masque that night at the castle of Bellegarde: and\nwildly droll and sad it was to Jurgen to remember what was to befall\nso many of the participants.\n\nJurgen had not forgotten this Wednesday, this ancient Wednesday upon\nwhich Messire de Montors had brought the Confraternity of St. M\u00e9dard\nfrom Brunbelois, to enact a masque of The Birth of Hercules, as the\nvagabonds were now doing, to hilarious applause. Jurgen remembered\nit was the day before Bellegarde discovered that Count Emmerick's\nguest, the Vicomte de Puysange, was in reality the notorious outlaw,\nPerion de la For\u00eat. Well, yonder the yet undetected impostor was\ntalking very earnestly with Dame Melicent: and Jurgen knew all that\nwas in store for this pair of lovers.\n\nMeanwhile, as Jurgen reflected, the real Vicomte de Puysange was at\nthis moment lying in a delirium, yonder at Benoit's: to-morrow the\ntrue Vicomte would be recognized, and within the year the Vicomte\nwould have married F\u00e9lise de Soyecourt, and later Jurgen would meet\nher, in the orchard; and Jurgen knew what was to happen then also.\n\nAnd Messire de Montors was watching Dame Melicent, sidewise, while\nhe joked with little Ettarre, who was this night permitted to stay\nup later than usual, in honor of the masque: and Jurgen knew that\nthis young bishop was to become Pope of Rome, no less; and that the\nchild he joked with was to become the woman for possession of whom\nGuiron des Rocques and the surly-looking small boy yonder, Maugis\nd'Aigremont, would contend with each other until the country\nhereabouts had been devastated, and the castle wherein Jurgen now\nwas had been besieged, and this part of it burned. And wildly droll\nand sad it was to Jurgen thus to remember all that was going to\nhappen to these persons, and to all the other persons who were\nfrolicking in the shadow of their doom and laughing at this trivial\nmasque.\n\nFor here--with so much of ruin and failure impending, and with\nsorrow prepared so soon to smite a many of these revellers in ways\nforeknown to Jurgen; and with death resistlessly approaching so\nsoon to make an end of almost all this company in some unlovely\nfashion that Jurgen foreknew exactly,--here laughter seemed\nunreasonable and ghastly. Why, but Reinault yonder, who laughed so\nloud, with his cropped head flung back: would Reinault be laughing\nin quite this manner if he knew the round strong throat he thus\nexposed was going to be cut like the throat of a calf, while three\nBurgundians held him? Jurgen knew this thing was to befall Reinault\nVinsauf before October was out. So he looked at Reinault's throat,\nand shudderingly drew in his breath between set teeth.\n\n\"And he is worth a score of me, this boy!\" thought Jurgen: \"and it\nis I who am going to live to be an old fellow, with my bit of land\nin fee, years after dirt clogs those bright generous eyes, and years\nafter this fine big-hearted boy is wasted! And I shall forget all\nabout him, too. Marion l'Edol, that very pretty girl behind him, is\nto become a blotched and toothless haunter of alleys, a leering\nplucker at men's sleeves! And blue-eyed Colin here, with his baby\nmouth, is to be hanged for that matter of coin-clipping--let me\nrecall, now,--yes, within six years of to-night! Well, but in a way,\nthese people are blessed in lacking foresight. For they laugh, and I\ncannot laugh, and to me their laughter is more terrible than\nweeping. Yes, they may be very wise in not glooming over what is\ninevitable; and certainly I cannot go so far as to say they are\nwrong: but still, at the same time--! And assuredly, living seems to\nme in everything a wasteful and inequitable process.\"\n\nThus Jurgen, while the others passed a very pleasant evening.\n\nAnd presently, when the masque was over, Dorothy and Jurgen went out\nupon the terrace, to the east of Bellegarde, and so came to an\nunforgotten world of moonlight. They sat upon a bench of carved\nstone near the balustrade which overlooked the highway: and the boy\nand the girl gazed wistfully beyond the highway, over luminous\nvalleys and tree-tops. Just so they had sat there, as Jurgen\nperfectly remembered, when Mother Sereda first used this Wednesday.\n\n\"My Heart's Desire,\" says Jurgen, \"I am sad to-night. For I am\nthinking of what life will do to us, and what offal the years will\nmake of you and me.\"\n\n\"My own sweetheart,\" says she, \"and do we not know very well what is\nto happen?\" And Dorothy began to talk of all the splendid things\nthat Jurgen was to do, and of the happy life which was to be theirs\ntogether.\n\n\"It is horrible,\" he said: \"for we are more fine than we shall ever\nbe hereafter. We have a splendor for which the world has no\nemployment. It will be wasted. And such wastage is not fair.\"\n\n\"But presently you will be so and so,\" says she: and fondly predicts\nall manner of noble exploits which, as Jurgen remembered, had once\nseemed very plausible to him also. Now he had clearer knowledge as\nto the capacities of the boy of whom he had thought so well.\n\n\"No, Heart's Desire: no, I shall be quite otherwise.\"\n\n\"--and to think how proud I shall be of you! 'But then I always knew\nit', I shall tell everybody, very condescendingly--\"\n\n\"No, Heart's Desire: for you will not think of me at all.\"\n\n\"Ah, sweetheart! and can you really believe that I shall ever care a\nsnap of my fingers for anybody but you?\"\n\nThen Jurgen laughed a little; for Heitman Michael came now across\nthe lonely terrace, in search of Madame Dorothy: and Jurgen foreknew\nthis was the man to whom within two months of this evening Dorothy\nwas to give her love and all the beauty that was hers, and with whom\nshe was to share the ruinous years which lay ahead.\n\nBut the girl did not know this, and Dorothy gave a little shrugging\ngesture. \"I have promised to dance with him, and so I must. But the\nold fellow is a great plague.\"\n\nFor Heitman Michael was nearing thirty, and this to Dorothy and\nJurgen was an age that bordered upon senility.\n\n\"Now, by heaven,\" said Jurgen, \"wherever Heitman Michael does his\nnext dancing it will not be hereabouts.\"\n\nJurgen had decided what he must do.\n\nAnd then Heitman Michael saluted them civilly. \"But I fear I must\nrob you of this fair lady, Master Jurgen,\" says he.\n\nJurgen remembered that the man had said precisely this a score of\nyears ago; and that Jurgen had mumbled polite regrets, and had stood\naside while Heitman Michael bore off Dorothy to dance with him. And\nthis dance had been the beginning of intimacy between Heitman\nMichael and Dorothy.\n\n\"Heitman,\" says Jurgen, \"the bereavement which you threaten is very\nhappily spared me, since, as it happens, the next dance is to be\nmine.\"\n\n\"We can but leave it to the lady,\" says Heitman Michael, laughing.\n\n\"Not I,\" says Jurgen. \"For I know too well what would come of that.\nI intend to leave my destiny to no one.\"\n\n\"Your conduct, Master Jurgen, is somewhat strange,\" observed Heitman\nMichael.\n\n\"Ah, but I will show you a thing yet stranger. For, look you, there\nseem to be three of us here on this terrace. Yet I can assure you\nthere are four.\"\n\n\"Read me the riddle, my boy, and have done.\"\n\n\"The fourth of us, Heitman, is a goddess that wears a speckled\ngarment and has black wings. She can boast of no temples, and no\npriests cry to her anywhere, because she is the only deity whom no\nprayers can move or any sacrifices placate. I allude, sir, to the\neldest daughter of Nox and Erebus.\"\n\n\"You speak of death, I take it.\"\n\n\"Your apprehension, Heitman, is nimble. Even so, it is not quick\nenough, I fear, to forerun the whims of goddesses. Indeed, what\nperson could have foreseen that this implacable lady would have\ntaken such a strong fancy for your company.\"\n\n\"Ah, my young bantam,\" replies Heitman Michael, \"it is quite true\nthat she and I are acquainted. I may even boast of having despatched\none or two stout warriors to serve her underground. Now, as I divine\nyour meaning, you plan that I should decrease her obligation by\nsending her a whippersnapper.\"\n\n\"My notion, Heitman, is that since this dark goddess is about to\nleave us, she should not, in common gallantry, be permitted to go\nhence unaccompanied. I propose, therefore, that we forthwith decide\nwho is to be her escort.\"\n\nNow Heitman Michael had drawn his sword. \"You are insane. But you\nextend an invitation which I have never yet refused.\"\n\n\"Heitman,\" cries Jurgen, in honest gratitude and admiration, \"I bear\nyou no ill-will. But it is highly necessary you die to-night, in\norder that my soul may not perish too many years before my body.\"\n\nWith that he too whipped out his sword.\n\nSo they fought. Now Jurgen was a very acceptable swordsman, but from\nthe start he found in Heitman Michael his master. Jurgen had never\nreckoned upon that, and he considered it annoying. If Heitman\nMichael perforated Jurgen the future would be altered, certainly,\nbut not quite as Jurgen had decided it ought to be remodeled. So\nthis unlooked-for complication seemed preposterous, and Jurgen began\nto be irritated by the suspicion that he was getting himself killed\nfor nothing at all.\n\nMeanwhile his unruffled tall antagonist seemed but to play with\nJurgen, so that Jurgen was steadily forced back toward the\nbalustrade. And presently Jurgen's sword was twisted from his hand,\nand sent flashing over the balustrade, into the public highway.\n\n\"So now, Master Jurgen,\" says Heitman Michael, \"that is the end of\nyour nonsense. Why, no, there is not any occasion to posture like a\nstatue. I do not intend to kill you. Why the devil's name, should I?\nTo do so would only get me an ill name with your parents: and\nbesides it is infinitely more pleasant to dance with this lady, just\nas I first intended.\" And he turned gaily toward Madame Dorothy.\n\nBut Jurgen found this outcome of affairs insufferable. This man was\nstronger than he, this man was of the sort that takes and uses\ngallantly all the world's prizes which mere poets can but\nrespectfully admire. All was to do again: Heitman Michael, in his\nown hateful phrase, would act just as he had first intended, and\nJurgen would be brushed aside by the man's brute strength. This man\nwould take away Dorothy, and leave the life of Jurgen to become a\nbusiness which Jurgen remembered with distaste. It was unfair.\n\nSo Jurgen snatched out his dagger, and drove it deep into the\nundefended back of Heitman Michael. Three times young Jurgen stabbed\nand hacked the burly soldier, just underneath the left ribs. Even in\nhis fury Jurgen remembered to strike on the left side.\n\nIt was all very quickly done. Heitman Michael's arms jerked upward,\nand in the moonlight his fingers spread and clutched. He made\ncurious gurgling noises. Then the strength went from his knees, so\nthat he toppled backward. His head fell upon Jurgen's shoulder,\nresting there for an instant fraternally; and as Jurgen shuddered\naway from the abhorred contact, the body of Heitman Michael\ncollapsed. Now he lay staring upward, dead at the feet of his\nmurderer. He was horrible looking, but he was quite dead.\n\n\"What will become of you?\" Dorothy whispered, after a while. \"Oh,\nJurgen, it was foully done, that which you did was infamous! What\nwill become of you, my dear?\"\n\n\"I will take my doom,\" says Jurgen, \"and without whimpering, so that\nI get justice. But I shall certainly insist upon justice.\" Then\nJurgen raised his face to the bright heavens. \"The man was stronger\nthan I and wanted what I wanted. So I have compromised with\nnecessity, in the only way I could make sure of getting that which\nwas requisite to me. I cry for justice to the power that gave him\nstrength and gave me weakness, and gave to each of us his desires.\nThat which I have done, I have done. Now judge!\"\n\nThen Jurgen tugged and shoved the heavy body of Heitman Michael,\nuntil it lay well out of sight, under the bench upon which Jurgen\nand Dorothy had been sitting. \"Rest there, brave sir, until they\nfind you. Come to me now, my Heart's Desire. Good, that is\nexcellent. Here I sit with my true love, upon the body of my enemy.\nJustice is satisfied, and all is quite as it should be. For you must\nunderstand that I have fallen heir to a fine steed, whose bridle is\nmarked with a coronet,--prophetically, I take it,--and upon this\nsteed you will ride pillion with me to Lisuarte. There we will find\na priest to marry us. We will go together into G\u00e2tinais. Meanwhile,\nthere is a bit of neglected business to be attended to.\" And he drew\nthe girl close to him.\n\nFor Jurgen was afraid of nothing now. And Jurgen thought:\n\n\"Oh, that I could detain the moment! that I could make some fitting\nverses to preserve this moment in my own memory! Could I but get\ninto words the odor and the thick softness of this girl's hair as my\nhands, that are a-quiver in every nerve of them, caress her hair;\nand get into enduring words the glitter and the cloudy shadowings of\nher hair in this be-drenching moonlight! For I shall forget all this\nbeauty, or at best I shall remember this moment very dimly.\"\n\n\"You have done very wrong--\" says Dorothy.\n\nSays Jurgen, to himself: \"Already the moment passes this miserably\nhappy moment wherein once more life shudders and stands heart-stricken\nat the height of bliss! it passes, and I know even as I lift this girl's\nsoft face to mine, and mark what faith and submissiveness and expectancy\nis in her face, that whatever the future holds for us, and whatever of\nhappiness we two may know hereafter, we shall find no instant happier\nthan this, which passes from us irretrievably while I am thinking about\nit, poor fool, in place of rising to the issue.\"\n\n\"--And heaven only knows what will become of you Jurgen--\"\n\nSays Jurgen, still to himself: \"Yes, something must remain to me of\nall this rapture, though it be only guilt and sorrow: something I\nmean to wrest from this high moment which was once wasted\nfruitlessly. Now I am wiser: for I know there is not any memory with\nless satisfaction in it than the memory of some temptation we\nresisted. So I will not waste the one real passion I have known, nor\nleave unfed the one desire which ever caused me for a heart-beat to\nforget to think about Jurgen's welfare. And thus, whatever happens,\nI shall not always regret that I did not avail myself of this girl's\nlove before it was taken from me.\"\n\nSo Jurgen made such advances as seemed good to him. And he noted,\nwith amusing memories of how much afraid he had once been of\nshocking his Dorothy's notions of decorum, that she did not repulse\nhim very vigorously.\n\n\"Here, over a dead body! Oh, Jurgen, this is horrible! Now, Jurgen,\nremember that somebody may come any minute! And I thought I could\ntrust you! Ah, and is this all the respect you have for me!\" This\nmuch she said in duty. Meanwhile the eyes of Dorothy were dilated\nand very tender.\n\n\"Faith, I take no chances, this second time. And so whatever\nhappens, I shall not always regret that which I left undone.\"\n\nNow upon his lips was laughter, and his arms were about the\nsubmissive girl. And in his heart was an unnamable depression and a\nloneliness, because it seemed to him that this was not the Dorothy\nwhom he had seen in the garden between dawn and sunrise. For in my\narms now there is just a very pretty girl who is not over-careful in\nher dealings with young men, thought Jurgen, as their lips met.\nWell, all life is a compromise; and a pretty girl is something\ntangible, at any rate. So he laughed, triumphantly, and prepared for\nthe sequel.\n\nBut as Jurgen laughed triumphantly, with his arm beneath the head of\nDorothy, and with the tender face of Dorothy passive beneath his lips,\nand with unreasonable wistfulness in his heart, the castle bell tolled\nmidnight. What followed was curious: for as Wednesday passed, the face\nof Dorothy altered, her flesh roughened under his touch, and her cheeks\nfell away, and fine lines came about her eyes, and she became the\nCountess Dorothy whom Jurgen remembered as Heitman Michael's wife.\nThere was no doubt about it, in that be-drenching moonlight: and she\nwas leering at him, and he was touching her everywhere, this horrible\nlascivious woman, who was certainly quite old enough to know better\nthan to permit such liberties. And her breath was sour and nauseous.\nJurgen drew away from her, with a shiver of loathing, and he closed his\neyes, to shut away that sensual face.\n\n\"No,\" he said; \"it would not be fair to what we owe to others. In\nfact, it would be a very heinous sin. We should weigh such\nconsiderations occasionally, madame.\"\n\nThen Jurgen left his temptress, with simple dignity. \"I go to search\nfor my dear wife, madame, in a frame of mind which I would strongly\nadvise you to adopt toward your husband.\"\n\nAnd he went straightway down the terraces of Bellegarde, and turned\nsouthward to where his horse was tethered upon Amneran Heath: and\nJurgen was feeling very virtuous.\n\n\n\n\n8.\n\nOld Toys and a New Shadow\n\n\nJurgen had behaved with conspicuous nobility, Jurgen reflected: but\nhe had committed himself. \"I go in search of my dear wife,\" he had\nstated, in the exaltation of virtuous sentiments. And now Jurgen\nfound himself alone in a world of moonlight just where he had last\nseen his wife.\n\n\"Well, well,\" he said, \"now that my Wednesday is done with, and I am\nagain a reputable pawnbroker, let us remember the advisability of\nsometimes doing the manly thing! It was into this cave that Lisa\nwent. So into this cave go I, for the second time, rather than home\nto my unsympathetic relatives-in-law. Or at least, I think I am\ngoing--\"\n\n\"Ay,\" said a squeaking voice, \"this is the time. A ab hur hus!\"\n\n\"High time!\"\n\n\"Oh, more than time!\"\n\n\"Look, the man in the oak!\"\n\n\"Oho, the fire-drake!\"\n\nThus many voices screeched and wailed confusedly. But Jurgen,\nstaring about him, could see nobody: and all the tiny voices seemed\nto come from far overhead, where nothing was visible save the clouds\nwhich of a sudden were gathering; for a wind was rising, and already\nthe moon was overcast. Now for a while that noise high in the air\nbecame like a wrangling of sparrows, wherein no words were\ndistinguishable.\n\nThen said a small shrill voice distinctly: \"Note now, sweethearts,\nhow high we pass over the wind-vexed heath, where the gallows'\nburden creaks and groans swaying to and fro in the night! Now the\nrain breaks loose as a hawk from the fowler, and grave Queen Holda\ndraws her tresses over the moon's bright shield. Now the bed is\nmade, and the water drawn, and we the bride's maids seek for the\nlass who will be bride to Sclaug.\"\n\nSaid another: \"Oh, search for a maid with golden hair, who is\nperfect, tender and pure, and fit for a king who is old as love,\nwith no trace of love in him. Even now our grinning dusty master\nwakes from sleep, and his yellow fingers shake to think of her\nflower-soft lips who comes to-night to his lank embrace and warms\nthe ribs that our eyes have seen. Who will be bride to Sclaug?\"\n\nAnd a third said: \"The wedding-gown we have brought with us, we that\na-questing ride; and a maid will go hence on Phorgemon in\nCleopatra's shroud. Hah. Will o'the Wisp will marry the couple--\"\n\n\"No, no! let Brachyotus!\"\n\n\"No, be it Kitt with the candle-stick!\"\n\n\"Eman hetan, a fight, a fight!\"\n\n\"Oho, Tom Tumbler, 'ware of Stadlin!\"\n\n\"Hast thou the marmaritin, Tib?\"\n\n\"A ab hur hus!\"\n\n\"Come, Bembo, come away!\"\n\nSo they all fell to screeching and whistling and wrangling high over\nJurgen's head, and Jurgen was not pleased with his surroundings.\n\n\"For these are the witches of Amneran about some deviltry or another\nin which I prefer to take no part. I now regret that I flung away a\ncross in this neighborhood so very recently, and trust the action\nwas understood. If my wife had not made a point of it, and had not\npositively insisted upon it, I would never have thought of doing\nsuch a thing. I intended no reflection upon anybody. Even so, I\nconsider this heath to be unwholesome. And upon the whole, I prefer\nto seek whatever I may encounter in this cave.\"\n\nSo in went Jurgen, for the second time.\n\nAnd the tale tells that all was dark there, and Jurgen could see no\none. But the cave stretched straight forward, and downward, and at\nthe far end was a glow of light. Jurgen went on and on, and so came\nto the place where he had found the Centaur. This part of the cave\nwas now vacant. But behind where Nessus had lain in wait for Jurgen\nwas an opening in the cave's wall, and through this opening streamed\nthe light. Jurgen stooped and crawled through the orifice.\n\nHe stood erect. He caught his breath sharply. Here at his feet was,\nof all things, a tomb carved with the recumbent effigy of a woman.\nNow this part of the cave was lighted by lamps upon tall iron\nstands, so that everything was clearly visible, even to Jurgen,\nwhose eyesight had of late years failed him. This was certainly a\nlow flat tombstone such as Jurgen had seen in many churches: but the\ntinted effigy thereupon was curious, somehow Jurgen looked more\nclosely. He touched the thing.\n\nThen he recoiled, because there is no mistaking the feel of dead\nflesh. The effigy was not colored stone: it was the body of a dead\nwoman. More unaccountable still, it was the body of F\u00e9lise de\nPuysange, whom Jurgen had loved very long ago in G\u00e2tinais, a great\nmany years before he set up in business as a pawnbroker.\n\nVery strange it was to Jurgen again to see her face. He had often\nwondered what had become of this large brown woman; had wondered if\nhe were really the first man for whom she had put a deceit upon her\nhusband; and had wondered what sort of person Madame F\u00e9lise de\nPuysange had been in reality.\n\n\"Two months it was that we played at intimacy, was it not, F\u00e9lise?\nYou comprehend, my dear, I really remember very little about you.\nBut I recall quite clearly the door left just a-jar, and how as I\nopened it gently I would see first of all the lamp upon your\ndressing-table, turned down almost to extinction, and the glowing\ndust upon its glass shade. Is it not strange that our exceeding\nwickedness should have resulted in nothing save the memory of dust\nupon a lamp chimney? Yet you were very handsome, F\u00e9lise. I dare say\nI would have liked you if I had ever known you. But when you told me\nof the child you had lost, and showed me his baby picture, I took a\ndislike to you. It seemed to me you were betraying that child by\ndealing over-generously with me: and always between us afterward was\nhis little ghost. Yet I did not at all mind the deceits you put upon\nyour husband. It is true I knew your husband rather intimately--.\nWell, and they tell me the good Vicomte was vastly pleased by the\nson you bore him some months after you and I had parted. So there\nwas no great harm done, after all--\"\n\nThen Jurgen saw there was another woman's body lying like an effigy\nupon another low flat tomb, and beyond that another, and then still\nothers. And Jurgen whistled.\n\n\"What, all of them!\" he said. \"Am I to be confronted with every\npound of tender flesh I have embraced? Yes, here is Graine, and\nRosamond, and Marcou\u00e8ve, and Elinor. This girl, though, I do not\nremember at all. And this one is, I think, the little Jewess I\npurchased from Hassan Bey in Sidon, but how can one be sure? Still,\nthis is certainly Judith, and this is Myrina. I have half a mind to\nlook again for that mole, but I suppose it would be indecorous.\nLord, how one's women do add up! There must be several scores of\nthem in all. It is the sort of spectacle that turns a man to serious\nthinking. Well, but it is a great comfort to reflect that I dealt\nfairly with every one of them. Several of them treated me most\nunjustly, too. But that is past and done with: and I bear no malice\ntoward such fickle and short-sighted creatures as could not be\ncontented with one lover, and he the Jurgen that was!\"\n\nThereafter, Jurgen, standing among his dead, spread out his arms in\nan embracing gesture.\n\n\"Hail to you, ladies, and farewell! for you and I have done with love.\nWell, love is very pleasant to observe as he advances, overthrowing all\nancient memories with laughter. And yet for each gay lover who concedes\nthe lordship of love, and wears intrepidly love's liveries, the end of\nall is death. Love's sowing is more agreeable than love's harvest: or,\nlet us put it, he allures us into byways leading nowhither, among\nblossoms which fall before the first rough wind: so at the last, with\nmuch excitement and breath and valuable time quite wasted, we find that\nthe end of all is death. Then would it have been more shrewd, dear\nladies, to have avoided love? To the contrary, we were unspeakably wise\nto indulge the high-hearted insanity that love induced; since love alone\ncan lend young people rapture, however transiently, in a world wherein\nthe result of every human endeavor is transient, and the end of all is\ndeath.\"\n\nThen Jurgen courteously bowed to his dead loves, and left them, and\nwent forward as the cave stretched.\n\nBut now the light was behind him, so that Jurgen's shadow, as he\ncame to a sharp turn in the cave, loomed suddenly upon the cave\nwall, confronting him. This shadow was clear-cut and unarguable.\n\nJurgen regarded it intently. He turned this way, then the other; he\nlooked behind him, raised one hand, shook his head tentatively; then\nhe twisted his head sideways with his chin well lifted, and squinted\nso as to get a profile view of this shadow. Whatever Jurgen did the\nshadow repeated, which was natural enough. The odd part was that it\nin nothing resembled the shadow which ought to attend any man, and\nthis was an uncomfortable discovery to make in loneliness deep under\nground.\n\n\"I do not exactly like this,\" said Jurgen. \"Upon my word, I do not\nlike this at all. It does not seem fair. It is perfectly\npreposterous. Well\"--and here he shrugged,--\"well, and what could\nanybody expect me to do about it? Ah, what indeed! So I shall treat\nthe incident with dignified contempt, and continue my exploration of\nthis cave.\"\n\n\n\n\n9.\n\nThe Orthodox Rescue of Guenevere\n\n\nNow the tale tells how the cave narrowed and again turned sharply,\nso that Jurgen came as through a corridor into quite another sort of\nunderground chamber. Yet this also was a discomfortable place.\n\nHere suspended from the roof of the vault was a kettle of quivering\nred flames. These lighted a very old and villainous looking man in\nfull armor, girded with a sword, and crowned royally: he sat erect\nupon a throne, motionless, with staring eyes that saw nothing. Back\nof him Jurgen noted many warriors seated in rows, and all staring at\nJurgen with wide-open eyes that saw nothing. The red flaming of the\nkettle was reflected in all these eyes, and to observe this was not\npleasant.\n\nJurgen waited non-committally. Nothing happened. Then Jurgen saw\nthat at this unengaging monarch's feet were three chests. The lids\nhad been ripped from two of them, and these were filled with silver\ncoins. Upon the middle chest, immediately before the king, sat a\nwoman, with her face resting against the knees of the glaring,\nwithered, motionless, old rascal.\n\n\"And this is a young woman. Obviously! Observe the glint of that\nthick coil of hair! the rich curve of the neck! Oh, clearly, a\ntidbit fit to fight for, against any moderate odds!\"\n\nSo ran the thoughts of Jurgen. Bold as a dragon now, he stepped\nforward and lifted the girl's head.\n\nHer eyes were closed. She was, even so, the most beautiful creature\nJurgen had ever imagined.\n\n\"She does not breathe. And yet, unless memory fails me, this is\ncertainly a living woman in my arms. Evidently this is a sleep\ninduced by necromancy. Well, it is not for nothing I have read so\nmany fairy tales. There are orthodoxies to be observed in the\nawakening of every enchanted princess. And Lisa, wherever she may\nbe, poor dear! is nowhere in this neighborhood, because I hear\nnobody talking. So I may consider myself at liberty to do the\ntraditional thing by this princess. Indeed, it is the only fair\nthing for me to do, and justice demands it.\"\n\nIn consequence, Jurgen kissed the girl. Her lips parted and\nsoftened, and they assumed a not unpleasant sort of submissive\nardor. Her eyes, enormous when seen thus closely, had languorously\nopened, had viewed him without wonder, and then the lids had fallen,\nabout half-way, just as, Jurgen remembered, the eyelids of a woman\nought to do when she is being kissed properly. She clung a little,\nand now she shivered a little, but not with cold: Jurgen perfectly\nremembered that ecstatic shudder convulsing a woman's body:\neverything, in fine, was quite as it should be. So Jurgen put an end\nto the kiss, which, as you may surmise, was a tolerably lengthy\naffair.\n\nHis heart was pounding as though determined to burst from his body,\nand he could feel the blood tingling at his finger-tips. He wondered\nwhat in the world had come over him, who was too old for such\nemotions.\n\nYet, truly, this was the loveliest girl that Jurgen had ever\nimagined. Fair was she to look on, with her shining gray eyes and\nsmall smiling lips, a fairer person might no man boast of having\nseen. And she regarded Jurgen graciously, with her cheeks flushed by\nthat red flickering overhead, and she was very lovely to observe.\nShe was clothed in a robe of flame-colored silk, and about her neck\nwas a collar of red gold. When she spoke her voice was music.\n\n\"I knew that you would come,\" the girl said, happily.\n\n\"I am very glad that I came,\" observed Jurgen.\n\n\"But time presses.\"\n\n\"Time sets an admirable example, my dear Princess--\"\n\n\"Oh, messire, but do you not perceive that you have brought life\ninto this horrible place! You have given of this life to me, in the\nmost direct and speedy fashion. But life is very contagious. Already\nit is spreading by infection.\"\n\nAnd Jurgen regarded the old king, as the girl indicated. The\nwithered ruffian stayed motionless: but from his nostrils came slow\naugmenting jets of vapor, as though he were beginning to breathe in\na chill place. This was odd, because the cave was not cold.\n\n\"And all the others too are snorting smoke,\" says Jurgen. \"Upon my\nword I think this is a delightful place to be leaving.\"\n\nFirst, though, he unfastened the king's sword-belt, and girded\nhimself therewith, sword, dagger and all. \"Now I have arms befitting\nmy fine shirt,\" says Jurgen.\n\nThen the girl showed him a sort of passage way, by which they\nascended forty-nine steps roughly hewn in stone, and so came to\ndaylight. At the top of the stairway was an iron trapdoor, and this\ndoor at the girl's instruction Jurgen lowered. There was no way of\nfastening the door from without.\n\n\"But Thragnar is not to be stopped by bolts or padlocks,\" the girl\nsaid. \"Instead, we must straightway mark this door with a cross,\nsince that is a symbol which Thragnar cannot pass.\"\n\nJurgen's hand had gone instinctively to his throat. Now he shrugged.\n\"My dear young lady, I no longer carry the cross. I must fight\nThragnar with other weapons.\"\n\n\"Two sticks will serve, laid crosswise--\"\n\nJurgen submitted that nothing would be easier than to lift the\ntrapdoor, and thus dislodge the sticks. \"They will tumble apart\nwithout anyone having to touch them, and then what becomes of your\ncrucifix?\"\n\n\"Why, how quickly you think of everything!\" she said, admiringly.\n\"Here is a strip from my sleeve, then. We will tie the twigs\ntogether.\"\n\nJurgen did this, and laid upon the trapdoor a recognizable crucifix.\n\"Still, when anyone raises the trapdoor whatever lies upon it will\nfall off. Without disparaging the potency of your charm, I cannot\nbut observe that in this case it is peculiarly difficult to handle.\nMagician or no, I would put heartier faith in a stout padlock.\"\n\nSo the girl tore another strip, from the hem of her gown, and then\nanother from her right sleeve, and with these they fastened their\ncross to the surface of the trapdoor, in such a fashion that the\ntwigs could not be dislodged from beneath. They mounted the fine\nsteed whose bridle was marked with a coronet, the girl riding\npillion, and they turned westward, since the girl said this was\nbest.\n\nFor, as she now told Jurgen, she was Guenevere, the daughter of\nGogyrvan, King of Glathion and the Red Islands. So Jurgen told her\nhe was the Duke of Logreus, because he felt it was not appropriate\nfor a pawnbroker to be rescuing princesses: and he swore, too, that\nhe would restore her safely to her father, whatever Thragnar might\nattempt. And all the story of her nefarious capture and imprisonment\nby King Thragnar did Dame Guenevere relate to Jurgen, as they rode\ntogether through the pleasant May morning.\n\nShe considered the Troll King could not well molest them. \"For now\nyou have his charmed sword, Caliburn, the only weapon with which\nThragnar can be slain. Besides, the sign of the cross he cannot\npass. He beholds and trembles.\"\n\n\"My dear Princess, he has but to push up the trapdoor from beneath,\nand the cross, being tied to the trapdoor, is promptly moved out of\nhis way. Failing this expedient, he can always come out of the cave\nby the other opening, through which I entered. If this Thragnar has\nany intelligence at all and a reasonable amount of tenacity, he will\npresently be at hand.\"\n\n\"Even so, he can do no harm unless we accept a present from him. The\ndifficulty is that he will come in disguise.\"\n\n\"Why, then, we will accept gifts from nobody.\"\n\n\"There is, moreover, a sign by which you may distinguish Thragnar.\nFor if you deny what he says, he will promptly concede you are in\nthe right. This was the curse put upon him by Miramon Lluagor, for a\ndetection and a hindrance.\"\n\n\"By that unhuman trait,\" says Jurgen, \"Thragnar ought to be very\neasy to distinguish.\"\n\n\n\n\n10.\n\nPitiful Disguises of Thragnar\n\n\nNext, the tale tells that as Jurgen and the Princess were nearing\nGihon, a man came riding toward them, full armed in black, and\nhaving a red serpent with an apple in its mouth painted upon his\nshield.\n\n\"Sir knight,\" says he, speaking hollowly from the closed helmet,\n\"you must yield to me that lady.\"\n\n\"I think,\" says Jurgen, civilly, \"that you are mistaken.\"\n\nSo they fought, and presently, since Caliburn was a resistless\nweapon, and he who wore the scabbard of Caliburn could not be\nwounded, Jurgen prevailed; and gave the strange knight so heavy a\nbuffet that the knight fell senseless.\n\n\"Do you think,\" says Jurgen, about to unlace his antagonist's\nhelmet, \"that this is Thragnar?\"\n\n\"There is no possible way of telling,\" replied Dame Guenevere: \"if\nit is the Troll King he should have offered you gifts, and when you\ncontradicted him he should have admitted you were right. Instead, he\nproffered nothing, and to contradiction he answered nothing, so that\nproves nothing.\"\n\n\"But silence is a proverbial form of assent. At all events, we will\nhave a look at him.\"\n\n\"But that too will prove nothing, since Thragnar goes about his\nmischiefs so disguised by enchantments as invariably to resemble\nsomebody else, and not himself at all.\"\n\n\"Such dishonest habits introduce an element of uncertainty, I grant\nyou,\" says Jurgen. \"Still, one can rarely err by keeping on the safe\nside. This person is, in any event, a very ill-bred fellow, with\nprobably immoral intentions. Yes, caution is the main thing, and in\njustice to ourselves we will keep on the safe side.\"\n\nSo without unloosing the helmet, he struck off the strange knight's\nhead, and left him thus. The Princess was now mounted on the horse\nof their deceased assailant.\n\n\"Assuredly,\" says Jurgen then, \"a magic sword is a fine thing, and a\nvery necessary equipment, too, for a knight errant of my age.\"\n\n\"But you talk as though you were an old man, Messire de Logreus!\"\n\n\"Come now,\" thinks Jurgen, \"this is a princess of rare\ndiscrimination. What, after all, is forty-and-something when one is\nwell-preserved? This uncommonly intelligent girl reminds me a little\nof Marcou\u00e8ve, whom I loved in Artein: besides, she does not look at\nme as women look at an elderly man. I like this princess, in fact, I\nadore this princess. I wonder now what would she say if I told her\nas much?\"\n\nBut Jurgen did not tempt chance that time, for just then they\nencountered a boy who had frizzed hair and painted cheeks. He walked\nmincingly, in a curious garb of black bespangled with gold lozenges,\nand he carried a gilded dung fork.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nThen Jurgen and the Princess came to a black and silver pavilion\nstanding by the roadside. At the door of the pavilion was an\napple-tree in blossom: from a branch of this tree was suspended\na black hunting-horn, silver-mounted. A woman waited there alone.\nBefore her was a chess-board, with the ebony and silver pieces set\nready for a game, and upon the table to her left hand glittered\nflagons and goblets of silver. Eagerly this woman rose and came\ntoward the travellers.\n\n\"Oh, my dear Jurgen,\" says she, \"but how fine you look in that new\nshirt you are wearing! But there was never a man had better taste in\ndress, as I have always said: and it is long I have waited for you\nin this pavilion, which belongs to a black gentleman who seems to be\na great friend of yours. And he went into Crim Tartary this morning,\nwith some missionaries, by the worst piece of luck, for I know how\nsorry he will be to miss you, dear. Now, but I am forgetting that\nyou must be very tired and thirsty, my darling, after your travels.\nSo do you and the young lady have a sip of this, and then we will be\ntelling one another of our adventures.\"\n\nFor this woman had the appearance of Jurgen's wife, Dame Lisa, and\nof none other.\n\nJurgen regarded her with two minds. \"You certainly seem to be Lisa.\nBut it is a long while since I saw Lisa in such an amiable mood.\"\n\n\"You must know,\" says she, still smiling, \"that I have learned to\nappreciate you since we were separated.\"\n\n\"The fiend who stole you from me may possibly have brought about\nthat wonder. None the less, you have met me riding at adventure with\na young woman. And you have assaulted neither of us, you have not\neven raised your voice. No, quite decidedly, here is a miracle\nbeyond the power of any fiend.\"\n\n\"Ah, but I have been doing a great deal of thinking, Jurgen dear, as\nto our difficulties in the past. And it seems to me that you were\nalmost always in the right.\"\n\nGuenevere nudged Jurgen. \"Did you note that? This is certainly\nThragnar in disguise.\"\n\n\"I am beginning to think that at all events it is not Lisa.\" Then\nJurgen magisterially cleared his throat. \"Lisa, if you indeed be\nLisa, you must understand I am through with you. The plain truth is\nthat you tire me. You talk and talk: no woman breathing equals you\nat mere volume and continuity of speech: but you say nothing that I\nhave not heard seven hundred and eighty times if not oftener.\"\n\n\"You are perfectly right, my dear,\" says Dame Lisa, piteously. \"But\nthen I never pretended to be as clever as you.\"\n\n\"Spare me your beguilements, if you please. And besides, I am in\nlove with this princess. Now spare me your recriminations, also, for\nyou have no real right to complain. If you had stayed the person\nwhom I promised the priest to love, I would have continued to think\nthe world of you. But you did nothing of the sort. From a cuddlesome\nand merry girl, who thought whatever I did was done to perfection,\nyou elected to develop into an uncommonly plain and short-tempered\nold woman.\" And Jurgen paused. \"Eh?\" said he, \"and did you not do\nthis?\"\n\nDame Lisa answered sadly: \"My dear, you are perfectly right, from\nyour way of thinking. However, I could not very well help getting\nolder.\"\n\n\"But, oh, dear me!\" says Jurgen, \"this is astonishingly inadequate\nimpersonation, as any married man would see at once. Well, I made no\ncontract to love any such plain and short-tempered person. I\nrepudiate the claims of any such person, as manifestly unfair. And I\npledge undying affection to this high and noble Princess Guenevere,\nwho is the fairest lady that I have ever seen.\"\n\n\"You are right,\" wailed Dame Lisa, \"and I was entirely to blame. It\nwas because I loved you, and wanted you to get on in the world and\nbe a credit to my father's line of business, that I nagged you so.\nBut you will never understand the feelings of a wife, nor will you\nunderstand that even now I desire your happiness above all else.\nHere is our wedding-ring, then, Jurgen. I give you back your\nfreedom. And I pray that this princess may make you very happy, my\ndear. For surely you deserve a princess if ever any man did.\"\n\nJurgen shook his head. \"It is astounding that a demon so much talked\nabout should be so poor an impersonator. It raises the staggering\nsupposition that the majority of married women must go to Heaven. As\nfor your ring, I am not accepting gifts this morning, from anyone.\nBut you understand, I trust, that I am hopelessly enamored of the\nPrincess on account of her beauty.\"\n\n\"Oh, and I cannot blame you, my dear. She is the loveliest person I\nhave ever seen.\"\n\n\"Hah, Thragnar!\" says Jurgen, \"I have you now. A woman might, just\npossibly, have granted her own homeliness: but no woman that ever\nbreathed would have conceded the Princess had a ray of good looks.\"\n\nSo with Caliburn he smote, and struck off the head of this thing\nwhich foolishly pretended to be Dame Lisa.\n\n\"Well done! oh, bravely done!\" cried Guenevere. \"Now the enchantment\nis dissolved, and Thragnar is slain by my clever champion.\"\n\n\"I could wish there were some surer sign of that,\" said Jurgen. \"I\nwould have preferred that the pavilion and the decapitated Troll\nKing had vanished with a peal of thunder and an earthquake and such\nother phenomena as are customary. Instead, nothing is changed except\nthat the woman who was talking to me a moment since now lies at my\nfeet in a very untidy condition. You conceive, madame, I used to\ntease her about that twisted little-finger, in the days before we\nbegan to squabble: and it annoys me that Thragnar should not have\nomitted even Lisa's crooked little-finger on her left hand. Yes,\nsuch painstaking carefulness worries me. For you conceive also,\nmadame, it would be more or less awkward if I had made an error, and\nif the appearance were in reality what it seemed to be, because I\nwas pretty trying sometimes. At all events, I have done that which\nseemed equitable, and I have found no comfort in the doing of it,\nand I do not like this place.\"\n\n\n\n\n11.\n\nAppearance of the Duke of Logreus\n\n\nSo Jurgen brushed from the table the chessmen that were set there in\nreadiness for a game, and he emptied the silver flagons upon the\nground. His reasons for not meddling with the horn he explained to\nthe Princess: she shivered, and said that, such being the case, he\nwas certainly very sensible. Then they mounted, and departed from\nthe black and silver pavilion. They came thus without further\nadventure to Gogyrvan Gawr's city of Cameliard.\n\nNow there was shouting and the bells all rang when the people knew\ntheir Princess was returned to them: the houses were hung with\npainted cloths and banners, and trumpets sounded, as Guenevere and\nJurgen came to the King in his Hall of Judgment. And this Gogyrvan,\nthat was King of Glathion and Lord of Enisgarth and Camwy and\nSargyll, came down from his wide throne, and he embraced first\nGuenevere, then Jurgen.\n\n\"And demand of me what you will, Duke of Logreus,\" said Gogyrvan,\nwhen he had heard the champion's name, \"and it is yours for the\nasking. For you have restored to me the best loved daughter that\never was the pride of a high king.\"\n\n\"Sir,\" replied Jurgen, reasonably, \"a service rendered so gladly\nshould be its own reward. So I am asking that you do in turn restore\nto me the Princess Guenevere, in honorable marriage, do you\nunderstand, because I am a poor lorn widower, I am tolerably\ncertain, but I am quite certain I love your daughter with my whole\nheart.\"\n\nThus Jurgen, whose periods were confused by emotion.\n\n\"I do not see what the condition of your heart has to do with any\nsuch unreasonable request. And you have no good sense to be asking\nthis thing of me when here are the servants of Arthur, that is now\nKing of the Britons, come to ask for my daughter as his wife. That\nyou are Duke of Logreus you tell me, and I concede a duke is all\nvery well: but I expect you in return to concede a king takes\nprecedence, with any man whose daughter is marriageable. But\nto-morrow or the next day it may be, you and I will talk over\nyour reward more privately. Meanwhile it is very queer and very\nfrightened you are looking, to be the champion who conquered\nThragnar.\"\n\nFor Jurgen was staring at the great mirror behind the King's throne.\nIn this mirror Jurgen saw the back of Gogyrvan's crowned head, and\nbeyond this, Jurgen saw a queer and frightened looking young fellow,\nwith sleek black hair, and an impudent nose, and wide-open bright\nbrown eyes which were staring hard at Jurgen: and the lad's very red\nand very heavy lips were parted, so that you saw what fine strong\nteeth he had: and he wore a glittering shirt with curious figures on\nit\n\n\"I was thinking,\" says Jurgen, and he saw the lad in the mirror was\nspeaking too, \"I was thinking that is a remarkable mirror you have\nthere.\"\n\n\"It is like any other mirror,\" replies the King, \"in that it shows\nthings as they are. But if you fancy it as your reward, why, take it\nand welcome.\"\n\n\"And are you still talking of rewards!\" cries Jurgen. \"Why, if that\nmirror shows things as they are, I have come out of my borrowed\nWednesday still twenty-one. Oh, but it was the clever fellow I was,\nto flatter Mother Sereda so cunningly, and to fool her into such\ngenerosity! And I wonder that you who are only a king, with bleared\neyes under your crown, and with a drooping belly under all your\nroyal robes, should be talking of rewarding a fine young fellow of\ntwenty-one, for there is nothing you have which I need be wanting\nnow.\"\n\n\"Then you will not be plaguing me any more with your nonsense about\nmy daughter: and that is excellent news.\"\n\n\"But I have no requirement to be asking your good graces now,\" said\nJurgen, \"nor the good will of any man alive that has a handsome\ndaughter or a handsome wife. For now I have the aid of a lad that\nwas very recently made Duke of Logreus: and with his countenance I\ncan look out for myself, and I can get justice done me everywhere,\nin all the bedchambers of the world.\"\n\nAnd Jurgen snapped his fingers, and was about to turn away from the\nKing. There was much sunlight in the hall, so that Jurgen in this\nhalf-turn confronted his shadow as it lay plain upon the flagstones.\nAnd Jurgen looked at it very intently.\n\n\"Of course,\" said Jurgen presently, \"I only meant in a manner of\nspeaking, sir: and was paraphrasing the splendid if hackneyed\npassage from Sornatius, with which you are doubtless familiar, in\nwhich he goes on to say, so much more beautifully than I could\npossibly express without quoting him word for word, that all this\nwas spoken jestingly, and without the least intention of offending\nanybody, oh, anybody whatever, I can assure you, sir.\"\n\n\"Very well,\" said Gogyrvan Gawr: and he smiled, for no reason that\nwas apparent to Jurgen, who was still watching his shadow sidewise.\n\"To-morrow, I repeat, I must talk with you more privately. To-day I\nam giving a banquet such as was never known in these parts, because\nmy daughter is restored to me, and because my daughter is going to\nbe queen over all the Britons.\"\n\nSo said Gogyrvan, that was King of Glathion and Lord of Enisgarth\nand Camwy and Sargyll: and this was done. And everywhere at the\nbanquet Jurgen heard talk of this King Arthur who was to marry Dame\nGuenevere, and of the prophecy which Merlin Ambrosius had made as to\nthe young monarch. For Merlin had predicted:\n\n\"He shall afford succor, and shall tread upon the necks of his\nenemies: the isles of the ocean shall be subdued by him, and he\nshall possess the forests of Gaul: the house of Romulus shall fear\nhis rage, and his acts shall be food for the narrators.\"\n\n\"Why, then,\" says Jurgen, to himself, \"this monarch reminds me in\nall things of David of Israel, who was so splendid and famous, and\nso greedy, in the ancient ages. For to these forests and islands and\nnecks and other possessions, this Arthur Pendragon must be adding my\none ewe lamb; and I lack a Nathan to convert him to repentance. Now,\nbut this, to be sure, is a very unfair thing.\"\n\nThen Jurgen looked again into a mirror: and presently the eyes of\nthe lad he found therein began to twinkle.\n\n\"Have at you, David!\" said Jurgen, valorously; \"since after all, I\nsee no reason to despair.\"\n\n\n\n\n12.\n\nExcursus of Yolande's Undoing\n\n\nNow Jurgen, self-appointed Duke of Logreus, abode at the court of\nKing Gogyrvan. The month of May passed quickly and pleasantly: but\nthe monstrous shadow which followed Jurgen did not pass. Still, no\none noticed it: that was the main thing. For himself, he was not\nafraid of shadows, and the queerness of this one was not enough to\ndistract his thoughts from Guenevere, nor from his love-making with\nGuenevere.\n\nFor these were quiet times in Glathion, now that the war with Rience\nof Northgalis was satisfactorily ended: and love-making was now\neverywhere in vogue. By way of diversion, gentlemen hunted and\nfished and rode a-hawking and amicably slashed and battered one\nanother in tournaments: but their really serious pursuit was\nlovemaking, after the manner of chivalrous persons, who knew that\nthe King's trumpets would presently be summoning them into less\nsoftly furnished fields of action, from one or another of which they\nwould return feet foremost on a bier. So Jurgen sighed and warbled\nand made eyes with many excellent fighting-men: and the Princess\nlistened with many other ladies whose hearts were not of flint. And\nGogyrvan meditated.\n\nNow it was the kingly custom of Gogyrvan when his dinner was spread\nat noontide, not to go to meat until all such as demanded justice\nfrom him had been furnished with a champion to redress the wrong.\nOne day as the gaunt old King sat thus in his main hall, upon a seat\nof green rushes covered with yellow satin, and with a cushion of\nyellow satin under his elbow, and with his barons ranged about him\naccording to their degrees, a damsel came with a very heart-rending\ntale of the oppression that was on her.\n\nGogyrvan blinked at her, and nodded. \"You are the handsomest woman I\nhave seen in a long while,\" says he, irrelevantly. \"You are a woman\nI have waited for. Duke Jurgen of Logreus will undertake this\nadventure.\"\n\nThere being no help for it, Jurgen rode off with this Dame Yolande,\nnot very well pleased: but as they rode he jested with her. And so,\nwith much laughter by the way, Yolande conducted him to the Green\nCastle, of which she had been dispossessed by Graemagog, a most\nformidable giant.\n\n\"Now prepare to meet your death, sir knight!\" cried Graemagog,\nlaughing horribly, and brandishing his club; \"for all knights who\ncome hither I have sworn to slay.\"\n\n\"Well, if truth-telling were a sin you would be a very virtuous\ngiant,\" says Jurgen, and he flourished Thragnar's sword, resistless\nCaliburn.\n\nThen they fought, and Jurgen killed Graemagog. Thus was the Green\nCastle restored to Dame Yolande, and the maidens who attended her\naforetime were duly released from the cellarage. They were now\nmaidens by courtesy only, but so tender is the heart of women that\nthey all wept over Graemagog.\n\nYolande was very grateful, and proffered every manner of reward.\n\n\"But, no, I will take none of these fine jewels, nor money, nor\nlands either,\" says Jurgen. \"For Logreus, I must tell you, is a\nfairly well-to-do duchy, and the killing of giants is by way of\nbeing my favorite pastime. He is well paid that is well satisfied.\nYet if you must reward me for such a little service, do you swear to\ndo what you can to get me the love of my lady, and that will\nsuffice.\"\n\nYolande, without any particular enthusiasm, consented to attempt\nthis: and indeed Yolande, at Jurgen's request, made oath upon the\nFour Evangelists that she would do everything within her power to\naid him.\n\n\"Very well,\" said Jurgen, \"you have sworn, and it is you whom I\nlove.\"\n\nSurprise now made her lovely. Yolande was frankly delighted at the\nthought of marrying the young Duke of Logreus, and offered to send\nfor a priest at once.\n\n\"My dear,\" says Jurgen, \"there is no need to bother a priest about\nour private affairs.\"\n\nShe took his meaning, and sighed. \"Now I regret,\" said she, \"that I\nmade so solemn an oath. Your trick was unfair.\"\n\n\"Oh, not at all,\" said Jurgen: \"and presently you will not regret\nit. For indeed the game is well worth the candle.\"\n\n\"How is that shown, Messire de Logreus?\"\n\n\"Why, by candle-light,\" says Jurgen,--\"naturally.\"\n\n\"In that event, we will talk no further of it until this evening.\"\n\nSo that evening Yolande sent for him. She was, as Gogyrvan had said,\na remarkably handsome woman, sleek and sumptuous and crowned with a\nwealth of copper-colored hair. To-night she was at her best in a\ntunic of shimmering blue, with a surcote of gold embroidery, and\nwith gold embroidered pendent sleeves that touched the floor. Thus\nshe was when Jurgen came to her.\n\n\"Now,\" says Yolande, frowning, \"you may as well come out\nstraightforwardly with what you were hinting at this morning.\"\n\nBut first Jurgen looked about the apartment, and it was lighted by a\ntall gilt stand whereon burned candles.\n\nHe counted these, and he whistled. \"Seven candles! upon my word,\nsweetheart, you do me great honor, for this is a veritable\nillumination. To think of it, now, that you should honor me, as\npeople do saints, with seven candles! Well, I am only mortal, but\nnone the less I am Jurgen, and I shall endeavor to repay this\nsevenfold courtesy without discount.\"\n\n\"Oh, Messire de Logreus,\" cried Dame Yolande, \"but what\nincomprehensible nonsense you talk! You misinterpret matters, for I\ncan assure you I had nothing of that sort in mind. Besides, I do not\nknow what you are talking about.\"\n\n\"Indeed, I must warn you that my actions often speak more\nunmistakably than my words. It is what learned persons term an\nidiosyncrasy.\"\n\n\"--And I certainly do not see how any of the saints can be concerned\nin this. If you had said the Four Evangelists now--! For we were\ntalking of the Four Evangelists, you remember, this morning--Oh, but\nhow stupid it is of you, Messire de Logreus, to stand there grinning\nand looking at me in a way that makes me blush!\"\n\n\"Well, that is easily remedied,\" said Jurgen, as he blew out the\ncandles, \"since women do not blush in the dark.\"\n\n\"What do you plan, Messire de Logreus?\"\n\n\"Ah, do not be alarmed!\" said Jurgen. \"I shall deal fairly with\nyou.\"\n\nAnd in fact Yolande confessed afterward that, considering\neverything, Messire de Logreus was very generous. Jurgen confessed\nnothing: and as the room was profoundly dark nobody else can speak\nwith authority as to what happened there. It suffices that the Duke\nof Logreus and the Lady of the Green Castle parted later on the most\nfriendly terms.\n\n\"You have undone me, with your games and your candles and your\nscrupulous returning of courtesies,\" said Yolande, and yawned, for\nshe was sleepy; \"but I fear that I do not hate you as much as I\nought to.\"\n\n\"No woman ever does,\" says Jurgen, \"at this hour.\" He called for\nbreakfast, then kissed Yolande--for this, as Jurgen had said, was\ntheir hour of parting,--and he rode away from the Green Castle in\nhigh spirits.\n\n\"Why, what a thing it is again to be a fine young fellow!\" said\nJurgen. \"Well, even though her big brown eyes protrude too\nmuch--something like a lobster's--she is a splendid woman, that Dame\nYolande: and it is a comfort to reflect I have seen justice was done\nher.\"\n\nThen he rode back to Cameliard, singing with delight in the thought\nthat he was riding toward the Princess Guenevere, whom he loved with\nhis whole heart.\n\n\n\n\n13.\n\nPhilosophy of Gogyrvan Gawr\n\n\nAt Cameliard the young Duke of Logreus spent most of his time in the\ncompany of Guenevere, whose father made no objection overtly.\nGogyrvan had his promised talk with Jurgen.\n\n\"I lament that Dame Yolande dealt over-thriftily with you,\" the King\nsaid, first of all: \"for I estimated you two would be as spark and\ntinder, kindling between you an amorous conflagration to burn up all\nthis nonsense about my daughter.\"\n\n\"Thrift, sir,\" said Jurgen, discreetly, \"is a proverbial virtue, and\nfires may not consume true love.\"\n\n\"That is the truth,\" Gogyrvan admitted, \"whoever says it.\" And he\nsighed.\n\nThen for a while he sat in nodding meditation. Tonight the old King\nwore a disreputably rusty gown of black stuff, with fur about the\nneck and sleeves of it, and his scant white hair was covered by a\nvery shabby black cap. So he huddled over a small fire in a large\nstone fireplace carved with shields; beside him was white wine and\nred, which stayed untasted while Gogyrvan meditated upon things that\nfretted him.\n\n\"Now, then!\" says Gogyrvan Gawr: \"this marriage with the high King\nof the Britons must go forward, of course. That was settled last\nyear, when Arthur and his devil-mongers, the Lady of the Lake and\nMerlin Ambrosius, were at some pains to rescue me at Carohaise. I\nestimate that Arthur's ambassadors, probably the devil-mongers\nthemselves, will come for my daughter before June is out. Meanwhile,\nyou two have youth and love for playthings, and it is spring.\"\n\n\"What is the season of the year to me,\" groaned Jurgen, \"when I\nreflect that within a week or so the lady of my heart will be borne\naway from me forever? How can I be happy, when all the while I know\nthe long years of misery and vain regret are near at hand?\"\n\n\"You are saying that,\" observed the King, \"in part because you drank\ntoo much last night, and in part because you think it is expected of\nyou. For in point of fact, you are as happy as anyone is permitted\nto be in this world, through the simple reason that you are young.\nMisery, as you employ the word, I consider to be a poetical trophe:\nbut I can assure you that the moment you are no longer young the\nyears of vain regret will begin, either way.\"\n\n\"That is true,\" said Jurgen, heartily.\n\n\"How do you know? Now then, put it I were insane enough to marry my\ndaughter to a mere duke, you would grow damnably tired of her: I can\nassure you of that also, for in disposition Guenevere is her sainted\nmother all over again. She is nice looking, of course, because in\nthat she takes after my side of the family: but, between ourselves,\nshe is not particularly intelligent, and she will always be making\neyes at some man or another. To-day it appears to be your turn to\nserve as her target, in a fine glittering shirt of which the like\nwas never seen in Glathion. I deplore, but even so I cannot deny,\nyour rights as the champion who rescued her: and I must bid you make\nthe most of that turn.\"\n\n\"Meanwhile, it occurs to me, sir, that it is unusual to betroth your\ndaughter to one man, and permit her to go freely with another.\"\n\n\"If you insist upon it,\" said Gogyrvan Gawr, \"I can of course lock\nup the pair of you, in separate dungeons, until the wedding day.\nMeanwhile, it occurs to me you should be the last commentator to\ngrumble.\"\n\n\"Why, I tell you plainly, sir, that critical persons would say you\nare taking very small care of your daughter's honor.\"\n\n\"To that there are several answers,\" replied the King. \"One is that\nI remember my late wife as tenderly as possible, and I reflect I\nhave only her word for it as to Guenevere's being my daughter.\nAnother is that, though my daughter is a quiet and well-conducted\nyoung woman, I never heard King Thragnar was anything of this sort.\"\n\n\"Oh, sir,\" said Jurgen, horrified, \"whatever are you hinting!\"\n\n\"All sorts of things, however, happen in caves, things which it is\nwiser to ignore in sunlight. So I ignore: I ask no questions: my\nbusiness is to marry my daughter acceptably, and that only. Such\ndiscoveries as may be made by her husband afterward are his affair,\nnot mine. This much I might tell you, Messire de Logreus, by way of\nanswer. But the real answer is to bid you consider this: that a\nwoman's honor is concerned with one thing only, and it is a thing\nwith which the honor of a man is not concerned at all.\"\n\n\"But now you talk in riddles, King, and I wonder what it is you\nwould have me do.\"\n\nGogyrvan grinned. \"Obviously, I advise you to give thanks you were\nborn a man, because that sturdier sex has so much less need to\nbother over breakage.\"\n\n\"What sort of breakage, sir?\" says Jurgen.\n\nGogyrvan told him.\n\nDuke Jurgen for the second time looked properly horrified. \"Your\naphorisms, King, are abominable, and of a sort unlikely to quiet my\nmisery. However, we were speaking of your daughter, and it is she\nwho must be considered rather than I.\"\n\n\"Now I perceive that you take my meaning perfectly. Yes, in all\nmatters which concern my daughter I would have you lie like a\ngentleman.\"\n\n\"Well, I am afraid, sir,\" said Jurgen, after a pause, \"that you are\na person of somewhat degraded ideals.\"\n\n\"Ah, but you are young. Youth can afford ideals, being vigorous\nenough to stand the hard knocks they earn their possessor. But I am\nan old fellow cursed with a tender heart and tolerably keen eyes.\nThat combination, Messire de Logreus, is one which very often forces\nme to jeer out of season, simply because I know myself to be upon\nthe verge of far more untimely tears.\"\n\nThus Gogyrvan replied. He was silent for a while, and he\ncontemplated the fire. Then he waved a shriveled hand toward the\nwindow, and Gogyrvan began to speak, meditatively:\n\n\"Messire de Logreus, it is night in my city of Cameliard. And\nsomewhere one of those roofs harbors a girl whom we will call\nLynette. She has a lover--we will say he is called Sagramor. The\nnames do not matter. Tonight, as I speak with you, Lynette lies\nmotionless in the carved wide bed that formerly was her mother's.\nShe is thinking of Sagramor. The room is dark save where moonlight\nsilvers the diamond-shaped panes of ancient windows. In every corner\nof the room mysterious quivering suggestions lurk.\"\n\n\"Ah, sire,\" says Jurgen, \"you also are a poet!\"\n\n\"Do not interrupt me, then! Lynette, I repeat, is thinking of Sagramor.\nAgain they sit near the lake, under an apple-tree older than Rome.\nThe knotted branches of the tree are upraised as in benediction:\nand petals--petals, fluttering, drifting, turning,--interminable white\npetals fall silently in the stillness. Neither speaks: for there is no\nneed. Silently he brushes a petal from the blackness of her hair, and\nsilently he kisses her. The lake is dusky and hard-seeming as jade.\nTwo lonely stars hang low in the green sky. It is droll that the chest\nof a man is hairy, oh, very droll! And a bird is singing, a silvery\nneedle of sound moves fitfully in the stillness. Surely high Heaven\nis thus quietly colored and thus strangely lovely. So at least thinks\nlittle Lynette, lying motionless like a little mouse, in the carved\nwide bed wherein Lynette was born.\"\n\n\"A very moving touch, that,\" Jurgen interpolated.\n\n\"Now, there is another sort of singing: for now the pot-house\ncloses, big shutters bang, feet shuffle, a drunken man hiccoughs in\nhis singing. It is a love-song he is murdering. He sheds\ninexplicable tears as he lurches nearer and nearer to Lynette's\nwindow, and his heart is all magnanimity, for Sagramor is\ncelebrating his latest conquest. Do you not think that this or\nsomething very like this is happening to-night in my city of\nCameliard, Messire de Logreus?\".\n\n\"It happens momently,\" said Jurgen, \"everywhere. For thus is every\nwoman for a little while, and thus is every man for all time.\"\n\n\"That being a dreadful truth,\" continued Gogyrvan, \"you may take it\nas one of the many reasons why I jeer out of season in order to\nstave off far more untimely tears. For this thing happens: in my\ncity it happens, and in my castle it happens. King or no, I am\npowerless to prevent its happening. So I can but shrug and hearten\nmy old blood with a fresh bottle. No less, I regard the young woman,\nwho is quite possibly my daughter, with considerable affection: and\nit would be salutary for you to remember that circumstance, Messire\nde Logreus, if ever you are tempted to be candid.\"\n\nJurgen was horrified. \"But with the Princess, sir, it is unthinkable\nthat I should not deal fairly.\"\n\nKing Gogyrvan continued to look at Jurgen. Gogyrvan Gawr said\nnothing, and not a muscle of him moved.\n\n\"Although of course,\" said Jurgen, \"I would, in simple justice to\nher, not ever consider volunteering any information likely to cause\npain.\"\n\n\"Again I perceive,\" said Gogyrvan, \"that you understand me. Yet I\ndid not speak of my daughter only, but of everybody.\"\n\n\"How then, sir, would you have me deal with everybody?\"\n\n\"Why, I can but repeat my words,\" says Gogyrvan, very patiently: \"I\nwould have you lie like a gentleman. And now be off with you, for I\nam going to sleep. I shall not be wide awake again until my daughter\nis safely married. And that is absolutely all I can do for you.\"\n\n\"Do you think this is reputable conduct, King?\"\n\n\"Oh, no!\" says Gogyrvan, surprised. \"It is what we call\nphilanthropy.\"\n\n\n\n\n14.\n\nPreliminary Tactics of Duke Jurgen\n\n\nSo Jurgen abode at court, and was tolerably content for a little\nwhile. He loved a princess, the fairest and most perfect of mortal\nwomen; and loved her (a circumstance to which he frequently\nrecurred) as never any other man had loved in the world's history:\nand very shortly he was to stand by and see her married to another.\nHere was a situation to delight the chivalrous court of Glathion,\nfor every requirement of romance was exactly fulfilled.\n\nNow the appearance of Guenevere, whom Jurgen loved with an entire\nheart, was this:--She was of middling height, with a figure not yet\nwholly the figure of a woman. She had fine and very thick hair, and\nthe color of it was the yellow of corn floss. When Guenevere undid\nher hair it was a marvel to Jurgen to note how snugly this hair\ndescended about the small head and slender throat, and then\nbroadened boldly and clothed her with a loose soft foam of pallid\ngold. For Jurgen delighted in her hair; and with increasing\nintimacy, loved to draw great strands of it back of his head,\ncrossing them there, and pressing soft handfuls of her perfumed hair\nagainst his cheeks as he kissed the Princess.\n\nThe head of Guenevere, be it repeated, was small: you wondered at\nthe proud free tossing movements of that little head which had to\nsustain the weight of so much hair. The face of Guenevere was\ncolored tenderly and softly: it made the faces of other women seem\nthe work of a sign-painter, just splotched in anyhow. Gray eyes had\nGuenevere, veiled by incredibly long black lashes that curved\nincredibly. Her brows arched rather high above her eyes: that was\nalmost a fault. Her nose was delicate and saucy: her chin was\nimpudence made flesh: and her mouth was a tiny and irresistible\ntemptation.\n\n\"And so on, and so on! But indeed there is no sense at all in\ndescribing this lovely girl as though I were taking an inventory of\nmy shopwindow,\" said Jurgen. \"Analogues are all very well, and they\nhave the unanswerable sanction of custom: none the less, when I\nproclaim that my adored mistress's hair reminds me of gold I am\nquite consciously lying. It looks like yellow hair, and nothing\nelse: nor would I willingly venture within ten feet of any woman\nwhose head sprouted with wires, of whatever metal. And to protest\nthat her eyes are as gray and fathomless as the sea is very well\nalso, and the sort of thing which seems expected of me: but imagine\nhow horrific would be puddles of water slopping about in a lady's\neye-sockets! If we poets could actually behold the monsters we rhyme\nof, we would scream and run. Still, I rather like this sirvente.\"\n\nFor he was making a sirvente in praise of Guenevere. It was the\npleasant custom of Gogyrvan's court that every gentleman must\ncompose verses in honor of the lady of whom he was hopelessly\nenamored; as well as that in these verses he should address the lady\n(as one whose name was too sacred to mention) otherwise than did her\nsponsors. So Duke Jurgen of Logreus duly rhapsodized of his\nPhyllida.\n\n\"I borrow for my dear love the appellation of that noted but by much\ninferior lady who was beloved by Ariphus of Belsize,\" he explained.\n\"You will remember Poliger suspects she was a princess of the house of\nScleroveus: and you of course recall Pisander's masterly summing-up of\nthe probabilities, in his _Heraclea_.\"\n\n\"Oh, yes,\" they said. And the courtiers of Gogyrvan Gawr, like\nMother Sereda, were greatly impressed by young Duke Jurgen's\nerudition.\n\nFor Jurgen was Duke of Logreus nowadays, with his glittering shirt\nand the coronet upon his bridle to show for it. Awkwardly this\nproved to be an earl's coronet, but incongruities are not always\ninexplicable.\n\n\"It was Earl Giarmuid's horse. You have doubtless heard of Giarmuid:\nbut to ask that is insulting.\"\n\n\"Oh, not at all. It is humor. We perfectly understand your humor,\nDuke Jurgen.\"\n\n\"And a very pretty fighter I found this famous Giarmuid as I\ntraveled westward. And since he killed my steed in the heat of our\nconversation, I was compelled to take over his horse, after I had\ngiven this poor Giarmuid proper interment. Oh, yes, a very pretty\nfighter, and I had heard much talk of him in Logreus. He was Lord of\nOre and Persaunt, you remember, though of course the estate came by\nhis mother's side.\"\n\n\"Oh, yes,\" they said. \"You must not think that we of Glathion are\nquite shut out from the great world. We have heard of all these\naffairs. And we have also heard fine things of your duchy of\nLogreus, messire.\"\n\n\"Doubtless,\" said Jurgen; and turned again to his singing.\n\n\"Lo, for I pray to thee, resistless Love,\" he descanted, \"that thou\nto-day make cry unto my love, to Phyllida whom I, poor Logreus, love\nso tenderly, not to deny me love! Asked why, say thou my drink and\nfood is love, in days wherein I think and brood on love, and truly\nfind naught good in aught save love, since Phyllida hath taught me\nhow to love.\"\n\nHere Jurgen groaned with nicely modulated ardor; and he continued:\n\"If she avow such constant hate of love as would ignore my great and\nconstant love, plead thou no more! With listless lore of love woo\nDeath resistlessly, resistless Love, in place of her that saith such\nscorn of love as lends to Death the lure and grace I love.\"\n\nThus Jurgen sang melodiously of his Phyllida, and meant thereby (as\neverybody knew) the Princess Guenevere. Since custom compelled him\nto deal in analogues, he dealt wholesale. Gems and metals, the\nblossoms of the field and garden, fires and wounds and sunrises and\nperfumes, an armory of lethal weapons, ice and a concourse of\nmythological deities were his starting-point. Then the seas\nand heavens were dredged of phenomena to be mentioned with\ndisparagement, in comparison with one or another feature of Duke\nJurgen's Phyllida. Zoology and history, and generally the remembered\ncontents of his pawnshop, were overhauled and made to furnish\ntargets for depreciation: whereas in dealing with the famous ladies\nloved by earlier poets, Duke Jurgen was positively insulting,\nallowing hardly a rag of merit. Still, he was careful to be just:\nand he allowed that these poor creatures might figure advantageously\nenough in eyes which had never beheld his Phyllida. And to all this\ninformation the lady whom he hymned attended willingly.\n\n\"She is a princess,\" reflected Jurgen. \"She is quite beautiful. She\nis young, and whatever her father's opinion, she is reasonably\nintelligent, as women go. Nobody could ask more. Why, then, am I not\nout of my head about her? Already she permits a kiss or two when\nnobody is around, and presently she will permit more. And she thinks\nI am quite the cleverest person living. Come, Jurgen, man! is there\nno heart in this spry young body you have regained? Come, let us\nhave a little honest rapture and excitement over this promising\nsituation!\"\n\nBut somehow Jurgen could not manage it. He was interested in what,\nhe knew, was going to happen. Yes, undoubtedly he looked forward to\nmore intimate converse with this beautiful young princess, but it\nwas rather as one anticipates partaking of a favorite dessert.\nJurgen felt that a liaison arranged for in this spirit was neither\none thing or the other.\n\n\"If only I could feel like a cold-blooded villain, now, I would at\nworst be classifiable. But I intend the girl no harm, I am honestly\nfond of her. I shall talk my best, broaden her ideas, and give her,\nI flatter myself, considerable pleasure: vulgar prejudices apart, I\nshall leave her no whit the worse. Why, the dear little thing, not\nfor the ransom of seven emperors would I do her any hurt! And in\nthese matters discretion is everything, simply everything. No, quite\ndecidedly, I am not a cold-blooded villain; and I shall deal fairly\nwith the Princess.\"\n\nThus Jurgen was disappointed by his own emotions, as he turned them\nfrom side to side, and prodded them, and shifted to a fresh\nviewpoint, only to find it no more favorable than the one\nrelinquished: but he veiled the inadequacy of his emotions with very\nmoving fervors. The tale does not record his conversations with\nGuenevere: for Jurgen now discoursed plain idiocy, as one purveys\nsweetmeats to a child in fond astonishment at the pet's appetite.\nAnd leisurely Jurgen advanced: there was no hurry, with weeks\nwherein to accomplish everything: meanwhile this routine work had a\nfamiliar pleasantness.\n\nFor the amateur co-ordinates matters, knowing that one thing\naxiomatically leads to another. There is no harm at all in\nrespectful allusions to a love that comprehends its hopelessness: it\nwas merely a fact which Jurgen mentioned, and was about to pass on;\nonly Guenevere, in modesty, was forced to disparage her own\nattractions, as an inadequate cause for so much misery. Common\ncourtesy demanded that Jurgen enter upon a rebuttal. To emphasize\none point in this, the orator was forced to take the hand of his\naudience: but strangers did that every day, with nobody objecting;\nmoreover, the hand was here, not so much seized as displayed by its\ndetainer, as evidence of what he contended. How else was he to prove\nthe Princess of Glathion had the loveliest hand in the world? It was\nnot a matter he could request Guenevere to accept on hearsay: and\nJurgen wanted to deal fairly with her.\n\nWell, but before relinquishing the loveliest hand in the world a\nconnoisseur will naturally kiss each fingertip: this is merely a\ntribute to perfection, and has no personal application. Besides, a\nkiss, wherever deposited, as Jurgen pointed out, is, when you think\nof it, but a ceremonial, of no intrinsic wrongfulness. The girl\ndemurring against this apothegm--as custom again exacted,--was,\nstill in common fairness, convinced of her error. So now, says\nJurgen presently, you see for yourself. Is anything changed between\nus? Do we not sit here, just as we were before? Why, to be sure! a\nkiss is now attestedly a quite innocuous performance, with nothing\nvery fearful about it one way or the other. It even has its pleasant\nside. Thus there is no need to make a pother over kisses or over an\narm about you, when it is more comfortable sitting so: how can one\nreasonably deny to a sincere friend what is accorded to a cousin or\nan old cloak? It would be nonsense, as Jurgen demonstrated with a\nvery apt citation from Napsacus.\n\nThen, sitting so, in the heat of conversation a speaker naturally\ngesticulates: and a deal of his eloquence is dependent upon his\nhands. When anyone is talking it is discourteous to interrupt,\nwhereas to lay hold of a gentleman's hand outright, as Jurgen\nparenthesized, is a little forward. No, he really did not think it\nwould be quite proper for Guenevere to hold his hand. Let us\npreserve decorum, even in trifles.\n\n\"Ah, but you know that you are doing wrong!\"\n\n\"I doing wrong! I, who am simply sitting here and talking my poor\nbest in an effort to entertain you! Come now, Princess, but tell me\nwhat you mean!\"\n\n\"You should know very well what I mean.\"\n\n\"But I protest to you I have not the least notion. How can I\npossibly know what you mean when you refuse to tell me what you\nmean?\"\n\nAnd since the Princess declined to put into words just what she\nmeant, things stayed as they were, for the while.\n\nThus did Jurgen co-ordinate matters, knowing that one thing\naxiomatically leads to another. And in short, affairs sped very much\nas Jurgen had anticipated.\n\nNow, by ordinary, Jurgen talked with Guenevere in dimly lighted\nplaces. He preferred this, because then he was not bothered by that\nunaccountable shadow whose presence in sunlight put him out. Nobody\never seemed to notice this preposterous shadow; it was patent,\nindeed, that nobody could see it save Jurgen: none the less, the\nthing worried him. So even from the first he remembered Guenevere as\na soft voice and a delectable perfume in twilight, as a beauty not\nclearly visioned.\n\nAnd Gogyrvan's people worried him. The hook-nosed tall old King had\nbeen by Jurgen dismissed from thought, as an enigma not important\nenough to be worth the trouble of solving. Gogyrvan at once seemed\nto be schooling himself to patience under some private annoyance and\nto be revolving in his mind some private jest; he was queer, and\nprobably abominable: but to grant the old rascal his due, he was not\nmeddlesome.\n\nThe people about Gogyrvan, though, were perplexing. These men who\nconsidered that all you possessed was loaned you to devote to the\nservice of your God, your King and every woman who crossed your\npath, could hardly be behaving rationally. To talk of serving God\nsounded as sonorously and as inspiritingly as a drum: yes, and a\ndrum had nothing but air in it. The priests said so-and-so: but did\nanybody believe the gallant Bishop of Merion, for example, was\nalways to be depended upon?\n\n\"I would like the opinion of Prince Evrawc's wife as to that,\" said\nJurgen, with a grin. For it was well-known that all affairs between\nthis Dame Alundyne and the Bishop were so discreetly managed as to\nafford no reason for any scandal whatever.\n\nAs for serving the King, there in plain view was Gogyrvan Gawr, for\nanyone who so elected, to regard and grow enthusiastic over:\nGogyrvan might be shrewd enough, but to Jurgen he suggested very\nlittle of the Lord's anointed. To the contrary, he reminded you of\nJurgen's brother-in-law, the grocer, without being graced by the\ntradesman's friendly interest in customers. Gogyrvan Gawr was a\nperson whom Jurgen simply could not imagine any intelligent Deity\nselecting as steward. And finally, when it came to serving women,\nwhat sort of service did women most cordially appreciate? Jurgen had\nhis answer pat enough, but it was an answer not suitable for\nutterance in a mixed company.\n\n\"No one of my honest opinions, in fact, is adapted to further my\npopularity in Glathion, because I am a monstrous clever fellow who\ndoes justice to things as they are. Therefore I must remember\nalways, in justice to myself, that I very probably hold traffic with\nmadmen. Yet Rome was a fine town, and it was geese who saved it.\nThese people may be right; and certainly I cannot go so far as to\nsay they are wrong: but still, at the same time--! Yes, that is how\nI feel about it.\"\n\nThus did Jurgen abide at the chivalrous court of Glathion, and\nconform to all its customs. In the matter of love-songs nobody\nprotested more movingly that the lady whom he loved (quite\nhopelessly, of course), embodied all divine perfections: and when it\ncame to knightly service, the possession of Caliburn made the\ndespatching of thieves and giants and dragons seem hardly\nsportsmanlike. Still, Jurgen fought a little, now and then, in order\nto conform to the customs of Glathion: and the Duke of Logreus was\nwidely praised as a very promising young knight.\n\nAnd all the while he fretted because he could just dimly perceive\nthat ideal which was served in Glathion, and the beauty of this\nideal, but could not possibly believe in it. Here was, again, a\nloveliness perceived in twilight, a beauty not clearly visioned.\n\n\"Yet am not I a monstrous clever fellow,\" he would console himself,\n\"to take them all in so completely? It is a joke to which, I think,\nI do full justice.\"\n\nSo Jurgen abode among these persons to whom life was a high-hearted\njourneying homeward. God the Father awaited you there, ready to\npunish at need, but eager to forgive, after the manner of all\nfathers: that one became a little soiled in traveling, and sometimes\nblundered into the wrong lane, was a matter which fathers\nunderstood: meanwhile here was an ever-present reminder of His\nperfection incarnated in woman, the finest and the noblest of His\ncreations. Thus was every woman a symbol to be honored magnanimously\nand reverently. So said they all.\n\n\"Why, but to be sure!\" assented Jurgen. And in support of his\nposition he very edifyingly quoted Ophelion, and Fabianus Papirius,\nand Sextius Niger to boot.\n\n\n\n\n15.\n\nOf Compromises in Glathion\n\n\nThe tale records that it was not a great while before, in simple\njustice to Guenevere, Duke Jurgen had afforded her the advantage of\nfrank conversation in actual privacy. For conventions have to be\nregarded, of course. Thus the time of a princess is not her own, and\nat any hour of day all sorts of people are apt to request an\naudience just when some most improving conversation is progressing\nfamously: but the Hall of Judgment stood vacant and unguarded at\nnight.\n\n\"But I would never consider doing such a thing,\" said Guenevere:\n\"and whatever must you think of me, to make such a proposal!\"\n\n\"That too, my dearest, is a matter which I can only explain in\nprivate.\"\n\n\"And if I were to report your insolence to my father--\"\n\n\"You would annoy him exceedingly: and from such griefs it is our\nduty to shield the aged.\"\n\n\"And besides, I am afraid.\"\n\n\"Oh, my dearest,\" says Jurgen, and his voice quavered, because his\nlove and his sorrow seemed very great to him: \"but, oh, my dearest,\ncan it be that you have not faith in me! For with all my body and\nsoul I love you, as I have loved you ever since I first raised your\nface between my hands, and understood that I had never before known\nbeauty. Indeed, I love you as, I think, no man has ever loved any\nwoman that lived in the long time that is gone, for my love is\nworship, and no less. The touch of your hand sets me to trembling,\ndear; and the look of your gray eyes makes me forget there is\nanything of pain or grief or evil anywhere: for you are the\nloveliest thing God ever made, with joy in the new skill that had\ncome to His fingers. And you have not faith in me!\"\n\nThen the Princess gave a little sobbing laugh of content and\nrepentance, and she clasped the hand of her grief-stricken lover.\n\"Forgive me, Jurgen, for I cannot bear to see you so unhappy!\"\n\n\"Ah, and what is my grief to you!\" he asks of her, bitterly.\n\n\"Much, oh, very much, my dear!\" she whispered.\n\nSo in the upshot Jurgen was never to forget that moment wherein he\nwaited behind the door, and through the crack between the half-open\ndoor and the door-frame saw Guenevere approach irresolutely, a\nwavering white blur in the dark corridor. She came to talk with him\nwhere they would not be bothered with interruptions: but she came\ndelightfully perfumed, in her night-shift, and in nothing else.\nJurgen wondered at the way of these women even as his arms went\nabout her in the gloom. He remembered always the feel of that warm\nand slender and yielding body, naked under the thin fabric of the\nshift, as his arms first went about her: of all their moments\ntogether that last breathless minute before either of them had\nspoken stayed in his memory as the most perfect.\n\nAnd yet what followed was pleasant enough, for now it was to the\nwide and softly cushioned throne of a king, no less, that Guenevere\nand Jurgen resorted, so as to talk where they would not be bothered\nwith interruptions. The throne of Gogyrvan was perfectly dark, under\nits canopy, in the unlighted hall, and in the dark nobody can see\nwhat happens.\n\nThereafter these two contrived to talk together nightly upon the\nthrone of Glathion: but what remained in Jurgen's memory was that\nlast moment behind the door, and the six tall windows upon the east\nside of the hall, those windows which were of commingled blue and\nsilver, but were all an opulent glitter, throughout that time in the\nnight when the moon was clear of the tree-tops and had not yet risen\nhigh enough to be shut off by the eaves. For that was all which\nJurgen really saw in the Hall of Judgment. There would be a brief\nperiod wherein upon the floor beneath each window would show a\nnarrow quadrangle of moonlight: but the windows were set in a wall\nso deep that this soon passed. On the west side were six windows\nalso, but about these was a porch; so no light ever came from the\nwest.\n\nThus in the dark they would laugh and talk with lowered voices.\nJurgen came to these encounters well primed with wine, and in\nconsequence, as he quite comprehended, talked like an angel, without\nconfining himself exclusively to celestial topics. He was often\ndelighted by his own brilliance, and it seemed to him a pity there\nwas no one handy to take it down: so much of his talking was\nnecessarily just a little over the head of any girl, however\nbeautiful and adorable.\n\nAnd Guenevere, he found, talked infinitely better at night. It was\nnot altogether the wine which made him think that, either: the girl\ndisplayed a side she veiled in the day time. A girl, far less a\nprincess, is not supposed to know more than agrees with a man's\nnotion of maidenly ignorance, she contended.\n\n\"Nobody ever told me anything about so many interesting matters.\nWhy, I remember--\" And Guenevere narrated a quaintly pathetic little\nstory, here irrelevant, of what had befallen her some three or four\nyears earlier. \"My mother was living then: but she had never said a\nword about such things, and frightened as I was, I did not go to\nher.\"\n\nJurgen asked questions.\n\n\"Why, yes. There was nothing else to do. I cannot talk freely with\nmy maids and ladies even now. I cannot question them, that is: of\ncourse I can listen as they talk among themselves. For me to do more\nwould be unbecoming in a princess. And I wonder quietly about so\nmany things!\" She educed instances. \"After that I used to notice the\nanimals and the poultry. So I worked out problems for myself, after\na fashion. But nobody ever told me anything directly.\"\n\n\"Yet I dare say that Thragnar--well, the Troll King, being very\nwise, must have made zoology much clearer.\"\n\n\"Thragnar was a skilled enchanter,\" says a demure voice in the dark;\n\"and through the potency of his abominable arts, I can remember\nnothing whatever about Thragnar.\"\n\nJurgen laughed, ruefully. Still, he was tolerably sure about\nThragnar now.\n\nSo they talked: and Jurgen marvelled, as millions of men had done\naforetime, and have done since, at the girl's eagerness, now that\nbarriers were down, to discuss in considerable detail all such\nmatters as etiquette had previously compelled them to ignore. About\nher ladies in waiting, for example, she afforded him some very\ncurious data: and concerning men in general she asked innumerable\nquestions that Jurgen found delicious.\n\nSuch innocence combined--upon the whole--with a certain moral\nobtuseness, seemed inconceivable. For to Jurgen it now appeared that\nGuenevere was behaving with not quite the decorum which might fairly\nbe expected of a princess. Contrition, at least, one might have\nlooked for, over this hole and corner business: whereas it worried\nhim to note that Guenevere was coming to accept affairs almost as a\nmatter of course. Certainly she did not seem to think at all of any\nwickedness anywhere: the utmost she suggested was the necessity of\nbeing very careful. And while she never contradicted him in these\nprivate conversations, and submitted in everything to his judgment,\nher motive now appeared to be hardly more than a wish to please him.\nIt was almost as though she were humoring him in his foolishness.\nAnd all this within six weeks! reflected Jurgen: and he nibbled his\nfinger-nails, with a mental side-glance toward the opinions of King\nGogyrvan Gawr.\n\nBut in daylight the Princess remained unchanged. In daylight Jurgen\nadored her, but with no feeling of intimacy. Very rarely did\noccasion serve for them to be actually alone in the day time. Once\nor twice, though, he kissed her in open sunlight: and then her eyes\nwere melting but wary, and the whole affair was rather flat. She did\nnot repulse him: but she stayed a princess, appreciative of her\nstation, and seemed not at all the invisible person who talked with\nhim at night in the Hall of Judgment.\n\nPresently, by common consent, they began to avoid each other by\ndaylight. Indeed, the time of the Princess was now pre-occupied: for\nnow had come into Glathion a ship with saffron colored sails, and\nhaving for its figure-head a dragon that was painted with thirty\ncolors. Such was the ship which brought Messire Merlin Ambrosius and\nDame Ana\u00eftis, the Lady of the Lake, with a great retinue, to fetch\nyoung Guenevere to London, where she was to be married to King\nArthur.\n\nFirst there was a week of feasting and tourneys and high mirth of\nevery kind. Now the trumpets blared, and upon a scaffolding that was\ngay with pennons and smart tapestries King Gogyrvan sat nodding and\nblinking in his brightest raiment, to judge who did the best: and\ninto the field came joyously a press of dukes and earls and barons\nand many famous knights, to contend for honor and a trumpery chaplet\nof pearls.\n\nJurgen shrugged, and honored custom. The Duke of Logreus acquitted\nhimself with credit in the opening tournament, unhorsing Sir Dodinas\nle Sauvage, Earl Roth of Meliot, Sir Epinogris, and Sir Hector de\nMaris: then Earl Damas of Listenise smote like a whirlwind, and\nJurgen slid contentedly down the tail of his fine horse. His part in\nthe tournament was ended, and he was heartily glad of it. He\npreferred to contemplate rather than share in such festivities: and\nhe now followed his bent with a most exquisite misery, because he\nconsidered that never had any other poet occupied a situation more\npicturesque.\n\nBy day he was the Duke of Logreus, which in itself was a notable\nadvance upon pawnbroking: after nightfall he discounted the peculiar\nprivileges of a king. It was the secrecy, the deluding of everybody,\nwhich he especially enjoyed: and in the thought of what a monstrous\nclever fellow was Jurgen, he almost lost sight of the fact that he\nwas miserable over the impending marriage of the lady he loved.\n\nOnce or twice he caught the tail-end of a glance from Gogyrvan's\nbright old eye. Jurgen by this time abhorred Gogyrvan, as a person\nof abominably unjust dealings.\n\n\"To take no better care of his own daughter,\" Jurgen considered, \"is\ninfamous. The man is neglecting his duties as a father, and to do\nthat is not fair.\"\n\n\n\n\n16.\n\nDivers Imbroglios of King Smoit\n\n\nNow it befell that for three nights in succession the Princess\nGuenevere was unable to converse with Jurgen in the Hall of\nJudgment. So upon one of these disengaged evenings Duke Jurgen held\na carouse with Aribert and Urien, two of Gogyrvan's barons, who had\njust returned from Pengwaed-Gir, and had queer tales to narrate of\nthe Trooping Fairies who garrison that place.\n\nAll three were seasoned topers, so Jurgen went to bed prepared for\nanything. Later he sat up in bed, and found it was much as he had\nsuspected. The room was haunted, and at the foot of his couch were\ntwo ghosts: one an impudent-looking leering phantom, in a suit of\nold-fashioned armor, and the other a beautiful pale lady, in the\ncustomary flowing white draperies.\n\n\"Good-morning to you both,\" says Jurgen, \"and sorry am I that I\ncannot truthfully observe I am glad to see you. Though you are\nwelcome enough if you can manage to haunt the room quietly.\" Then,\nseeing that both phantoms looked puzzled, Jurgen proceeded to\nexplain. \"Last year, when I was traveling upon business in\nWestphalia, it was my grief to spend a night in the haunted castle\nof Neuedesberg, for I could not get any sleep at all in that place.\nThere was a ghost in charge who persisted in rattling very large\niron chains and in groaning dismally throughout the night. Then\ntoward morning he took the form of a monstrous cat, and climbed upon\nthe foot of my bed: and there he squatted yowling until daybreak.\nAnd as I am ignorant of German, I was not able to convey to him any\nidea of my disapproval of his conduct. Now I trust that as\ncompatriots, or as I might say with more exactness, as former\ncompatriots, you will appreciate that such behavior is out of all\nreason.\"\n\n\"Messire,\" says the male ghost, and he oozed to his full height,\n\"you are guilty of impertinence in harboring such a suspicion. I can\nonly hope it proceeds from ignorance.\"\n\n\"For I am sure,\" put in the lady, \"that I always disliked cats, and\nwe never had them about the castle.\"\n\n\"And you must pardon my frankness, messire,\" continued the male\nghost, \"but you cannot have moved widely in noble company if you are\nindeed unable to distinguish between members of the feline species\nand of the reigning family of Glathion.\"\n\n\"Well, I have seen dowager queens who justified some such\nconfusion,\" observed Jurgen. \"Still, I entreat the forgiveness of\nboth of you, for I had no idea that I was addressing royalty.\"\n\n\"I was King Smoit,\" explained the male phantom, \"and this was my\nninth wife, Queen Sylvia Tereu.\"\n\nJurgen bowed as gracefully, he flattered himself, as was possible in\nhis circumstances. It is not easy to bow gracefully while sitting\nerect in bed.\n\n\"Often and over again have I heard of you, King Smoit,\" says Jurgen.\n\"You were the grandfather of Gogyrvan Gawr, and you murdered your\nninth wife, and your eighth wife, and your fifth wife, and your\nthird wife too: and you went under the title of the Black King, for\nyou were reputed the wickedest monarch that ever reigned in Glathion\nand the Red Islands.\"\n\nIt seemed to Jurgen that King Smoit evinced embarrassment, but it is\nhard to be quite certain when a ghost is blushing. \"Perhaps I was\nspoken of in some such terms,\" says Smoit, \"for the neighbors were\ncensorious gossips, and I was not lucky in my marriages. And I\nregret, I bitterly regret, to confess that, in a moment of extreme\nyet not quite unprovoked excitement, I assassinated the lady whom\nyou now behold.\"\n\n\"And I am sure, through no fault of mine,\" says Sylvia Tereu.\n\n\"Certainly, my dear, you resisted with all your might. I only wish\nthat you had been a larger and a brawnier woman. But you, messire,\ncan now perceive, I suppose, the folly of expecting a high King of\nGlathion, and the queen that he took delight in, to sit upon your\nbed and howl?\"\n\nSo then, upon reflection, Jurgen admitted he had never had that\nexperience; nor, he handsomely added, could he recall any similar\nincident among his friends.\n\n\"The notion is certainly preposterous,\" went on King Smoit, and very\ngrimly he smiled. \"We are drawn hither by quite other intentions. In\nfact, we wish to ask of you, as a member of the family, your\nassistance in a delicate affair.\"\n\n\"I would be delighted,\" Jurgen stated, \"to aid you in any possible\nway. But why do you call me a member of the family?\"\n\n\"Now, to deal frankly,\" says Smoit, with a grin, \"I am not claiming\nany alliance with the Duke of Logreus--\"\n\n\"Sometimes,\" says Jurgen, \"one prefers to travel incognito. As a\nking, you ought to understand that.\"\n\n--\"My interest is rather in the grandson of Steinvor. Now you will\nremember your grandmother Steinvor as, I do not doubt, a charming\nold lady. But I remember Steinvor, the wife of Ludwig, as one of the\nloveliest girls that a king's eyes ever lighted on.\"\n\n\"Oh, sir,\" says Jurgen, horrified, \"and what is this you are telling\nme!\"\n\n\"Merely that I had always an affectionate nature,\" replied King\nSmoit, \"and that I was a fine upstanding young king in those days.\nAnd one of the results of my being these things was your father,\nwhom men called Coth the son of Ludwig. But I can assure you Ludwig\nhad done nothing to deserve it.\"\n\n\"Well, well!\" said Jurgen: \"all this is very scandalous: and very\nupsetting, too, it is to have a brand-new grandfather foisted upon\nyou at this hour of the morning. Still, it happened a great while\nago: and if Ludwig did not fret over it, I see no reason why I\nshould do so. And besides, King Smoit, it may be that you are not\ntelling me the truth.\"\n\n\"If you doubt my confession, messire my grandson, you have only to\nlook into the next mirror. It is precisely on this account that we\nhave ventured to dispel your slumbers. For to me you bear a striking\nresemblance. You have the family face.\"\n\nNow Jurgen considered the lineaments of King Smoit of Glathion.\n\"Really,\" said Jurgen, \"of course it is very flattering to be told\nthat your appearance is regal. I do not at all know what to say in\nreply to the implied compliment, without seeming uncivil. I would\nnever for a moment question that you were much admired in your day,\nsir, and no doubt very justly so. None the less--well, my nose, now,\nfrom such glimpses of it as mirrors have hitherto afforded, does not\nappear to be a snub-nose.\"\n\n\"Ah, but appearances are proverbially deceitful,\" observed King\nSmoit.\n\n\"And about the left hand corner,\" protested Queen Sylvia Tereu, \"I\ndetect a distinct resemblance.\"\n\n\"Now I may seem unduly obtuse,\" said Jurgen, \"for I am a little\nobtuse. It is a habit with me, a very bad habit formed in early\ninfancy, and I have never been able to break myself of it. And so I\nhave not any notion at what you two are aiming.\"\n\nReplied the ghost of King Smoit: \"I will explain. Just sixty-three\nyears ago to-night I murdered my ninth wife in circumstances of\npeculiar brutality, as you with rather questionable taste have\nmentioned.\"\n\nThen Jurgen was somewhat abashed, and felt that it did not become him,\nwho had so recently cut off the head of his own wife, to assume the airs\nof a precisian. \"Of course,\" says Jurgen, more broad-mindedly, \"these\nlittle family differences are always apt to occur in married life.\"\n\n\"So be it! Though, by the so-and-sos of Ursula's eleven thousand\ntraveling companions, there was a time wherein I would not have\nbrooked such criticism. Ah, well, that time is overpast, and I am a\nbloodless thing that the wind sweeps at the wind's will through\nlands in which but yesterday King Smoit was dreaded. So I let that\nwhich has been be.\"\n\n\"Well, that seems reasonable,\" said Jurgen, \"and to be a trifle\nrhetorical is the privilege of grandfathers. Therefore I entreat\nyou, sir, to continue.\"\n\n\"Two years afterward I followed the Emperor Locrine in his\nexpedition against the Suevetii, an evil and luxurious people who\nworship Gozarin peculiarly, by means of little boats. I must tell\nyou, grandson, that was a goodly raid, conducted by a band of tidy\nfighters in a land of wealth and of fine women. But alack, as the\nsaying is, in our return from Osnach my loved general Locrine was\ncaptured by that arch-fiend Duke Corineus of Cornwall: and I, among\nmany others who had followed the Emperor, paid for our merry\nlarcenies and throat-cuttings a very bitter price. Corineus was not\nat all broadminded, not what you would call a man of the world. So\nit was in a noisome dungeon that I was incarcerated,--I, Smoit of\nGlathion, who conquered Enisgarth and Sargyll in open battle and\nfearlessly married the heiress of Camwy! But I spare you the\nunpleasant details. It suffices to say that I was dissatisfied with\nmy quarters. Yet fain to leave them as I became, there was but one\nway. It involved the slaying of my gaoler, a step which was, I\nconfess, to me distasteful. I was getting on in life, and had grown\ntired of killing people. Yet, to mature deliberation, the life of a\ngraceless varlet, void of all gentleness and with no bowels of\ncompassion, and deaf to suggestions of bribery, appeared of no\noverwhelming importance.\"\n\n\"I can readily imagine, grandfather, that you were not deeply\ninterested in either the nature or the anatomy of your gaoler. So\nyou did what was unavoidable.\"\n\n\"Yes, I treacherously slew him, and escaped in an impenetrable\ndisguise to Glathion, where not long afterward I died. My dying\njust then was most annoying, for I was on the point of being married,\nand she was a remarkably attractive girl,--King Tyrnog's daughter,\nfrom Craintnor way. She would have been my thirteenth wife. And not\na week before the ceremony I tripped and fell down my own castle\nsteps, and broke my neck. It was a humiliating end for one who had\nbeen a warrior of considerable repute. Upon my word, it made me think\nthere might be something, after all, in those old superstitions about\nthirteen being an unlucky number. But what was I saying?--oh, yes!\nIt is also unlucky to be careless about one's murders. You will\nreadily understand that for one or two such affairs I am condemned\nyearly to haunt the scene of my crime on its anniversary: such\nan arrangement is fair enough, and I make no complaint, though of\ncourse it does rather break into the evening. But it happened that\nI treacherously slew my gaoler with a large cobble-stone on the\nfifteenth of June. Now the unfortunate part, the really awkward\nfeature, was that this was to an hour the anniversary of the death\nof my ninth wife.\"\n\n\"And you murdering insignificant strangers on such a day!\" said\nQueen Sylvia. \"You climbing out of jail windows figged out as a lady\nabbess, on an anniversary you ought to have kept on your knees in\nunavailing repentance! But you were a hard man, Smoit, and it was\nlittle loving courtesy you showed your wife at a time when she might\nreasonably look to be remembered, and that is a fact.\"\n\n\"My dear, I admit it was heedless of me. I could not possibly say\nmore. At any rate, grandson, I discovered after my decease that such\nheedlessness entailed my haunting on every fifteenth of June at\nthree in the morning two separate places.\"\n\n\"Well, but that was justice,\" says Jurgen.\n\n\"It may have been justice,\" Smoit admitted: \"but my point is that\nit happened to be impossible. However, I was aided by my\ngreat-great-grandfather Penpingon Vreichvras ap Mylwald Glasanief.\nHe too had the family face; and in every way resembled me so\nclosely that he impersonated me to everyone's entire satisfaction;\nand with my wife's assistance re-enacted my disastrous crime upon\nthe scene of its occurrence, June after June.\"\n\n\"Indeed,\" said Queen Sylvia, \"he handled his sword infinitely better\nthan you, my dear. It was a thrilling pleasure to be murdered by\nPenpingon Vreichvras ap Mylwald Glasanief, and I shall always regret\nhim.\"\n\n\"For you must understand, grandson, that the term of King Penpingon\nVreichvras ap Mylwald Glasanief's stay in Purgatory has now run out,\nand he has recently gone to Heaven. That was pleasant for him, I\ndare say, so I do not complain. Still, it leaves me with no one to\ntake my place. Angels, as you will readily understand, are not\npermitted to perpetrate murders, even in the way of kindness. It\nmight be thought to establish a dangerous precedent.\"\n\n\"All this,\" said Jurgen, \"seems regrettable, but not strikingly\nexplicit. I have a heart and a half to serve you, sir, with not\nseven-eighths of a notion as to what you want of me. Come, put a\nname to it!\"\n\n\"You have, as I have said, the family face. You are, in fact, the\nliving counterpart of Smoit of Glathion. So I beseech you, messire\nmy grandson, for this one night to impersonate my ghost, and with\nthe assistance of Queen Sylvia Tereu to see that at three o'clock\nthe White Turret is haunted to everyone's satisfaction. Otherwise,\"\nsaid Smoit, gloomily, \"the consequences will be deplorable.\"\n\n\"But I have had no experience at haunting,\" Jurgen confessed. \"It is\na pursuit in which I do not pretend to competence: and I do not even\nknow just how one goes about it.\"\n\n\"That matter is simple, although mysterious preliminaries will be,\nof course, necessitated, in order to convert a living person into a\nghost--\"\n\n\"The usual preliminaries, sir, are out of the question: and I must\npositively decline to be stabbed or poisoned or anything of that\nkind, even to humor my grandfather.\"\n\nBoth Smoit and Sylvia protested that any such radical step would be\nsuperfluous, since Jurgen's ghostship was to be transient. In fact,\nall Jurgen would have to do would be to drain the embossed goblet\nwhich Sylvia Tereu held out to him, with Druidical invocations.\n\nAnd for a moment Jurgen hesitated. The whole business seemed rather\nimprobable. Still, the ties of kin are strong, and it is not often\none gets the chance to aid, however slightly, one's long-dead\ngrandfather: besides, the potion smelt very invitingly.\n\n\"Well,\" says Jurgen, \"I am willing to taste any drink once.\" Then\nJurgen drank.\n\nThe flavor was excellent. Yet the drink seemed not to affect Jurgen,\nat first. Then he began to feel a trifle light-headed. Next he\nlooked downward, and was surprised to notice there was nobody in his\nbed. Closer investigation revealed the shadowy outline of a human\nfigure, through which the bedclothing had collapsed. This, he\ndecided, was all that was left of Jurgen. And it gave him a queer\nsensation. Jurgen jumped like a startled horse, and so violently\nthat he flew out of bed, and found himself floating imponderably\nabout the room.\n\nNow Jurgen recognized the feeling perfectly. He had often had it in\nhis sleep, in dreams wherein he would bend his legs at the knees so\nthat his feet came up behind him, and he would pass through the air\nwithout any effort. Then it seemed ridiculously simple, and he would\nwonder why he never thought of it before. And then he would reflect:\n\"This is an excellent way of getting around. I will come to\nbreakfast this way in the morning, and show Lisa how simple it is.\nHow it will astonish her, to be sure, and how clever she will think\nme!\" And then Jurgen would wake up, and find that somehow he had\nforgotten the trick of it.\n\nBut just now this manner of locomotion was undeniably easy. So\nJurgen floated around his bed once or twice, then to the ceiling,\nfor practice. Through inexperience, he miscalculated the necessary\nforce, and popped through into the room above, where he found\nhimself hovering immediately over the Bishop of Merion. His eminence\nwas not alone, but as both occupants of the apartment were asleep,\nJurgen witnessed nothing unepiscopal. Now Jurgen rejoined his\ngrandfather, and girded on charmed Caliburn, and demanded what must\nnext be done.\n\n\"The assassination will take place in the White Turret, as usual.\nQueen Sylvia will instruct you in the details. You can invent most\nof the affair, however, as the Lady of the Lake, who occupies this\nroom to-night, is very probably unacquainted with our terrible\nhistory.\"\n\nThen King Smoit observed that it was high time he kept his\nappointment in Cornwall, and he melted into air, with an easy\nconfidence that bespoke long practise: and Jurgen followed Queen\nSylvia Tereu.\n\n\n\n\n17.\n\nAbout a Cock That Crowed Too Soon\n\n\nNext the tale tells of how Jurgen and the ghost of Queen Sylvia\nTereu came into the White Turret. The Lady of the Lake was in bed:\nshe slept unaccompanied, as Jurgen noted with approval, for he\nwished to intrude upon no more t\u00eate-\u00e0-t\u00eates. And Dame Ana\u00eftis did\nnot at first awake.\n\nNow this was a gloomy and high-paneled apartment, with exactly the\ntraditional amount of moonlight streaming through two windows. Any\nghost, even an apprentice, could have acquitted himself with credit\nin such surroundings, and Jurgen thought he did extremely well. He\nwas atavistically brutal, and to improvise the accompanying dialogue\nhe did not find difficult. So everything went smoothly, and with\nsuch spirit that Ana\u00eftis was presently wakened by Queen Sylvia's\nvery moving wails for mercy, and sat erect in bed, as though a\nlittle startled. Then the Lady of the Lake leaned back among the\npillows, and witnessed the remainder of the terrible scene with\nremarkable self-possession.\n\nSo it was that the tragedy swelled to its appalling climax, and\nsubsided handsomely. With the aid of Caliburn, Jurgen had murdered\nhis temporary wife. He had dragged her insensate body across the\nfloor, by the hair of her head, and had carefully remembered first\nto put her comb in his pocket, as Queen Sylvia had requested, so\nthat it would not be lost. He had given vent to several fiendish\n\"Ha-ha's\" and all the old high imprecations he remembered: and in\nshort, everything had gone splendidly when he left the White Turret\nwith a sense of self-approval and Queen Sylvia Tereu.\n\nThe two of them paused in the winding stairway; and in the darkness,\nafter he had restored her comb, the Queen was telling Jurgen how\nsorry she was to part with him.\n\n\"For it is back to the cold grave I must be going now, Messire\nJurgen, and to the tall flames of Purgatory: and it may be that I\nshall not ever see you any more.\"\n\n\"I shall regret the circumstance, madame,\" says Jurgen, \"for you are\nthe loveliest person I have ever seen.\"\n\nThe Queen was pleased. \"That is a delightfully boyish speech, and\none can see it comes from the heart. I only wish that I could meet\nwith such unsophisticated persons in my present abode. Instead, I am\nherded with battered sinners who have no heart, who are not frank\nand outspoken about anything, and I detest their affectations.\"\n\n\"Ah, then you are not happy with your husband, Sylvia? I suspected\nas much.\"\n\n\"I see very little of Smoit. It is true he has eight other wives all\nresident in the same flame, and cannot well show any partiality. Two\nof his Queens, though, went straight to Heaven: and his eighth wife,\nGudrun, we are compelled to fear, must have been an unrepentant\nsinner, for she has never reached Purgatory. But I always distrusted\nGudrun, myself: otherwise I would never have suggested to Smoit that\nhe have her strangled in order to make me his queen. You see, I\nthought it a fine thing to be a queen, in those days, Jurgen, when I\nwas an artless slip of a girl. And Smoit was all honey and perfume\nand velvet, in those days, Jurgen, and little did I suspect the\ncruel fate that was to befall me.\"\n\n\"Indeed, it is a sad thing, Sylvia, to be murdered by the hand\nwhich, so to speak, is sworn to keep an eye on your welfare, and\nwhich rightfully should serve you on its knees.\"\n\n\"It was not that I minded. Smoit killed me in a fit of jealousy, and\njealousy is in its blundering way a compliment. No, a worse thing\nthan that befell me, Jurgen, and embittered all my life in the\nflesh.\" And Sylvia began to weep.\n\n\"And what was that thing, Sylvia?\"\n\nQueen Sylvia whispered the terrible truth. \"My husband did not\nunderstand me.\"\n\n\"Now, by Heaven,\" says Jurgen, \"when a woman tells me that, even\nthough the woman be dead, I know what it is she expects of me.\"\n\nSo Jurgen put his arm about the ghost of Queen Sylvia Tereu, and\ncomforted her. Then, finding her quite willing to be comforted,\nJurgen sat for a while upon the dark steps, with one arm still about\nQueen Sylvia. The effect of the potion had evidently worn off,\nbecause Jurgen found himself to be composed no longer of cool\nimponderable vapor, but of the warmest and hardest sort of flesh\neverywhere. But probably the effect of the wine which Jurgen had\ndrunk earlier in the evening had not worn off: for now Jurgen began\nto talk wildishly in the dark, about the necessity of his, in some\nway, avenging the injury inflicted upon his nominal grandfather,\nLudwig, and Jurgen drew his sword, charmed Caliburn.\n\n\"For, as you perceive,\" said Jurgen, \"I carry such weapons as are\nsufficient for all ordinary encounters. And am I not to use them, to\nrequite King Smoit for the injustice he did poor Ludwig? Why,\ncertainly I must. It is my duty.\"\n\n\"Ah, but Smoit by this is back in Purgatory,\" Queen Sylvia\nprotested, \"And to draw your sword against a woman is cowardly.\"\n\n\"The avenging sword of Jurgen, my charming Sylvia, is the terror of\nenvious men, but it is the comfort of all pretty women.\"\n\n\"It is undoubtedly a very large sword,\" said she: \"oh, a magnificent\nsword, as I can perceive even in the dark. But Smoit, I repeat, is\nnot here to measure weapons with you.\"\n\n\"Now your arguments irritate me, whereas an honest woman would see\nto it that all the legacies of her dead husband were duly\nsatisfied--\"\n\n\"Oh, oh! and what do you mean--?\"\n\n\"Well, but certainly a grandson is--at one remove, I grant you,--a\nsort of legacy.\"\n\n\"There is something in what you advance--\"\n\n\"There is a great deal in what I advance, I can assure you. It is\nthe most natural and most penetrating kind of logic; and I wish\nmerely to discharge a duty--\"\n\n\"But you upset me, with that big sword of yours, you make me\nnervous, and I cannot argue so long as you are flourishing it about.\nCome now, put up your sword! Oh, what is anybody to do with you!\nHere is the sheath for your sword,\" says she.\n\nAt this point they were interrupted.\n\n\"Duke of Logreus,\" says the voice of Dame Ana\u00eftis, \"do you not think\nit would be better to retire, before such antics at the door of my\nbedroom give rise to a scandal?\"\n\nFor Ana\u00eftis had half-opened the door of her bedroom, and with a lamp\nin her hand, was peering out into the narrow stairway. Jurgen was a\nlittle embarrassed, for his apparent intimacy with a lady who had\nbeen dead for sixty-three years would be, he felt, a matter\ndifficult to explain. So Jurgen rose to his feet, and hastily put up\nthe weapon he had exhibited to Queen Sylvia, and decided to pass\nairily over the whole affair. And outside, a cock crowed, for it was\nnow dawn.\n\n\"I bid you a good morning, Dame Ana\u00eftis,\" said Jurgen. \"But the\nstairways hereabouts are confusing, and I must have lost my way. I\nwas going for a stroll. This is my distant relative Queen Sylvia\nTereu, who kindly offered to accompany me. We were going out to\ngather mushrooms and to watch the sunrise, you conceive.\"\n\n\"Messire de Logreus, I think you had far better go back to bed.\"\n\n\"To the contrary, madame, it is my manifest duty to serve as Queen\nSylvia's escort--\"\n\n\"For all that, messire, I do not see any Queen Sylvia.\"\n\nJurgen looked about him. And certainly his grandfather's ninth wife\nwas no longer visible. \"Yes, she has vanished. But that was to be\nexpected at cockcrow. Still, that cock crew just at the wrong\nmoment,\" said Jurgen, ruefully. \"It was not fair.\"\n\nAnd Dame Ana\u00eftis said: \"Gogyrvan's cellar is well stocked: and you\nsat late with Urien and Aribert: and doubtless they also were lucky\nenough to discover a queen or two in Gogyrvan's cellar. No less, I\nthink you are still a little drunk.\"\n\n\"Now answer me this, Dame Ana\u00eftis: were you not visited by two\nghosts to-night?\"\n\n\"Why, that is as it may be,\" she replied: \"but the White Turret is\nnotoriously haunted, and it is few quiet nights I have passed there,\nfor Gogyrvan's people were a bad lot.\"\n\n\"Upon my word,\" wonders Jurgen, \"what manner of person is this Dame\nAna\u00eftis, who remains unstirred by such a brutal murder as I have\ncommitted, and makes no more of ghosts than I would of moths? I have\nheard she is an enchantress, I am sure she is a fine figure of a\nwoman: and in short, here is a matter which would repay looking\ninto, were not young Guenevere the mistress of my heart.\"\n\nAloud he said: \"Perhaps then I am drunk, madame. None the less, I\nstill think the cock crew just at the wrong moment.\"\n\n\"Some day you must explain the meaning of that,\" says she.\n\"Meanwhile I am going back to bed, and I again advise you to do the\nsame.\"\n\nThen the door closed, the bolt fell, and Jurgen went away, still in\nconsiderable excitement.\n\n\"This Dame Ana\u00eftis is an interesting personality,\" he reflected,\n\"and it would be a pleasure, now, to demonstrate to her my grievance\nagainst the cock, did occasion serve. Well, things less likely than\nthat have happened. Then, too, she came upon me when my sword was\nout, and in consequence knows I wield a respectable weapon. She may\nfeel the need of a good swordsman some day, this handsome Lady of\nthe Lake who has no husband. So let us cultivate patience.\nMeanwhile, it appears that I am of royal blood. Well, I fancy there\nis something in the scandal, for I detect in me a deal in common\nwith this King Smoit. Twelve wives, though! no, that is too many. I\nwould limit no man's liaisons, but twelve wives in lawful matrimony\nbespeaks an optimism unknown to me. No, I do not think I am drunk:\nbut it is unquestionable that I am not walking very straight.\nCertainly, too, we did drink a great deal. So I had best go quietly\nback to bed, and say nothing more about to-night's doings.\"\n\nAs much he did. And this was the first time that Jurgen, who had\nbeen a pawnbroker, held any discourse with Dame Ana\u00eftis, whom men\ncalled the Lady of the Lake.\n\n\n\n\n18.\n\nWhy Merlin Talked in Twilight\n\n\nIt was two days later that Jurgen was sent for by Merlin Ambrosius.\nThe Duke of Logreus came to the magician in twilight, for the\nwindows of this room were covered with sheets which shut out the\nfull radiance of day. Everything in the room was thus visible in a\ndiffused and tempered light that cast no shadows. In his hand Merlin\nheld a small mirror, about three inches square, from which he raised\nhis dark eyes puzzlingly.\n\n\"I have been talking to my fellow ambassador, Dame Ana\u00eftis: and I\nhave been wondering, Messire de Logreus, if you have ever reared\nwhite pigeons.\"\n\nJurgen looked at the little mirror. \"There was a woman of the L\u00e9shy\nwho not long ago showed me an employment to which one might put the\nblood of white pigeons. She too used such a mirror. I saw what\nfollowed, but I must tell you candidly that I understood nothing of\nthe ins and outs of the affair.\"\n\nMerlin nodded. \"I suspected something of the sort. So I elected to\ntalk with you in a room wherein, as you perceive, there are no\nshadows.\"\n\n\"Now, upon my word,\" says Jurgen, \"but here at last is somebody who\ncan see my attendant! Why is it, pray, that no one else can do so?\"\n\n\"It was my own shadow which drew my notice to your follower. For I,\ntoo, have had a shadow given me. It was the gift of my father, of\nwhom you have probably heard.\"\n\nIt was Jurgen's turn to nod. Everybody knew who had begotten Merlin\nAmbrosius, and sensible persons preferred not to talk of the matter.\nThen Merlin went on to speak of the traffic between Merlin and\nMerlin's shadow.\n\n\"Thus and thus,\" says Merlin, \"I humor my shadow. And thus and thus\nmy shadow serves me. There is give-and-take, such as is requisite\neverywhere.\"\n\n\"I understand,\" says Jurgen: \"but has no other person ever perceived\nthis shadow of yours?\"\n\n\"Once only, when for a while my shadow deserted me,\" Merlin replied.\n\"It was on a Sunday my shadow left me, so that I walked unattended\nin naked sunlight: for my shadow was embracing the church-steeple,\nwhere church-goers knelt beneath him. The church-goers were\nobscurely troubled without suspecting why, for they looked only at\neach other. The priest and I alone saw him quite clearly,--the\npriest because this thing was evil, and I because this thing was\nmine.\"\n\n\"Well, now I wonder what did the priest say to your bold shadow?\"\n\n\"'But you must go away!'--and the priest spoke without any fear. Why\nis it they seem always without fear, those dull and calm-eyed\npriests? 'Such conduct is unseemly. For this is High God's house,\nand far-off peoples are admonished by its steadfast spire, pointing\nalways heavenward, that the place is holy,' said the priest. And my\nshadow answered, 'But I only know that steeples are of phallic\norigin.' And my shadow wept, wept ludicrously, clinging to the\nsteeple where church-goers knelt beneath him.\"\n\n\"Now, and indeed that must have been disconcerting, Messire Merlin.\nStill, as you got your shadow back again, there was no great harm\ndone. But why is it that such attendants follow some men while other\nmen are permitted to live in decent solitude? It does not seem quite\nfair.\"\n\n\"Perhaps I could explain it to you, friend, but certainly I shall not.\nYou know too much as it is. For you appear in that bright garment of\nyours to have come from a land and a time which even I, who am a skilled\nmagician, can only cloudily foresee, and cannot understand at all. What\npuzzles me, however\"--and Merlin's fore-finger shot out. \"How many feet\nhad the first wearer of your shirt? and were you ever an old man?\" says\nhe.\n\n\"Well, four, and I was getting on,\" says Jurgen.\n\n\"And I did not guess! But certainly that is it,--an old poet loaned\nat once a young man's body and the Centaur's shirt. Ad\u00e8res has\nloosed a new jest into the world, for her own reasons--\"\n\n\"But you have things backwards. It was Sereda whom I cajoled so\nnicely.\"\n\n\"Names that are given by men amount to very little in a case like\nthis. The shadow which follows you I recognize--and revere--as the\ngift of Ad\u00e8res, a dreadful Mother of small Gods. No doubt she has a\nhost of other names. And you cajoled her, you consider! I would not\nwillingly walk in the shirt of any person who considers that. But\nshe will enlighten you, my friend, at her appointed time.\"\n\n\"Well, so that she deals justly--\" Jurgen said, and shrugged.\n\nNow Merlin put aside the mirror. \"Meanwhile it was another matter\nentirely that Dame Ana\u00eftis and I discussed, and about which I wished\nto be speaking with you. Gogyrvan is sending to King Arthur, along\nwith Gogyrvan's daughter, that Round Table which Uther Pendragon\ngave Gogyrvan, and a hundred knights to fill the sieges of this\ntable. Gogyrvan, who, with due respect, possesses a deplorable sense\nof humor, has numbered you among these knights. Now it is rumored\nthe Princess is given to conversing a great deal with you in\nprivate, and Arthur has never approved of garrulity. So I warn you\nthat for you to come with us to London would not be convenient.\"\n\n\"I hardly think so, either,\" said Jurgen, with appropriate\nmelancholy; \"for me to pursue the affair any further would only\nresult in marring what otherwise will always be a perfect memory of\ndivers very pleasant conversations.\"\n\n\"Old poet, you are well advised,\" said Merlin,--\"especially now that\nthe little princess whom we know is about to enter queenhood and\nbecome a symbol. I am sorry for her, for she will be worshipped as a\nrevelation of Heaven's splendor, and being flesh and blood, she will\nnot like it. And it is to no effect I have forewarned King Arthur,\nfor that must happen which will always happen so long as wisdom is\nimpotent against human stupidity. So wisdom can but make the best of\nit, and be content to face the facts of a great mystery.\"\n\nThereupon, Merlin arose, and lifted the tapestry behind him, so that\nJurgen could see what hitherto this tapestry had screened.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\n\"You have embarrassed me horribly,\" said Jurgen, \"and I can feel\nthat I am still blushing, about the ankles. Well, I was wrong: so\nlet us say no more concerning it.\"\n\n\"I wished to show you,\" Merlin returned, \"that I know what I am\ntalking about. However, my present purpose is to put Guenevere out\nof your head: for in your heart I think she never was, old poet, who\ngo so modestly in the Centaur's shirt. Come, tell me now! and does\nthe thought of her approaching marriage really disturb you?\"\n\n\"I am the unhappiest man that breathes,\" said Jurgen, with unction.\n\"All night I lie awake in my tumbled bed, and think of the miserable\nday which is past, and of what is to happen in that equally\nmiserable day whose dawn I watch with a sick heart. And I cry aloud,\nin the immortal words of Apollonius Myronides--\"\n\n\"Of whom?\" says Merlin.\n\n\"I allude to the author of the _Myrosis_,\" Jurgen\nexplained,--\"whom so many persons rashly identify with Apollonius\nHerophileius.\"\n\n\"Oh, yes, of course! your quotation is very apt. Why, then your\ncondition is sad but not incurable. For I am about to give you this\ntoken, with which, if you are bold enough, you will do thus and\nthus.\"\n\n\"But indeed this is a somewhat strange token, and the arms and legs,\nand even the head, of this little man are remarkably alike! Well,\nand you tell me thus and thus. But how does it happen, Messire\nMerlin, that you have never used this token in the fashion you\nsuggest to me?\"\n\n\"Because I was afraid. You forget I am only a magician, whose\nconjuring raises nothing more formidable than devils. But this is a\nbit of the Old Magic that is no longer understood, and I prefer not\nto meddle with it. You, to the contrary, are a poet, and the Old\nMagic was always favorable to poets.\"\n\n\"Well, I will think about it,\" says Jurgen, \"if this will really put\nDame Guenevere out of my head.\"\n\n\"Be assured it will do that,\" said Merlin. \"For with reason does the\n_Dirgh\u00e2gama_ declare, 'The brightness of the glowworm cannot be\ncompared to that of a lamp.'\"\n\n\"A very pleasant little work, the _Dirgh\u00e2gama_,\" said Jurgen,\ntolerantly--\"though superficial, of course.\"\n\nThen Merlin Ambrosius gave Jurgen the token, and some advice.\n\nSo that night Jurgen told Guenevere he would not go in her train to\nLondon. He told her candidly that Merlin was suspicious of their\nintercourse.\n\n\"And therefore, in order to protect you and to protect your fame, my\ndearest dear,\" said Jurgen, \"it is necessary that I sacrifice myself\nand everything I prize in life. I shall suffer very much: but my\nconsolation will be that I have dealt fairly with you whom I love\nwith an entire heart, and shall have preserved you through my\nmisery.\"\n\nBut Guenevere did not appear to notice how noble this was of Jurgen.\nInstead, she wept very softly, in a heartbroken way that Jurgen\nfound unbearable.\n\n\"For no man, whether emperor or peasant,\" says the Princess, \"has\never been loved more dearly or faithfully or more wholly without any\nreserve or forethought than you, my dearest, have been loved by me.\nAll that I had I have given you. All that I had you have taken,\nconsuming it. So now you leave me with not anything more to give\nyou, not even any anger or contempt, now that you turn me adrift,\nfor there is nothing in me anywhere save love of you, who are\nunworthy.\"\n\n\"But I die many deaths,\" said Jurgen, \"when you speak thus to me.\"\nAnd in point of fact, he did feel rather uncomfortable.\n\n\"I speak the truth, though. You have had all: and so you are a\nlittle weary, and perhaps a little afraid of what may happen if you\ndo not break off with me.\"\n\n\"Now you misjudge me, darling--\"\n\n\"No, I do not misjudge you, Jurgen. Instead, for the first time I\njudge both of us. You I forgive, because I love you, but myself I do\nnot forgive, and I cannot ever forgive, for having been a\nspendthrift fool.\"\n\nAnd Jurgen found such talking uncomfortable and tedious and very\nunfair to him. \"For there is nothing I can do to help matters,\" says\nJurgen. \"Why, what could anybody possibly expect me to do about it?\nAnd so why not be happy while we may? It is not as though we had any\ntime to waste.\"\n\nFor this was the last night but one before the day that was set for\nGuenevere's departure.\n\n\n\n\n19.\n\nThe Brown Man with Queer Feet\n\n\nEarly in the following morning Jurgen left Cameliard, traveling\ntoward Carohaise, and went into the Druid forest there, and followed\nMerlin's instructions.\n\n\"Not that I for a moment believe in such nonsense,\" said Jurgen:\n\"but it will be amusing to see what comes of this business, and it\nis unjust to deny even nonsense a fair trial.\"\n\nSo he presently observed a sun-browned brawny fellow, who sat upon\nthe bank of a stream, dabbling his feet in the water, and making\nmusic with a pipe constructed of seven reeds of irregular lengths.\nTo him Jurgen displayed, in such a manner as Merlin had prescribed,\nthe token which Merlin had given. The man made a peculiar sign, and\nrose. Jurgen saw that this man's feet were unusual.\n\nJurgen bowed low, and he said, as Merlin had bidden: \"Now praise be\nto thee, thou lord of the two truths! I have come to thee, O most\nwise, that I may learn thy secret. I would know thee, and would know\nthe forty-two mighty ones who dwell with thee in the hall of the two\ntruths, and who are nourished by evil-doers, and who partake of\nwicked blood each day of the reckoning before Wennofree. I would\nknow thee for what thou art.\"\n\nThe brown man answered: \"I am everything that was and that is to be.\nNever has any mortal been able to discover what I am.\"\n\nThen this brown man conducted Jurgen to an open glen, at the heart\nof the forest.\n\n\"Merlin dared not come himself, because,\" observed the brown man,\n\"Merlin is wise. But you are a poet. So you will presently forget\nthat which you are about to see, or at worst you will tell pleasant\nlies about it, particularly to yourself.\"\n\n\"I do not know about that,\" says Jurgen, \"but I am willing to taste\nany drink once. What are you about to show me?\"\n\nThe brown man answered: \"All.\"\n\nSo it was near evening when they came out of the glen. It was dark\nnow, for a storm had risen. The brown man was smiling, and Jurgen\nwas in a flutter.\n\n\"It is not true,\" Jurgen protested. \"What you have shown me is a\npack of nonsense. It is the degraded lunacy of a so-called Realist.\nIt is sorcery and pure childishness and abominable blasphemy. It is,\nin a word, something I do not choose to believe. You ought to be\nashamed of yourself!\"\n\n\"Even so, you do believe me, Jurgen.\"\n\n\"I believe that you are an honest man and that I am your cousin: so\nthere are two more lies for you.\"\n\nThe brown man said, still smiling: \"Yes, you are certainly a poet,\nyou who have borrowed the apparel of my cousin. For you come out of\nmy glen, and from my candor, as sane as when you entered. That is\nnot saying much, to be sure, in praise of a poet's sanity at any\ntime. But Merlin would have died, and Merlin would have died without\nregret, if Merlin had seen what you have seen, because Merlin\nreceives facts reasonably.\"\n\n\"Facts! sanity! and reason!\" Jurgen raged: \"why, but what nonsense\nyou are talking! Were there a bit of truth in your silly puppetry\nthis world of time and space and consciousness would be a bubble, a\nbubble which contained the sun and moon and the high stars, and\nstill was but a bubble in fermenting swill! I must go cleanse my\nmind of all this foulness. You would have me believe that men, that\nall men who have ever lived or shall ever live hereafter, that even\nI am of no importance! Why, there would be no justice in any such\narrangement, no justice anywhere!\"\n\n\"That vexed you, did it not? It vexes me at times, even me, who\nunder Koshchei's will alone am changeless.\"\n\n\"I do not know about your variability: but I stick to my opinion\nabout your veracity,\" says Jurgen, for all that he was upon the\nverge of hysteria. \"Yes, if lies could choke people that shaggy\nthroat would certainly be sore.\"\n\nThen the brown man stamped his foot, and the striking of his foot\nupon the moss made a new noise such as Jurgen had never heard: for\nthe noise seemed to come multitudinously from every side, at first\nas though each leaf in the forest were tinily cachinnating; and then\nthis noise was swelled by the mirth of larger creatures, and echoes\nplayed with this noise, until there was a reverberation everywhere\nlike that of thunder. The earth moved under their feet very much as\na beast twitches its skin under the annoyance of flies. Another\nqueer thing Jurgen noticed, and it was that the trees about the glen\nhad writhed and arched their trunks, and so had bended, much as\ncandles bend in very hot weather, to lay their topmost foliage at\nthe feet of the brown man. And the brown man's appearance was\nchanged as he stood there, terrible in a continuous brown glare from\nthe low-hanging clouds, and with the forest making obeisance, and\nwith shivering and laughter everywhere.\n\n\"Make answer, you who chatter about justice! how if I slew you now,\"\nsays the brown man,--\"I being what I am?\"\n\n\"Slay me, then!\" says Jurgen, with shut eyes, for he did not at all\nlike the appearance of things. \"Yes, you can kill me if you choose,\nbut it is beyond your power to make me believe that there is no\njustice anywhere, and that I am unimportant. For I would have you\nknow I am a monstrous clever fellow. As for you, you are either a\ndelusion or a god or a degraded Realist. But whatever you are, you\nhave lied to me, and I know that you have lied, and I will not\nbelieve in the insignificance of Jurgen.\"\n\nChillingly came the whisper of the brown man: \"Poor fool! O\nshuddering, stiff-necked fool! and have you not just seen that which\nyou may not ever quite forget?\"\n\n\"None the less, I think there is something in me which will endure.\nI am fettered by cowardice, I am enfeebled by disastrous memories;\nand I am maimed by old follies. Still, I seem to detect in myself\nsomething which is permanent and rather fine. Underneath everything,\nand in spite of everything, I really do seem to detect that\nsomething. What r\u00f4le that something is to enact after the death of\nmy body, and upon what stage, I cannot guess. When fortune knocks I\nshall open the door. Meanwhile I tell you candidly, you brown man,\nthere is something in Jurgen far too admirable for any intelligent\narbiter ever to fling into the dustheap. I am, if nothing else, a\nmonstrous clever fellow: and I think I shall endure, somehow. Yes,\ncap in hand goes through the land, as the saying is, and I believe I\ncan contrive some trick to cheat oblivion when the need arises,\"\nsays Jurgen, trembling, and gulping, and with his eyes shut tight,\nbut even so, with his mind quite made up about it. \"Of course you\nmay be right; and certainly I cannot go so far as to say you are\nwrong: but still, at the same time--\"\n\n\"Now but before a fool's opinion of himself,\" the brown man cried,\n\"the Gods are powerless. Oh, yes, and envious, too!\"\n\nAnd when Jurgen very cautiously opened his eyes the brown man had\nleft him physically unharmed. But the state of Jurgen's nervous\nsystem was deplorable.\n\n\n\n\n20.\n\nEfficacy of Prayer\n\n\nJurgen went in a tremble to the Cathedral of the Sacred Thorn in\nCameliard. All night Jurgen prayed there, not in repentance, but in\nterror. For his dead he prayed, that they should not have been\nblotted out in nothingness, for the dead among his kindred whom he\nhad loved in boyhood, and for these only. About the men and women\nwhom he had known since then he did not seem to care, or not at\nleast so vitally. But he put up a sort of prayer for Dame\nLisa--\"wherever my dear wife may be, and, O God, grant that I may\ncome to her at last, and be forgiven!\" he wailed, and wondered if he\nreally meant it.\n\nHe had forgotten about Guenevere. And nobody knows what were that\nnight the thoughts of the young Princess, nor if she offered any\nprayers, in the deserted Hall of Judgment.\n\nIn the morning a sprinkling of persons came to early mass. Jurgen\nattended with fervor, and started doorward with the others. Just\nbefore him a merchant stopped to get a pebble from his shoe, and the\nmerchant's wife went forward to the holy-water font.\n\n\"Madame, permit me,\" said a handsome young esquire, and offered her\nholy water.\n\n\"At eleven,\" said the merchant's wife, in low tones. \"He will be out\nall day.\"\n\n\"My dear,\" says her husband, as he rejoined her, \"and who was the\nyoung gentleman?\"\n\n\"Why, I do not know, darling. I never saw him before.\"\n\n\"He was certainly very civil. I wish there were more like him. And a\nfine looking young fellow, too!\"\n\n\"Was he? I did not notice,\" said the merchant's wife, indifferently.\n\nAnd Jurgen saw and heard and regarded the departing trio ruefully.\nIt seemed to him incredible the world should be going on just as it\nwent before he ventured into the Druid forest.\n\nHe paused before a crucifix, and he knelt and looked up wistfully.\n\"If one could only know,\" says Jurgen, \"what really happened in\nJudea! How immensely would matters be simplified, if anyone but knew\nthe truth about You, Man upon the Cross!\"\n\nNow the Bishop of Merion passed him, coming from celebration of the\nearly mass. \"My Lord Bishop,\" says Jurgen, simply, \"can you tell me\nthe truth about this Christ?\"\n\n\"Why, indeed, Messire de Logreus,\" replied the Bishop, \"one cannot\nbut sympathize with Pilate in thinking that the truth about Him is\nvery hard to get at, even nowadays. Was He Melchisedek, or Shem, or\nAdam? or was He verily the Logos? and in that event, what sort of a\nsomething was the Logos? Granted He was a god, were the Arians or\nthe Sabellians in the right? had He existed always, co-substantial\nwith the Father and the Holy Spirit, or was He a creation of the\nFather, a kind of Israelitic Zagreus? Was He the husband of\nAcharamoth, that degraded Sophia, as the Valentinians aver? or the\nson of Pantherus, as say the Jews? or Kalakau, as contends\nBasilid\u00eas? or was it, as the Docet\u00eas taught, only a tinted cloud in\nthe shape of a man that went from Jordan to Golgotha? Or were the\nMerinthians right? These are a few of the questions, Messire de\nLogreus, which naturally arise. And not all of them are to be\nsettled out of hand.\"\n\nThus speaking, the gallant prelate bowed, then raised three fingers\nin benediction, and so quitted Jurgen, who was still kneeling before\nthe crucifix.\n\n\"Ah, ah!\" says Jurgen, to himself, \"but what a variety of\ninteresting problems are, in point of fact, suggested by religion.\nAnd what delectable exercise would the settling of these problems,\nonce for all, afford the mind of a monstrous clever fellow! Come\nnow, it might be well for me to enter the priesthood. It may be that\nI have a call.\"\n\nBut people were shouting in the street. So Jurgen rose and dusted\nhis knees. And as Jurgen came out of the Cathedral of the Sacred\nThorn the cavalcade was passing that bore away Dame Guenevere to the\narms and throne of her appointed husband. Jurgen stood upon the\nCathedral porch, his mind in part pre-occupied by theology, but\nstill not failing to observe how beautiful was this young princess,\nas she rode by on her white palfrey, green-garbed and crowned and\na-glitter with jewels. She was smiling as she passed him, bowing\nher small tenderly-colored young countenance this way and that way,\nto the shouting people, and not seeing Jurgen at all.\n\nThus she went to her bridal, that Guenevere who was the symbol of\nall beauty and purity to the chivalrous people of Glathion. The mob\nworshipped her; and they spoke as though it were an angel who\npassed.\n\n\"Our beautiful young Princess!\"\n\n\"Ah, there is none like her anywhere!\"\n\n\"And never a harsh word for anyone, they say--!\"\n\n\"Oh, but she is the most admirable of ladies--!\"\n\n\"And so brave too, that lovely smiling child who is leaving her home\nforever!\"\n\n\"And so very, very pretty!\"\n\n\"--So generous!\"\n\n\"King Arthur will be hard put to it to deserve her!\"\n\nSaid Jurgen: \"Now it is droll that to these truths I have but to add\nanother truth in order to have large paving-stones flung at her! and\nto have myself tumultuously torn into fragments, by those\nunpleasantly sweaty persons who, thank Heaven, are no longer\njostling me!\"\n\nFor the Cathedral porch had suddenly emptied, because as the\nprocession passed heralds were scattering silver among the\nspectators.\n\n\"Arthur will have a very lovely queen,\" says a soft lazy voice.\n\nAnd Jurgen turned and saw that beside him was Dame Ana\u00eftis, whom\npeople called the Lady of the Lake.\n\n\"Yes, he is greatly to be envied,\" says Jurgen, politely. \"But do\nyou not ride with them to London?\"\n\n\"Why, no,\" says the Lady of the Lake, \"because my part in this\nbridal was done when I mixed the stirrup-cup of which the Princess\nand young Lancelot drank this morning. He is the son of King Ban of\nBenwick, that tall young fellow in blue armor. I am partial to\nLancelot, for I reared him, at the bottom of a lake that belongs to\nme, and I consider he does me credit. I also believe that Madame\nGuenevere by this time agrees with me. And so, my part being done to\nserve my creator, I am off for Cocaigne.\"\n\n\"And what is this Cocaigne?\"\n\n\"It is an island wherein I rule.\"\n\n\"I did not know you were a queen, madame.\"\n\n\"Why, indeed there are a many things unknown to you, Messire de\nLogreus, in a world where nobody gets any assuredness of knowledge\nabout anything. For it is a world wherein all men that live have but\na little while to live, and none knows his fate thereafter. So that\na man possesses nothing certainly save a brief loan of his own body:\nand yet the body of man is capable of much curious pleasure.\"\n\n\"I believe,\" said Jurgen, as his thoughts shuddered away from what\nhe had seen and heard in the Druid forest, \"that you speak wisdom.\"\n\n\"Then in Cocaigne we are all wise: for that is our religion. But of\nwhat are you thinking, Duke of Logreus?\"\n\n\"I was thinking,\" says Jurgen, \"that your eyes are unlike the eyes\nof any other woman that I have ever seen.\"\n\nSmilingly the dark woman asked him wherein they differed, and\nsmilingly he said he did not know. They were looking at each other\nwarily. In each glance an experienced gamester acknowledged a worthy\nopponent.\n\n\"Why, then you must come with me into Cocaigne,\" says Ana\u00eftis, \"and\nsee if you cannot discover wherein lies that difference. For it is\nnot a matter I would care to leave unsettled.\"\n\n\"Well, that seems only just to you,\" says Jurgen. \"Yes, certainly I\nmust deal fairly with you.\"\n\nThen they left the Cathedral of the Sacred Thorn, walking together.\nThe folk who went toward London were now well out of sight and\nhearing, which possibly accounts for the fact that Jurgen was now in\nno wise thinking of Guenevere. So it was that Guenevere rode out of\nJurgen's life for a while: and as she rode she talked with Lancelot.\n\n\n\n\n21.\n\nHow Ana\u00eftis Voyaged\n\n\nNow the tale tells that Jurgen and this Lady of the Lake came\npresently to the wharves of Cameliard, and went aboard the ship\nwhich had brought Ana\u00eftis and Merlin into Glathion. This ship was\nnow to every appearance deserted: yet all its saffron colored sails\nwere spread, as though in readiness for the ship's departure.\n\n\"The crew are scrambling, it may be, for the largesse, and fighting\nover Gogyrvan's silver pieces,\" says Ana\u00eftis, \"but I think they will\nnot be long in returning. So we will sit here upon the prow, and\nawait their leisure.\"\n\n\"But already the vessel moves,\" says Jurgen, \"and I hear behind\nus the rattling of silver chains and the flapping of shifted\nsaffron-colored sails.\"\n\n\"They are roguish fellows,\" says Ana\u00eftis, smiling. \"Evidently, they\nhid from us, pretending there was nobody aboard. Now they think to\ngive us a surprise when the ship sets out to sea as though it were\nof itself. But we will disappoint these merry rascals, by seeming to\nnotice nothing unusual.\"\n\nSo Jurgen sat with Ana\u00eftis in the two tall chairs that were in the\nprow of the vessel, under a canopy of crimson stuff embroidered with\ngold dragons, and just back of the ship's figurehead, which was a\ndragon painted with thirty colors: and the ship moved out of the\nharbor, and so into the open sea. Thus they passed Enisgarth.\n\n\"And it is a queer crew that serve you, Ana\u00eftis, who are Queen of\nCocaigne: for I can hear them talking, far back of us, and their\nlanguage is all a cheeping and a twittering, as though the mice and\nthe bats were holding conference.\"\n\n\"Why, you must understand that these are outlanders who speak a\ndialect of their own, and are not like any other people you have\never seen.\"\n\n\"Indeed, now, that is very probable, for I have seen none of your\ncrew. Sometimes it is as though small flickerings passed over the\ndeck, and that is all.\"\n\n\"It is but the heat waves rising from the deck, for the day is\nwarmer than you would think, sitting here under this canopy. And\nbesides, what call have you and I to be bothering over the pranks of\ncommon mariners, so long as they do their proper duty?\"\n\n\"I was thinking, O woman with unusual eyes, that these are hardly\ncommon mariners.\"\n\n\"And I was thinking, Duke Jurgen, that I would tell you a tale of\nthe Old Gods, to make the time speed more pleasantly as we sit here\nuntroubled as a god and a goddess.\"\n\nNow they had passed Camwy: and Ana\u00eftis began to narrate the history\nof Anistar and Calmoora and of the unusual concessions they granted\neach other, and of how Calmoora contented her five lovers: and\nJurgen found the tale perturbing.\n\nWhile Ana\u00eftis talked the sky grew dark, as though the sun were\nashamed and veiled his shame with clouds: and they went forward in a\ngray twilight which deepened steadily over a tranquil sea. So they\npassed the lights of Sargyll, most remote of the Red Islands, while\nAna\u00eftis talked of Procris and King Minos and Pasipha\u00eb. As color went\nout of the air new colors entered into the sea, which now assumed\nthe varied gleams of water that has long been stagnant. And a\nsilence brooded over the sea, so that there was no noise anywhere\nexcept the sound of the voice of Ana\u00eftis, saying, \"All men that live\nhave but a little while to live, and none knows his fate thereafter.\nSo that a man possesses nothing certainly save a brief loan of his\nown body; and yet the body of man is capable of much curious\npleasure.\"\n\nThey came thus to a low-lying naked beach, where there was no sign\nof habitation. Ana\u00eftis said this was the land they were seeking, and\nthey went ashore.\n\n\"Even now,\" says Jurgen, \"I have seen none of the crew who brought\nus hither.\"\n\nAnd the beautiful dark woman shrugged, and marveled why he need\nperpetually be bothering over the doings of common sailors.\n\nThey went forward across the beach, through sand hills, to a moor,\nseeing no one, and walking in a gray fog. They passed many gray fat\nsluggish worms and some curious gray reptiles such as Jurgen had\nnever imagined to exist, but Ana\u00eftis said these need not trouble\nthem.\n\n\"So there is no call to be fingering your charmed sword as we walk\nhere, Duke Jurgen, for these great worms do not ever harm the\nliving.\"\n\n\"For whom, then, do they lie here in wait, in this gray fog,\nwherethrough the green lights flutter, and wherethrough I hear at\ntimes a thin and far-off wailing?\"\n\n\"What is that to you, Duke Jurgen, since you and I are still in the\nwarm flesh? Surely there was never a man who asked more idle\nquestions.\"\n\n\"Yet this is an uncomfortable twilight.\"\n\n\"To the contrary, you should rejoice that it is a fog too heavy to\nbe penetrated by the Moon.\"\n\n\"But what have I to do with the Moon?\"\n\n\"Nothing, as yet. And that is as well for you, Duke Jurgen, since it\nis authentically reported you have derided the day which is sacred\nto the Moon. Now the Moon does not love derision, as I well know,\nfor in part I serve the Moon.\"\n\n\"Eh?\" says Jurgen: and he began to reflect.\n\nSo they came to a wall that was high and gray, and to the door which\nwas in the wall.\n\n\"You must knock two or three times,\" says Ana\u00eftis, \"to get into\nCocaigne.\"\n\nJurgen observed the bronze knocker upon the door, and he grinned in\norder to hide his embarrassment.\n\n\"It is a quaint fancy,\" said he, \"and the two constituents of it\nappear to have been modeled from life.\"\n\n\"They were copied very exactly from Adam and Eve,\" says Ana\u00eftis,\n\"who were the first persons to open this gateway.\"\n\n\"Why, then,\" says Jurgen, \"there is no earthly doubt that men\ndegenerate, since here under my hand is the proof of it.\"\n\nWith that he knocked, and the door opened, and the two of them\nentered.\n\n\n\n\n22.\n\nAs to a Veil They Broke\n\n\nSo it was that Jurgen came into Cocaigne, wherein is the bedchamber\nof Time. And Time, they report, came in with Jurgen, since Jurgen\nwas mortal: and Time, they say, rejoiced in this respite from the\nslow toil of dilapidating cities stone by stone, and with his eyes\ntired by the finicky work of etching in wrinkles, went happily into\nhis bedchamber, and fell asleep just after sunset on this fine\nevening in late June: so that the weather remained fair and\nchangeless, with no glaring sun rays anywhere, and with one large\nstar shining alone in clear daylight. This was the star of Venus\nMechanitis, and Jurgen later derived considerable amusement from\nnoting how this star was trundled about the dome of heaven by a\nlargish beetle, named Khepre. And the trees everywhere kept their\nfirst fresh foliage, and the birds were about their indolent evening\nsongs, all during Jurgen's stay in Cocaigne, for Time had gone to\nsleep at the pleasantest hour of the year's most pleasant season. So\ntells the tale.\n\nAnd Jurgen's shadow also went in with Jurgen, but in Cocaigne as in\nGlathion, nobody save Jurgen seemed to notice this curious shadow\nwhich now followed Jurgen everywhere.\n\nIn Cocaigne Queen Ana\u00eftis had a palace, where domes and pinnacles\nbeyond numbering glimmered with a soft whiteness above the top of an\nold twilit forest, wherein the vegetation was unlike that which is\nnourished by ordinary earth. There was to be seen in these woods,\nfor instance, a sort of moss which made Jurgen shudder. So Ana\u00eftis\nand Jurgen came through narrow paths, like murmuring green caverns,\ninto a courtyard walled and paved with yellow marble, wherein was\nnothing save the dimly colored statue of a god with ten heads and\nthirty-four arms: he was represented as very much engrossed by a\nwoman, and with his unoccupied hands was holding yet other women.\n\n\"It is Jigsbyed,\" said Ana\u00eftis.\n\nSaid Jurgen: \"I do not criticize. Nevertheless, I think this\nJigsbyed is carrying matters to extremes.\"\n\nThen they passed the statue of Tangaro Loloquong, and afterward the\nstatue of Legba. Jurgen stroked his chin, and his color heightened.\n\"Now certainly, Queen Ana\u00eftis,\" he said, \"you have unusual taste in\nsculpture.\"\n\nThence Jurgen came with Ana\u00eftis into a white room, with copper\nplaques upon the walls, and there four girls were heating water in a\nbrass tripod. They bathed Jurgen, giving him astonishing caresses\nmeanwhile--with the tongue, the hair, the finger-nails, and the tips\nof the breasts,--and they anointed him with four oils, then dressed\nhim again in his glittering shirt. Of Caliburn, said Ana\u00eftis, there\nwas no present need: so Jurgen's sword was hung upon the wall.\n\nThese girls brought silver bowls containing wine mixed with honey,\nand they brought pomegranates and eggs and barleycorn, and\ntriangular red-colored loaves, whereon they sprinkled sweet-smelling\nlittle seeds with formal gestures. Then Ana\u00eftis and Jurgen broke\ntheir fast, eating together while the four girls served them.\n\n\"And now,\" says Jurgen, \"and now, my dear, I would suggest that we\nenter into the pursuit of those curious pleasures of which you were\ntelling me.\"\n\n\"I am very willing,\" responded Ana\u00eftis, \"since there is no one of\nthese pleasures but is purchased by some diversion of man's nature.\nYet first, as I need hardly inform you, there is a ceremonial to be\nobserved.\"\n\n\"And what, pray, is this ceremonial?\"\n\n\"Why, we call it the Breaking of the Veil.\" And Queen Ana\u00eftis\nexplained what they must do.\n\n\"Well,\" says Jurgen, \"I am willing to taste any drink once.\"\n\nSo Ana\u00eftis led Jurgen into a sort of chapel, adorned with very\nunchurchlike paintings. There were four shrines, dedicated severally\nto St. Cosmo, to St. Damianus, to St. Guignole of Brest, and to St.\nFoutin de Varailles. In this chapel were a hooded man, clothed in\nlong garments that were striped with white and yellow, and two naked\nchildren, both girls. One of the children carried a censer: the\nother held in one hand a vividly blue pitcher half filled with\nwater, and in her left hand a cellar of salt.\n\nFirst of all, the hooded man made Jurgen ready. \"Behold the lance,\"\nsaid the hooded man, \"which must serve you in this adventure.\"\n\n\"I accept the adventure,\" Jurgen replied, \"because I believe the\nweapon to be trustworthy.\"\n\nSaid the hooded man: \"So be it! but as you are, so once was I.\"\n\nMeanwhile Duke Jurgen held the lance erect, shaking it with his\nright hand. This lance was large, and the tip of it was red with\nblood.\n\n\"Behold,\" said Jurgen, \"I am a man born of a woman incomprehensibly.\nNow I, who am miraculous, am found worthy to perform a miracle, and\nto create that which I may not comprehend.\"\n\nAna\u00eftis took salt and water from the child, and mingled these. \"Let\nthe salt of earth enable the thin fluid to assume the virtue of the\nteeming sea!\"\n\nThen, kneeling, she touched the lance, and began to stroke it\nlovingly. To Jurgen she said: \"Now may you be fervent of soul and\nbody! May the endless Serpent be your crown, and the fertile flame\nof the sun your strength!\"\n\nSaid the hooded man, again: \"So be it!\" His voice was high and\nbleating, because of that which had been done to him.\n\n\"That therefore which we cannot understand we also invoke,\" said\nJurgen. \"By the power of the lifted lance\"--and now with his left\nhand he took the hand of Ana\u00eftis,--\"I, being a man born of a woman\nincomprehensibly, now seize upon that which alone I desire with my\nwhole being. I lead you toward the east. I upraise you above the\nearth and all the things of earth.\"\n\nThen Jurgen raised Queen Ana\u00eftis so that she sat upon the altar, and\nthat which was there before tumbled to the ground. Ana\u00eftis placed\ntogether the tips of her thumbs and of her fingers, so that her\nhands made an open triangle; and waited thus. Upon her head was a\nnetwork of red coral, with branches radiating downward: her gauzy\ntunic had twenty-two openings, so as to admit all imaginable\ncaresses, and was of two colors, being shot with black and crimson\ncuriously mingled: her dark eyes glittered and her breath came fast.\n\nNow the hooded man and the two naked girls performed their share in\nthe ceremonial, which part it is not essential to record. But Jurgen\nwas rather shocked by it.\n\nNone the less, Jurgen said: \"O cord that binds the circling of the\nstars! O cup which holds all time, all color, and all thought! O\nsoul of space! not unto any image of thee do we attain unless thy\nimage show in what we are about to do. Therefore by every plant\nwhich scatters its seed and by the moist warm garden which receives\nand nourishes it, by the comminglement of bloodshed with pleasure,\nby the joy that mimics anguish with sighs and shudderings, and by\nthe contentment which mimics death,--by all these do we invoke thee.\nO thou, continuous one, whose will these children attend, and whom I\nnow adore in this fair-colored and soft woman's body, it is thou\nwhom I honor, not any woman, in doing what seems good to me: and it\nis thou who art about to speak, and not she.\"\n\nThen Ana\u00eftis said: \"Yea, for I speak with the tongue of every woman,\nand I shine in the eyes of every woman, when the lance is lifted. To\nserve me is better than all else. When you invoke me with a heart\nwherein is kindled the serpent flame, if but for a moment, you will\nunderstand the delights of my garden, what joy unwordable pulsates\ntherein, and how potent is the sole desire which uses all of a man.\nTo serve me you will then be eager to surrender whatever else is in\nyour life: and other pleasures you will take with your left hand,\nnot thinking of them entirely: for I am the desire which uses all of\na man, and so wastes nothing. And I accept you, I yearn toward you,\nI who am daughter and somewhat more than daughter to the Sun. I who\nam all pleasure, all ruin, and a drunkenness of the inmost sense,\ndesire you.\"\n\nNow Jurgen held his lance erect before Ana\u00eftis. \"O secret of all\nthings, hidden in the being of all which lives, now that the lance\nis exalted I do not dread thee: for thou art in me, and I am thou. I\nam the flame that burns in every beating heart and in the core of\nthe farthest star. I too am life and the giver of life, and in me\ntoo is death. Wherein art thou better than I? I am alone: my will is\njustice: and there comes no other god where I am.\"\n\nSaid the hooded man behind Jurgen: \"So be it! but as you are, so\nonce was I.\"\n\nThe two naked children stood one at each side of Ana\u00eftis, and waited\nthere trembling. These girls, as Jurgen afterward learned, were\nAlecto and Tisiphon\u00ea, two of the Eumenid\u00eas. And now Jurgen shifted\nthe red point of the lance, so that it rested in the open triangle\nmade by the fingers of Ana\u00eftis.\n\n\"I am life and the giver of life,\" cried Jurgen. \"Thou that art one,\nthat makest use of all! I who am a man born of woman, I in my\nstation honor thee in honoring this desire which uses all of a man.\nMake open therefore the way of creation, encourage the flaming dust\nwhich is in our hearts, and aid us in that flame's perpetuation! For\nis not that thy law?\"\n\nAna\u00eftis answered: \"There is no law in Cocaigne save, Do that which\nseems good to you.\"\n\nThen said the naked children: \"Perhaps it is the law, but certainly\nit is not justice. Yet we are little and quite helpless. So\npresently we must be made as you are for now you two are no longer\ntwo, and your flesh is not shared merely with each other. For your\nflesh becomes our flesh, and your sins our sins: and we have no\nchoice.\"\n\nJurgen lifted Ana\u00eftis from the altar, and they went into the chancel\nand searched for the adytum. There seemed to be no doors anywhere in\nthe chancel: but presently Jurgen found an opening screened by a\npink veil. Jurgen thrust with his lance and broke this veil. He\nheard the sound of one brief wailing cry: it was followed by soft\nlaughter. So Jurgen came into the adytum.\n\nBlack candles were burning in this place, and sulphur too was\nburning there, before a scarlet cross, of which the top was a\ncircle, and whereon was nailed a living toad. And other curious\nmatters Jurgen likewise noticed.\n\nHe laughed, and turned to Ana\u00eftis: now that the candles were behind\nhim, she was standing in his shadow. \"Well, well! but you are a\nlittle old-fashioned, with all these equivocal mummeries. And I did\nnot know that civilized persons any longer retained sufficient\ncredulity to wring a thrill from god-baiting. Still, women must be\nhumored, bless them! and at last, I take it, we have quite fairly\nfulfilled the ceremonial requisite to the pursuit of curious\npleasures.\"\n\nQueen Ana\u00eftis was very beautiful, even under his bedimming shadow.\nTriumphant too was the proud face beneath that curious coral\nnetwork, and yet this woman's face was sad.\n\n\"Dear fool,\" she said, \"it was not wise, when you sang of the L\u00e9shy,\nto put an affront upon Monday. But you have forgotten that. And now\nyou laugh because that which we have done you do not understand: and\nequally that which I am you do not understand.\"\n\n\"No matter what you may be, my dear, I am sure that you will\npresently tell me all about it. For I assume that you mean to deal\nfairly with me.\"\n\n\"I shall do that which becomes me, Duke Jurgen--\"\n\n\"That is it, my dear, precisely! You intend to be true to yourself,\nwhatever happens. The aspiration does you infinite honor, and I\nshall try to help you. Now I have noticed that every woman is most\ntruly herself,\" says Jurgen, oracularly, \"in the dark.\"\n\nThen Jurgen looked at her for a moment, with twinkling eyes: then\nAna\u00eftis, standing in his shadow, smiled with glowing eyes: then\nJurgen blew out those black candles: and then it was quite dark.\n\n\n\n\n23.\n\nShortcomings of Prince Jurgen\n\n\nNow the happenings just recorded befell on the eve of the Nativity\nof St. John the Baptist: and thereafter Jurgen abode in Cocaigne,\nand complied with the customs of that country.\n\nIn the palace of Queen Ana\u00eftis, all manner of pastimes were\npractised without any cessation. Jurgen, who considered himself to\nbe somewhat of an authority upon such contrivances, was soon\nastounded by his own innocence. For Ana\u00eftis showed him whatever was\nbeing done in Cocaigne, to this side and to that side, under the\ndirection of Ana\u00eftis, whom Jurgen found to be a nature myth of\ndoubtful origin connected with the Moon; and who, in consequence,\nruled not merely in Cocaigne but furtively swayed the tides of life\neverywhere the Moon keeps any power over tides. It was the mission\nof Ana\u00eftis to divert and turn aside and deflect: in this the jealous\nMoon abetted her because sunlight makes for straightforwardness. So\nAna\u00eftis and the Moon were staunch allies. These mysteries of their\nprivate relations, however, as revealed to Jurgen, are not very\nnicely repeatable.\n\n\"But you dishonored the Moon, Prince Jurgen, denying praise to the\nday of the Moon. Or so, at least, I have heard.\"\n\n\"I remember doing nothing of the sort. But I remember considering it\nunjust to devote one paltry day to the Moon's majesty. For night is\nsacred to the Moon, each night that ever was the friend of\nlovers,--night, the renewer and begetter of all life.\"\n\n\"Why, indeed, there is something in that argument,\" says Ana\u00eftis,\ndubiously.\n\n\"'Something', do you say! why, but to my way of thinking it proves\nthe Moon is precisely seven times more honorable than any of the\nL\u00e9shy. It is merely, my dear, a question of arithmetic.\"\n\n\"Was it for that reason you did not praise Pandelis and her Mondays\nwith the other L\u00e9shy?\"\n\n\"Why, to be sure,\" said Jurgen, glibly. \"I did not find it at all\npraiseworthy that such an insignificant L\u00e9shy as Pandelis should\nname her day after the Moon: to me it seemed blasphemy.\" Then Jurgen\ncoughed, and looked sidewise at his shadow. \"Had it been Sereda,\nnow, the case would have been different, and the Moon might well\nhave appreciated the delicate compliment.\"\n\nAna\u00eftis appeared relieved. \"I shall report your explanation.\nCandidly, there were ill things in store for you, Prince Jurgen,\nbecause your language was misunderstood. But that which you now say\nputs quite a different complexion upon matters.\"\n\nJurgen laughed, not understanding the mystery, but confident he\ncould always say whatever was required of him.\n\n\"Now let us see a little more of Cocaigne!\" cries Jurgen.\n\nFor Jurgen was greatly interested by the pursuits of Cocaigne, and\nfor a week or ten days participated therein industriously. Ana\u00eftis,\nwho reported the Moon's honor to be satisfied, now spared no effort\nto divert him, and they investigated innumerable pastimes together.\n\n\"For all men that live have but a little while to live,\" said\nAna\u00eftis, \"and none knows his fate thereafter. So that a man\npossesses nothing certainly save a brief loan of his body: and yet\nthe body of man is capable of much curious pleasure. As thus and\nthus,\" says Ana\u00eftis. And she revealed devices to her Prince Consort.\n\nFor Jurgen found that unknowingly he had in due and proper form\nespoused Queen Ana\u00eftis, by participating in the Breaking of the\nVeil, which is the marriage ceremony of Cocaigne. His earlier\nrelations with Dame Lisa had, of course, no legal standing in\nCocaigne, where the Church is not Christian and the Law is, Do that\nwhich seems good to you.\n\n\"Well, when in Rome,\" said Jurgen, \"one must be romantic. But\ncertainly this proves that nobody ever knows when he is being\nentrapped into respectability: and never did a fine young fellow\nmarry a high queen with less premeditation.\"\n\n\"Ah, my dear,\" says Ana\u00eftis, \"you were controlled by the finger of\nFate.\"\n\n\"I do not altogether like that figure of speech. It makes one seem\ntoo trivial, to be controlled by a mere finger. No, it is not quite\ncomplimentary to call what prompted me a finger.\"\n\n\"By the long arm of coincidence, then.\"\n\n\"Much more appropriate, my love,\" says Jurgen, complacently: \"it\nsounds more dignified, and does not wound my self esteem.\"\n\nNow this Ana\u00eftis who was Queen of Cocaigne was a delicious tall dark\nwoman, thinnish, and lovely, and very restless. From the first her\nnew Prince Consort was puzzled by her fervors, and presently was\nfretted by them. He humbly failed to understand how anyone could be\nso frantic over Jurgen. It seemed unreasonable. And in her more\naffectionate moments this nature myth positively frightened him: for\ntransports such as these could not but rouse discomfortable\nreminiscences of the female spider, who ends such recreations by\ndevouring her partner.\n\n\"Thus to be loved is very flattering,\" he would reflect, \"and I\nagain am Jurgen, asking odds of none. But even so, I am mortal. She\nought to remember that, in common fairness.\"\n\nThen the jealousy of Ana\u00eftis, while equally flattering, was equally\nout of reason. She suspected everybody, seemed assured that every\nbosom cherished a mad passion for Jurgen, and that not for a moment\ncould he be trusted. Well, as Jurgen frankly conceded, his conduct\ntoward Stella, that ill-starred yogini of Indawadi, had in point of\nfact displayed, when viewed from an especial and quite unconscionable\npoint of view, an aspect which, when isolated by persons judging\nhastily, might, just possibly, appear to approach remotely, in one\nor two respects, to temporary forgetfulness of Ana\u00eftis, if indeed\nthere were people anywhere so mentally deficient as to find such\nforgetfulness conceivable.\n\nBut the main thing, the really important feature, which Ana\u00eftis\ncould not be made to understand, was that she had interrupted her\nconsort in what was, in effect, a philosophical experiment,\nnecessarily attempted in the dark. The muntrus requisite to the\nsacti sodhana were always performed in darkness: everybody knew\nthat. For the rest, this Stella had asserted so-and-so; in simple\nequity she was entitled to a chance to prove her allegations if she\ncould: so Jurgen had proceeded to deal fairly with her. Besides, why\nkeep talking about this Stella, after a vengeance so spectacular and\nthorough as that to which Ana\u00eftis had out of hand resorted? why keep\nreverting to a topic which was repugnant to Jurgen and visibly upset\nthe dearest nature myth in all legend? Was it quite fair to anyone\nconcerned? That was the sensible way in which Jurgen put it.\n\nStill, he became honestly fond of Ana\u00eftis. Barring her\neccentricities when roused to passion, she was a generous and kindly\ncreature, although in Jurgen's opinion somewhat narrow-minded.\n\n\"My love,\" he would say to her, \"you appear positively unable to\nkeep away from virtuous persons! You are always seeking out the\npeople who endeavor to be upright and straightforward, and you are\nperpetually laying plans to divert these people. Ah, but why bother\nabout them? What need have you to wear yourself out, and to devote\nyour entire time to such proselitizing, when you might be so much\nmore agreeably employed? You should learn, in justice to yourself as\nwell as to others, to be tolerant of all things; and to acknowledge\nthat in a being of man's mingled nature a strain of respectability\nis apt to develop every now and then, whatever you might prefer.\"\n\nBut Ana\u00eftis had high notions as to her mission, and merely told him\nthat he ought not to speak with levity of such matters. \"I would be\nmuch happier staying at home with you and the children,\" she would\nsay, \"but I feel that it is my duty--\"\n\n\"And your duty to whom, in heaven's name?\"\n\n\"Please do not employ such distasteful expressions, Jurgen. It is my\nduty to the power I serve, my very manifest duty to my creator. But\nyou have no sense of religion, I am afraid; and the reflection is\noften a considerable grief to me.\"\n\n\"Ah, but, my dear, you are quite certain as to who made you, and for\nwhat purpose you were made. You nature myths were created in the\nMythopoeic age by the perversity of old heathen nations: and you\nserve your creator religiously. That is quite as it should be. But I\nhave no such authentic information as to my origin and mission in\nlife, I appear at all events to have no natural talent for being\ndiverted, I do not take to it wholeheartedly, and these are facts we\nhave to face.\" Now Jurgen put his arm around her. \"My dear Ana\u00eftis,\nyou must not think it mere selfishness on my part. I was born with a\nsomething lacking that is requisite for anyone who aspires to be as\nthoroughly misled as most people: and you will have to love me in\nspite of it.\"\n\n\"I almost wish I had never seen you as I saw you in that corridor,\nJurgen. For I felt drawn toward you then and there. I almost wish I\nhad never seen you at all. I cannot help being fond of you: and yet\nyou laugh at the things I know to be required of me, and sometimes\nyou make me laugh, too.\"\n\n\"But, darling, are you not just the least, littlest, tiniest, very\nweest trifle bigoted? For instance, I can see that you think I ought\nto evince more interest in your striking dances, and your strange\npleasures, and your surprising caresses, and all your other\nelaborate diversions. And I do think they do you credit, great\ncredit, and I admire your inventiveness no less than your\nindustry--\"\n\n\"You have no sense of reverence, Jurgen, you seem to have no sense\nat all of what is due to one's creator. I suppose you cannot help\nthat: but you might at least remember it troubles me to hear you\ntalk so flippantly of my religion.\"\n\n\"But I do not talk flippantly--\"\n\n\"Indeed you do, though. And it does not sound at all well, let me\ntell you.\"\n\n\"--Instead, I but point out that your creed necessitates, upon the\nwhole, an ardor I lack. You, my pet, were created by perversity: and\neveryone knows it is the part of piety to worship one's creator in\nfashions acceptable to that creator. So, I do not criticize your\nreligious connections, dear, and nobody admires these ceremonials of\nyour faith more heartily than I do. I merely confess that to\ncelebrate these rites so frequently requires a sustention of\nenthusiasm which is beyond me. In fine, I have not your fervent\ntemperament, I am more sceptical. You may be right; and certainly I\ncannot go so far as to say you are wrong: but still, at the same\ntime--! That is how I feel about it, my precious, and that is why I\nfind, with constant repetition of these ceremonials, a certain lack\nof firmness developing in my responses: and finally, darling, that\nis all there is to it.\"\n\n\"I never in my whole incarnation had such a Prince Consort!\nSometimes I think you do not care a bit about me one way or the\nother, Jurgen.\"\n\n\"Ah, but I do care for you very much. And to prove it, come now let\nus try some brand-new diversion, at sight of which the skies will be\nblackened and the earth will shudder or something of that sort, and\nthen I will take the children fishing, as I promised.\"\n\n\"No, Jurgen, I do not feel like diverting you just now. You take all\nthe solemnity out of it with your jeering. Besides, you are always\nwith the children. Jurgen, I believe you are fonder of the children\nthan you are of me. And when you are not with them you are locked up\nin the Library.\"\n\n\"Well, and was there ever such a treasury as the Library of\nCocaigne? All the diversions that you nature myths have practised I\nfind recorded there: and to read of your ingenious devices delights\nand maddens me. For it is eminently interesting to meditate upon\nstrange pleasures, and to make verses about them is the most amiable\nof avocations: it is merely the pursuit of them that I would\ndiscourage, as disappointing and mussy. Besides, the Library is the\nonly spot I have to myself in the palace, what with your fellow\nnature myths making the most of life all over the place.\"\n\n\"It is necessary, Jurgen, for one in my position to entertain more\nor less. And certainly I cannot close the doors against my own\nrelatives.\"\n\n\"Such riffraff, though, my darling! Such odds and ends! I cannot\ncongratulate you upon your kindred, for I do not get on at all with\nthese patchwork combinations, that are one-third man and the other\ntwo-thirds a vulgar fraction of bull or hawk or goat or serpent or\nape or jackal or what not. Priapos is the only male myth who comes\nhere in anything like the semblance of a complete human being: and I\nhad infinitely rather he stayed away, because even I who am Jurgen\ncannot but be envious of him.\"\n\n\"And why, pray?\"\n\n\"Well, where I go reasonably equipped with Caliburn, Priapos carries\na lance I envy--\"\n\n\"Like all the Bacchic myths he usually carries a thyrsos, and it is\na showy weapon, certainly; but it is not of much use in actual\nconflict.\"\n\n\"My darling! and how do you know?\"\n\n\"Why, Jurgen, how do women always know these things?--by intuition,\nI suppose.\"\n\n\"You mean that you judge all affairs by feeling rather than reason?\nIndeed, I dare say that is true of most women, and men are daily\nchafed and delighted, about equally, by your illogical method of\nputting things together. But to get back to the congenial task of\ncriticizing your kindred, your cousin Apis, for example, may be a\nvery good sort of fellow: but, say what you will, it is ill-advised\nof him to be going about in public with a bull's head. It makes him\nneedlessly conspicuous, if not actually ridiculous: and it puts me\nout when I try to talk to him.\"\n\n\"Now, Jurgen, pray remember that you speak of a very generally\nrespected myth, and that you are being irreverent--\"\n\n\"--And moreover, I take the liberty of repeating, my darling, that\neven though this Ba of Mendes is your cousin, it honestly does\nembarrass me to have to meet three-quarters of a goat socially--\"\n\n\"But, Jurgen, I must as a master of course invite prolific Ba to my\nfeasts of the Sac\u00e6--\"\n\n\"Even so, my dear, in issuing invitations a hostess may fairly presuppose\nthat her guests will not make beasts of themselves. I often wish that\nthis mere bit of ordinary civility were more rigorously observed by Ba\nand Hortanes and Fricco and Vul and Baal-Peor, and by all your other\ncousins who come to visit you in such a zoologically muddled condition.\nIt shows a certain lack of respect for you, my darling.\"\n\n\"Oh, but it is all in the family, Jurgen--\"\n\n\"Besides, they have no conversation. They merely bellow--or twitter\nor bleat or low or gibber or purr, according to their respective\nincarnations,--about unspeakable mysteries and monstrous pleasures\nuntil I am driven to the verge of virtue by their imbecility.\"\n\n\"If you were more practical, Jurgen, you would realize that it\nspeaks splendidly for anyone to be really interested in his\nvocation--\"\n\n\"And your female relatives are just as annoying, with their eternal\nwhispered enigmas, and their crescent moons, and their mystic roses\nthat change color and require continual gardening, and their\npathetic belief that I have time to fool with them. And the entire\npack practises symbolism until the house is positively littered with\nasherahs and combs and phalloses and linghams and yonis and arghas\nand pulleiars and talys, and I do not know what other idiotic toys\nthat I am continually stepping on!\"\n\n\"Which of those minxes has been making up to you?\" says Ana\u00eftis, her\neyes snapping.\n\n\"Ah, ah! now many of your female cousins are enticing enough--\"\n\n\"I knew it! Oh, but you need not think you deluded me--!\"\n\n\"My darling, pray consider! be reasonable about it! Your feminine\nguests at present are Sekhmet in the form of a lioness, Io\nincarnated as a cow, Hekt as a frog, Derceto as a sturgeon, and--ah,\nyes!--Thoueris as a hippopotamus. I leave it to your sense of\njustice, dear Ana\u00eftis, if of ladies with such tastes in dress a\nlovely myth like you can reasonably be jealous.\"\n\n\"And I know perfectly well who it is! It is that Ephesian hussy, and\nI had several times noticed her behavior. Very well, oh, very well,\nindeed! nevertheless, I shall have a plain word or two with her at\nonce, and the sooner she gets out of my house the better, as I shall\ntell her quite frankly. And as for you, Jurgen--!\"\n\n\"But, my dear Lisa--!\"\n\n\"What do you call me? Lisa was never an epithet of mine. Why do you\ncall me Lisa?\"\n\n\"It was a slip of the tongue, my pet, an involuntary but not\nunnatural association of ideas. As for the Ephesian Diana, she\nreminds me of an animated pine-cone, with that eruption of breasts\nall over her, and I can assure you of your having no particular\nreason to be jealous of her. It was merely of the female myths in\ngeneral I spoke. Of course they all make eyes at me: I cannot well\nhelp that, and you should have anticipated as much when you selected\nsuch an attractive Prince Consort. What do these poor enamored\ncreatures matter when to you my heart is ever faithful?\"\n\n\"It is not your heart I am worrying over, Jurgen, for I believe you\nhave none. Yes, you have quite succeeded in worrying me to\ndistraction, if that is any comfort to you. However, let us not talk\nabout it. For it is now necessary, absolutely imperative, that I go\ninto Armenia to take part in the mourning for Tammouz: people would\nnot understand it at all if I stayed away from such important\norgies. And I shall get no benefit whatever from the trip, much as I\nneed the change, because, without speaking of that famous heart of\nyours, you are always up to some double-dealing, and I shall not\nknow into what mischief you may be thrusting yourself.\"\n\nJurgen laughed, and kissed her. \"Be off, and attend to your\nreligious duties, dear, by all means. And I promise you I will stay\nsafe locked in the Library till you come back.\"\n\nThus Jurgen abode among the offspring of heathen perversity, and\nconformed to their customs. Death ends all things for all, they\ncontended, and life is brief: for how few years do men endure, and\nhow quickly is the most subtle and appalling nature myth explained\naway by the Philologists! So the wise person, and equally the\nforeseeing nature myth, will take his glut of pleasure while there\nis yet time to take anything, and will waste none of his short lien\nupon desire and vigor by asking questions.\n\n\"Oh, but by all means!\" said Jurgen, and he docilely crowned himself\nwith a rose garland, and drank his wine, and kissed his Ana\u00eftis.\nThen, when the feast of the Sac\u00e6 was at full-tide, he would whisper\nto Ana\u00eftis, \"I will be back in a moment, darling,\" and she would\nfrown fondly at him as he very quietly slipped from his ivory dining\ncouch, and went, with the merest suspicion of a reel, into the\nLibrary. She knew that Jurgen had no intention of coming back: and\nshe despaired of his ever taking the position in the social life of\nCocaigne to which he was entitled no less by his rank as Prince\nConsort than by his personal abilities. For Ana\u00eftis did not really\nthink that, as went natural endowments, her Jurgen had much reason\nto envy even such a general favorite as Priapos, say, from what she\nknew of both.\n\nSo it was that Jurgen honored custom. \"Because these beastly nature\nmyths may be right,\" said Jurgen; \"and certainly I cannot go so far\nas to say they are wrong: but still, at the same time--!\"\n\nFor Jurgen was content to dismiss no riddle with a mere \"I do not\nknow.\" Jurgen was no more able to give up questioning the meaning of\nlife than could a trout relinquish swimming: indeed, he lived\nsubmerged in a flood of curiosity and doubt, as his native element.\nThat death ended all things might very well be the case: yet if the\noutcome proved otherwise, how much more pleasant it would be, for\neveryone concerned, to have aforetime established amicable relations\nwith the overlords of his second life, by having done whatever it\nwas they expected of him here.\n\n\"Yes, I feel that something is expected of me,\" says Jurgen: \"and\nwithout knowing what it is, I am tolerably sure, somehow, that it is\nnot an indulgence in endless pleasure. Besides, I do not think death\nis going to end all for me. If only I could be quite certain my\nencounter with King Smoit, and with that charming little Sylvia\nTereu, was not a dream! As it is, plain reasoning assures me I am\nnot indispensable to the universe: but with this reasoning, somehow,\ndoes not travel my belief. No, it is only fair to my own interests\nto go graveward a little more openmindedly than do these nature\nmyths, since I lack the requisite credulity to become a free-thinking\nmaterialist. To believe that we know nothing assuredly, and cannot\never know anything assuredly, is to take too much on faith.\"\n\nAnd Jurgen paused to shake his sleek black head two or three times,\nvery sagely.\n\n\"No, I cannot believe in nothingness being the destined end of all:\nthat would be too futile a climax to content a dramatist clever\nenough to have invented Jurgen. No, it is just as I said to the\nbrown man: I cannot believe in the annihilation of Jurgen by any\nreally thrifty overlords; so I shall see to it that Jurgen does\nnothing which he cannot more or less plausibly excuse, in case of\nsupernal inquiries. That is far safer.\"\n\nNow Jurgen was shaking his head again: and he sighed.\n\n\"For the pleasures of Cocaigne do not satisfy me. They are all well\nenough in their way; and I admit the truism that in seeking bed and\nboard two heads are better than one. Yes, Ana\u00eftis makes me an\nexcellent wife. Nevertheless, her diversions do not satisfy me, and\ngallantly to make the most of life is not enough. No, it is\nsomething else that I desire: and Ana\u00eftis does not quite understand\nme.\"\n\n\n\n\n24.\n\nOf Compromises in Cocaigne\n\n\nThus Jurgen abode for a little over two months in Cocaigne, and\ncomplied with the customs of that country. Nothing altered in\nCocaigne: but in the world wherein Jurgen was reared, he knew, it\nwould by this time be September, with the leaves flaring gloriously,\nand the birds flocking southward, and the hearts of Jurgen's fellows\nturning to not unpleasant regrets. But in Cocaigne there was no\nregret and no variability, but only an interminable flow of curious\npleasures, illumined by the wandering star of Venus Mechanitis.\n\n\"Why is it, then, that I am not content?\" said Jurgen. \"And what\nthing is this which I desire? It seems to me there is some injustice\nbeing perpetrated upon Jurgen, somewhere.\"\n\nMeanwhile he lived with Ana\u00eftis the Sun's daughter very much as he\nhad lived with Lisa, who was daughter to a pawnbroker. Ana\u00eftis\ndisplayed upon the whole a milder temper: in part because she could\nconfidently look forward to several centuries more of life before\nbeing explained away by the Philologists, and so had less need than\nDame Lisa to worry over temporal matters; and in part because there\nwas less to ruin one's disposition in two months than in ten years\nof Jurgen's company. Ana\u00eftis nagged and sulked for a while when her\nPrince Consort slackened in the pursuit of strange delights, as he\ndid very soon, with frank confession that his tastes were simple and\nthat these outlandish refinements bored him. Later Ana\u00eftis seemed to\ndespair of his ever becoming proficient in curious pleasures, and\nshe permitted Jurgen to lead a comparatively normal life, with only\nan occasional and half-hearted remonstrance.\n\nWhat puzzled Jurgen was that she did not seem to tire of him: and he\nwould often wonder what this lovely myth, so skilled and potent in\narts wherein he was the merest bungler, could find to care for in\nJurgen. For now they lived together like any other humdrum married\ncouple, and their occasional exchange of endearments was as much a\nmatter of course as their meals, and hardly more exciting.\n\n\"Poor dear, I believe it is simply because I am a monstrous clever\nfellow. She distrusts my cleverness, she very often disapproves of\nit, and yet she values it as queer, as a sort of curiosity. Well,\nbut who can deny that cleverness is truly a curiosity in Cocaigne?\"\n\nSo Ana\u00eftis petted and pampered her Prince Consort, and took such\nopen pride in his queerness as very nearly embarrassed him\nsometimes. She could not understand his attitude of polite amusement\ntoward his associates and the events which befell him, and even\ntoward his own doings and traits. Whatever happened, Jurgen\nshrugged, and, delicately avoiding actual laughter, evinced\namusement. Ana\u00eftis could not understand this at all, of course,\nsince Asian myths are remarkably destitute of humor. To Jurgen in\nprivate she protested that he ought to be ashamed of his levity: but\nnone the less, she would draw him out, when among the bestial and\ngrim nature myths, and she would glow visibly with fond pride in\nJurgen's queerness.\n\n\"She mothers me,\" reflected Jurgen. \"Upon my word, I believe that in\nthe end this is the only way in which females are capable of loving.\nAnd she is a dear and lovely creature, of whom I am sincerely fond.\nWhat is this thing, then, that I desire? Why do I feel life is not\ntreating me quite justly?\"\n\nSo the summer had passed; and Ana\u00eftis travelled a great deal, being\na popular myth in every land. Her sense of duty was so strong that\nshe endeavored to grace in person all the peculiar festivals held in\nher honor, and this, now the harvest season was at hand, left her\nwith hardly a moment disengaged. Then, too, the mission of Ana\u00eftis\nwas to divert; and there were so many people whom she had personally\nto visit--so many notable ascetics who were advancing straight\ntoward canonization, and whom her underlings were unable to\ndivert,--that Ana\u00eftis was compelled to pass night after night in\nunwholesomely comfortless surroundings, in monasteries and in the\ncells and caves of hermits.\n\n\"You are wearing yourself out, my darling,\" Jurgen would say: \"and\ndoes it not seem, after all, a game that is hardly worth the candle?\nI know that, for my part, before I would travel so many miles into a\ndesert, and then climb a hundred foot pillar, just to whisper\ndiverting notions into an anchorite's very dirty ear, I would let\nthe gaunt rascal go to Heaven. But you associate so much with\nsaintly persons that you have contracted their incapacity for seeing\nthe humorous side of things. Well, you are a dear, even so. Here is\na kiss for you: and do you come back to your adoring husband as soon\nas you conveniently can without neglecting your duty.\"\n\n\"They report that this Stylites is very far gone in rectitude,\" said\nAna\u00eftis, absent-mindedly, as she prepared for the journey, \"but I\nhave hopes for him.\"\n\nThen Ana\u00eftis put purple powder on her hair, and hastily got together\na few beguiling devices, and went into the Thebaid. Jurgen went back\nto the Library, and the _System of Worshipping a Girl_, and the\nunique manuscripts of Astyanassa and Elephantis and Sotad\u00eas, and the\nDionysiac Formulae, and the Chart of Postures, and the _Litany of\nthe Centre of Delight_, and the Spintrian Treatises, and the\n_Thirty-two Gratifications_, and innumerable other volumes\nwhich he found instructive.\n\nThe Library was a vaulted chamber, having its walls painted with the\ntwelve Asan of Cyren\u00ea; the ceiling was frescoed with the arched body\nof a woman, whose toes rested upon the cornice of the east wall, and\nwhose out-stretched finger-tips touched the cornice of the western\nwall. The clothing of this painted woman was remarkable: and to\nJurgen her face was not unfamiliar.\n\n\"Who is that?\" he inquired, of Ana\u00eftis.\n\nLooking a little troubled, Ana\u00eftis told him this was \u00c6sred.\n\n\"Well, I have heard her called otherwise: and I have seen her in\nquite other clothing.\"\n\n\"You have seen \u00c6sred!\"\n\n\"Yes, with a kitchen towel about her head, and otherwise\nunostentatiously appareled--but very becomingly, I can assure you!\"\nHere Jurgen glanced sidewise at his shadow, and he cleared his\nthroat. \"Oh, and a most charming and a most estimable old lady I\nfound this \u00c6sred to be, I can assure you also.\"\n\n\"I would prefer to know nothing about it,\" said Ana\u00eftis, hastily, \"I\nwould prefer, for both our sakes, that you say no more of \u00c6sred.\"\nJurgen shrugged.\n\nNow in the Library of Cocaigne was garnered a record of all that the\nnature myths had invented in the way of pleasure. And here, with no\ncompanion save his queer shadow, and with \u00c6sred arched above and\nbleakly regarding him, Jurgen spent most of his time, rather\nagreeably, in investigating and meditating upon the more curious of\nthese recreations. The painted Asan were, in all conscience, food\nfor wonder: but over and above these dozen surprising pastimes, the\nbooks of Ana\u00eftis revealed to Jurgen, without disguise or reticence,\nevery other far-fetched frolic of heathenry. Hitherto unheard-of\nforms of diversion were unveiled to him, and every recreation which\ningenuity had been able to contrive, for the gratifying of the most\nsubtle and the most strong-stomached tastes. No possible sort of\namusement would seem to have been omitted, in running the quaint\ngamut of refinements upon nature which Ana\u00eftis and her cousins had\nat odd moments invented, to satiate their desire for some more suave\nor more strange or more sanguinary pleasure. Yet the deeper Jurgen\ninvestigated, and the longer he meditated, the more certain it\nseemed to him that all such employment was a peculiarly\nunimaginative pursuit of happiness.\n\n\"I am willing to taste any drink once. So I must give diversion a\nfair trial. But I am afraid these are the games of mental childhood.\nWell, that reminds me I promised the children to play with them for\na while before supper.\"\n\nSo he came out, and presently, brave in the shirt of Nessus, and\nmimicked in every action by that incongruous shadow, Prince Jurgen\nwas playing tag with the three little Eumenid\u00eas, the daughters of\nAna\u00eftis by her former marriage with Acheron, the King of Midnight.\n\nAna\u00eftis and the dark potentate had parted by mutual consent.\n\"Acheron meant well,\" she would say, with a forgiving sigh, \"and\nthat in the Moon's absence he occasionally diverted travellers, I do\nnot deny. But he did not understand me.\"\n\nAnd Jurgen agreed that this tragedy sometimes befell even the\nirreproachably diverting.\n\nThe three Eumenid\u00eas at this period were half-grown girls, whom their\nmother was carefully tutoring to drive guilty persons mad by the\nstings of conscience: and very quaint it was to see the young Furies\nat practise in the schoolroom, black-robed, and waving lighted\ntorches, and crowned each with her garland of pet serpents. They\nbecame attached to Jurgen, who was always fond of children, and who\nhad frequently regretted that Dame Lisa had borne him none.\n\n\"It is enough to get the poor dear a name for eccentricity,\" he had\nbeen used to say.\n\nSo Jurgen now made much of his step-children: and indeed he found\ntheir innocent prattle quite as intelligent, in essentials, as the\ntalk of the full-grown nature myths who infested the palace of\nAna\u00eftis. And the four of them--Jurgen, and critical Alecto, and\ngrave Tisiphon\u00ea, and fairy-like little Meg\u00e6ra,--would take long\nwalks, and play with their dolls (though Alecto was a trifle\ncondescending toward dolls), and romp together in the eternal\nevening of Cocaigne; and discuss what sort of dresses and trinkets\nMother would probably bring them when she came back from Ecbatana or\nLesbos, and would generally enjoy themselves.\n\nRather pathetically earnest and unimaginative little lasses, Jurgen\nfound the young Eumenid\u00eas: they inherited much of their mother's\nnarrow-mindedness, if not their father's brooding and gloomy\ntendencies; but in them narrow-mindedness showed merely as amusing.\nAnd Jurgen loved them, and would often reflect what a pity it was\nthat these dear little girls were destined when they reached\nmaturity, to spend the rest of their lives in haunting criminals and\nadulterers and parricides and, generally, such persons as must\ninevitably tarnish the girls' outlook upon life, and lead them to\nsee too much of the worst side of human nature.\n\nSo Jurgen was content enough. But still he was not actually happy,\nnot even among the endless pleasures of Cocaigne.\n\n\"And what is this thing that I desire?\" he would ask himself, again\nand again.\n\nAnd still he did not know: he merely felt he was not getting\njustice: and a dim sense of this would trouble him even while he was\nplaying with the Eumenid\u00eas.\n\n\n\n\n25.\n\nCantraps of the Master Philologist\n\n\nBut now, as has been recorded, it was September, and Jurgen could\nsee that Ana\u00eftis too was worrying over something. She kept it from\nhim as long as possible: first said it was nothing at all, then said\nhe would know it soon enough, then wept a little over the\npossibility that he would probably be very glad to hear it, and\neventually told him. For in becoming the consort of a nature myth\nconnected with the Moon Jurgen had of course exposed himself to the\ndanger of being converted into a solar legend by the Philologists,\nand in that event would be compelled to leave Cocaigne with the\nEquinox, to enter into autumnal exploits elsewhere. And Ana\u00eftis was\nquite heart-broken over the prospect of losing Jurgen.\n\n\"For I have never had such a Prince Consort in Cocaigne, so\nmaddening, and so helpless, and so clever; and the girls are so fond\nof you, although they have not been able to get on at all with so\nmany of their step-fathers! And I know that you are flippant and\nheartless, but you have quite spoiled me for other men. No, Jurgen,\nthere is no need to argue, for I have experimented with at least a\ndozen lovers lately, when I was traveling, and they bored me\ninsufferably. They had, as you put it, dear, no conversation: and\nyou are the only young man I have found in all these ages who could\ntalk interestingly.\"\n\n\"There is a reason for that, since like you, Ana\u00eftis, I am not so\nyouthful as I appear.\"\n\n\"I do not care a straw about appearances,\" wept Ana\u00eftis, \"but I know\nthat I love you, and that you must be leaving me with the Equinox\nunless you can settle matters with the Master Philologist.\"\n\n\"Well, my pet,\" says Jurgen, \"the Jews got into Jericho by trying.\"\n\nHe armed, and girded himself with Caliburn, drank a couple of\nbottles of wine, put on the shirt of Nessus over all, and then went\nto seek this thaumaturgist.\n\nAna\u00eftis showed him the way to an unpretentious residence, where a\nweek's washing was drying and flapping in the side yard. Jurgen\nknocked boldly, and after an interval the door was opened by the\nMaster Philologist himself.\n\n\"You must pardon this informality,\" he said, blinking through his\ngreat spectacles, which had dust on them: \"but time was by ill luck\narrested hereabouts on a Thursday evening, and so the maid is out\nindefinitely. I would suggest, therefore, that the lady wait outside\nupon the porch. For the neighbors to see her go in would not be\nrespectable.\"\n\n\"Do you know what I have come for?\" says Jurgen, blustering, and\nsplendid in his glittering shirt and his gleaming armor. \"For I warn\nyou I am justice.\"\n\n\"I think you are lying, and I am sure you are making an unnecessary\nnoise. In any event, justice is a word, and I control all words.\"\n\n\"You will discover very soon, sir, that actions speak louder than\nwords.\"\n\n\"I believe that is so,\" said the Master Philologist, still blinking,\n\"just as the Jewish mob spoke louder than He Whom they crucified.\nBut the Word endures.\"\n\n\"You are a quibbler!\"\n\n\"You are my guest. So I advise you, in pure friendliness, not to\nimpugn the power of my words.\"\n\nSaid Jurgen, scornfully: \"But is justice, then, a word?\"\n\n\"Oh, yes, it is one of the most useful. It is the Spanish _justicia_,\nthe Portuguese _justi\u00e7a_, the Italian _giustizia_, all from\nthe Latin _justus_. Oh, yes indeed, but justice is one of my best\nconnected words, and one of the best trained also, I can assure you.\"\n\n\"Aha, and to what degraded uses do you put this poor enslaved\nintimidated justice!\"\n\n\"There is but one intelligent use,\" said the Master Philologist,\nunruffled, \"for anybody to make of words. I will explain it to you,\nif you will come in out of this treacherous draught. One never knows\nwhat a cold may lead to.\"\n\nThen the door closed upon them, and Ana\u00eftis waited outside, in some\ntrepidation.\n\nPresently Jurgen came out of that unpretentious residence, and so\nback to Ana\u00eftis, discomfited. Jurgen flung down his magic sword,\ncharmed Caliburn.\n\n\"This, Ana\u00eftis, I perceive to be an outmoded weapon. There is no\nweapon like words, no armor against words, and with words the Master\nPhilologist has conquered me. It is not at all equitable: but the\nman showed me a huge book wherein were the names of everything in\nthe world, and justice was not among them. It develops that,\ninstead, justice is merely a common noun, vaguely denoting an\nethical idea of conduct proper to the circumstances, whether of\nindividuals or communities. It is, you observe, just a grammarian's\nnotion.\"\n\n\"But what has he decided about you, Jurgen?\"\n\n\"Alas, dear Ana\u00eftis, he has decided, in spite of all that I could\ndo, to derive Jurgen from _jargon_, indicating a confused\nchattering such as birds give forth at sunrise: thus ruthlessly does\nthe Master Philologist convert me into a solar legend. So the affair\nis settled, and we must part, my darling.\"\n\nAna\u00eftis took up the sword. \"But this is valuable, since the man who\nwields it is the mightiest of warriors.\"\n\n\"It is a rush, a rotten twig, a broomstraw, against the insidious\nweapons of the Master Philologist. But keep it if you like, my dear,\nand give it to your next Prince Consort. I am ashamed to have\ntrifled with such toys,\" says Jurgen, in fretted disgust. \"And\nbesides, the Master Philologist assures me I shall mount far higher\nthrough the aid of this.\"\n\n\"But what is on that bit of parchment?\"\n\n\"Thirty-two of the Master Philologist's own words that I begged of\nhim. See, my dear, he made this cantrap for me with his own hand and\nink.\" And Jurgen read from the parchment, impressively: \"'At the\ndeath of Adrian the Fifth, Pedro Juliani, who should be named John\nthe Twentieth, was through an error in the reckoning elevated to the\npapal chair as John the Twenty-first.'\"\n\nSaid Ana\u00eftis, blankly: \"And is that all?\"\n\n\"Why, yes: and surely thirty-two whole words should be enough for\nthe most exacting.\"\n\n\"But is it magic? are you certain it is authentic magic?\"\n\n\"I have learned that there is always magic in words.\"\n\n\"Now, if you ask my opinion, Jurgen, your cantrap is nonsense, and\ncan never be of any earthly use to anybody. Without boasting, dear,\nI have handled a great deal of black magic in my day, but I never\nencountered a spell at all like this.\"\n\n\"None the less, my darling, it is evidently a cantrap, for else the\nMaster Philologist would never have given it to me.\"\n\n\"But how are you to use it, pray?\"\n\n\"Why, as need directs,\" said Jurgen, and he put the parchment into\nthe pocket of his glittering shirt. \"Yes, I repeat, there is always\nsomething to be done with words, and here are thirty-two authentic\nwords from the Master Philologist himself, not to speak of three\ncommas and a full-stop. Oh, I shall certainly go far with this.\"\n\n\"We women have firmer faith in the sword,\" replied Ana\u00eftis. \"At all\nevents, you and I cannot remain upon this thaumaturgist's porch\nindefinitely.\"\n\nSo Ana\u00eftis put up Caliburn, and carried it from the thaumaturgist's\nunpretentious residence to her fine palace in the old twilit wood:\nand afterward, as everybody knows, she gave this sword to King\nArthur, who with its aid rose to be hailed as one of the Nine\nWorthies of the World. So did the husband of Guenevere win for\nhimself eternal fame with that which Jurgen flung away.\n\n\n\n\n26.\n\nIn Time's Hour-Glass\n\n\n\"Well, well!\" said Jurgen, when he had taken off all that foolish\nironmongery, and had made himself comfortable in his shirt; \"well,\nbeyond doubt, the situation is awkward. I was content enough in\nCocaigne, and it is unfair that I should be thus ousted. Still, a\nsensible person will manage to be content anywhere. But whither,\npray, am I expected to go?\"\n\n\"Into whatever land you may elect, my dear,\" said Ana\u00eftis, fondly.\n\"That much at least I can manage for you: and the interpretation of\nyour legend can be arranged afterward.\"\n\n\"But I grow tired of all the countries I have ever seen, dear\nAna\u00eftis, and in my time I have visited nearly all the lands that are\nknown to men.\"\n\n\"That too can be arranged: and you can go instead into one of the\ncountries which are desired by men. Indeed there are a number of\nsuch realms which no man has ever visited except in dreams, so that\nyour choice is wide.\"\n\n\"But how am I to make a choice without having seen any of these\ncountries? It is not fair to be expecting me to do anything of the\nsort.\"\n\n\"Why, I will show them to you,\" Ana\u00eftis replied.\n\nThe two of them then went together into a small blue chamber, the\nwalls of which were ornamented with gold stars placed helter-skelter.\nThe room was entirely empty save for an hour-glass near twice the\nheight of a man.\n\n\"It is Time's own glass,\" said Ana\u00eftis, \"which was left in my\nkeeping when Time went to sleep.\"\n\nAna\u00eftis opened a little door of carved crystal that was in the lower\nhalf of the hour-glass, just above the fallen sands. With her\nfinger-tips she touched the sand that was in Time's hour-glass, and\nin the sand she drew a triangle with equal sides, she who was\nstrangely gifted and perverse. Then she drew just such another\nfigure so that the tip of it penetrated the first triangle. The sand\nbegan to smoulder there, and vapors rose into the upper part of the\nhour-glass, and Jurgen saw that all the sand in Time's hour-glass\nwas kindled by a magic generated by the contact of these two\ntriangles. And in the vapors a picture formed.\n\n\"I see a land of woods and rivers, Ana\u00eftis. A very old fellow,\nregally crowned, lies asleep under an ash-tree, guarded by a\nwatchman who has more arms and hands than Jigsbyed.\"\n\n\"It is Atlantis you behold, and the sleeping of ancient Time--Time,\nto whom this glass belongs,--while Briareus watches.\"\n\n\"Time sleeps quite naked, Ana\u00eftis, and, though it is a delicate\nmatter to talk about, I notice he has met with a deplorable\naccident.\"\n\n\"So that Time begets nothing any more, Jurgen, the while he brings\nabout old happenings over and over, and changes the name of what is\nancient, in order to persuade himself he has a new plaything. There\nis really no more tedious and wearing old dotard anywhere, I can\nassure you. But Atlantis is only the western province of Cocaigne.\nNow do you look again, Jurgen!\"\n\n\"Now I behold a flowering plain and three steep hills, with a castle\nupon each hill. There are woods wherein the foliage is crimson:\nshining birds with white bodies and purple heads feed upon the\nclusters of golden berries that grow everywhere: and people go about\nin green clothes, with gold chains about their necks, and with broad\nbands of gold upon their arms, and all these people have untroubled\nfaces.\"\n\n\"That is Inislocha: and to the south is Inis Daleb, and to the north\nInis Ercandra. And there is sweet music to be listening to\neternally, could we but hear the birds of Rhiannon, and there is the\nbest of wine to drink, and there delight is common. For thither\ncomes nothing hard nor rough, and no grief, nor any regret, nor\nsickness, nor age, nor death, for this is the Land of Women, a land\nof many-colored hospitality.\"\n\n\"Why, then, it is no different from Cocaigne. And into no realm\nwhere pleasure is endless will I ever venture again of my own free\nwill, for I find that I do not enjoy pleasure.\"\n\nThen Ana\u00eftis showed him Ogygia, and Tryph\u00eame, and Sudarsana, and the\nFortunate Islands, and \u00c6aea, and Caer-Is, and Invallis, and the\nHesperides, and Meropis, and Planasia, and Uttarra, and Avalon, and\nTir-nam-Beo, and Thel\u00eame, and a number of other lands to enter which\nmen have desired: and Jurgen groaned.\n\n\"I am ashamed of my fellows,\" says he: \"for it appears their notion\nof felicity is to dwell eternally in a glorified brothel. I do not\nthink that as a self-respecting young Prince I would care to inhabit\nany of these earthly paradises, for were there nothing else, I would\nalways be looking for an invasion by the police.\"\n\n\"There remains, then, but one other realm, which I have not shown\nyou, in part because it is an obscure little place, and in part\nbecause, for a reason that I have, I shall not assist you to go\nthither. Still, there is Leuk\u00ea, where Queen Helen rules: and Leuk\u00ea\nit is that you behold.\"\n\n\"But Leuk\u00ea seems like any other country in autumn, and appears to be\nreasonably free from the fantastic animals and overgrown flowers\nwhich made the other paradises look childish. Come now, there is an\nattractive simplicity about Leuk\u00ea. I might put up with Leuk\u00ea if the\nlocal by-laws allowed me a rational amount of discomfort.\"\n\n\"Discomfort you would have full measure. For the heart of no man\nremains untroubled after he has once viewed Queen Helen and the\nbeauty that is hers. It is for that reason, Jurgen, I shall not help\nyou to go into Leuk\u00ea: for in Leuk\u00ea you would forget me, having seen\nQueen Helen.\"\n\n\"Why, what nonsense you are talking, my darling! I will wager she\ncannot hold a candle to you.\"\n\n\"See for yourself!\" said Ana\u00eftis, sadly.\n\nNow through the rolling vapors came confusedly a gleaming and a\nsurging glitter of all the loveliest colors of heaven and earth:\nand these took order presently, and Jurgen saw before him in the\nhour-glass that young Dorothy who was not Heitman Michael's wife.\nAnd long and wistfully he looked at her, and the blinding tears\ncame to his eyes for no reason at all, and for the while he could\nnot speak.\n\nThen Jurgen yawned, and said, \"But certainly this is not the Helen\nwho was famed for beauty.\"\n\n\"I can assure you that it is,\" said Ana\u00eftis: \"and that it is she who\nrules in Leuk\u00ea, whither I do not intend you shall go.\"\n\n\"Why, but, my darling! this is preposterous. The girl is nothing to\nlook at twice, one way or the other. She is not actually ugly, I\nsuppose, if one happens to admire that washed-out blonde type, as of\ncourse some people do. But to call her beautiful is out of reason;\nand that I must protest in simple justice.\"\n\n\"Do you really think so?\" says Ana\u00eftis, brightening.\n\n\"I most assuredly do. Why, you remember what Calpurnius Bassus says\nabout all blondes?\"\n\n\"No, I believe not. What did he say, dear?\"\n\n\"I would only spoil the splendid passage by quoting it inaccurately\nfrom memory. But he was quite right, and his opinion is mine in\nevery particular. So if that is the best Leuk\u00ea can offer, I heartily\nagree with you I had best go into some other country.\"\n\n\"I suppose you already have your eyes upon some minx or other?\"\n\n\"Well, my love, those girls in the Hesperides were strikingly like\nyou, with even more wonderful hair than yours: and the girl Aill\u00ea\nwhom we saw in Tir-nam-Beo likewise resembled you remarkably, except\nthat I thought she had the better figure. So I believe in either of\nthose countries I could be content enough, after a while. Since part\nfrom you I must,\" said Jurgen, tenderly, \"I intend, in common\nfairness to myself, to find a companion as like you as possible. You\nconceive I can pretend it is you at first: and then as I grow fonder\nof her for her own sake, you will gradually be put out of my mind\nwithout my incurring any intolerable anguish.\"\n\nAna\u00eftis was not pleased. \"So you are already hankering after those\nhuzzies! And you think them better looking than I am! And you tell\nme so to my face!\"\n\n\"My darling, you cannot deny we have been married all of three whole\nmonths: and nobody can maintain an infatuation for any woman that\nlong, in the teeth of having nothing refused him. Infatuation is\nlargely a matter of curiosity, and both of these emotions die when\nthey are fed.\"\n\n\"Jurgen,\" said Ana\u00eftis, with conviction, \"you are lying to me about\nsomething. I can see it in your eyes.\"\n\n\"There is no deceiving a woman's intuition. Yes, I was not speaking\nquite honestly when I pretended I had as lief go into the Hesperides\nas to Tir-nam-Beo: it was wrong of me, and I ask your pardon. I\nthought that by affecting indifference I could manage you better.\nBut you saw through me at once, and very rightly became angry. So I\nfling my cards upon the table, I no longer beat about the bushes of\nequivocation. It is Aill\u00ea, the daughter of Cormac, whom I love, and\nwho can blame me? Did you ever in your life behold a more enticing\nfigure, Ana\u00eftis?--certainly I never did. Besides, I noticed--but\nnever mind about that! Still I could not help seeing them. And then\nsuch eyes! twin beacons that light my way to comfort for my not\ninconsiderable regret at losing you, my darling. Oh, yes, assuredly\nit is to Tir-nam-Beo I elect to go.\"\n\n\"Whither you go, my fine fellow, is a matter in which I have the\nchoice, not you. And you are going to Leuk\u00ea.\"\n\n\"My love, now do be reasonable! We both agreed that Leuk\u00ea was not a\nbit suitable. Why, were there nothing else, in Leuk\u00ea there are no\nattractive women.\"\n\n\"Have you no sense except book-sense! It is for that reason I am\nsending you to Leuk\u00ea.\"\n\nAnd thus speaking, Ana\u00eftis set about a strong magic that hastened\nthe coming of the Equinox. In the midst of her charming she wept a\nlittle, for she was fond of Jurgen.\n\nAnd Jurgen preserved a hurt and angry face as well as he could: for\nat the sight of Queen Helen, who was so like young Dorothy la\nD\u00e9sir\u00e9e, he had ceased to care for Queen Ana\u00eftis and her diverting\nways, or to care for aught else in the world save only Queen Helen,\nthe delight of gods and men. But Jurgen had learned that Ana\u00eftis\nrequired management.\n\n\"For her own good,\" as he put it, \"and in simple justice to the many\nadmirable qualities which she possesses.\"\n\n\n\n\n27.\n\nVexatious Estate of Queen Helen\n\n\n\"But how can I travel with the Equinox, with a fictitious thing,\nwith a mere convention?\" Jurgen had said. \"To demand any such\nproceeding of me is preposterous.\"\n\n\"Is it any more preposterous than to travel with an imaginary\ncreature like a centaur?\" they had retorted. \"Why, Prince Jurgen, we\nwonder how you, who have done that perfectly unheard-of thing, can\nhave the effrontery to call anything else preposterous! Is there no\nreason at all in you? Why, conventions are respectable, and that is\na deal more than can be said for a great many centaurs. Would you be\nthrowing stones at respectability, Prince Jurgen? Why, we are\nunutterably astounded at your objection to any such well-known\nphenomenon as the Equinox!\" And so on, and so on, and so on, said\nthey.\n\nAnd in fine, they kept at him until Jurgen was too confused to\nargue, and his head was in a whirl, and one thing seemed as\npreposterous as another: and he ceased to notice any especial\nimprobability in his traveling with the Equinox, and so passed\nwithout any further protest or argument about it, from Cocaigne to\nLeuk\u00ea. But he would not have been thus readily flustered had Jurgen\nnot been thinking all the while of Queen Helen and of the beauty\nthat was hers.\n\nSo he inquired forthwith the way that one might quickliest come into\nthe presence of Queen Helen.\n\n\"Why, you will find Queen Helen,\" he was told, \"in her palace at\nPseudopolis.\" His informant was a hamadryad, whom Jurgen encountered\nupon the outskirts of a forest overlooking the city from the west.\nBeyond broad sloping stretches of ripe corn, you saw Pseudopolis as\na city builded of gold and ivory, now all a dazzling glitter under a\nhard-seeming sky that appeared unusually remote from earth.\n\n\"And is the Queen as fair as people report?\" asks Jurgen.\n\n\"Men say that she excels all other women,\" replied the Hamadryad,\n\"as immeasurably as all we women perceive her husband to surpass all\nother men--\"\n\n\"But, oh, dear me!\" says Jurgen.\n\n\"--Although, for one, I see nothing remarkable in Queen Helen's\nlooks. And I cannot but think that a woman who has been so much\ntalked about ought to be more careful in the way she dresses.\"\n\n\"So this Queen Helen is already provided with a husband!\" Jurgen was\ndispleased, but saw no reason for despair. Then Jurgen inquired as\nto the Queen's husband, and learned that Achilles, the son of\nPeleus, was now wedded to Helen, the Swan's daughter, and that these\ntwo ruled in Pseudopolis.\n\n\"For they report,\" said the Hamadryad, \"that in Ad\u00eas' dreary kingdom\nAchilles remembered her beauty, and by this memory was heartened to\nbreak the bonds of Ad\u00eas: so did Achilles, King of Men, and all his\nancient comrades come forth resistlessly upon a second quest of this\nHelen, whom people call--and as I think, with considerable\nexaggeration--the wonder of this world. Then the Gods fulfilled the\ndesire of Achilles, because, they said, the man who has once beheld\nQueen Helen will never any more regain contentment so long as his\nlife lacks this wonder of the world. Personally, I would dislike to\nthink that all men are so foolish.\"\n\n\"Men are not always rational, I grant you: but then,\" says Jurgen,\nslyly, \"so many of their ancestresses are feminine.\"\n\n\"But an ancestress is always feminine. Nobody ever heard of a man\nbeing an ancestress. Men are ancestors. Why, whatever are you\ntalking about?\"\n\n\"Well, we were speaking, I believe, of Queen Helen's marriage.\"\n\n\"To be sure we were! And I was telling you about the Gods, when you\nmade that droll mistake about ancestors. Everybody makes mistakes\nsometimes, however, and foreigners are always apt to get words\nconfused. I could see at once you were a foreigner--\"\n\n\"Yes,\" said Jurgen, \"but you were not telling me about myself but\nabout the Gods.\"\n\n\"Why, you must know the aging Gods desired tranquillity. So we will\ngive her to Achilles, they said; and then, it may be, this King of\nMen will retain her so safely that his littler fellows will despair,\nand will cease to war for Helen: and so we shall not be bothered any\nlonger by their wars and other foolishnesses. For this reason it was\nthat the Gods gave Helen to Achilles, and sent the pair to reign in\nLeuk\u00ea: though, for my part,\" concluded the Hamadryad, \"I shall never\ncease to wonder what he saw in her--no, not if I live to be a\nthousand.\"\n\n\"I must,\" says Jurgen, \"observe this monarch Achilles before the world\nis a day older. A king is all very well, of course, but no husband\nwears a crown so as to prevent the affixion of other head-gear.\"\n\nAnd Jurgen went down into Pseudopolis, swaggering.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nSo in the evening, just after sunset, Jurgen returned to the\nHamadryad: he walked now with the aid of the ashen staff which\nThersit\u00eas had given Jurgen, and Jurgen was mirthless and rather\nhumble.\n\n\"I have observed your King Achilles,\" Jurgen says, \"and he is a\nbetter man than I. Queen Helen, as I confess with regret, is\nworthily mated.\"\n\n\"And what have you to say about her?\" inquires the Hamadryad.\n\n\"Why, there is nothing more to say than that she is worthily mated,\nand fit to be the wife of Achilles.\" For once, poor Jurgen was\nreally miserable. \"For I admire this man Achilles, I envy him, and I\nfear him,\" says Jurgen: \"and it is not fair that he should have been\ncreated my superior.\"\n\n\"But is not Queen Helen the loveliest of ladies that you have ever\nseen?\"\n\n\"As to that--!\" says Jurgen. He led the Hamadryad to a forest pool\nhard-by the oak-tree in which she resided. The dusky water lay\nunruffled, a natural mirror. \"Look!\" said Jurgen, and he spoke with\na downward waving of his staff.\n\nThe silence gathering in the woods was wonderful. Here the air was\nsweet and pure: and the little wind which went about the ilex boughs\nin search of night was a tender and peaceful wind, because it knew\nthat the all-healing night was close at hand.\n\nThe Hamadryad replied, \"But I see only my own face.\"\n\n\"It is the answer to your question, none the less. Now do you tell\nme your name, my dear, so that I may know who in reality is the\nloveliest of all the ladies I have ever seen.\"\n\nThe Hamadryad told him that her name was Chloris, and that she\nalways looked a fright with her hair arranged as it was to-day, and\nthat he was a strangely impudent fellow. So he in turn confessed to\nher he was King Jurgen of Eubonia, drawn from his remote kingdom by\nexaggerated reports as to the beauty of Queen Helen. Chloris agreed\nwith him that rumor was in such matters invariably untrustworthy.\n\nThis led to further talk as twilight deepened: and the while that a\nlittle by a little this pretty girl was converted into a warm\nbreathing shadow, hardly visible to the eye, the shadow of Jurgen\ndeparted from him, and he began to talk better and better. He had\nseen Queen Helen face to face, and other women now seemed\nunimportant. Whether or not he got into the graces of this Hamadryad\ndid not greatly matter, one way or the other: and in consequence\nJurgen talked with such fluency, such apposite remarks and such\ntenderness as astounded him.\n\nSo he sat listening with delight to the seductive tongue of that\nmonstrous clever fellow, Jurgen. For this plump brown-haired\nbright-eyed little creature, this Chloris, he was honestly sorry.\nInto the uneventful life of a hamadryad, here in this uncultured\nforest, could not possibly have entered much pleasurable excitement,\nand it seemed only right to inject a little. \"Why, simply in justice\nto her!\" Jurgen reflected. \"I must deal fairly.\"\n\nNow it grew darker and darker under the trees, and in the dark\nnobody can see what happens. There were only two voices that talked,\nwith lengthy pauses: and they spoke gravely of unimportant trifles,\nlike children at play together.\n\n\"And how does a king come thus to be traveling without any retinue\nor even a sword about him?\"\n\n\"Why, I travel with a staff, my dear, as you perceive: and it\nsuffices me.\"\n\n\"Certainly it is large enough, in all conscience. Alas, young\noutlander, who call yourself a king! you carry the bludgeon of a\nhighwayman, and I am afraid of it.\"\n\n\"My staff is a twig from Yggdrasill, the tree of universal life:\nThersit\u00eas gave it me, and the sap that throbs therein arises from\nthe Undar fountain, where the grave Norns make laws for men and fix\ntheir destinies.\"\n\n\"Thersit\u00eas is a scoffer, and his gifts are mockery. I would have\nnone of them.\"\n\nThe two began to wrangle, not at all angrily, as to what Jurgen had\nbest do with his prized staff. \"Do you take it away from me, at any\nrate!\" says Chloris. So Jurgen hid his staff where Chloris could not\npossibly see it; and he drew the Hamadryad close to him, and he\nlaughed contentedly.\n\n\"Oh, oh! O wretched King,\" cried Chloris, \"I fear that you will be\nthe death of me! And you have no right to oppress me in this way,\nfor I am not your subject.\"\n\n\"Rather shall you be my queen, dear Chloris, receiving all that I\nmost prize.\"\n\n\"But you are too domineering: and I am afraid to be alone with you\nand your big staff! Ah! not without knowing what she talked about\ndid my mother use to quote her \u00c6olic saying, The king is cruel and\ntakes joy in bloodshed!\"\n\n\"Presently you will not be afraid of me, nor will you be afraid of\nmy staff. Custom is all. For this likewise is an \u00c6olic saying, The\ntaste of the first olive is unpleasant, but the second is good.\"\n\nNow for a while was silence save for the small secretive rumors of\nthe forest. One of the large green locusts which frequent the Island\nof Leuk\u00ea began shrilling tentatively.\n\n\"Wait now, King Jurgen, for surely I hear footsteps, and one comes\nto trouble us.\"\n\n\"It is a wind in the tree-tops: or perhaps it is a god who envies\nme. I pause for neither.\"\n\n\"Ah, but speak reverently of the Gods! For is not Love a god, and a\njealous god that has wings with which to leave us?\"\n\n\"Then am I a god, for in my heart is love, and in every fibre of me\nis love, and from me now love emanates.\"\n\n\"But certainly I heard somebody approaching through the forest--\"\n\n\"Well, and do you not perceive I have withdrawn my staff from its\nhiding-place?\"\n\n\"Ah, you have great faith in that staff of yours!\"\n\n\"I fear nobody when I brandish it.\"\n\nAnother locust had answered the first one. Now the two insects were\nin full dispute, suffusing the warm darkness with their pertinacious\nwhirrings.\n\n\"King of Eubonia, it is certainly true, that which you told me about\nolives.\"\n\n\"Yes, for always love begets truthfulness.\"\n\n\"I pray it may beget between us utter truthfulness, and nothing\nelse, King Jurgen.\"\n\n\"Not 'Jurgen' now, but 'love'.\"\n\n\"Indeed, they tell that even so, in such deep darkness, Love came to\nhis sweetheart Psych\u00ea.\"\n\n\"Then why do you complain because I piously emulate the Gods, and\noffer unto Love the sincerest form of flattery?\" And Jurgen shook\nhis staff at her.\n\n\"Ah, but you are strangely ready with your flattery! and Love\nthreatened Psych\u00ea with no such enormous staff.\"\n\n\"That is possible: for I am Jurgen. And I deal fairly with all\nwomen, and raise my staff against none save in the way of kindness.\"\n\nSo they talked nonsense, in utter darkness, while the locusts, and\npresently a score of locusts, disputed obstinately. Now Chloris and\nJurgen were invisible, even to each other, as they talked under her\noak-tree: but before them the fields shone mistily under a gold-dusted\ndome, for this night seemed builded of stars. And the white towers of\nPseudopolis also could Jurgen see, as he laughed there and took his\npleasure with Chloris. He reflected that very probably Achilles and\nHelen were laughing thus, and were not dissimilarly occupied, out\nyonder, in this night of wonder.\n\nHe sighed. But in a while Jurgen and the Hamadryad were speaking\nagain, just as inconsequently, and the locusts were whirring just as\nobstinately. Later the moon rose, and they all slept.\n\nWith the dawn Jurgen arose, and left this Hamadryad Chloris still\nasleep. He stood where he overlooked the city and the shirt of\nNessus glittered in the level sun rays: and Jurgen thought of Queen\nHelen. Then he sighed, and went back to Chloris and wakened her with\nthe sort of salutation that appeared her just due.\n\n\n\n\n28.\n\nOf Compromises in Leuk\u00ea\n\n\nNow the tale tells that ten days later Jurgen and his Hamadryad were\nduly married, in consonance with the law of the Wood: not for a\nmoment did Chloris consider any violation of the proprieties, so\nthey were married the first evening she could assemble her kindred.\n\n\"Still, Chloris, I already have two wives,\" says Jurgen, \"and it is\nbut fair to confess it.\"\n\n\"I thought it was only yesterday you arrived in Leuk\u00ea.\"\n\n\"That is true: for I came with the Equinox, over the long sea.\"\n\n\"Then Jugatinus has not had time to marry you to anybody, and\ncertainly he would never think of marrying you to two wives. Why do\nyou talk such nonsense?\"\n\n\"No, it is true, I was not married by Jugatinus.\"\n\n\"So there!\" says Chloris, as if that settled matters. \"Now you see\nfor yourself.\"\n\n\"Why, yes, to be sure,\" says Jurgen, \"that does put rather a\ndifferent light upon it, now I think of it.\"\n\n\"It makes all the difference in the world.\"\n\n\"I would hardly go that far. Still, I perceive it makes a\ndifference.\"\n\n\"Why, you talk as if everybody did not know that Jugatinus marries\npeople!\"\n\n\"No, dear, let us be fair! I did not say precisely that.\"\n\n\"--And as if everybody was not always married by Jugatinus!\"\n\n\"Yes, here in Leuk\u00ea, perhaps. But outside of Leuk\u00ea, you understand,\nmy darling!\"\n\n\"But nobody goes outside of Leuk\u00ea. Nobody ever thinks of leaving\nLeuk\u00ea. I never heard such nonsense.\"\n\n\"You mean, nobody ever leaves this island?\"\n\n\"Nobody that you ever hear of. Of course, there are Lares and\nPenates, with no social position, that the kings of Pseudopolis\nsometimes take a-voyaging--\"\n\n\"Still, the people of other countries do get married.\"\n\n\"No, Jurgen,\" said Chloris, sadly, \"it is a rule with Jugatinus\nnever to leave the island; and indeed I am sure he has never even\nconsidered such unheard-of conduct: so, of course, the people of\nother countries are not able to get married.\"\n\n\"Well, but, Chloris, in Eubonia--\"\n\n\"Now if you do not mind, dear, I think we had better talk about\nsomething more pleasant. I do not blame you men of Eubonia, because\nall men are in such matters perfectly irresponsible. And perhaps it\nis not altogether the fault of the women, either, though I do think\nany really self-respecting woman would have the strength of\ncharacter to keep out of such irregular relations, and that much I\nam compelled to say. So do not let us talk any more about these\npersons whom you describe as your wives. It is very nice of you,\ndear, to call them that, and I appreciate your delicacy. Still, I\nreally do believe we had better talk about something else.\"\n\nJurgen deliberated. \"Yet do you not think, Chloris, that in the\nabsence of Jugatinus--and in, as I understand it, the unavoidable\nabsence of Jugatinus,--somebody else might perform the ceremony?\"\n\n\"Oh, yes, if they wanted to. But it would not count. Nobody but\nJugatinus can really marry people. And so of course nobody else\ndoes.\"\n\n\"What makes you sure of that?\"\n\n\"Why, because,\" said Chloris, triumphantly, \"nobody ever heard of\nsuch a thing.\"\n\n\"You have voiced,\" said Jurgen, \"an entire code of philosophy. Let\nus by all means go to Jugatinus and be married.\"\n\nSo they were married by Jugatinus, according to the ceremony with\nwhich the People of the Wood were always married by Jugatinus. First\nVirgo loosed the girdle of Chloris in such fashion as was customary;\nand Chloris, after sitting much longer than Jurgen liked in the lap\nof Mutinus (who was in the state that custom required of him) was\nled back to Jurgen by Domiducus in accordance with immemorial\ncustom; Subigo did her customary part; then Praema grasped the\nbride's plump arms: and everything was perfectly regular.\n\nThereafter Jurgen disposed of his staff in the way Thersit\u00eas had\ndirected: and thereafter Jurgen abode with Chloris upon the\noutskirts of the forest, and complied with the customs of Leuk\u00ea. Her\ntree was a rather large oak, for Chloris was now in her two hundred\nand sixty-sixth year; and at first its commodious trunk sheltered\nthem. But later Jurgen builded himself a little cabin thatched with\nbirds' wings, and made himself more comfortable.\n\n\"It is well enough for you, my dear, in fact it is expected of you,\nto live in a tree-bole. But it makes me feel uncomfortably like a\nworm, and it needlessly emphasizes the restrictions of married life.\nBesides, you do not want me under your feet all the time, nor I you.\nNo, let us cultivate a judicious abstention from familiarity: such\nis one secret of an enduring, because endurable, marriage. But why\nis it, pray, that you have never married before, in all these\nyears?\"\n\nShe told him. At first Jurgen could not believe her, but presently\nJurgen was convinced, through at least two of his senses, that what\nChloris told him was true about hamadryads.\n\n\"Otherwise, you are not markedly unlike the women of Eubonia,\" said\nJurgen.\n\nAnd now Jurgen met many of the People of the Wood; but since the\ntree of Chloris stood upon the verge of the forest, he saw far more\nof the People of the Field, who dwelt between the forest and the\ncity of Pseudopolis. These were the neighbors and the ordinary\nassociates of Chloris and Jurgen; though once in a while, of course,\nthere would be family gatherings in the forest. But Jurgen presently\nhad found good reason to distrust the People of the Wood, and went\nto none of these gatherings.\n\n\"For in Eubonia,\" he said, \"we are taught that your wife's relatives\nwill never find fault with you to your face so long as you keep away\nfrom them. And more than that, no sensible man expects.\"\n\nMeanwhile, King Jurgen was perplexed by the People of the Field, who\nwere his neighbors. They one and all did what they had always done.\nThus Runcina saw to it that the Fields were weeded: Seia took care\nof the seed while it was buried in the earth: Nodosa arranged the\nknots and joints of the stalk: Volusia folded the blade around the\ncorn: each had an immemorial duty. And there was hardly a day that\nsomebody was not busied in the Fields, whether it was Occator\nharrowing, or Sator and Sarritor about their sowing and raking, or\nStercutius manuring the ground: and Hippona was always bustling\nabout in one place or another looking after the horses, or else\nBubona would be there attending to the cattle. There was never any\nrestfulness in the Fields.\n\n\"And why do you do these things year in and year out?\" asked Jurgen.\n\n\"Why, King of Eubonia, we have always done these things,\" they said,\nin high astonishment.\n\n\"Yes, but why not stop occasionally?\"\n\n\"Because in that event the work would stop. The corn would die, the\ncattle would perish, and the Fields would become jungles.\"\n\n\"But, as I understand it, this is not your corn, nor your cattle,\nnor your Fields. You derive no good from them. And there is nothing\nto prevent your ceasing this interminable labor, and living as do\nthe People of the Wood, who perform no heavy work whatever.\"\n\n\"I should think not!\" said Arist\u00e6us, and his teeth flashed in a smile\nthat was very pleasant to see, as he strained at the olive-press.\n\"Whoever heard of the People of the Wood doing anything useful!\"\n\n\"Yes, but,\" says Jurgen, patiently, \"do you think it is quite fair\nto yourselves to be always about some tedious and difficult labor\nwhen nobody compels you to do it? Why do you not sometimes take\nholiday?\"\n\n\"King Jurgen,\" replied Fornax, looking up from the little furnace\nwherein she was parching corn, \"you are talking nonsense. The People\nof the Field have never taken holiday. Nobody ever heard of such a\nthing.\"\n\n\"We should think not indeed!\" said all the others, sagely.\n\n\"Ah, ah!\" said Jurgen, \"so that is your demolishing reason. Well, I\nshall inquire about this matter among the People of the Wood, for\nthey may be more sensible.\"\n\nThen as Jurgen was about to enter the forest, he encountered\nTerminus, perfumed with ointment, and crowned with a garland of\nroses, and standing stock still.\n\n\"Aha,\" said Jurgen, \"so here is one of the People of the Wood about\nto go down into the Fields. But if I were you, my friend, I would\nkeep away from any such foolish place.\"\n\n\"I never go down into the Fields,\" said Terminus.\n\n\"Oh, then, you are returning into the forest.\"\n\n\"But certainly not. Whoever heard of my going into the forest!\"\n\n\"Indeed, now I look at you, you are merely standing here.\"\n\n\"I have always stood here,\" said Terminus.\n\n\"And do you never move?\"\n\n\"No,\" said Terminus.\n\n\"And for what reason?\"\n\n\"Because I have always stood here without moving,\" replied Terminus.\n\"Why, for me to move would be a quite unheard-of thing.\"\n\nSo Jurgen left him, and went into the forest. And there Jurgen\nencountered a smiling young fellow, who rode upon the back of a\nlarge ram. This young man had his left fore-finger laid to his lips,\nand his right hand held an astonishing object to be thus publicly\ndisplayed.\n\n\"But, oh, dear me! now, really, sir--!\" says Jurgen.\n\n\"Bah!\" says the ram.\n\nBut the smiling young fellow said nothing at all as he passed\nJurgen, because it is not the custom of Harpocrates to speak.\n\n\"Which would be well enough,\" reflected Jurgen, \"if only his custom\ndid not make for stiffness and the embarrassment of others.\"\n\nThereafter Jurgen came upon a considerable commotion in the bushes,\nwhere a satyr was at play with an oread.\n\n\"Oh, but this forest is not respectable!\" said Jurgen. \"Have you no\nethics and morals, you People of the Wood! Have you no sense of\nresponsibility whatever, thus to be frolicking on a working-day?\"\n\n\"Why, no,\" responded the Satyr, \"of course not. None of my people\nhave such things: and so the natural vocation of all satyrs is that\nwhich you are now interrupting.\"\n\n\"Perhaps you speak the truth,\" said Jurgen. \"Still, you ought to be\nashamed of the fact that you are not lying.\"\n\n\"For a satyr to be ashamed of himself would be indeed an unheard-of\nthing! Now go away, you in the glittering shirt! for we are studying\neud\u00e6monism, and you are talking nonsense, and I am busy, and you\nannoy me,\" said the Satyr.\n\n\"Well, but in Cocaigne,\" said Jurgen, \"this eud\u00e6monism was\nconsidered an indoor diversion.\"\n\n\"And did you ever hear of a satyr going indoors?\"\n\n\"Why, save us from all hurt and harm! but what has that to do with\nit?\"\n\n\"Do not try to equivocate, you shining idiot! For now you see for\nyourself you are talking nonsense. And I repeat that such unheard-of\nnonsense irritates me,\" said the Satyr.\n\nThe Oread said nothing at all. But she too looked annoyed, and\nJurgen reflected that it was probably not the custom of oreads to be\nrescued from the eud\u00e6monism of satyrs.\n\nSo Jurgen left them; and yet deeper in the forest he found a bald-headed\nsquat old man, with a big paunch and a flat red nose and very small\nbleared eyes. Now the old fellow was so helplessly drunk that he could\nnot walk: instead, he sat upon the ground, and leaned against a tree-bole.\n\n\"This is a very disgusting state for you to be in so early in the\nmorning,\" observed Jurgen.\n\n\"But Silenus is always drunk,\" the bald-headed man responded, with a\ndignified hiccough.\n\n\"So here is another one of you! Well, and why are you always drunk,\nSilenus?\"\n\n\"Because Silenus is the wisest of the People of the Wood.\"\n\n\"Ah, ah! but I apologize. For here at last is somebody with a\nplausible excuse for his daily employment. Now, then, Silenus, since\nyou are so wise, come tell me, is it really the best fate for a man\nto be drunk always?\"\n\n\"Not at all. Drunkenness is a joy reserved for the Gods: so do men\npartake of it impiously, and so are they very properly punished for\ntheir audacity. For men, it is best of all never to be born; but,\nbeing born, to die very quickly.\"\n\n\"Ah, yes! but failing either?\"\n\n\"The third best thing for a man is to do that which seems expected\nof him,\" replied Silenus.\n\n\"But that is the Law of Philistia: and with Philistia, they inform\nme, Pseudopolis is at war.\"\n\nSilenus meditated. Jurgen had discovered an uncomfortable thing\nabout this old fellow, and it was that his small bleared eyes did\nnot blink nor the lids twitch at all. His eyes moved, as through\nmagic the eyes of a painted statue might move horribly, under quite\nmotionless red lids. Therefore it was uncomfortable when these eyes\nmoved toward you.\n\n\"Young fellow in the glittering shirt, I will tell you a secret: and\nit is that the Philistines were created after the image of Koshchei\nwho made some things as they are. Do you think upon that! So the\nPhilistines do that which seems expected. And the people of Leuk\u00ea\nwere created after the image of Koshchei who made yet other things\nas they are: therefore do the people of Leuk\u00ea do that which is\ncustomary, adhering to classical tradition. Do you think upon that\nalso! Then do you pick your side in this war, remembering that you\nside with stupidity either way. And when that happens which will\nhappen, do you remember how Silenus foretold to you precisely what\nwould happen, a long while before it happened, because Silenus was\nso old and so wise and so very disreputably drunk, and so very, very\nsleepy.\"\n\n\"Yes, certainly, Silenus: but how will this war end?\"\n\n\"Dullness will conquer dullness: and it will not matter.\"\n\n\"Ah, yes! but what will become, in all this fighting, of Jurgen?\"\n\n\"That will not matter either,\" said Silenus, comfortably. \"Nobody\nwill bother about you.\" And with that he closed his horrible bleared\neyes and went to sleep.\n\nSo Jurgen left the old tippler, and started to leave the forest\nalso. \"For undoubtedly all the people in Leuk\u00ea are resolute to do\nthat which is customary,\" reflected Jurgen, \"for the unarguable\nreason it is their custom, and has always been their custom. And\nthey will desist from these practises when the cat eats acorns, but\nnot before. So it is the part of wisdom to inquire no further into\nthe matter. For after all, these people may be right; and certainly\nI cannot go so far as to say they are wrong.\" Jurgen shrugged. \"But\nstill, at the same time--!\"\n\nNow in returning to his cabin Jurgen heard a frightful sort of\nyowling and screeching as of mad people.\n\n\"Hail, daughter of various-formed Protogonus, thou that takest joy\nin mountains and battles and in the beating of the drum! Hail, thou\ndeceitful saviour, mother of all gods, that comest now, pleased with\nlong wanderings, to be propitious to us!\"\n\nBut the uproar was becoming so increasingly unpleasant that Jurgen\nat this point withdrew into a thicket: and thence he witnessed the\npassing through the Woods of a notable procession. There were\nfeatures connected with this procession sufficiently unusual to\ncause Jurgen to vow that the desiderated moment wherein he walked\nunhurt from the forest would mark the termination of his last visit\nthereto. Then amazement tripped up the heels of terror: for now\npassed Mother Sereda, or, as Ana\u00eftis had called her, \u00c6sred. To-day,\nin place of a towel about her head, she wore a species of crown,\nshaped like a circlet of crumbling towers: she carried a large key,\nand her chariot was drawn by two lions. She was attended by howling\npersons, with shaved heads: and it was apparent that these persons\nhad parted with possessions which Jurgen valued.\n\n\"This is undoubtedly,\" said he, \"a most unwholesome forest.\"\n\nJurgen inquired about this procession, later, and from Chloris he\ngot information which surprised him.\n\n\"And these are the beings who I had thought were poetic ornaments of\nspeech! But what is the old lady doing in such high company?\"\n\nHe described Mother Sereda, and Chloris told him who this was. Now\nJurgen shook his sleek black head.\n\n\"Behold another mystery! Yet after all, it is no concern of mine if\nthe old lady elects for an additional anagram. I should be the last\nperson to criticize her, inasmuch as to me she has been more than\ngenerous. Well, I shall preserve her friendship by the infallible\nrecipe of keeping out of her way. Oh, but I shall certainly keep out\nof her way now that I have perceived what is done to the men who\nserve her.\"\n\nAnd after that Jurgen and Chloris lived very pleasantly together,\nthough Jurgen began to find his Hamadryad a trifle unperceptive, if\nnot actually obtuse.\n\n\"She does not understand me, and she does not always treat my\nsuperior wisdom quite respectfully. That is unfair, but it seems to\nbe an unavoidable feature of married life. Besides, if any woman had\never understood me she would, in self-protection, have refused to\nmarry me. In any case, Chloris is a dear brown plump delicious\npartridge of a darling: and cleverness in women is, after all, a\nvirtue misplaced.\"\n\nAnd Jurgen did not return into the Woods, nor did he go down into\nthe city. Neither the People of the Field nor of the Wood, of\ncourse, ever went within city gates. \"But I would think that you\nwould like to see the fine sights of Pseudopolis,\" says\nChloris,--\"and that fine Queen of theirs,\" she added, almost as\nthough she spoke without premeditation.\n\n\"Woman dear,\" says Jurgen, \"I do not wish to appear boastful. But in\nEubonia, now! well, really some day we must return to my kingdom,\nand you shall inspect for yourself a dozen or two of my cities--Ziph\nand Eglington and Poissieux and Gazden and B\u00e4remburg, at all events.\nAnd then you will concede with me that this little village of\nPseudopolis, while well enough in its way--!\" And Jurgen shrugged.\n\"But as for saying more!\"\n\n\"Sometimes,\" said Chloris, \"I wonder if there is any such place as\nyour fine kingdom of Eubonia: for certainly it grows larger and more\nsplendid every time you talk of it.\"\n\n\"Now can it be,\" asks Jurgen, more hurt than angry, \"that you\nsuspect me of uncandid dealing and, in short, of being an impostor!\"\n\n\"Why, what does it matter? You are Jurgen,\" she answered, happily.\n\nAnd the man was moved as she smiled at him across the glowing queer\nembroidery-work at which Chloris seemed to labor interminably: he\nwas conscious of a tenderness for her which was oddly remorseful:\nand it appeared to him that if he had known lovelier women he had\ncertainly found nowhere anyone more lovable than was this plump and\nbusy and sunny-tempered little wife of his.\n\n\"My dear, I do not care to see Queen Helen again, and that is a\nfact. I am contented here, with a wife befitting my station, suited\nto my endowments, and infinitely excelling my deserts.\"\n\n\"And do you think of that tow-headed bean-pole very often, King\nJurgen?\"\n\n\"That is unfair, and you wrong me, Chloris, with these unmerited\nsuspicions. It pains me to reflect, my dear, that you esteem the tie\nbetween us so lightly you can consider me capable of breaking it\neven in thought.\"\n\n\"To talk of fairness is all very well, but it is no answer to a\nplain question.\"\n\nJurgen looked full at her; and he laughed. \"You women are so\nunscrupulously practical. My dear, I have seen Queen Helen face to\nface. But it is you whom I love as a man customarily loves a woman.\"\n\n\"That is not saying much.\"\n\n\"No: for I endeavor to speak in consonance with my importance. You\nforget that I have also seen Achilles.\"\n\n\"But you admired Achilles! You told me so yourself.\"\n\n\"I admired the perfections of Achilles, but I cordially dislike the\nman who possesses them. Therefore I shall keep away from both the\nKing and Queen of Pseudopolis.\"\n\n\"Yet you will not go into the Woods, either, Jurgen--\"\n\n\"Not after what I have witnessed there,\" said Jurgen, with an\nexaggerated shudder that was not very much exaggerated.\n\nNow Chloris laughed, and quitted her queer embroidery in order to\nrumple up his hair. \"And you find the People of the Field so\ninsufferably stupid, and so uninterested by your Zorobasiuses and\nPtolemopiters and so on, that you keep away from them also. O\nfoolish man of mine, you are determined to be neither fish nor beast\nnor poultry and nowhere will you ever consent to be happy.\"\n\n\"It was not I who determined my nature, Chloris: and as for being\nhappy, I make no complaint. Indeed, I have nothing to complain of,\nnowadays. So I am very well contented by my dear wife and by my\nmanner of living in Leuk\u00ea,\" said Jurgen, with a sigh.\n\n\n\n\n29.\n\nConcerning Horvendile's Nonsense\n\n\nIt was on a bright and tranquil day in November, at the period which\nthe People of the Field called the summer of Alcyon\u00ea, that Jurgen\nwent down from the forest; and after skirting the moats of\nPseudopolis, and avoiding a meeting with any of the town's\ndispiritingly glorious inhabitants, Jurgen came to the seashore.\n\nChloris had suggested his doing this, in order that she could have a\nchance to straighten things in his cabin while she was tidying her\ntree for the winter, and could so make one day's work serve for two.\nFor the dryad of an oak-tree has large responsibilities, what with\nthe care of so many dead leaves all winter, and the acorns being\nblown from their places and littering up the ground everywhere, and\nthe bark cracking until it looks positively disreputable: and Jurgen\nwas at any such work less a help than a hindrance. So Chloris gave\nhim a parcel of lunch and a perfunctory kiss, and told him to go\ndown to the seashore and get inspired and make up a pretty poem\nabout her. \"And do you be back in time for an early supper, Jurgen,\"\nsays she, \"but not a minute before.\"\n\nThus it befell that Jurgen reflectively ate his lunch in solitude,\nand regarded the Euxine. The sun was high, and the queer shadow that\nfollowed Jurgen was huddled into shapelessness.\n\n\"This is indeed an inspiring spectacle,\" Jurgen reflected. \"How puny\nseems the race of man, in contrast with this mighty sea, which now\nspreads before me like, as So-and-so has very strikingly observed, a\nsomething or other under such and such conditions!\" Then Jurgen\nshrugged. \"Really, now I think of it, though, there is no call for\nme to be suffused with the traditional emotions. It looks like a\ngreat deal of water, and like nothing else in particular. And I\ncannot but consider the water is behaving rather futilely.\"\n\nSo he sat in drowsy contemplation of the sea. Far out a shadow would\nform on the water, like the shadow of a broadish plank, scudding\nshoreward, and lengthening and darkening as it approached. Presently\nit would be some hundred feet in length, and would assume a hard\nsmooth darkness, like that of green stone: this was the under side\nof the wave. Then the top of it would curdle, the southern end of\nthe wave would collapse, and with exceeding swiftness this white\nfeathery falling would plunge and scamper and bluster northward, the\nfull length of the wave. It would be neater and more workmanlike to\nhave each wave tumble down as a whole. From the smacking and the\nsplashing, what looked like boiling milk would thrust out over the\nbrown sleek sands: and as the mess spread it would thin to a\nreticulated whiteness, like lace, and then to the appearance of\nsmoke sprays clinging to the sands. Plainly the tide was coming in.\n\nOr perhaps it was going out. Jurgen's notions as to such phenomena\nwere vague. But, either way, the sea was stirring up a large\ncommotion and a rather pleasant and invigorating odor.\n\nAnd then all this would happen once more: and then it would happen\nyet again. It had happened a number of hundred of times since Jurgen\nfirst sat down to eat his lunch: and what was gained by it? The sea\nwas behaving stupidly. There was no sense in this continual sloshing\nand spanking and scrabbling and spluttering.\n\nThus Jurgen, as he nodded over the remnants of his lunch.\n\n\"Sheer waste of energy, I am compelled to call it,\" said Jurgen,\naloud, just as he noticed there were two other men on this long\nbeach.\n\nOne came from the north, one from the south, so that they met not\nfar from where Jurgen was sitting: and by an incredible coincidence\nJurgen had known both of these men in his first youth. So he hailed\nthem, and they recognized him at once. One of these travellers was\nthe Horvendile who had been secretary to Count Emmerick when Jurgen\nwas a lad: and the other was Perion de la For\u00eat, that outlaw who had\ncome to Bellegarde very long ago disguised as the Vicomte de\nPuysange. And all three of these old acquaintances had kept their\nyouth surprisingly.\n\nNow Horvendile and Perion marveled at the fine shirt which Jurgen\nwas wearing.\n\n\"Why, you must know,\" he said, modestly, \"that I have lately become\nKing of Eubonia, and must dress according to my station.\"\n\nSo they said they had always expected some such high honor to befall\nhim, and then the three of them fell to talking. And Perion told how\nhe had come through Pseudopolis, on his way to King Theodoret at\nLacre Kai, and how in the market-place at Pseudopolis he had seen\nQueen Helen. \"She is a very lovely lady,\" said Perion, \"and I\nmarvelled over her resemblance to Count Emmerick's fair sister, whom\nwe all remember.\"\n\n\"I noticed that at once,\" said Horvendile, and he smiled strangely,\n\"when I, too, passed through the city.\"\n\n\"Why, but nobody could fail to notice it,\" said Jurgen.\n\n\"It is not, of course, that I consider her to be as lovely as Dame\nMelicent,\" continued Perion, \"since, as I have contended in all\nquarters of the world, there has never lived, and will never live,\nany woman so beautiful as Melicent. But you gentlemen appear\nsurprised by what seems to me a very simple statement. Your air, in\nfine, is one that forces me to point out it is a statement I can\npermit nobody to deny.\" And Perion's honest eyes had narrowed\nunpleasantly, and his sun-browned countenance was uncomfortably\nstern.\n\n\"Dear sir,\" said Jurgen, hastily, \"it was merely that it appeared to\nme the lady whom they call Queen Helen hereabouts is quite evidently\nCount Emmerick's sister Dorothy la D\u00e9sir\u00e9e.\"\n\n\"Whereas I recognized her at once,\" says Horvendile, \"as Count\nEmmerick's third sister, La Beale Ettarre.\"\n\nAnd now they stared at one another, for it was certain that these\nthree sisters were not particularly alike.\n\n\"Putting aside any question of eyesight,\" observes Perion, \"it is\nindisputable that the language of both of you is distorted. For one\nof you says this is Madame Dorothy, and the other says this is\nMadame Ettarre: whereas everybody knows that this Queen Helen,\nwhomever she may resemble, cannot possibly be anybody else save\nQueen Helen.\"\n\n\"To you, who are always the same person,\" replied Jurgen, \"that may\nsound reasonable. For my part, I am several people: and I detect no\nincongruity in other persons' resembling me.\"\n\n\"There would be no incongruity anywhere,\" suggested Horvendile, \"if\nQueen Helen were the woman whom we had loved in vain. For the woman\nwhom when we were young we loved in vain is the one woman that we\ncan never see quite clearly, whatever happens. So we might easily, I\nsuppose, confuse her with some other woman.\"\n\n\"But Melicent is the lady whom I have loved in vain,\" said Perion,\n\"and I care nothing whatever about Queen Helen. Why should I? What\ndo you mean now, Horvendile, by your hints that I have faltered in\nmy constancy to Dame Melicent since I saw Queen Helen? I do not like\nsuch hints.\"\n\n\"No less, it is Ettarre whom I love, and have loved not quite in\nvain, and have loved unfalteringly,\" says Horvendile, with his quiet\nsmile: \"and I am certain that it was Ettarre whom I beheld when I\nlooked upon Queen Helen.\"\n\n\"I may confess,\" says Jurgen, clearing his throat, \"that I have\nalways regarded Madame Dorothy with peculiar respect and admiration.\nFor the rest, I am married. Even so, I think that Madame Dorothy is\nQueen Helen.\"\n\nThen they fell to debating this mystery. And presently Perion said\nthe one way out was to leave the matter to Queen Helen. \"She at all\nevents must know who she is. So do one of you go back into the city,\nand embrace her knees as is the custom of this country when one\nimplores a favor of the King or the Queen: and do you then ask her\nfairly.\"\n\n\"Not I,\" says Jurgen. \"I am upon terms of some intimacy with a\nhamadryad just at present. I am content with my Hamadryad. And I\nintend never to venture into the presence of Queen Helen any more,\nin order to preserve my contentment.\"\n\n\"Why, but I cannot go,\" says Perion, \"because Dame Melicent has a\nlittle mole upon her left cheek. And Queen Helen's cheek is\nflawless. You understand, of course, that I am certain this mole\nimmeasurably enhances the beauty of Dame Melicent,\" he added,\nloyally. \"None the less, I mean to hold no further traffic with\nQueen Helen.\"\n\n\"Now my reason for not going is this,\" said Horvendile:--\"that if I\nattempted to embrace the knees of Ettarre, whom people hereabouts\ncall Helen, she would instantly vanish. Other matters apart, I do\nnot wish to bring any such misfortune upon the Island of Leuk\u00ea.\"\n\n\"But that,\" said Perion, \"is nonsense.\"\n\n\"Of course it is,\" said Horvendile. \"That is probably why it\nhappens.\"\n\nSo none of them would go. And each of them clung, none the less, to\nhis own opinion about Queen Helen. And presently Perion said they\nwere wasting both time and words. Then Perion bade the two farewell,\nand Perion continued southward, toward Lacre Kai. And as he went he\nsang a song in honor of Dame Melicent, whom he celebrated as Heart\no' My Heart: and the two who heard him agreed that Perion de la\nFor\u00eat was probably the worst poet in the world.\n\n\"Nevertheless, there goes a very chivalrous and worthy gentleman,\"\nsaid Horvendile, \"intent to play out the remainder of his romance. I\nwonder if the Author gets much pleasure from these simple\ncharacters? At least they must be easy to handle.\"\n\n\"I cultivate a judicious amount of gallantry,\" says Jurgen: \"I do\nnot any longer aspire to be chivalrous. And indeed, Horvendile, it\nseems to me indisputable that each one of us is the hero in his own\nromance, and cannot understand any other person's romance, but\nmisinterprets everything therein, very much as we three have fallen\nout in the simple matter of a woman's face.\"\n\nNow young Horvendile meditatively stroked his own curly and reddish\nhair, brushing it away from his ears with his left hand, as he sat\nthere staring meditatively at nothing in particular.\n\n\"I would put it, Jurgen, that we three have met like characters out\nof three separate romances which the Author has composed in\ndifferent styles.\"\n\n\"That also,\" Jurgen submitted, \"would be nonsense.\"\n\n\"Ah, but perhaps the Author very often perpetrates nonsense. Come\nJurgen, you who are King of Eubonia!\" says Horvendile, with his\nwide-set eyes a-twinkle; \"what is there in you or me to attest that\nour Author has not composed our romances with his tongue in his\ncheek?\"\n\n\"Messire Horvendile, if you are attempting to joke about Koshchei\nwho made all things as they are, I warn you I do not consider that\nsort of humor very wholesome. Without being prudish, I believe in\ncommon-sense: and I would vastly prefer to have you talk about\nsomething else.\"\n\nHorvendile was still smiling. \"You look some day to come to\nKoshchei, as you call the Author. That is easily said, and sounds\nexcellently. Ah, but how will you recognize Koshchei? and how do you\nknow you have not already passed by Koshchei in some street or\nmeadow? Come now, King Jurgen,\" said Horvendile, and still his young\nface wore an impish smile; \"come tell me, how do you know that I am\nnot Koshchei who made all things as they are?\"\n\n\"Be off with you!\" says Jurgen; \"you would never have had the wit to\ninvent a Jurgen. Something else is troubling me: I have just\nrecollected that the young Perion who left us only a moment since,\ngrew to be rich and gray-headed and famous, and took Dame Melicent\nfrom her pagan husband, and married her himself: and that all this\nhappened long years ago. So our recent talk with young Perion seems\nvery improbable.\"\n\n\"Why, but do you not remember, too, that I ran away in the night\nwhen Maugis d'Aigremont stormed Storisende? and was never heard of\nany more? and that all this, too, took place a long, long while ago?\nYet we have met as three fine young fellows, here on the beach of\nfabulous Leuk\u00ea. I put it to you fairly, King Jurgen: now how could\nthis conceivably have come about unless the Author sometimes\ncomposes nonsense?\"\n\n\"Truly the way that you express it, Horvendile, the thing does seem\na little strange; and I can think of no explanation rendering it\nplausible.\"\n\n\"Again, see now, King Jurgen of Eubonia, how you underrate the\nAuthor's ability. This is one of the romancer's most venerable\ndevices that is being practised. See for yourself!\" And suddenly\nHorvendile pushed Jurgen so that Jurgen tumbled over in the warm\nsand.\n\nThen Jurgen arose, gaping and stretching himself. \"That was a very\nfoolish dream I had, napping here in the sun. For it was certainly a\ndream. Otherwise, they would have left footprints, these young\nfellows who have gone the way of youth so long ago. And it was a\ndream that had no sense in it. But indeed it would be strange if\nthat were the whole point of it, and if living, too, were such a\ndream, as that queer Horvendile would have me think.\"\n\nJurgen snapped his fingers.\n\n\"Well, and what in common fairness could he or anyone else expect me\nto do about it! That is the answer I fling at you, you Horvendile\nwhom I made up in a dream. And I disown you as the most futile of my\ninventions. So be off with you! and a good riddance, too, for I\nnever held with upsetting people.\"\n\nThen Jurgen dusted himself, and trudged home to an early supper with\nthe Hamadryad who contented him.\n\n\n\n\n30.\n\nEconomics of King Jurgen\n\n\nNow Jurgen's curious dream put notions into the restless head of\nJurgen. So mighty became his curiosity that he went shuddering into\nthe abhorred Woods, and passed over Coalisnacoan (which is the Ferry\nof Dogs), and did all such detestable things as were necessary to\nplacate Phobetor. Then Jurgen tricked Phobetor by an indescribable\ndevice, wherein surprising use was made of a cheese and three\nbeetles and a gimlet, and so cheated Phobetor out of a gray magic.\nAnd that night while Pseudopolis slept King Jurgen came down into\nthis city of gold and ivory.\n\nJurgen went with distaste among the broad-browed and great-limbed\nmonarchs of Pseudopolis, for they reminded him of things that he had\nlong ago put aside, and they made him feel unpleasantly ignoble and\ninsignificant. That was his real reason for avoiding the city.\n\nNow he passed between unlighted and silent palaces, walking in\ndeserted streets where the moon made ominous shadows. Here was the\nhouse of Ajax Telamon who reigned in sea-girt Salamis, here that of\ngod-like Philoctet\u00eas: much-counseling Odysseus dwelt just across the\nway, and the corner residence was fair-haired Agamemnon's: in the\nmoonlight Jurgen easily made out these names engraved upon the\nbronze shield that hung beside each doorway. To every side of him\nslept the heroes of old song while Jurgen skulked under their\nwindows.\n\nHe remembered how incuriously--not even scornfully--these people had\noverlooked him on that disastrous afternoon when he had ventured\ninto Pseudopolis by daylight. And a spiteful little gust of rage\npossessed him, and Jurgen shook his fist at the big silent palaces.\n\n\"Yah!\" he snarled: for he did not know at all what it was that he\ndesired to say to those great stupid heroes who did not care what he\nsaid, but he knew that he hated them. Then Jurgen became aware of\nhimself growling there like a kicked cur who is afraid to bite, and\nhe began to laugh at this Jurgen.\n\n\"Your pardon, gentlemen of Greece,\" says he, with a wide ceremonious\nbow, \"and I think the information I wished to convey was that I am a\nmonstrous clever fellow.\"\n\nJurgen went into the largest palace, and crept stealthily by the\nbedroom of Achilles, King of Men, treading a-tip-toe; and so came at\nlast into a little room panelled with cedar-wood where slept Queen\nHelen. She was smiling in her sleep when he had lighted his lamp,\nwith due observance of the gray magic. She was infinitely beautiful,\nthis young Dorothy whom people hereabouts through some odd error\ncalled Helen.\n\nFor Jurgen saw very well that this was Count Emmerick's sister\nDorothy la D\u00e9sir\u00e9e, whom Jurgen had vainly loved in the days when\nJurgen was young alike in body and heart. Just once he had won back\nto her, in the garden between dawn and sunrise: but he was then a\ntime-battered burgher whom Dorothy did not recognise. Now he\nreturned to her a king, less admirable it might be than some of the\nmany other kings without realms who slept now in Pseudopolis, but\nstill very fine in his borrowed youth, and above all, armored by a\ngray magic: so that improbabilities were possible. And Jurgen's eyes\nwere furtive, and he passed his tongue across his upper lip from one\ncorner to the other, and his hand went out toward the robe of\nviolet-colored wool which covered the sleeping girl, for he stood\nready to awaken Dorothy la D\u00e9sir\u00e9e in the way he often awoke\nChloris.\n\nBut a queer thought held him. Nothing, he recollected, had shown the\npower to hurt him very deeply since he had lost this young Dorothy.\nAnd to affairs which threatened to result unpleasantly, he had\nalways managed to impart an agreeable turn, since then, by virtue of\npreserving a cool heart. What if by some misfortune he were to get\nback his real youth? and were to become again the flustered boy who\nblundered from stammering rapture to wild misery, and back again, at\nthe least word or gesture of a gold-haired girl?\n\n\"Thank you, no!\" says Jurgen. \"The boy was more admirable than I,\nwho am by way of being not wholly admirable. But then he had a\nwretched time of it, by and large. Thus it may be that my real youth\nlies sleeping here: and for no consideration would I re-awaken it.\"\n\nAnd yet tears came into his eyes, for no reason at all. And it\nseemed to him that the sleeping woman, here at his disposal, was not\nthe young Dorothy whom he had seen in the garden between dawn and\nsunrise, although the two were curiously alike; and that of the two\nthis woman here was, somehow, infinitely the lovelier.\n\n\"Lady, if you indeed be the Swan's daughter, long and long ago there\nwas a child that was ill. And his illness turned to a fever, and in\nhis fever he arose from his bed one night, saying that he must set\nout for Troy, because of his love for Queen Helen. I was once that\nchild. I remember how strange it seemed to me I should be talking\nsuch nonsense: I remember how the warm room smelt of drugs: and I\nremember how I pitied the trouble in my nurse's face, drawn and old\nin the yellow lamplight. For she loved me, and she did not\nunderstand: and she pleaded with me to be a good boy and not to\nworry my sleeping parents. But I perceive now that I was not talking\nnonsense.\"\n\nHe paused, considering the riddle: and his fingers fretted with the\nrobe of violet-colored wool beneath which lay Queen Helen.  \"Yours\nis that beauty of which men know by fabulous report alone, and which\nthey may not ever find, nor ever win to, quite. And for that beauty\nI have hungered always, even in childhood. Toward that beauty I have\nstruggled always, but not quite whole-heartedly. That night forecast\nmy life. I have hungered for you: and\"--Jurgen smiled here--\"and I\nhave always stayed a passably good boy, lest I should beyond reason\ndisturb my family. For to do that, I thought, would not be fair: and\nstill I believe for me to have done that would have been unfair.\"\n\nHe grimaced at this point: for Jurgen was finding his scruples\ninconveniently numerous.\n\n\"And now I think that what I do to-night is not quite fair to Chloris.\nAnd I do not know what thing it is that I desire, and the will of\nJurgen is a feather in the wind. But I know that I would like to love\nsomebody as Chloris loves me, and as so many women have loved me. And\nI know that it is you who have prevented this, Queen Helen, at every\nmoment of my life since the disastrous moment when I first seemed to\nfind your loveliness in the face of Madame Dorothy. It is the memory\nof your beauty, as I then saw it mirrored in the face of a jill-flirt,\nwhich has enfeebled me for such honest love as other men give women:\nand I envy these other men. For Jurgen has loved nothing--not even you,\nnot even Jurgen!--quite whole-heartedly. Well, what if I took vengeance\nnow upon this thieving comeliness, upon this robber that strips life of\njoy and sorrow?\"\n\nJurgen stood at Queen Helen's bedside, watching her, for a long\nwhile. He had shifted into a less fanciful mood: and the shadow that\nfollowed him was ugly and hulking and wavering upon the cedarn wall\nof Queen Helen's sleeping-chamber.\n\n\"Mine is a magic which does not fail,\" old Phobetor had said, while\nhis attendants raised his eyelids so that he could see King Jurgen.\n\nNow Jurgen remembered this. And reflectively he drew back the robe\nof violet-colored wool, a little way. The breast of Queen Helen lay\nbare. And she did not move at all, but she smiled in her sleep.\n\nNever had Jurgen imagined that any woman could be so beautiful nor\nso desirable as this woman, or that he could ever know such rapture.\nSo Jurgen paused.\n\n\"Because,\" said Jurgen now, \"it may be this woman has some fault: it\nmay be there is some fleck in her beauty somewhere. And sooner than\nknow that, I would prefer to retain my unreasonable dreams, and this\nlonging which is unfed and hopeless, and the memory of to-night.\nBesides, if she were perfect in everything, how could I live any\nlonger, who would have no more to desire? No, I would be betraying\nmy own interests, either way; and injustice is always despicable.\"\n\nSo Jurgen sighed and gently replaced the robe of violet-colored\nwool, and he returned to his Hamadryad.\n\n\"And now that I think of it, too,\" reflected Jurgen, \"I am behaving\nrather nobly. Yes, it is questionless that I have to-night evinced a\ncertain delicacy of feeling which merits appreciation, at all events\nby King Achilles.\"\n\n\n\n\n31.\n\nThe Fall of Pseudopolis\n\n\nSo Jurgen abode in Leuk\u00ea, and complied with the customs of that\ncountry; and what with one thing and another, he and Chloris made\nthe time pass pleasantly enough, until the winter solstice was at\nhand. Now Pseudopolis, as has been said, was at war with Philistia:\nso it befell that at this season Leuk\u00ea was invaded by an army of\nPhilistines, led by their Queen Dolores, a woman who was wise but\nnot entirely reliable. They came from the coast, a terrible army\ninsanely clad in such garments as had been commanded by Ageus, a god\nof theirs; and chaunting psalms in honor of their god Vel-Tyno, who\nhad inspired this crusade: thus they swept down upon Pseudopolis,\nand encamped before the city.\n\nThese Philistines fought in this campaign by casting before them a\nmore horrible form of Greek fire, which consumed whatever was not\ngray-colored. For that color alone was now favored by their god\nVel-Tyno. \"And all other colors,\" his oracles had decreed, \"are\nforevermore abominable, until I say otherwise.\"\n\nSo the forces of Philistia were marshalled in the plain before\nPseudopolis, and Queen Dolores spoke to her troops. And smilingly\nshe said:--\n\n\"Whenever you come to blows with the enemy he will be beaten. No\nmercy will be shown, no prisoners taken. As the Philistines under\nLibnah and Goliath and Gershon, and a many other tall captains, made\nfor themselves a name which is still mighty in traditions and\nlegend, even thus to-day may the name of Realist be so fixed in\nPseudopolis, by your deeds to-day, that no one shall ever dare again\neven to look askance at a Philistine. Open the door for Realism,\nonce for all!\"\n\nMeanwhile within the city Achilles, King of Men, addressed his\narmy:--\n\n\"The eyes of all the world will be upon you, because you are in some\nespecial sense the soldiers of Romance. Let it be your pride,\ntherefore, to show all men everywhere, not only what good soldiers\nyou are, but also what good men you are, keeping yourselves fit and\nstraight in everything, and pure and clean through and through. Let\nus set ourselves a standard so high that it will be a glory to live\nup to it, and then let us live up to it, and add a new laurel to the\ncrown of Pseudopolis. May the Gods of Old keep you and guide you!\"\n\nThen said Thersit\u00eas, in his beard: \"Certainly Pelid\u00eas has learned\nfrom history with what weapon a strong man discomfits the\nPhilistines.\"\n\nBut the other kings applauded, and the trumpet was sounded, and the\nbattle was joined. And that day the forces of Philistia were\neverywhere triumphant. But they report a queer thing happened: and\nit was that when the Philistines shouted in their triumph, Achilles\nand all they who served him rose from the ground like gleaming\nclouds and passed above the heads of the Philistines, deriding them.\n\nThus was Pseudopolis left empty, so that the Philistines entered\nthereinto without any opposition. They defiled this city of\nblasphemous colors, then burned it as a sacrifice to their god\nVel-Tyno, because the color of ashes is gray.\n\nThen the Philistines erected lithoi (which were not unlike may-poles),\nand began to celebrate their religious rites.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nSo it was reported: but Jurgen witnessed none of these events.\n\n\"Let them fight it out,\" said Jurgen: \"it is not my affair. I agree\nwith Silenus: dullness will conquer dullness, and it will not\nmatter. But do you, woman dear, take shelter with your kindred in\nthe unconquerable Woods, for there is no telling what damage the\nPhilistines may do hereabouts.\"\n\n\"Will you go with me, Jurgen?\"\n\n\"My dear, you know very well that it is impossible for me ever again\nto go into the Woods, after the trick I played upon Phobetor.\"\n\n\"And if only you had kept your head about that bean-pole of a Helen,\nin her yellow wig--for I have not a doubt that every strand of it is\nfalse, and at all events this is not a time to be arguing about it,\nJurgen,--why, then you would never have meddled with Uncle Phobetor!\nIt simply shows you!\"\n\n\"Yes,\" said Jurgen.\n\n\"Still, I do not know. If you come with me into the Woods, Uncle\nPhobetor in his impetuous way will quite certainly turn you into a\nboar-pig, because he has always done that to the people who\nirritated him--\"\n\n\"I seem to recognise that reason.\"\n\n\"--But give me time, and I can get around Uncle Phobetor, just as I\nhave always done, and he will turn you back.\"\n\n\"No,\" says Jurgen, obstinately, \"I do not wish to be turned into a\nboar-pig.\"\n\n\"Now, Jurgen, let us be sensible about this! Of course, it is a\nlittle humiliating. But I will take the very best of care of you,\nand feed you with my own acorns, and it will be a purely temporary\narrangement. And to be a pig for a week or two, or even for a month,\nis infinitely better for a poet than being captured by the\nPhilistines.\"\n\n\"How do I know that?\" says Jurgen.\n\n\"--For it is not, after all, as if Uncle Phobetor's heart were not\nin the right place. It is just his way. And besides, you must\nremember what you did with that gimlet!\"\n\nSaid Jurgen: \"All this is hardly to the purpose. You forget I have\nseen the hapless swine of Phobetor, and I know how he ameliorates\nthe natural ferocity of his boar-pigs. No, I am Jurgen. So I remain.\nI will face the Philistines and whatever they may possibly do to me,\nrather than suffer that which Phobetor will quite certainly do to\nme.\"\n\n\"Then I stay too,\" said Chloris.\n\n\"No, woman dear--!\"\n\n\"But do you not understand?\" says Chloris, a little pale, as he saw\nnow. \"Since the life of a hamadryad is linked with the life of her\ntree, nobody can harm me so long as my tree lives: and if they cut\ndown my tree I shall die, wherever I may happen to be.\"\n\n\"I had forgotten that.\" He was really troubled now.\n\n\"--And you can see for yourself, Jurgen, it is quite out of the\nquestion for me to be carrying that great oak anywhere, and I wonder\nat your talking such nonsense.\"\n\n\"Indeed, my dear,\" says Jurgen, \"we are very neatly trapped. Well,\nnobody can live longer in peace than his neighbor chooses.\nNevertheless, it is not fair.\"\n\nAs he spoke the Philistines came forth from the burning city. Again\nthe trumpet sounded, and the Philistines advanced in their order of\nbattle.\n\n\n\n\n32.\n\nSundry Devices of the Philistines\n\n\nMeanwhile the People of the Field had watched Pseudopolis burn, and\nhad wondered what would befall them. They had not long to wonder,\nfor next day the Fields were occupied, without any resistance by the\ninhabitants.\n\n\"The People of the Field,\" said they, \"have never fought, and for\nthem to begin now would be a very unheard-of thing indeed.\"\n\nSo the Fields were captured by the Philistines, and Chloris and\nJurgen and all the People of the Field were judged summarily. They\nwere declared to be obsolete illusions, whose merited doom was to be\nrelegated to limbo. To Jurgen this appeared unreasonable.\n\n\"For I am no illusion,\" he asserted. \"I am manifestly flesh and\nblood, and in addition, I am the high King of Eubonia, and no less.\nWhy, in disputing these facts you contest circumstances that are so\nwell known hereabouts as to rank among mathematical certainties. And\nthat makes you look foolish, as I tell you for your own good.\"\n\nThis vexed the leaders of the Philistines, as it always vexes people\nto be told anything for their own good. \"We would have you know,\"\nsaid they, \"that we are not mathematicians; and that moreover, we\nhave no kings in Philistia, where all must do what seems to be\nexpected of them, and have no other law.\"\n\n\"How then can you be the leaders of Philistia?\"\n\n\"Why, it is expected that women and priests should behave\nunaccountably. Therefore all we who are women or priests do what we\nwill in Philistia, and the men there obey us. And it is we, the\npriests of Philistia, who do not think you can possibly have any\nflesh and blood under a shirt which we recognize to be a\nconventional figure of speech. It does not stand to reason. And\ncertainly you could not ever prove such a thing by mathematics; and\nto say so is nonsense.\"\n\n\"But I can prove it by mathematics, quite irrefutably. I can prove\nanything you require of me by whatever means you may prefer,\" said\nJurgen, modestly, \"for the simple reason that I am a monstrous\nclever fellow.\"\n\nThen spoke the wise Queen Dolores, saying: \"I have studied\nmathematics. I will question this young man, in my tent to-night,\nand in the morning I will report the truth as to his claims. Are you\ncontent to endure this interrogatory, my spruce young fellow who\nwear the shirt of a king?\"\n\nJurgen looked full upon her: she was lovely as a hawk is lovely: and\nof all that Jurgen saw Jurgen approved. He assumed the rest to be in\nkeeping: and deduced that Dolores was a fine woman.\n\n\"Madame and Queen,\" said Jurgen, \"I am content. And I can promise to\ndeal fairly with you.\"\n\nSo that evening Jurgen was conducted into the purple tent of Queen\nDolores of Philistia. It was quite dark there, and Jurgen went in\nalone, and wondering what would happen next: but this scented\ndarkness he found of excellent augury, if only because it prevented\nhis shadow from following him.\n\n\"Now, you who claim to be flesh and blood, and King of Eubonia,\ntoo,\" says the voice of Queen Dolores, \"what is this nonsense you\nwere talking about proving any such claims by mathematics?\"\n\n\"Well, but my mathematics,\" replied Jurgen, \"are Praxagorean.\"\n\n\"What, do you mean Praxagoras of Cos?\"\n\n\"As if,\" scoffed Jurgen, \"anybody had ever heard of any other\nPraxagoras!\"\n\n\"But he, as I recall, belonged to the medical school of the\nDogmatici,\" observed the wise Queen Dolores, \"and was particularly\ncelebrated for his researches in anatomy. Was he, then, also a\nmathematician?\"\n\n\"The two are not incongruous, madame, as I would be delighted to\ndemonstrate.\"\n\n\"Oh, nobody said that! For, indeed, it does seem to me I have heard\nof this Praxagorean system of mathematics, though, I confess, I have\nnever studied it.\"\n\n\"Our school, madame, postulates, first of all, that since the\nscience of mathematics is an abstract science, it is best inculcated\nby some concrete example.\"\n\nSaid the Queen: \"But that sounds rather complicated.\"\n\n\"It occasionally leads to complications,\" Jurgen admitted, \"through\na choice of the wrong example. But the axiom is no less true.\"\n\n\"Come, then, and sit next to me on this couch if you can find it in\nthe dark; and do you explain to me what you mean.\"\n\n\"Why, madame, by a concrete example I mean one that is perceptible\nto any of the senses--as to sight or hearing, or touch--\"\n\n\"Oh, oh!\" said the Queen, \"now I perceive what you mean by a\nconcrete example. And grasping this, I can understand that\ncomplications must of course arise from a choice of the wrong\nexample.\"\n\n\"Well, then, madame, it is first necessary to implant in you, by the\nforce of example, a lively sense of the peculiar character, and\nvirtues and properties, of each of the numbers upon which is based\nthe whole science of Praxagorean mathematics. For in order to\nconvince you thoroughly, we must start far down, at the beginning of\nall things.\"\n\n\"I see,\" said the Queen, \"or rather, in this darkness I cannot see\nat all, but I perceive your point. Your opening interests me: and\nyou may go on.\"\n\n\"Now ONE, or the monad,\" says Jurgen, \"is the principle and the end\nof all: it reveals the sublime knot which binds together the chain\nof causes: it is the symbol of identity, of equality, of existence,\nof conservation, and of general harmony.\" And Jurgen emphasized\nthese characteristics vigorously. \"In brief, ONE is a symbol of the\nunion of things: it introduces that generating virtue which is the\ncause of all combinations: and consequently ONE is a good\nprinciple.\"\n\n\"Ah, ah!\" said Queen Dolores, \"I heartily admire a good principle.\nBut what has become of your concrete example?\"\n\n\"It is ready for you, madame: there is but ONE Jurgen.\"\n\n\"Oh, I assure you, I am not yet convinced of that. Still, the\naudacity of your example will help me to remember ONE, whether or\nnot you prove to be really unique.\"\n\n\"Now, TWO, or the dyad, the origin of contrasts--\"\n\nJurgen went on penetratingly to demonstrate that TWO was a symbol of\ndiversity and of restlessness and of disorder, ending in collapse\nand separation: and was accordingly an evil principle. Thus was the\nlife of every man made wretched by the struggle between his TWO\ncomponents, his soul and his body; and thus was the rapture of\nexpectant parents considerably abated by the advent of TWINS.\n\nTHREE, or the triad, however, since everything was composed of three\nsubstances, contained the most sublime mysteries, which Jurgen duly\ncommunicated. We must remember, he pointed out, that Zeus carried a\nTRIPLE thunderbolt, and Poseidon a TRIDENT, whereas Ad\u00eas was guarded\nby a dog with THREE heads: this in addition to the omnipotent\nbrothers themselves being a TRIO.\n\nThus Jurgen continued to impart the Praxagorean significance of each\ndigit separately: and by and by the Queen was declaring his flow of\nwisdom was superhuman.\n\n\"Ah, but, madame, not even the wisdom of a king is without limit.\nEIGHT, I repeat, then, is appropriately the number of the\nBeatitudes. And NINE, or the ennead, also, being the multiple of\nTHREE, should be regarded as sacred--\"\n\nThe Queen attended docilely to his demonstration of the peculiar\nproperties of NINE. And when he had ended she confessed that beyond\ndoubt NINE should be regarded as miraculous. But she repudiated his\nanalogues as to the muses, the lives of a cat, and how many tailors\nmade a man.\n\n\"Rather, I shall remember always,\" she declared, \"that King Jurgen\nof Eubonia is a NINE days' wonder.\"\n\n\"Well, madame,\" said Jurgen, with a sigh, \"now that we have reached\nNINE, I regret to say we have exhausted the digits.\"\n\n\"Oh, what a pity!\" cried Queen Dolores. \"Nevertheless, I will\nconcede the only illustration I disputed; there is but ONE Jurgen:\nand certainly this Praxagorean system of mathematics is a\nfascinating study.\" And promptly she commenced to plan Jurgen's\nreturn with her into Philistia, so that she might perfect herself in\nthe higher branches of mathematics. \"For you must teach me calculus\nand geometry and all other sciences in which these digits are\nemployed. We can arrange some compromise with the priests. That is\nalways possible with the priests of Philistia, and indeed the\npriests of Sesphra can be made to help anybody in anything. And as\nfor your Hamadryad, I will attend to her myself.\"\n\n\"But, no,\" says Jurgen, \"I am ready enough in all conscience to\ncompromise elsewhere: but to compound with the forces of Philistia\nis the one thing I cannot do.\"\n\n\"Do you mean that, King Jurgen?\" The Queen was astounded.\n\n\"I mean it, my dear, as I mean nothing else. You are in many ways an\nadmirable people, and you are in all ways a formidable people. So I\nadmire, I dread, I avoid, and at the very last pinch I defy. For you\nare not my people, and willy-nilly my gorge rises against your laws,\nas equally insane and abhorrent. Mind you, though, I assert nothing.\nYou may be right in attributing wisdom to these laws; and certainly\nI cannot go so far as to say you are wrong: but still, at the same\ntime--! That is the way I feel about it. So I, who compromise with\neverything else, can make no compromise with Philistia. No, my\nadored Dolores, it is not a virtue, rather it is an instinct with\nme, and I have no choice.\"\n\nEven Dolores, who was Queen of all the Philistines, could perceive\nthat this man spoke truthfully.  \"I am sorry,\" says she, with real\nregret, \"for you could be much run after in Philistia.\"\n\n\"Yes,\" said Jurgen, \"as an instructor in mathematics.\"\n\n\"But, no, King Jurgen, not only in mathematics,\" said Dolores,\nreasonably. \"There is poetry, for instance! For they tell me you are\na poet, and a great many of my people take poetry quite seriously, I\nbelieve. Of course, I do not have much time for reading, myself. So\nyou can be the Poet Laureate of Philistia, on any salary you like.\nAnd you can teach us all your ideas by writing beautiful poems about\nthem. And you and I can be very happy together.\"\n\n\"Teach, teach! there speaks Philistia, and very temptingly, too,\nthrough an adorable mouth, that would bribe me with praise and fine\nfood and soft days forever. It is a thing that happens rather often,\nthough. And I can but repeat that art is not a branch of pedagogy!\"\n\n\"Really I am heartily sorry. For apart from mathematics, I like you,\nKing Jurgen, just as a person.\"\n\n\"I, too, am sorry, Dolores. For I confess to a weakness for the\nwomen of Philistia.\"\n\n\"Certainly you have given me no cause to suspect you of any weakness\nin that quarter,\" observed Dolores, \"in the long while you have been\nalone with me, and have talked so wisely and have reasoned so\ndeeply. I am afraid that after to-night I shall find all other men\nmore or less superficial. Heigho! and I shall probably weep my eyes\nout to-morrow when you are relegated to limbo. For that is what the\npriests will do with you, King Jurgen, on one plea or another, if\nyou do not conform to the laws of Philistia.\"\n\n\"And that one compromise I cannot make! Ah, but even now I have a\nplan wherewith to escape your priests: and failing that, I possess a\ncantrap to fall back upon in my hour of direst need. My private\naffairs are thus not yet in a hopeless or even in a dejected\ncondition. This fact now urges me to observe that TEN, or the\ndecade, is the measure of all, since it contains all the numeric\nrelations and harmonies--\"\n\nSo they continued their study of mathematics until it was time for\nJurgen to appear again before his judges.\n\nAnd in the morning Queen Dolores sent word to her priests that she\nwas too sleepy to attend their council, but that the man was\nindisputably flesh and blood, amply deserved to be a king, and as a\nmathematician had not his peer.\n\nNow these points being settled, the judges conferred, and Jurgen was\ndecreed a backslider into the ways of undesirable error. His judges\nwere the priests of Vel-Tyno and Sesphra and Ageus, who are the Gods\nof Philistia.\n\nThen the priest of Ageus put on his spectacles and consulted the\ncanonical law, and declared that this change in the indictment\nnecessitated a severance of Jurgen from the others, in the\ninfliction of punishment.\n\n\"For each, of course, must be relegated to the limbo of his fathers,\nas was foretold, in order that the prophecies may be fulfilled.\nReligion languishes when prophecies are not fulfilled. Now it\nappears that the forefathers of the flesh and blood prisoner were of\na different faith from the progenitors of these obsolete illusions,\nand that his fathers foretold quite different things, and that their\nlimbo was called Hell.\"\n\n\"It is little you know,\" says Jurgen, \"of the religion of Eubonia.\"\n\n\"We have it written down in this great book,\" the priest of Vel-Tyno\nthen told him,--\"every word of it without blot or error.\"\n\n\"Then you will see that the King of Eubonia is the head of the\nchurch there, and changes all the prophecies at will. Learned\nGowlais says so directly: and the judicious Stevegonius was forced\nto agree with him, however unwillingly, as you will instantly\ndiscover by consulting the third section of his widely famous\nnineteenth chapter.\"\n\n\"Both Gowlais and Stevegonius were probably notorious heretics,\"\nsays the priest of Ageus. \"I believe that was settled once for all\nat the Diet of Orthumar.\"\n\n\"Eh!\" says Jurgen. He did not like this priest. \"Now I will wager,\nsirs,\" Jurgen continued, a trifle patronizingly, \"that you gentlemen\nhave not read Gowlais, or even Stevegonius, in the light of\nVossler's commentaries. And that is why you underrate them.\"\n\n\"I at least have read every word that was ever written by any of\nthese three,\" replied the priest of Sesphra--\"and with, as I need\nhardly say, the liveliest abhorrence. And this Gowlais in\nparticular, as I hasten to agree with my learned confr\u00e8re, is a most\nnotorious heretic--\"\n\n\"Oh, sir,\" said Jurgen, horrified, \"whatever are you telling me\nabout Gowlais!\"\n\n\"I tell you that I have been roused to indignation by his\n_Historia de Bello Veneris_--\"\n\n\"You surprise me: still--\"\n\n\"--Shocked by his _Pornoboscodidascolo_--\"\n\n\"I can hardly believe it: even so, you must grant--\"\n\n\"--And horrified by his _Liber de immortalitate Mentul\u00e6_--\"\n\n\"Well, conceding you that earlier work, sir, yet, at the same\ntime--\"\n\n\"--And have been disgusted by his _De modo coeundi_--\"\n\n\"Ah, but, none the less--\"\n\n\"--And have shuddered over the unspeakable enormities of\nhis _Erotop\u00e6gnion!_ of his _Cin\u00e6dica!_ and especially of his\n_Epipedesis_, that most pestilential and abominable book,\n_quem sine horrore nemo potest legere_--\"\n\n\"Still, you cannot deny--\"\n\n\"--And have read also all the confutations of this detestable\nGowlais: as those of Zanchius, Faventinus, Lelius Vincentius,\nLagalla, Thomas Giaminus, and eight other admirable commentators--\"\n\n\"You are very exact, sir: but--\"\n\n\"--And that, in short, I have read every book you can imagine,\" says\nthe priest of Sesphra.\n\nThe shoulders of Jurgen rose to his ears, and Jurgen silently flung\nout his hands, palms upward.\n\n\"For, I perceive,\" says Jurgen, to himself, \"that this Realist is\ntoo circumstantial for me. None the less, he invents his facts: it\nis by citing books which never existed that he publicly confutes the\nGowlais whom I invented privately: and that is not fair. Now there\nremains only one chance for Jurgen; but luckily that chance is\nsure.\"\n\n\"Why are you fumbling in your pocket?\" asks the old priest of Ageus,\nfidgeting and peering.\n\n\"Aha, you may well ask!\" cried Jurgen. He unfolded the cantrap which\nhad been given him by the Master Philologist, and which Jurgen had\ntreasured against the time when more was needed than a glib tongue.\n\"O most unrighteous judges,\" says Jurgen, sternly, \"now hear and\ntremble! 'At the death of Adrian the Fifth, Pedro Juliani, who\nshould be named John the Twentieth, was through an error in the\nreckoning elevated to the papal chair as John the Twenty-first!'\"\n\n\"Hah, and what have we to do with that?\" inquired the priest of\nVel-Tyno, with raised eyebrows. \"Why are you telling us of these\nirrelevant matters?\"\n\n\"Because I thought it would interest you,\" said Jurgen. \"It was a\nfact that appeared to me rather amusing. So I thought I would\nmention it.\"\n\n\"Then you have very queer ideas of amusement,\" they told him. And\nJurgen perceived that either he had not employed his cantrap\ncorrectly or else that its magic was unappreciated by the leaders of\nPhilistia.\n\n\n\n\n33.\n\nFarewell to Chloris\n\n\nNow the Philistines led out their prisoners, and made ready to\ninflict the doom which was decreed. And they permitted the young\nKing of Eubonia to speak with Chloris.\n\n\"Farewell to you now, Jurgen!\" says Chloris, weeping softly. \"It is\nlittle I care what foolish words these priests of Philistia may\nutter against me. But the big-armed axemen are felling my tree\nyonder, to get them timber to make a bedstead for the Queen of\nPhilistia: for that is what this Queen Dolores ordered them to do\nthe first thing this morning.\"\n\nAnd Jurgen raised his hands. \"You women!\" he said. \"What man would\never have thought of that?\"\n\n\"So when my tree is felled I must depart into a sombre land wherein\nthere is no laughter at all; and where the puzzled dead go wandering\nfutilely through fields of scentless asphodel, and through tall\nsullen groves of myrtle,--the puzzled quiet dead, who may not even\nweep as I do now, but can only wonder what it is that they regret.\nAnd I too must taste of Leth\u00ea, and forget all I have loved.\"\n\n\"You should give thanks to the imagination of your forefathers, my\ndear, that your doom is no worse. For I am going into a more\nbarbaric limbo, into the Hell of a people who thought entirely too\nmuch about flames and pitchforks,\" says Jurgen, ruefully. \"I tell\nyou it is the deuce and all, to come of morbid ancestry.\" And he\nkissed Chloris, upon the brow. \"My dear, dear girl,\" he said, with a\ngulp, \"as long as you remember me, do so with charity.\"\n\n\"Jurgen\"--and she clung close to him--\"you were not ever unkind, not\neven for a moment. Jurgen, you have not ever spoken one harsh word\nto me or any other person, in all the while we were together. O\nJurgen, whom I have loved as you could love nobody, it was not much\nthose other women had left me to worship!\"\n\n\"Indeed, it is a pity that you loved me, Chloris, for I was not\nworthy.\" And for the instant Jurgen meant it.\n\n\"If any other person said that, Jurgen, I would be very angry. And even\nto hear you say it troubles me, because there was never a hamadryad\nbetween two hills that had a husband one-half so clever-foolish as he\nmade light of time and chance, with his sleek black head cocked to one\nside, and his mischievous brown eyes a-twinkle.\"\n\nAnd Jurgen wondered that this should be the notion Chloris had of\nhim, and that a gesture should be the things she remembered about\nhim: and he was doubly assured that no woman bothers to understand\nthe man she elects to love and cosset and slave for.\n\n\"O woman dear,\" says Jurgen, \"but I have loved you, and my heart is\nwater now that you are taken from me: and to remember your ways and\nthe joy I had in them will be a big and grinding sorrow in the long\ntime to come. Oh, not with any heroic love have I loved you, nor\nwith any madness and high dreams, nor with much talking either; but\nwith a love befitting my condition, with a quiet and cordial love.\"\n\n\"And must you be trying, while I die, to get your grieving for me\ninto the right words?\" she asks him, smiling very sadly. \"No matter:\nyou are Jurgen, and I have loved you. And I am glad that I shall\nknow nothing about it when in the long time, to come you will be\ntelling so many other women about what was said by Zorobasius and\nPtolemopiter, and when you will be posturing and romancing for their\ndelight. For presently I shall have tasted Leth\u00ea: and presently I\nshall have forgotten you, King Jurgen, and all the joy I had in you,\nand all the pride, and all the love I had for you, King Jurgen, who\nloved me as much as you were able.\"\n\n\"Why, and will there be any love-making, do you think, in Hell?\" he\nasks her, with a doleful smile.\n\n\"There will be love-making,\" she replied, \"wherever you go, King\nJurgen. And there will be women to listen. And at the last there\nwill be a bean-pole of a woman, in a wig.\"\n\n\"I am sorry--\" he said. \"And yet I have loved you, Chloris.\"\n\n\"That is my comfort now. And presently there will be Leth\u00ea. I put\nthe greater faith in Leth\u00ea. And still, I cannot help but love you,\nJurgen, in whom I have no faith at all.\"\n\nHe said, again: \"I am not worthy.\"\n\nThey kissed. Then each of them was conveyed to an appropriate doom.\n\nAnd tears were in the eyes of Jurgen, who was not used to weep: and\nhe thought not at all of what was to befall him, but only of this\nand that small trivial thing which would have pleased his Chloris\nhad Jurgen done it, and which for one reason or another Jurgen had\nleft undone.\n\n\"I was not ever unkind to her, says she! ah, but I might have been\nso much kinder. And now I shall not ever see her any more, nor ever\nany more may I awaken delight and admiration in those bright tender\neyes which saw no fault in me! Well, but it is a comfort surely that\nshe does not know how I devoted the last night she was to live to\nteaching mathematics.\"\n\nAnd then Jurgen wondered how he would be despatched into the Hell of\nhis fathers? And when the Philistines showed him in what manner they\nproposed to inflict their sentence he wondered at his own\nobtuseness.\n\n\"For I might have surmised this would be the way of it,\" said\nJurgen. \"And yet as always there is a simplicity in the methods of\nthe Philistines which is unimaginable by really clever fellows. And\nas always, too, these methods are unfair to us clever fellows. Well,\nI am willing to taste any drink once: but this is a very horrible\ndevice, none the less; and I wonder if I have the pluck to endure\nit?\"\n\nThen as he stood considering this matter, a man-at-arms came\nhurrying. He brought with him three great rolled parchments, with\nseals and ribbons and everything in order: and these were Jurgen's\npardon and Jurgen's nomination as Poet Laureate of Philistia and\nJurgen's appointment as Mathematician Royal.\n\nThe man-at-arms brought also a letter from Queen Dolores, and this\nJurgen read with a frown.\n\n\"Do you consider now what fun it would be to hood-wink everybody by\npretending to conform to our laws!\" said this letter, and it said\nnothing more: Dolores was really a wise woman. Yet there was a\npostscript. \"For we could be so happy!\" said the postscript.\n\nAnd Jurgen looked toward the Woods, where men were sawing up a great\noak-tree. And Jurgen gave a fine laugh, and with fine deliberateness\nhe tore up the Queen's letter into little strips. Then statelily he\ntook the parchments, and found they were so tough he could not tear\nthem. This was uncommonly awkward, for Jurgen's ill-advised attempt\nto tear the parchments impaired the dignity of his magnanimous\nself-sacrifice: he even suspected one of the guards of smiling. So\nthere was nothing for it but presently to give up that futile tugging\nand jerking, and to compromise by crumpling these parchments.\n\n\"This is my answer,\" said Jurgen heroically, and with some\nadmiration of himself, but still a little dashed by the uncalled-for\ntoughness of the parchments.\n\nThen Jurgen cried farewell to fallen Leuk\u00ea; and scornfully he cried\nfarewell to the Philistines and to their devices. Then he submitted\nto their devices. Thus, it was without making any special protest\nabout it that Jurgen was relegated to limbo, and was despatched to\nthe Hell of his fathers, two days before Christmas.\n\n\n\n\n34.\n\nHow Emperor Jurgen Fared Infernally\n\n\nNow the tale tells how the devils of Hell were in one of their churches\ncelebrating Christmas in such manner as the devils observe that day;\nand how Jurgen came through the trapdoor in the vestry-room; and how\nhe saw and wondered over the creatures which inhabited this place. For\nto him after the Christmas services came all such devils as his fathers\nhad foretold, and in not a hair or scale or talon did they differ from\nthe worst that anybody had been able to imagine.\n\n\"Anatomy is hereabouts even more inconsequent than in Cocaigne,\" was\nJurgen's first reflection. But the first thing the devils did was to\nsearch Jurgen very carefully, in order to make sure he was not\nbringing any water into Hell.\n\n\"Now, who may you be, that come to us alive, in a fine shirt of\nwhich we never saw the like before?\" asked Dithican. He had the head\nof a tiger, but otherwise the appearance of a large bird, with\nshining feathers and four feet: his neck was yellow, his body green,\nand his feet black.\n\n\"It would not be treating honestly with you to deny that I am the\nEmperor of Noumaria,\" said Jurgen, somewhat advancing his estate.\n\nNow spoke Amaimon, in the form of a thick suet-colored worm going\nupright upon his tail, which shone like the tail of a glowworm. He\nhad no feet, but under his chops were two short hands, and upon his\nback were bristles such as grow upon hedgehogs.\n\n\"But we are rather overrun with emperors,\" said Amaimon, doubtfully,\n\"and their crimes are a great trouble to us. Were you a very wicked\nruler?\"\n\n\"Never since I became an emperor,\" replied Jurgen, \"has any of my\nsubjects uttered one word of complaint against me. So it stands to\nreason I have nothing very serious with which to reproach myself.\"\n\n\"Your conscience, then, does not demand that you be punished?\"\n\n\"My conscience, gentlemen, is too well-bred to insist on anything.\"\n\n\"You do not even wish to be tortured?\"\n\n\"Well, I admit I had expected something of the sort. But none the\nless, I will not make a point of it,\" said Jurgen, handsomely. \"No,\nI shall be quite satisfied even though you do not torture me at\nall.\"\n\nAnd then the mob of devils made a great to-do over Jurgen.\n\n\"For it is exceedingly good to have at least one unpretentious and\nundictatorial human being in Hell. Nobody as a rule drops in on us\nsave inordinately proud and conscientious ghosts, whose self-conceit\nis intolerable, and whose demands are outrageous.\"\n\n\"How can that be?\"\n\n\"Why, we have to punish them. Of course they are not properly\npunished until they are convinced that what is happening to them is\njust and adequate. And you have no notion what elaborate tortures\nthey insist their exceeding wickedness has merited, as though that\nwhich they did or left undone could possibly matter to anybody. And\nto contrive these torments quite tires us out.\"\n\n\"But wherefore is this place called the Hell of my fathers?\"\n\n\"Because your forefathers builded it in dreams,\" they told him, \"out\nof the pride which led them to believe that what they did was of\nsufficient importance to merit punishment. Or so at least we have\nheard: but if you want the truth of the matter you must go to our\nGrandfather at Barathum.\"\n\n\"I shall go to him, then. And do my own grandfathers, and all the\nforefathers that I had in the old time, inhabit this gray place?\"\n\n\"All such as are born with what they call a conscience come hither,\"\nthe devils said. \"Do you think you could persuade them to go\nelsewhere? For in that event, we would be deeply obliged to you.\nTheir self-conceit is pitiful: but it is also a nuisance, because it\nprevents our getting any rest.\"\n\n\"Perhaps I can help you to obtain justice, and certainly to attempt\nto secure justice for you is my imperial duty. But who governs this\ncountry?\"\n\nThey told him how Hell was divided into principalities that had for\ngovernors Lucifer and Beelzebub and Belial and Ascheroth and\nPhlegeton: but that over all these was Grandfather Satan, who lived\nin the Black House at Barathum.\n\n\"Well, I prefer,\" says Jurgen, \"to deal directly with your\nprincipal, especially if he can explain the polity of this insane\nand murky country. Do some of you conduct me to him in such state as\nbecomes an emperor!\"\n\nSo Cannagosta fetched a wheelbarrow, and Jurgen got into it, and\nCannagosta trundled him away. Cannagosta was something like an ox,\nbut rather more like a cat, and his hair was curly.\n\nAnd as they came through Chorasma, a very uncomfortable place where\nthe damned abide in torment, whom should Jurgen see but his own\nfather, Coth, the son of Smoit and Steinvor, standing there chewing\nhis long moustaches in the midst of an especially tall flame.\n\n\"Do you stop now for a moment!\" says Jurgen, to his escort.\n\n\"Oh, but this is the most vexatious person in all Hell!\" cried\nCannagosta; \"and a person whom there is absolutely no pleasing!\"\n\n\"Nobody knows that better than I,\" says Jurgen.\n\nAnd Jurgen civilly bade his father good-day, but Coth did not\nrecognize this spruce young Emperor of Noumaria, who went about Hell\nin a wheelbarrow.\n\n\"You do not know me, then?\" says Jurgen.\n\n\"How should I know you when I never saw you before?\" replied Coth,\nirritably.\n\nAnd Jurgen did not argue the point: for he knew that he and his\nfather could never agree about anything. So Jurgen kept silent for\nthat time, and Cannagosta wheeled him through the gray twilight,\ndescending always deeper and yet deeper into the lowlands of Hell,\nuntil they had come to Barathum.\n\n\n\n\n35.\n\nWhat Grandfather Satan Reported\n\n\nNext the tale tells how three inferior devils made a loud music with\nbagpipes as Jurgen went into the Black House of Barathum, to talk\nwith Grandfather Satan.\n\nSatan was like a man of sixty, or it might be sixty-two, in all\nthings save that he was covered with gray fur, and had horns like\nthose of a stag. He wore a breech-clout of very dark gray, and he\nsat in a chair of black marble, on a da\u00efs: his bushy tail, which was\nlike that of a squirrel, waved restlessly over his head as he looked\nat Jurgen, without speaking, and without turning his mind from an\nancient thought. And his eyes were like light shining upon little\npools of ink, for they had no whites to them.\n\n\"What is the meaning of this insane country?\" says Jurgen, plunging\nat the heart of things. \"There is no sense in it, and no fairness at\nall.\"\n\n\"Ah,\" replied Satan, in his curious hoarse voice, \"you may well say\nthat: and it is what I was telling my wife only last night.\"\n\n\"You have a wife, then!\" says Jurgen, who was always interested in\nsuch matters. \"Why, but to be sure! either as a Christian or as a\nmarried man, I should have comprehended this was Satan's due. And\nhow do you get on with her?\"\n\n\"Pretty well,\" says Grandfather Satan: \"but she does not understand\nme.\"\n\n\"_Et tu, Brute!_\" says Jurgen.\n\n\"And what does that mean?\"\n\n\"It is an expression connotating astonishment over an event without\nparallel. But everything in Hell seems rather strange, and the place\nis not at all as it was rumored to be by the priests and the bishops\nand the cardinals that used to be exhorting me in my fine palace at\nBreschau.\"\n\n\"And where, did you say, is this palace?\"\n\n\"In Noumaria, where I am the Emperor Jurgen. And I need not insult\nyou by explaining Breschau is my capital city, and is noted for\nits manufacture of linen and woolen cloth and gloves and cameos\nand brandy, though the majority of my subjects are engaged in\ncattle-breeding and agricultural pursuits.\"\n\n\"Of course not: for I have studied geography. And, Jurgen, it is\noften I have heard of you, though never of your being an emperor.\"\n\n\"Did I not say this place was not in touch with new ideas?\"\n\n\"Ah, but you must remember that thoughtful persons keep out of Hell.\nBesides, the war with Heaven prevents us from thinking of other\nmatters. In any event, you Emperor Jurgen, by what authority do you\nquestion Satan, in Satan's home?\"\n\n\"I have heard that word which the ass spoke with the cat,\" replied\nJurgen; for he recollected upon a sudden what Merlin had shown him.\n\nGrandfather Satan nodded comprehendingly. \"All honor be to Set and\nBast! and may their power increase. This, Emperor, is how my kingdom\ncame about.\"\n\nThen Satan, sitting erect and bleak in his tall marble chair,\nexplained how he, and all the domain and all the infernal\nhierarchies he ruled, had been created extempore by Koshchei, to\nhumor the pride of Jurgen's forefathers. \"For they were exceedingly\nproud of their sins. And Koshchei happened to notice Earth once upon\na time, with your forefathers walking about it exultant in the\nenormity of their sins and in the terrible punishments they expected\nin requital. Now Koshchei will do almost anything to humor pride,\nbecause to be proud is one of the two things that are impossible to\nKoshchei. So he was pleased, oh, very much pleased: and after he had\nhad his laugh out, he created Hell extempore, and made it just such\na place as your forefathers imagined it ought to be, in order to\nhumor the pride of your forefathers.\"\n\n\"And why is pride impossible to Koshchei?\"\n\n\"Because he made things as they are; and day and night he\ncontemplates things as they are, having nothing else to look at.\nHow, then, can Koshchei be proud?\"\n\n\"I see. It is as if I were imprisoned in a cell wherein there was\nnothing, absolutely nothing, except my verses. I shudder to think of\nit! But what is this other thing which is impossible to Koshchei?\"\n\n\"I do not know. It is something that does not enter into Hell.\"\n\n\"Well, I wish I too had never entered here, and now you must assist\nme to get out of this murky place.\"\n\n\"And why must I assist you?\"\n\n\"Because,\" said Jurgen, and he drew out the cantrap of the Master\nPhilologist, \"because at the death of Adrian the Fifth, Pedro\nJuliani, who should be named John the Twentieth, was through an\nerror in the reckoning elevated to the papal chair as John the\nTwenty-first. Do you not find my reason sufficient?\"\n\n\"No,\" said Grandfather Satan, after thinking it over, \"I cannot say\nthat I do. But, then, popes go to Heaven. It is considered to look\nbetter, all around, and particularly by my countrymen, inasmuch as\nmany popes have been suspected of pro-Celestialism. So we admit none\nof them into Hell, in order to be on the safe side, now that we are\nat war. In consequence, I am no judge of popes and their affairs,\nnor do I pretend to be.\"\n\nAnd Jurgen perceived that again he had employed his cantrap\nincorrectly or else that it was impotent to rescue people from\nSatan. \"But who would have thought,\" he reflected, \"that Grandfather\nSatan was such a simple old creature!\"\n\n\"How long, then, must I remain here?\" asks Jurgen, after a dejected\npause.\n\n\"I do not know,\" replies Satan. \"It must depend entirely upon what\nyour father thinks about it--\"\n\n\"But what has he to do with it?\"\n\n\"--Since I and all else that is here are your father's absurd\nnotions, as you have so frequently proved by logic. And it is hardly\npossible that such a clever fellow as you can be mistaken.\"\n\n\"Why, of course, that is not possible,\" says Jurgen. \"Well, the\nmatter is rather complicated. But I am willing to taste any drink\nonce: and I shall manage to get justice somehow, even in this\nunreasonable place where my father's absurd notions are the truth.\"\n\nSo Jurgen left the Black House of Barathum: and Jurgen also left\nGrandfather Satan, erect and bleak in his tall marble chair, and\nwith his eyes gleaming in the dim light, as he sat there restively\nswishing his soft bushy tail, and not ever turning his mind from an\nancient thought.\n\n\n\n\n36.\n\nWhy Coth was Contradicted\n\n\nThen Jurgen went back to Chorasma, where Coth, the son of Smoit and\nSteinvor, stood conscientiously in the midst of the largest and\nhottest flame he had been able to imagine, and rebuked the outworn\ndevils who were tormenting him, because the tortures they inflicted\nwere not adequate to the wickedness of Coth.\n\nAnd Jurgen cried to his father: \"The lewd fiend Cannagosta told you\nI was the Emperor of Noumaria, and I do not deny it even now. But do\nyou not perceive I am likewise your son Jurgen?\"\n\n\"Why, so it is,\" said Coth, \"now that I look at the rascal. And how,\nJurgen, did you become an emperor?\"\n\n\"Oh, sir, and is this a place wherein to talk about mere earthly\ndignities? I am surprised your mind should still run upon these\nempty vanities even here in torment.\"\n\n\"But it is inadequate torment, Jurgen, such as does not salve my\nconscience. There is no justice in this place, and no way of getting\njustice. For these shiftless devils do not take seriously that which\nI did, and they merely pretend to punish me, and so my conscience\nstays unsatisfied.\"\n\n\"Well, but, father, I have talked with them, and they seem to think\nyour crimes do not amount to much, after all.\"\n\nCoth flew into one of his familiar rages. \"I would have you know\nthat I killed eight men in cold blood, and held five other men while\nthey were being killed. I estimate the sum of such iniquity as ten\nand a half murders, and for these my conscience demands that I be\npunished.\"\n\n\"Ah, but, sir, that was fifty years or more ago, and these men would\nnow be dead in any event, so you see it does not matter now.\"\n\n\"I went astray with women, with I do not know how many women.\"\n\nJurgen shook his head. \"This is very shocking news for a son to\nreceive, and you can imagine my feelings. None the less, sir, that\nalso was fifty years ago, and nobody is bothering over it now.\"\n\n\"You jackanapes, I tell you that I swore and stole and forged and\nburned four houses and broke the Sabbath and was guilty of mayhem\nand spoke disrespectfully to my mother and worshipped a stone image\nin Porutsa. I tell you I shattered the whole Decalogue, time and\nagain. I committed all the crimes that were ever heard of, and\ninvented six new ones.\"\n\n\"Yes, sir,\" said Jurgen: \"but, still, what does it matter if you\ndid?\"\n\n\"Oh, take away this son of mine!\" cried Coth: \"for he is his mother\nall over again; and though I was the vilest sinner that ever lived,\nI have not deserved to be plagued twice with such silly questions.\nAnd I demand that you loitering devils bring more fuel.\"\n\n\"Sir,\" said a panting little fiend, in the form of a tadpole with\nhairy arms and legs like a monkey's, as he ran up with four bundles\nof faggots, \"we are doing the very best we can for your discomfort.\nBut you damned have no consideration for us, and do not remember\nthat we are on our feet day and night, waiting upon you,\" said the\nlittle devil, whimpering, as with his pitchfork he raked up the fire\nabout Coth. \"You do not even remember the upset condition of the\ncountry, on account of the war with Heaven, which makes it so hard\nfor us to get you all the inconveniences of life. Instead, you\nlounge in your flames, and complain about the service, and\nGrandfather Satan punishes us, and it is not fair.\"\n\n\"I think, myself,\" said Jurgen, \"you should be gentler with the boy.\nAnd as for your crimes, sir, come, will you not conquer this pride\nwhich you nickname conscience, and concede that after any man has\nbeen dead a little while it does not matter at all what he did? Why,\nabout Bellegarde no one ever thinks of your throat-cutting and\nSabbath-breaking except when very old people gossip over the fire,\nand your wickedness brightens up the evening for them. To the rest\nof us you are just a stone in the churchyard which describes you as\na paragon of all the virtues. And outside of Bellegarde, sir, your\nname and deeds mean nothing now to anybody, and no one anywhere\nremembers you. So really your wickedness is not bothering any person\nnow save these poor toiling devils: and I think that, in\nconsequence, you might consent to put up with such torments as they\ncan conveniently contrive, without complaining so ill-temperedly\nabout it.\"\n\n\"Ah, but my conscience, Jurgen! that is the point.\"\n\n\"Oh, if you continue to talk about your conscience, sir, you\nrestrict the conversation to matters I do not understand, and so\ncannot discuss. But I dare say we will find occasion to thresh out\nthis, and all other matters, by and by: and you and I will make the\nbest of this place, for now I will never leave you.\"\n\nCoth began to weep: and he said that his sins in the flesh had been\ntoo heinous for this comfort to be permitted him in the unendurable\ntorment which he had fairly earned, and hoped some day to come by.\n\n\"Do you care about me, one way or the other, then?\" says Jurgen,\nquite astounded.\n\nAnd from the midst of his flame Coth, the son of Smoit, talked of\nthe birth of Jurgen, and of the infant that had been Jurgen, and of\nthe child that had been Jurgen. And a horrible, deep, unreasonable\nemotion moved in Jurgen as he listened to the man who had begotten\nhim, and whose flesh was Jurgen's flesh, and whose thoughts had not\never been Jurgen's thoughts: and Jurgen did not like it. Then the\nvoice of Coth was bitterly changed, as he talked of the young man\nthat had been Jurgen, of the young man who was idle and rebellious\nand considerate of nothing save his own light desires; and of the\ndivision which had arisen between Jurgen and Jurgen's father Coth\nspoke likewise: and Jurgen felt better now, but was still grieved to\nknow how much his father had once loved him.\n\n\"It is lamentably true,\" says Jurgen, \"that I was an idle and\nrebellious son. So I did not follow your teachings. I went astray,\noh, very terribly astray. I even went astray, sir I must tell you,\nwith a nature myth connected with the Moon.\"\n\n\"Oh, hideous abomination of the heathen!\"\n\n\"And she considered, sir, that thereafter I was likely to become a\nsolar legend.\"\n\n\"I should not wonder,\" said Coth, and he shook his bald and dome-shaped\nhead despondently. \"Ah, my son, it simply shows you what comes of these\nwild courses.\"\n\n\"And in that event, I would, of course, be released from sojourning\nin the underworld by the Spring Equinox. Do you not think so, sir?\"\nsays Jurgen, very coaxingly, because he remembered that, according\nto Satan, whatever Coth believed would be the truth in Hell.\n\n\"I am sure,\" said Coth--\"why, I am sure I do not know anything about\nsuch matters.\"\n\n\"Yes, but what do you think?\"\n\n\"I do not think about it at all.\"\n\n\"Yes, but--\"\n\n\"Jurgen, you have a very uncivil habit of arguing with people--\"\n\n\"Still, sir--\"\n\n\"And I have spoken to you about it before--\"\n\n\"Yet, father--\"\n\n\"And I do not wish to have to speak to you about it again--\"\n\n\"None the less, sir--\"\n\n\"And when I say that I have no opinion--\"\n\n\"But everybody has an opinion, father!\" Jurgen shouted this, and\nfelt it was quite like old times.\n\n\"How dare you speak to me in that tone of voice, sir!\"\n\n\"But I only meant--\"\n\n\"Do not lie to me, Jurgen! and stop interrupting me! For, as I was\nsaying when you began to yell at your father as though you were\naddressing an unreasonable person, it is my opinion that I know\nnothing whatever about Equinoxes! and do not care to know anything\nabout Equinoxes, I would have you understand! and that the less said\nas to such disreputable topics the better, as I tell you to your\nface!\"\n\nAnd Jurgen groaned. \"Here is a pretty father! If you had thought so,\nit would have happened. But you imagine me in a place like this, and\nhave not sufficient fairness, far less paternal affection, to\nimagine me out of it.\"\n\n\"I can only think of your well merited affliction, you quarrelsome\nscoundrel! and of the host of light women with whom you have sinned!\nand of the doom which has befallen you in consequence!\"\n\n\"Well, at worst,\" says Jurgen, \"there are no women here. That ought\nto be a comfort to you.\"\n\n\"I think there are women here,\" snapped his father. \"It is reputed\nthat quite a number of women have had consciences. But these\nconscientious women are probably kept separate from us men, in some\nother part of Hell, for the reason that if they were admitted into\nChorasma they would attempt to tidy the place and make it habitable.\nI know your mother would have been meddling out of hand.\"\n\n\"Oh, sir, and must you still be finding fault with mother?\"\n\n\"Your mother, Jurgen, was in many ways an admirable woman. But,\"\nsaid Coth, \"she did not understand me.\"\n\n\"Ah, well, that may have been the trouble. Still, all this you say\nabout women being here is mere guess-work.\"\n\n\"It is not!\" said Coth, \"and I want none of your impudence, either.\nHow many times must I tell you that?\"\n\nJurgen scratched his ear reflectively. For he still remembered what\nGrandfather Satan had said, and Coth's irritation seemed promising.\n\"Well, but the women here are all ugly, I wager.\"\n\n\"They are not!\" said his father, angrily. \"Why do you keep\ncontradicting me?\"\n\n\"Because you do not know what you are talking about,\" says Jurgen,\negging him on. \"How could there be any pretty women in this horrible\nplace? For the soft flesh would be burned away from their little\nbones, and the loveliest of queens would be reduced to a horrid\ncinder.\"\n\n\"I think there are any number of vampires and succubi and such\ncreatures, whom the flames do not injure at all, because these\ncreatures are informed with an ardor that is unquenchable and is\nmore hot than fire. And you understand perfectly what I mean, so\nthere is no need for you to stand there goggling at me like a\nhorrified abbess!\"\n\n\"Oh, sir, but you know very well that I would have nothing to do\nwith such unregenerate persons.\"\n\n\"I do not know anything of the sort. You are probably lying to me.\nYou always lied to me. I think you are on your way to meet a vampire\nnow.\"\n\n\"What, sir, a hideous creature with fangs and leathery wings!\"\n\n\"No, but a very poisonous and seductively beautiful creature.\"\n\n\"Come, now! you do not really think she is beautiful.\"\n\n\"I do think so. How dare you tell me what I think and do not think!\"\n\n\"Ah, well, I shall have nothing to do with her.\"\n\n\"I think you will,\" said his father: \"ah, but I think you will be up\nto your tricks with her before this hour is out. For do I not know\nwhat emperors are? and do I not know you?\"\n\nAnd Coth fell to talking of Jurgen's past, in the customary terms of\na family squabble, such as are not very nicely repeatable elsewhere.\nAnd the fiends who had been tormenting Coth withdrew in\nembarrassment, and so long as Coth continued talking they kept out\nof earshot.\n\n\n\n\n37.\n\nInvention of the Lovely Vampire\n\n\nSo again Coth parted with his son in anger, and Jurgen returned\nagain toward Barathum; and, whether or not it was a coincidence,\nJurgen met precisely the vampire of whom he had inveigled his father\ninto thinking. She was the most seductively beautiful creature that\nit would be possible for Jurgen's father or any other man to\nimagine: and her clothes were orange-colored, for a reason\nsufficiently well known in Hell, and were embroidered everywhere\nwith green fig-leaves.\n\n\"A good morning to you, madame,\" says Jurgen, \"and whither are you\ngoing?\"\n\n\"Why, to no place at all, good youth. For this is my vacation,\ngranted yearly by the Law of Kalki--\"\n\n\"And who is Kalki, madame?\"\n\n\"Nobody as yet: but he will come as a stallion. Meanwhile his Law\nprecedes him, so that I am spending my vacation peacefully in Hell,\nwith none of my ordinary annoyances to bother me.\"\n\n\"And what, madame, can they be?\"\n\n\"Why, you must understand that it is little rest a vampire gets on\nearth, with so many fine young fellows like yourself going about\neverywhere eager to be destroyed.\"\n\n\"But how, madame, did you happen to become a vampire if the life\ndoes not please you? And what is it that they call you?\"\n\n\"My name, sir,\" replied the Vampire, sorrowfully, \"is Florimel,\nbecause my nature no less than my person was as beautiful as the\nflowers of the field and as sweet as the honey which the bees (who\nfurnish us with such admirable examples of industry) get out of\nthese flowers. But a sad misfortune changed all this. For I chanced\none day to fall ill and die (which, of course, might happen to\nanyone), and as my funeral was leaving the house the cat jumped over\nmy coffin. That was a terrible misfortune to befall a poor dead girl\nso generally respected, and in wide demand as a seamstress; though,\neven then, the worst might have been averted had not my sister-in-law\nbeen of what they call a humane disposition and foolishly attached to\nthe cat. So they did not kill it, and I, of course, became a vampire.\"\n\n\"Yes, I can understand that was inevitable. Still, it seems hardly\nfair. I pity you, my dear.\" And Jurgen sighed.\n\n\"I would prefer, sir, that you did not address me thus familiarly,\nsince you and I have omitted the formality of an introduction; and\nin the absence of any joint acquaintances are unlikely ever to meet\nproperly.\"\n\n\"I have no herald handy, for I travel incognito. However, I am that\nJurgen who recently made himself Emperor of Noumaria, King of\nEubonia, Prince of Cocaigne, and Duke of Logreus; and of whom you\nhave doubtless heard.\"\n\n\"Why, to be sure!\" says she, patting her hair straight. \"And who\nwould have anticipated meeting your highness in such a place!\"\n\n\"One says 'majesty' to an emperor, my dear. It is a detail, of\ncourse: but in my position one has to be a little exigent.\"\n\n\"I perfectly comprehend, your majesty; and indeed I might have\ndivined your rank from your lovely clothes. I can but entreat you to\noverlook my unintentional breach of etiquette: and I make bold to\nadd that a kind heart reveals the splendor of its graciousness\nthrough the interest which your majesty has just evinced in my\ndisastrous history.\"\n\n\"Upon my word,\" thinks Jurgen, \"but in this flow of words I seem to\nrecognize my father's imagination when in anger.\"\n\nThen Florimel told Jurgen of her horrible awakening in the grave,\nand of what had befallen her hands and feet there, the while that\nagainst her will she fed repugnantly, destroying first her kindred\nand then the neighbors. This done, she had arisen.\n\n\"For the cattle still lived, and that troubled me. When I had put an\nend to this annoyance, I climbed into the church belfry, not alone,\nfor one went with me of whom I prefer not to talk; and at midnight I\nsounded the bell so that all who heard it would sicken and die. And\nI wept all the while, because I knew that when everything had been\ndestroyed which I had known in my first life in the flesh, I would\nbe compelled to go into new lands, in search of the food which alone\ncan nourish me, and I was always sincerely attached to my home. So\nit was, your majesty, that I forever relinquished my sewing, and\nbecame a lovely peril, a flashing desolation, and an evil which\nsmites by night, in spite of my abhorrence of irregular hours: and\nwhat I do I dislike extremely, for it is a sad fate to become a\nvampire, and still to sympathize with your victims, and particularly\nwith their poor mothers.\"\n\nSo Jurgen comforted Florimel, and he put his arm around her.\n\n\"Come, come!\" he said, \"but I will see that your vacation passes\npleasantly. And I intend to deal fairly with you, too.\"\n\nThen he glanced sidewise at his shadow, and whispered a suggestion\nwhich caused Florimel to sigh.  \"By the terms of my doom,\" said she,\n\"at no time during the nine lives of the cat can I refuse. Still, it\nis a comfort you are the Emperor of Noumaria and have a kind heart.\"\n\n\"Oh, and a many other possessions, my dear! and I again assure you\nthat I intend to deal fairly with you.\"\n\nSo Florimel conducted Jurgen, through the changeless twilight of\nBarathum, like that of a gray winter afternoon, to a quiet cleft by\nthe Sea of Blood, which she had fitted out very cosily in imitation\nof her girlhood home; and she lighted a candle, and made him welcome\nto her cleft. And when Jurgen was about to enter it he saw that his\nshadow was following him into the Vampire's home.\n\n\"Let us extinguish this candle!\" says Jurgen, \"for I have seen so\nmany flames to-day that my eyes are tired.\"\n\nSo Florimel extinguished the candle, with a good-will that delighted\nJurgen. And now they were in utter darkness, and in the dark nobody\ncan see what is happening. But that Florimel now trusted Jurgen and\nhis Noumarian claims was evinced by her very first remark.\n\n\"I was in the beginning suspicious of your majesty,\" said Florimel,\n\"because I had always heard that every emperor carried a magnificent\nsceptre, and you then displayed nothing of the sort. But now,\nsomehow, I do not doubt you any longer. And of what is your majesty\nthinking?\"\n\n\"Why, I was reflecting, my dear,\" says Jurgen, \"that my father\nimagines things very satisfactorily.\"\n\n\n\n\n38.\n\nAs to Applauded Precedents\n\n\nAfterward Jurgen abode in Hell, and complied with the customs of\nthat country. And the tale tells that a week or it might be ten days\nafter his meeting with Florimel, Jurgen married her, without being\nat all hindered by his having three other wives. For the devils, he\nfound, esteemed polygamy, and ranked it above mere skill at\ntorturing the damned, through a literal interpretation of the saying\nthat it is better to marry than to burn.\n\n\"And formerly,\" they told Jurgen, \"you could hardly come across a\nmarriage anywhere that was not hallmarked 'made in Heaven': but\nsince we have been at war with Heaven we have quite taken away that\ntrade from our enemies. So you may marry here as much as you like.\"\n\n\"Why, then,\" says Jurgen, \"I shall marry in haste, and repeat at\nleisure. But can one obtain a divorce here?\"\n\n\"Oh, no,\" said they. \"We trafficked in them for a while, but we\nfound that all persons who obtained divorces through our industry\npromptly thanked Heaven they were free at last. In the face of such\ningratitude we gave over that profitless trade, and now there is a\nmanufactory, for specialties in men's clothing, upon the old\nstatutory grounds.\"\n\n\"But these makeshifts are unsatisfactory, and I wish to know, in\nconfidence, what do you do in Hell when there is no longer any\nputting up with your wives.\"\n\nThe devils all blushed. \"We would prefer not to tell you,\" said\nthey, \"for it might get to their ears.\"\n\n\"Now do I perceive,\" said Jurgen, \"that Hell is pretty much like any\nother place.\"\n\nSo Jurgen and the lovely Vampire were duly married. First Jurgen's\nnails were trimmed, and the parings were given to Florimel. A\nbroomstick was laid before them, and they stepped over it. Then\nFlorimel said \"Temon!\" thrice, and nine times did Jurgen reply\n\"Arigizator!\" Afterward the Emperor Jurgen and his bride were given\na posset of duda\u00efm and eruca, and the devils modestly withdrew.\n\nThereafter Jurgen abode in Hell, and complied with the customs of\nthat country, and was tolerably content for a while. Now Jurgen\nshared with Florimel that quiet cleft which she had fitted out in\nimitation of her girlhood home: and they lived in the suburbs of\nBarathum, very respectably, by the shore of the sea. There was, of\ncourse, no water in Hell; indeed the importation of water was\nforbidden, under severe penalties, in view of its possible use for\nbaptismal purposes: this sea was composed of the blood that had been\nshed by piety in furthering the kingdom of the Prince of Peace, and\nwas reputed to be the largest ocean in existence. And it explained\nthe nonsensical saying which Jurgen had so often heard, as to Hell's\nbeing paved with good intentions.\n\n\"For Epigenes of Rhodes is right, after all,\" said Jurgen, \"in\nsuggesting a misprint: and the word should be 'laved'.\"\n\n\"Why, to be sure, your majesty,\" assented Florimel: \"ah, but I\nalways said your majesty had remarkable powers of penetration, quite\napart from your majesty's scholarship.\"\n\nFor Florimel had this cajoling way of speaking. None the less, all\nvampires have their foibles, and are nourished by the vigor and\nyouth of their lovers. So one morning Florimel complained of being\nunwell, and attributed it to indigestion.\n\nJurgen stroked her head meditatively; then he opened his glittering\nshirt, and displayed what was plain enough to see.\n\n\"I am full of vigor and I am young,\" said Jurgen, \"but my vigor and\nmy youthfulness are of a peculiar sort, and are not wholesome. So\nlet us have no more of your tricks, or you will quite spoil your\nvacation by being very ill indeed.\"\n\n\"But I had thought all emperors were human!\" said Florimel, in a\nflutter of blushing penitence, exceedingly pretty to observe.\n\n\"Even so, sweetheart, all emperors are not Jurgens,\" he replied,\nmagnificently. \"Therefore you will find that not every emperor is\njustly styled the father of his people, or is qualified by nature to\nwield the sceptre of Noumaria. I trust this lesson will suffice.\"\n\n\"It will,\" said Florimel, with a wry face.\n\nSo thereafter they had no further trouble of this sort, and the\nwound on Jurgen's breast was soon healed.\n\nAnd Jurgen kept away from the damned, of course, because he and\nFlorimel were living respectably. They paid a visit to Jurgen's\nfather, however, very shortly after they were married, because this\nwas the proper thing to do. And Coth was civil enough, for Coth, and\nvoiced a hope that Florimel might have a good influence upon Jurgen\nand make him worth his salt, but did not pretend to be optimistic.\nYet this visit was never returned, because Coth considered his\nwickedness was too great for him to be spared a moment of torment,\nand so would not leave his flame.\n\n\"And really, your majesty,\" said Florimel, \"I do not wish for an\ninstant to have the appearance of criticizing your majesty's\nrelatives. But I do think that your majesty's father might have\ncalled upon us, at least once, particularly after I offered to have\na fire made up for him to sit on any time he chose to come. I\nconsider that your majesty's father assumes somewhat extravagant\nairs, in the lack of any definite proof as to his having been a bit\nmore wicked than anybody else: and the child-like candor which has\nalways been with me a leading characteristic prevents concealment of\nmy opinion.\"\n\n\"Oh, it is just his conscience, dear.\"\n\n\"A conscience is all very well in its place, your majesty; and I,\nfor one, would never have been able to endure the interminable labor\nof seducing and assassinating so many fine young fellows if my\nconscience had not assured me that it was all the fault of my\nsister-in-law. But, even so, there is no sense in letting your\nconscience make a slave of you: and when conscience reduces your\nmajesty's father to ignoring the rules of common civility and\nbehaving like a candle-wick, I am sure that matters are being\ncarried too far.\"\n\n\"And right you are, my dear. However, we do not lack for company. So\ncome now, make yourself fine, and shake the black dog from your\nback, for we are spending the evening with the Asmodeuses.\"\n\n\"And will your majesty talk politics again?\"\n\n\"Oh, I suppose so. They appear to like it.\"\n\n\"I only wish that I did, your majesty,\" observed Florimel, and she\nyawned by anticipation.\n\nFor with the devils Jurgen got on garrulously. The religion of Hell\nis patriotism, and the government is an enlightened democracy. This\ncontented the devils, and Jurgen had learned long ago never to fall\nout with either of these codes, without which, as the devils were\nfond of observing, Hell would not be what it is.\n\nThey were, to Jurgen's finding, simple-minded fiends who allowed\nthemselves to be deplorably overworked by the importunate dead. They\ngot no rest because of the damned, who were such persons as had been\nsaddled with a conscience, and who in consequence demanded\ninterminable torments. And at the time of Jurgen's coming into Hell\npolitical affairs were in a very bad way, because there was a\nconsiderable party among the younger devils who were for compounding\nthe age-old war with Heaven, at almost any price, in order to get\nrelief from this unceasing influx of conscientious dead persons in\nsearch of torment. For it was well-known that when Satan submitted\nto be bound in chains there would be no more death: and the annoying\nimmigration would thus be ended. So said the younger devils: and\nconsidered Grandfather Satan ought to sacrifice himself for the\ngeneral welfare.\n\nThen too they pointed out that Satan had been perforce their\npresiding magistrate ever since the settlement of Hell, because a\nchange of administration is inexpedient in war-time: so that Satan\nmust term after term be re-elected: and of course Satan had been\nvoted absolute power in everything, since this too is customary in\nwartime. Well, and after the first few thousand years of this the\nyounger devils began to whisper that such government was not ideal\ndemocracy.\n\nBut their more conservative elders were enraged by these effete and\nwild new notions, and dealt with their juniors somewhat severely,\ntearing them into bits and quite destroying them. The elder devils\nthen proceeded to inflict even more startling punishments.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nSo Grandfather Satan was much vexed, because the laws were being\nviolated everywhere: and a day or two after Jurgen's advent Satan\nissued a public appeal to his subjects, that the code of Hell should\nbe better respected. But under a democratic government people do not\nlike to be perpetually bothering about law and order, as one of the\nolder and stronger devils pointed out to Jurgen.\n\nJurgen drew a serious face, and he stroked his chin. \"Why, but look\nyou,\" says Jurgen, \"in deploring the mob spirit that has been\nmanifesting itself sporadically throughout this country against the\nadvocates of peace and submission to the commands of Heaven and\nother pro-Celestial propaganda,--and in warning loyal citizenship\nthat such outbursts must be guarded against, as hurtful to the\npublic welfare of Hell,--why, Grandfather Satan should bear in mind\nthat the government, in large measure, holds the remedy of the evil\nin its own hands.\" And Jurgen looked very severely toward Satan.\n\n\"Come now,\" says Phlegeton, nodding his head, which was like that of\na bear, except for his naked long, red ears, inside each of which\nwas a flame like that of a spirit-lamp: \"come now, but this young\nemperor in the fine shirt speaks uncommonly well!\"\n\n\"So we spoke together in Pandemonium,\" said Belial, wistfully, \"in\nthe brave days when Pandemonium was newly built and we were all imps\ntogether.\"\n\n\"Yes, his talk is of the old school, than which there is none\nbetter. So pray continue, Emperor Jurgen,\" cried the elderly devils,\n\"and let us know what you are talking about.\"\n\n\"Why, merely this,\" says Jurgen, and again he looked severely toward\nSatan: \"I tell you that as long as sentimental weakness marks the\nprosecution of offences in violation of the laws necessitated by\nwar-time conditions; as long as deserved punishment for overt acts\nof pro-Celestialism is withheld; as long as weak-kneed clemency\ncondones even a suspicion of disloyal thinking: then just so long\nwill a righteously incensed, if now and then misguided patriotism\ntake into its own hands vengeance upon the offenders.\"\n\n\"But, still--\" said Grandfather Satan.\n\n\"Ineffectual administration of the law,\" continued Jurgen, sternly,\n\"is the true defence of these outbursts: and far more justly\ndeplorable than acts of mob violence is the policy of condonation\nthat furnishes occasion for them. The patriotic people of Hell are\nnot in a temper to be trifled with, now that they are at war.\nConviction for offenses against the nation should not be behedged\nabout with technicalities devised for over-refined peacetime\njurisprudence. Why, there is no one of you, I am sure, but has at\nhis tongue's tip the immortal words of Livonius as to this very\ntopic: and so I shall not repeat them. But I fancy you will agree\nwith me that what Livonius says is unanswerable.\"\n\nSo it was that Jurgen went on at a great rate, and looking always\nvery sternly at Grandfather Satan.\n\n\"Yes, yes!\" said Satan, wriggling uncomfortably, but still not\nthinking of Jurgen entirely: \"yes, all this is excellent oratory,\nand not for a moment would I decry the authority of Livonius. And\nyour quotation is uncommonly apropos and all that sort of thing. But\nwith what are you charging me?\"\n\n\"With sentimental weakness,\" retorted Jurgen. \"Was it not only\nyesterday one of the younger devils was brought before you, upon the\ncharge that he had said the climate in Heaven was better than the\nclimate here? And you, sir, Hell's chief magistrate--you it was who\nactually asked him if he had ever uttered such a disloyal heresy!\"\n\n\"Now, but what else was I to do?\" said Satan, fidgeting, and\nswishing his great bushy tail so that it rustled against his horns,\nand still not really turning his mind from that ancient thought.\n\n\"You should have remembered, sir, that a devil whose patriotism is\nimpugned is a devil to be punished; and that there is no time to be\nprying into irrevelant questions of his guilt or innocence.\nOtherwise, I take it, you will never have any real democracy in\nHell.\"\n\nNow Jurgen looked very impressive, and the devils were all cheering\nhim.\n\n\"And so,\" says Jurgen, \"your disgusted hearers were wearied by such\nfrivolous interrogatories, and took the fellow out of your hands,\nand tore him into particularly small bits. Now I warn you,\nGrandfather Satan, that it is your duty as a democratic magistrate\njust so to deal with such offenders first of all, and to ask your\nsilly questions afterward. For what does Rudigernus say outright\nupon this point? and Zantipher Magnus, too? Why, my dear sir, I ask\nyou plainly, where in the entire history of international\njurisprudence will you find any more explicit language than these\ntwo employ?\"\n\n\"Now certainly,\" says Satan, with his bleak smile, \"you cite very\nrespectable authority: and I shall take your reproof in good part. I\nwill endeavor to be more strict in the future. And you must not\nblame my laxity too severely, Emperor Jurgen, for it is a long while\nsince any man came living into Hell to instruct us how to manage\nmatters in time of war. No doubt, precisely as you say, we do need a\nlittle more severity hereabouts, and would gain by adopting more\nhuman methods. Rudigernus, now?--yes, Rudigernus is rather\nunanswerable, and I concede it frankly. So do you come home and have\nsupper with me, Emperor Jurgen, and we will talk over these things.\"\n\nThen Jurgen went off arm in arm with Grandfather Satan, and Jurgen's\nerudition and sturdy common-sense were forevermore established among\nthe older and more solid element in Hell. And Satan followed Jurgen's\nsuggestions, and the threatened rebellion was satisfactorily\ndiscouraged, by tearing into very small fragments anybody who\ngrumbled about anything. So that all the subjects of Satan went\nabout smiling broadly all the time at the thought of what might\nbefall them if they seemed dejected. Thus was Hell a happier\nlooking place because of Jurgen's coming.\n\n\n\n\n39.\n\nOf Compromises in Hell\n\n\nNow Grandfather Satan's wife was called Phyllis: and apart from\nhaving wings like a bat's, she was the loveliest little slip of\ndevilishness that Jurgen had seen in a long while. Jurgen spent this\nnight at the Black House of Barathum, and two more nights, or it\nmight be three nights: and the details of what Jurgen used to do\nthere, after supper, when he would walk alone in the Black House\nGardens, among the artfully colored cast-iron flowers and shrubbery,\nand would so come to the grated windows of Phyllis's room, and would\nstand there joking with her in the dark, are not requisite to this\nstory.\n\nSatan was very jealous of his wife, and kept one of her wings\nclipped and held her under lock and key, as the treasure that she\nwas. But Jurgen was accustomed to say afterward that, while the\ngratings over the windows were very formidable, they only seemed\nsomehow to enhance the piquancy of his commerce with Dame Phyllis.\nThis queen, said Jurgen, he had found simply unexcelled at repartee.\n\nFlorimel considered the saying cryptic: just what precisely did his\nmajesty mean?\n\n\"Why, that in any and all circumstances Dame Phyllis knows how to\ntake a joke, and to return as good as she receives.\"\n\n\"So your majesty has already informed me: and certainly jokes can be\nexchanged through a grating--\"\n\n\"Yes, that was what I meant. And Dame Phyllis appeared to appreciate\nmy ready flow of humor. She informs me Grandfather Satan is of a\ncold dry temperament, with very little humor in him, so that they go\nfor months without exchanging any pleasantries. Well, I am willing\nto taste any drink once: and for the rest, remembering that my host\nhad very enormous and intimidating horns, I was at particular pains\nto deal fairly with my hostess. Though, indeed, it was more for the\nhonor and the glory of the affair than anything else that I\nexchanged pleasantries with Satan's wife. For to do that, my dear, I\nfelt was worthy of the Emperor Jurgen.\"\n\n\"Ah, I am afraid your majesty is a sad scapegrace,\" replied\nFlorimel: \"however, we all know that the sceptre of an emperor is\nrespected everywhere.\"\n\n\"Indeed,\" says Jurgen, \"I have often regretted that I did not bring\nwith me my jewelled sceptre when I left Noumaria.\"\n\nShe shivered at some unspoken thought: it was not until some while\nafterward that Florimel told Jurgen of her humiliating misadventure\nwith the absent-minded Sultan of Gar\u00e7ao's sceptre. Now she only\nreplied that jewels might, conceivably, seem ostentatious and out of\nplace.\n\nJurgen agreed to this truism: for of course they were living very\nquietly, and Jurgen was splendid enough for any reasonable wife's\nrequirements, in his glittering shirt.\n\nSo Jurgen got on pleasantly with Florimel. But he never became as\nfond of her as he had been of Guenevere or Ana\u00eftis, nor one-tenth as\nfond of her as he had been of Chloris. In the first place, he\nsuspected that Florimel had been invented by his father, and Coth\nand Jurgen had never any tastes in common: and in the second place,\nJurgen could not but see that Florimel thought a great deal of his\nbeing an emperor.\n\n\"It is my title she loves, not me,\" reflected Jurgen, sadly, \"and\nher affection is less for that which is really integral to me than\nfor imperial orbs and sceptres and such-like external trappings.\"\n\nAnd Jurgen would come out of Florimel's cleft considerably dejected,\nand would sit alone by the Sea of Blood, and would meditate how\ninequitable it was that the mere title of emperor should thus shut\nhim off from sincerity and candor.\n\n\"We who are called kings and emperors are men like other men: we are\nas rightly entitled as other persons to the solace of true love and\naffection: instead, we live in a continuous isolation, and women\noffer us all things save their hearts, and we are a lonely folk.\nNo, I cannot believe that Florimel loves me for myself alone: it is\nmy title which dazzles her. And I would that I had never made myself\nthe emperor of Noumaria: for this emperor goes about everywhere\nin a fabulous splendor, and is, very naturally, resistless in his\nsemi-mythical magnificence. Ah, but these imperial gewgaws distract\nthe thoughts of Florimel from the real Jurgen; so that the real\nJurgen is a person whom she does not understand at all. And it is\nnot fair.\"\n\nThen, too, he had a sort of prejudice against the way in which\nFlorimel spent her time in seducing and murdering young men. It was\nnot possible, of course, actually to blame the girl, since she was\nthe victim of circumstances, and had no choice about becoming a\nvampire, once the cat had jumped over her coffin. Still, Jurgen\nalways felt, in his illogical masculine way, that her vocation was\nnot nice. And equally in the illogical way of men, did he persist in\ncoaxing Florimel to tell him of her vampiric transactions, in spite\nof his underlying feeling that he would prefer to have his wife\nengaged in some other trade: and the merry little creature would\nhumor him willingly enough, with her purple eyes a-sparkle, and with\nher vivid lips curling prettily back, so as to show her tiny white\nsharp teeth quite plainly.\n\nShe was really very pretty thus, as she told him of what happened\nin Copenhagen when young Count Osmund went down into the blind\nbeggar-woman's cellar, and what they did with bits of him; and\nof how one kind of serpent came to have a secret name, which,\nwhen cried aloud in the night, with the appropriate ceremony, will\nbring about delicious happenings; and of what one can do with small\nunchristened children, if only they do not kiss you, with their\nmoist uncertain little mouths, for then this thing is impossible;\nand of what use she had made of young Sir Ganelon's skull, when he\nwas through with it, and she with him; and of what the young priest\nWulfnoth had said to the crocodiles at the very last.\n\n\"Oh, yes, my life has its amusing side,\" said Florimel: \"and one\nlikes to feel, of course, that one is not wholly out of touch with\nthings, and is even, in one's modest way, contributing to the\nsuppression of folly. But even so, your majesty, the calls that are\nmade upon one! the things that young men expect of you, as the price\nof their bodily and spiritual ruin! and the things their relatives say\nabout you! and, above all, the constant strain, the irregular hours,\nand the continual effort to live up to one's position! Oh, yes, your\nmajesty, I was far happier when I was a consumptive seamstress and took\npride in my buttonholes. But from a sister-in-law who only has you in\nto tea occasionally as a matter of duty, and who is prominent in\nchurchwork, one may, of course, expect anything. And that reminds\nme that I really must tell your majesty about what happened in the\nhay-loft, just after the abbot had finished undressing--\"\n\nSo she would chatter away, while Jurgen listened and smiled\nindulgently. For she certainly was very pretty. And so they kept\nhouse in Hell contentedly enough until Florimel's vacation was at an\nend: and then they parted, without any tears but in perfect\nfriendliness.\n\nAnd Jurgen always remembered Florimel most pleasantly, but not as a\nwife with whom he had ever been on terms of actual intimacy.\n\nNow when this lovely Vampire had quitted him, the Emperor Jurgen, in\nspite of his general popularity and the deference accorded his\npolitical views, was not quite happy in Hell.\n\n\"It is a comfort, at any rate,\" said Jurgen, \"to discover who\noriginated the theory of democratic government. I have long wondered\nwho started the notion that the way to get a wise decision on any\nconceivable question was to submit it to a popular vote. Now I know.\nWell, and the devils may be right in their doctrines; certainly I\ncannot go so far as to say they are wrong: but still, at the same\ntime--!\"\n\nFor instance, this interminable effort to make the universe safe for\ndemocracy, this continual warring against Heaven because Heaven\nclung to a tyrannical form of autocratic government, sounded both\nlogical and magnanimous, and was, of course, the only method of\ninsuring any general triumph for democracy: yet it seemed rather\nfutile to Jurgen, since, as he knew now, there was certainly\nsomething in the Celestial system which made for military\nefficiency, so that Heaven usually won. Moreover, Jurgen could not\nget over the fact that Hell was just a notion of his ancestors with\nwhich Koshchei had happened to fall in: for Jurgen had never much\npatience with antiquated ideas, particularly when anyone put them\ninto practice, as Koshchei had done.\n\n\"Why, this place appears to me a glaring anachronism,\" said Jurgen,\nbrooding over the fires of Chorasma: \"and its methods of tormenting\nconscientious people I cannot but consider very crude indeed. The\ndevils are simple-minded and they mean well, as nobody would dream\nof denying, but that is just it: for hereabouts is needed some more\npertinacious and efficiently disagreeable person--\"\n\nAnd that, of course, reminded him of Dame Lisa: and so it was the\nthoughts of Jurgen turned again to doing the manly thing. And he\nsighed, and went among the devils tentatively looking and inquiring\nfor that intrepid fiend who in the form of a black gentleman had\ncarried off Dame Lisa. But a queer happening befell, and it was that\nnowhere could Jurgen find the black gentleman, nor did any of the\ndevils know anything about him.\n\n\"From what you tell us, Emperor Jurgen,\" said they all, \"your wife\nwas an acidulous shrew, and the sort of woman who believes that\nwhatever she does is right.\"\n\n\"It was not a belief,\" says Jurgen: \"it was a mania with the poor\ndear.\"\n\n\"By that fact, then, she is forever debarred from entering Hell.\"\n\n\"You tell me news,\" says Jurgen, \"which if generally known would\nlead many husbands into vicious living.\"\n\n\"But it is notorious that people are saved by faith. And there is no\nfaith stronger than that of a bad-tempered woman in her own\ninfallibility. Plainly, this wife of yours is the sort of person who\ncannot be tolerated by anybody short of the angels. We deduce that\nyour Empress must be in Heaven.\"\n\n\"Well, that sounds reasonable. And so to Heaven I will go, and it\nmay be that there I shall find justice.\"\n\n\"We would have you know,\" the fiends cried, bristling, \"that in Hell\nwe have all kinds of justice, since our government is an enlightened\ndemocracy.\"\n\n\"Just so,\" says Jurgen: \"in an enlightened democracy one has all\nkinds of justice, and I would not dream of denying it. But you have\nnot, you conceive, that lesser plague, my wife; and it is she whom I\nmust continue to look for.\"\n\n\"Oh, as you like,\" said they, \"so long as you do not criticize the\nexigencies of war-time. But certainly we are sorry to see you going\ninto a country where the benighted people put up with an autocrat\nWho was not duly elected to His position. And why need you continue\nseeking your wife's society when it is so much pleasanter living in\nHell?\"\n\nAnd Jurgen shrugged. \"One has to do the manly thing sometimes.\"\n\nSo the fiends told him the way to Heaven's frontiers, pitying him.\n\"But the crossing of the frontier must be your affair.\"\n\n\"I have a cantrap,\" said Jurgen; \"and my stay in Hell has taught me\nhow to use it.\"\n\nThen Jurgen followed his instructions, and went into Meridie, and\nturned to the left when he had come to the great puddle where the\nadders and toads are reared, and so passed through the mists of\nTartarus, with due care of the wild lightning, and took the second\nturn to his left--\"always in seeking Heaven be guided by your\nheart,\" had been the advice given him by devils,--and thus avoiding\nthe abode of Jemra, he crossed the bridge over the Bottomless Pit\nand the solitary Narakas. And Brachus, who kept the toll-gate on\nthis bridge, did that of which the fiends had forewarned Jurgen: but\nfor this, of course, there was no help.\n\n\n\n\n40.\n\nThe Ascension of Pope Jurgen\n\n\nThe tale tells how on the feast of the Annunciation Jurgen came to\nthe high white walls which girdle Heaven. For Jurgen's forefathers\nhad, of course, imagined that Hell stood directly contiguous to\nHeaven, so that the blessed could augment their felicity by gazing\ndown upon the tortures of the damned. Now at this time a boy angel\nwas looking over the parapet of Heaven's wall.\n\n\"And a good day to you, my fine young fellow,\" says Jurgen. \"But of\nwhat are you thinking so intently?\" For just as Dives had done long\nyears before, now Jurgen found that a man's voice carries perfectly\nbetween Hell and Heaven.\n\n\"Sir,\" replies the boy, \"I was pitying the poor damned.\"\n\n\"Why, then, you must be Origen,\" says Jurgen, laughing.\n\n\"No, sir, my name is Jurgen.\"\n\n\"Heyday!\" says Jurgen: \"well, but this Jurgen has been a great many\npersons in my time. So very possibly you speak the truth.\"\n\n\"I am Jurgen, the son of Coth and Azra.\"\n\n\"Ah, ah! but so were all of them, my boy.\"\n\n\"Why, then, I am Jurgen, the grandson of Steinvor, and the\ngrandchild whom she loved above her other grandchildren: and so I\nabide forever in Heaven with all the other illusions of Steinvor.\nBut who, messire, are you that go about Hell unscorched, in such a\nfine looking shirt?\"\n\nJurgen reflected. Clearly it would never do to give his real name,\nand thus raise the question as to whether Jurgen was in Heaven or\nHell. Then he recollected the cantrap of the Master Philologist,\nwhich Jurgen had twice employed incorrectly. And Jurgen cleared his\nthroat, for he believed that he now understood the proper use of\ncantraps.\n\n\"Perhaps,\" says Jurgen, \"I ought not to tell you who I am. But what\nis life without confidence in one another? Besides, you appear a boy\nof remarkable discretion. So I will confide in you that I am Pope\nJohn the Twentieth, Heaven's regent upon Earth, now visiting this\nplace upon Celestial business which I am not at liberty to divulge\nmore particularly, for reasons that will at once occur to a young\nman of your unusual cleverness.\"\n\n\"Oh, but I say! that is droll. Do you just wait a moment!\" cried the\nboy angel.\n\nHis bright face vanished, with a whisking of brown curls: and Jurgen\ncarefully re-read the cantrap of the Master Philologist. \"Yes, I\nhave found, I think, the way to use such magic,\" observes Jurgen.\n\nPresently the young angel re-appeared at the parapet. \"I say, messire!\nI looked on the Register--all popes are admitted here the moment they\ndie, without inquiring into their private affairs, you know, so as to\navoid any unfortunate scandal,--and we have twenty-three Pope Johns\nlisted. And sure enough, the mansion prepared for John the Twentieth\nis vacant. He seems to be the only pope that is not in Heaven.\"\n\n\"Why, but of course not,\" says Jurgen, complacently, \"inasmuch as\nyou see me, who was once Bishop of Rome and servant to the servants\nof God, standing down here on this cinder-heap.\"\n\n\"Yes, but none of the others in your series appears to place you.\nJohn the Nineteenth says he never heard of you, and not to bother\nhim in the middle of a harp lesson--\"\n\n\"He died before my accession, naturally.\"\n\n\"--And John the Twenty-first says he thinks they lost count somehow,\nand that there never was any Pope John the Twentieth. He says you\nmust be an impostor.\"\n\n\"Ah, professional jealousy!\" sighed Jurgen: \"dear me, this is very\nsad, and gives one a poor opinion of human nature. Now, my boy, I\nput it to you fairly, how could there have been a twenty-first\nunless there had been a twentieth? And what becomes of the great\nprinciple of papal infallibility when a pope admits to a mistake in\nelementary arithmetic? Oh, but this is a very dangerous heresy, let\nme tell you, an Inquisition matter, a consistory business! Yet,\nluckily, upon his own contention, this Pedro Juliani--\"\n\n\"And that was his name, too, for he told me! You evidently know all\nabout it, messire,\" said the young angel, visibly impressed.\n\n\"Of course, I know all about it. Well, I repeat, upon his own\ncontention this man is non-existent, and so, whatever he may say\namounts to nothing. For he tells you there was never any Pope John\nthe Twentieth: and either he is lying or he is telling you the\ntruth. If he is lying, you, of course, ought not to believe him:\nyet, if he is telling you the truth, about there never having been\nany Pope John the Twentieth, why then, quite plainly, there was\nnever any Pope John the Twenty-first, so that this man asserts his\nown non-existence; and thus is talking nonsense, and you, of course,\nought not to believe in nonsense. Even did we grant his insane\ncontention that he is nobody, you are too well brought up, I am\nsure, to dispute that nobody tells lies in Heaven: it follows that\nin this case nobody is lying; and so, of course, I must be telling\nthe truth, and you have no choice save to believe me.\"\n\n\"Now, certainly that sounds all right,\" the younger Jurgen conceded:\n\"though you explain it so quickly it is a little difficult to follow\nyou.\"\n\n\"Ah, but furthermore, and over and above this, and as a tangible\nproof of the infallible particularity of every syllable of my\nassertion,\" observes the elder Jurgen, \"if you will look in the\ngarret of Heaven you will find the identical ladder upon which I\ndescended hither, and which I directed them to lay aside until I was\nready to come up again. Indeed, I was just about to ask you to fetch\nit, inasmuch as my business here is satisfactorily concluded.\"\n\nWell, the boy agreed that the word of no pope, whether in Hell or\nHeaven, was tangible proof like a ladder: and again he was off.\nJurgen waited, in tolerable confidence.\n\nIt was a matter of logic. Jacob's Ladder must from all accounts have\nbeen far too valuable to throw away after one night's use at Beth-El;\nit would come in very handy on Judgment Day: and Jurgen's knowledge\nof Lisa enabled him to deduce that anything which was being kept\nbecause it would come in handy some day would inevitably be stored\nin the garret, in any establishment imaginable by women. \"And it is\nnotorious that Heaven is a delusion of old women. Why, the thing is\na certainty,\" said Jurgen; \"simply a mathematical certainty.\"\n\nAnd events proved his logic correct: for presently the younger\nJurgen came back with Jacob's Ladder, which was rather cobwebby and\nobsolete looking after having been lain aside so long.\n\n\"So you see you were perfectly right,\" then said this younger\nJurgen, as he lowered Jacob's Ladder into Hell. \"Oh, Messire John,\ndo hurry up and have it out with that old fellow who slandered you!\"\n\nThus it came about that Jurgen clambered merrily from Hell to Heaven\nupon a ladder of unalloyed, time-tested gold: and as he climbed the\nshirt of Nessus glittered handsomely in the light which shone from\nHeaven: and by this great light above him, as Jurgen mounted higher\nand yet higher, the shadow of Jurgen was lengthened beyond belief\nalong the sheer white wall of Heaven, as though the shadow were\nreluctant and adhered tenaciously to Hell. Yet presently Jurgen\nleaped the ramparts: and then the shadow leaped too; and so his\nshadow came with Jurgen into Heaven, and huddled dispiritedly at\nJurgen's feet.\n\n\"Well, well!\" thinks Jurgen, \"certainly there is no disputing the\nmagic of the Master Philologist when it is correctly employed. For\nthrough its aid I am entering alive into Heaven, as only Enoch and\nElijah have done before me: and moreover, if this boy is to be\nbelieved, one of the very handsomest of Heaven's many mansions\nawaits my occupancy. One could not ask more of any magician fairly.\nAha, if only Lisa could see me now!\"\n\nThat was his first thought. Afterward Jurgen tore up the cantrap and\nscattered its fragments as the Master Philologist had directed. Then\nJurgen turned to the boy who aided Jurgen to get into Heaven.\n\n\"Come, youngster, and let us have a good look at you!\"\n\nAnd Jurgen talked with the boy that he had once been, and stood face\nto face with all that Jurgen had been and was not any longer. And\nthis was the one happening which befell Jurgen that the writer of\nthe tale lacked heart to tell of.\n\nSo Jurgen quitted the boy that he had been. But first had Jurgen\nlearned that in this place his grandmother Steinvor (whom King Smoit\nhad loved) abode and was happy in her notion of Heaven; and that\nabout her were her notions of her children and of her grandchildren.\nSteinvor had never imagined her husband in Heaven, nor King Smoit\neither.\n\n\"That is a circumstance,\" says Jurgen, \"which heartens me to hope\none may find justice here. Yet I shall keep away from my\ngrandmother, the Steinvor whom I knew and loved, and who loved me so\nblindly that this boy here is her notion of me. Yes, in mere\nfairness to her, I must keep away.\"\n\nSo he avoided that part of Heaven wherein were his grandmother's\nillusions: and this was counted for righteousness in Jurgen. That\npart of Heaven smelt of mignonette, and a starling was singing\nthere.\n\n\n\n\n41.\n\nOf Compromises in Heaven\n\n\nJurgen then went unhindered to where the God of Jurgen's grandmother\nsat upon a throne, beside a sea of crystal. A rainbow, made high\nand narrow like a window frame, so as to fit the throne, formed an\narch-way in which He sat: at His feet burned seven lamps, and four\nremarkable winged creatures sat there chaunting softly, \"Glory and\nhonor and thanks to Him Who liveth forever!\" In one hand of the God\nwas a sceptre, and in the other a large book with seven red spots on\nit.\n\nThere were twelve smaller thrones, without rainbows, upon each side\nof the God of Jurgen's grandmother, in two semi-circles: upon these\ninferior thrones sat benignant-looking elderly angels, with long\nwhite hair, all crowned, and clothed in white robes, and having a\nharp in one hand, and in the other a gold flask, about pint size.\nAnd everywhere fluttered and glittered the multicolored wings of\nseraphs and cherubs, like magnified paroquets, as they went softly\nand gaily about the golden haze that brooded over Heaven, to a\ncontinuous sound of hushed organ music and a remote and\nundistinguishable singing.\n\nNow the eyes of this God met the eyes of Jurgen: and Jurgen waited\nthus for a long while, and far longer, indeed, than Jurgen\nsuspected.\n\n\"I fear You,\" Jurgen said, at last: \"and, yes, I love You: and yet I\ncannot believe. Why could You not let me believe, where so many\nbelieved? Or else, why could You not let me deride, as the remainder\nderided so noisily? O God, why could You not let me have faith? for\nYou gave me no faith in anything, not even in nothingness. It was\nnot fair.\"\n\nAnd in the highest court of Heaven, and in plain view of all the\nangels, Jurgen began to weep.\n\n\"I was not ever your God, Jurgen.\"\n\n\"Once very long ago,\" said Jurgen, \"I had faith in You.\"\n\n\"No, for that boy is here with Me, as you yourself have seen. And\nto-day there is nothing remaining of him anywhere in the man that is\nJurgen.\"\n\n\"God of my grandmother! God Whom I too loved in boyhood!\" said\nJurgen then: \"why is it that I am denied a God? For I have searched:\nand nowhere can I find justice, and nowhere can I find anything to\nworship.\"\n\n\"What, Jurgen, and would you look for justice, of all places, in\nHeaven?\"\n\n\"No,\" Jurgen said; \"no, I perceive it cannot be considered here.\nElse You would sit alone.\"\n\n\"And for the rest, you have looked to find your God without, not\nlooking within to see that which is truly worshipped in the thoughts\nof Jurgen. Had you done so, you would have seen, as plainly as I now\nsee, that which alone you are able to worship. And your God is\nmaimed: the dust of your journeying is thick upon him; your vanity\nis laid as a napkin upon his eyes; and in his heart is neither love\nnor hate, not even for his only worshipper.\"\n\n\"Do not deride him, You Who have so many worshippers! At least, he\nis a monstrous clever fellow,\" said Jurgen: and boldly he said it,\nin the highest court of Heaven, and before the pensive face of the\nGod of Jurgen's grandmother.\n\n\"Ah, very probably. I do not meet with many clever people. And as\nfor My numerous worshippers, you forget how often you have\ndemonstrated that I was the delusion of an old woman.\"\n\n\"Well, and was there ever a flaw in my logic?\"\n\n\"I was not listening to you, Jurgen. You must know that logic does\nnot much concern us, inasmuch as nothing is logical hereabouts.\"\n\nAnd now the four winged creatures ceased their chaunting, and the\norgan music became a far-off murmuring. And there was silence in\nHeaven. And the God of Jurgen's grandmother, too, was silent for a\nwhile, and the rainbow under which He sat put off its seven colors\nand burned with an unendurable white, tinged bluishly, while the God\nconsidered ancient things. Then in the silence this God began to\nspeak.\n\nSome years ago (said the God of Jurgen's grandmother) it was\nreported to Koshchei that scepticism was abroad in his universe, and\nthat one walked therein who would be contented with no rational\nexplanation. \"Bring me this infidel,\" says Koshchei: so they brought\nto him in the void a little bent gray woman in an old gray shawl.\n\"Now, tell me why you will not believe,\" says Koshchei, \"in things\nas they are.\"\n\nThen the decent little bent gray woman answered civilly; \"I do not\nknow, sir, who you may happen to be. But, since you ask me,\neverybody knows that things as they are must be regarded as\ntemporary afflictions, and as trials through which we are\nrighteously condemned to pass, in order to attain to eternal life\nwith our loved ones in Heaven.\"\n\n\"Ah, yes,\" said Koshchei, who made things as they are; \"ah, yes, to\nbe sure! and how did you learn of this?\"\n\n\"Why, every Sunday morning the priest discoursed to us about Heaven,\nand of how happy we would be there after death.\"\n\n\"Has this woman died, then?\" asked Koshchei.\n\n\"Yes, sir,\" they told him,--\"recently. And she will believe nothing\nwe explain to her, but demands to be taken to Heaven.\"\n\n\"Now, this is very vexing,\" Koshchei said, \"and I cannot, of course,\nput up with such scepticism. That would never do. So why do you not\nconvey her to this Heaven which she believes in, and thus put an end\nto the matter?\"\n\n\"But, sir,\" they told him, \"there is no such place.\"\n\nThen Koshchei reflected. \"It is certainly strange that a place which\ndoes not exist should be a matter of public knowledge in another\nplace. Where does this woman come from?\"\n\n\"From Earth,\" they told him.\n\n\"Where is that?\" he asked: and they explained to him as well as they\ncould.\n\n\"Oh, yes, over that way,\" Koshchei interrupted. \"I remember.\nNow--but what is your name, woman who wish to go to Heaven?\"\n\n\"Steinvor, sir: and if you please I am rather in a hurry to be with\nmy children again. You see, I have not seen any of them for a long\nwhile.\"\n\n\"But stay,\" said Koshchei: \"what is that which comes into this\nwoman's eyes as she speaks of her children?\" They told him it was\nlove.\n\n\"Did I create this love?\" says Koshchei, who made things as they\nare. And they told him, no: and that there were many sorts of love,\nbut that this especial sort was an illusion which women had invented\nfor themselves, and which they exhibited in all dealings with their\nchildren. And Koshchei sighed.\n\n\"Tell me about your children,\" Koshchei then said to Steinvor: \"and\nlook at me as you talk, so that I may see your eyes.\"\n\nSo Steinvor talked of her children: and Koshchei, who made all\nthings, listened very attentively. Of Coth she told him, of her only\nson, confessing Coth was the finest boy that ever lived,--\"a little\nwild, sir, at first, but then you know what boys are,\"--and telling\nof how well Coth had done in business and of how he had even risen\nto be an alderman. Koshchei, who made all things, seemed properly\nimpressed. Then Steinvor talked of her daughters, of Imperia and\nLindamira and Christine: of Imperia's beauty, and of Lindamira's\nbravery under the mishaps of an unlucky marriage, and of Christine's\nsuperlative housekeeping. \"Fine women, sir, every one of them, with\nchildren of their own! and to me they still seem such babies, bless\nthem!\" And the decent little bent gray woman laughed. \"I have been\nvery lucky in my children, sir, and in my grandchildren, too,\" she\ntold Koshchei. \"There is Jurgen, now, my Coth's boy! You may not\nbelieve it, sir, but there is a story I must tell you about\nJurgen--\" So she ran on very happily and proudly, while Koshchei,\nwho made all things, listened, and watched the eyes of Steinvor.\n\nThen privately Koshchei asked, \"Are these children and grandchildren\nof Steinvor such as she reports?\"\n\n\"No, sir,\" they told him privately.\n\nSo as Steinvor talked Koshchei devised illusions in accordance with\nthat which Steinvor said, and created such children and\ngrandchildren as she described. Male and female he created them\nstanding behind Steinvor, and all were beautiful and stainless: and\nKoshchei gave life to these illusions.\n\nThen Koshchei bade her turn about. She obeyed: and Koshchei was\nforgotten.\n\nWell, Koshchei sat there alone in the void, looking not very happy,\nand looking puzzled, and drumming upon his knee, and staring at the\nlittle bent gray woman, who was busied with her children and\ngrandchildren, and had forgotten all about him. \"But surely,\nLindamira,\" he hears Steinvor say, \"we are not yet in Heaven.\"--\"Ah,\nmy dear mother,\" replies her illusion of Lindamira, \"to be with you\nagain is Heaven: and besides, it may be that Heaven is like this,\nafter all.\"--\"My darling child, it is sweet of you to say that, and\nexactly like you to say that. But you know very well that Heaven is\nfully described in the Book of Revelations, in the Bible, as the\nglorious place that Heaven is. Whereas, as you can see for yourself,\naround us is nothing at all, and no person at all except that very\ncivil gentleman to whom I was just talking; and who, between\nourselves, seems woefully uninformed about the most ordinary\nmatters.\"\n\n\"Bring Earth to me,\" says Koshchei. This was done, and Koshchei\nlooked over the planet, and found a Bible. Koshchei opened the\nBible, and read the Revelation of St. John the Divine, while\nSteinvor talked with her illusions. \"I see,\" said Koshchei. \"The\nidea is a little garish. Still--!\" So he replaced the Bible, and\nbade them put Earth, too, in its proper place, for Koshchei dislikes\nwasting anything. Then Koshchei smiled and created Heaven about\nSteinvor and her illusions, and he made Heaven just such a place as\nwas described in the book.\n\n\"And so, Jurgen, that was how it came about,\" ended the God of\nJurgen's grandmother. \"And Me also Koshchei created at that time,\nwith the seraphim and the saints and all the blessed, very much as\nyou see us: and, of course, he caused us to have been here always,\nsince the beginning of time, because that, too, was in the book.\"\n\n\"But how could that be done?\" says Jurgen, with brows puckering.\n\"And in what way could Koshchei juggle so with time?\"\n\n\"How should I know, since I am but the illusion of an old woman, as\nyou have so frequently proved by logic? Let it suffice that whatever\nKoshchei wills, not only happens, but has already happened beyond\nthe ancientest memory of man and his mother. How otherwise could he\nbe Koshchei?\"\n\n\"And all this,\" said Jurgen, virtuously, \"for a woman who was not\neven faithful to her husband!\"\n\n\"Oh, very probably!\" said the God: \"at all events, it was done for a\nwoman who loved. Koshchei will do almost anything to humor love,\nsince love is one of the two things which are impossible to\nKoshchei.\"\n\n\"I have heard that pride is impossible to Koshchei--\"\n\nThe God of Jurgen's grandmother raised His white eyebrows. \"What is\npride? I do not think I ever heard of it before. Assuredly it is\nsomething that does not enter here.\"\n\n\"But why is love impossible to Koshchei?\"\n\n\"Because Koshchei made things as they are, and day and night he\ncontemplates things as they are. How, then, can Koshchei love\nanything?\"\n\nBut Jurgen shook his sleek black head. \"That I cannot understand at\nall. If I were imprisoned in a cell wherein was nothing except my\nverses I would not be happy, and certainly I would not be proud: but\neven so, I would love my verses. I am afraid that I fall in more\nreadily with the ideas of Grandfather Satan than with Yours; and\nwithout contradicting You, I cannot but wonder if what You reveal is\ntrue.\"\n\n\"And how should I know whether or not I speak the truth?\" the God\nasked of him, \"since I am but the illusion of an old woman, as you\nhave so frequently proved by logic.\"\n\n\"Well, well!\" said Jurgen, \"You may be right in all matters, and\ncertainly I cannot presume to say You are wrong: but still, at the\nsame time--! No, even now I do not quite believe in You.\"\n\n\"Who could expect it of a clever fellow, who sees so clearly through\nthe illusions of old women?\" the God asked, a little wearily.\n\nAnd Jurgen answered:\n\n\"God of my grandmother, I cannot quite believe in You, and Your\ndoings as they are recorded I find incoherent and a little droll.\nBut I am glad the affair has been so arranged that You may always\nnow be real to brave and gentle persons who have believed in and\nhave worshipped and have loved You. To have disappointed them would\nhave been unfair: and it is right that before the faith they had in\nYou not even Koshchei who made things as they are was able to be\nreasonable.\n\n\"God of my grandmother, I cannot quite believe in You; but\nremembering the sum of love and faith that has been given You, I\ntremble. I think of the dear people whose living was confident and\nglad because of their faith in You: I think of them, and in my heart\ncontends a blind contrition, and a yearning, and an enviousness, and\nyet a tender sort of amusement colors all. Oh, God, there was never\nany other deity who had such dear worshippers as You have had, and\nYou should be very proud of them.\n\n\"God of my grandmother, I cannot quite believe in You, yet I am not\nas those who would come peering at You reasonably. I, Jurgen, see\nYou only through a mist of tears. For You were loved by those whom I\nloved greatly very long ago: and when I look at You it is Your\nworshippers and the dear believers of old that I remember. And it\nseems to me that dates and manuscripts and the opinions of learned\npersons are very trifling things beside what I remember, and what I\nenvy!\"\n\n\"Who could have expected such a monstrous clever fellow ever to envy\nthe illusions of old women?\" the God of Jurgen's grandmother asked\nagain: and yet His countenance was not unfriendly.\n\n\"Why, but,\" said Jurgen, on a sudden, \"why, but my grandmother--in a\nway--was right about Heaven and about You also. For certainly You\nseem to exist, and to reign in just such estate as she described.\nAnd yet, according to Your latest revelation, I too was right--in a\nway--about these things being an old woman's delusions. I wonder\nnow--?\"\n\n\"Yes, Jurgen?\"\n\n\"Why, I wonder if everything is right, in a way? I wonder if that is\nthe large secret of everything? It would not be a bad solution,\nsir,\" said Jurgen, meditatively.\n\nThe God smiled. Then suddenly that part of Heaven was vacant, except\nfor Jurgen, who stood there quite alone. And before him was the throne\nof the vanished God and the sceptre of the God, and Jurgen saw that\nthe seven spots upon the great book were of red sealing-wax.\n\nJurgen was afraid: but he was particularly appalled by his\nconsciousness that he was not going to falter. \"What, you who have\nbeen duke and prince and king and emperor and pope! and do such\ndignities content a Jurgen? Why, not at all,\" says Jurgen.\n\nSo Jurgen ascended the throne of Heaven, and sat beneath that\nwondrous rainbow: and in his lap now was the book, and in his hand\nwas the sceptre, of the God of Jurgen's grandmother.\n\nJurgen sat thus, for a long while regarding the bright vacant courts\nof Heaven. \"And what will you do now?\" says Jurgen, aloud. \"Oh,\nfretful little Jurgen, you that have complained because you had not\nyour desire, you are omnipotent over Earth and all the affairs of\nmen. What now is your desire?\" And sitting thus terribly enthroned,\nthe heart of Jurgen was as lead within him, and he felt old and very\ntired. \"For I do not know. Oh, nothing can help me, for I do not\nknow what thing it is that I desire! And this book and this sceptre\nand this throne avail me nothing at all, and nothing can ever avail\nme: for I am Jurgen who seeks he knows not what.\"\n\nSo Jurgen shrugged, and climbed down from the throne of the God, and\nwandering at adventure, came presently to four archangels. They were\nseated upon a fleecy cloud, and they were eating milk and honey from\ngold porringers: and of these radiant beings Jurgen inquired the\nquickest way out of Heaven.\n\n\"For hereabouts are none of my illusions,\" said Jurgen, \"and I must\nnow return to such illusions as are congenial. One must believe in\nsomething. And all that I have seen in Heaven I have admired and\nenvied, but in none of these things could I believe, and with none\nof these things could I be satisfied. And while I think of it, I\nwonder now if any of you gentlemen can give me news of that Lisa who\nused to be my wife?\"\n\nHe described her; and they regarded him with compassion.\n\nBut these archangels, he found, had never heard of Lisa, and they\nassured him there was no such person in Heaven. For Steinvor had\ndied when Jurgen was a boy, and so she had never seen Lisa; and in\nconsequence, had not thought about Lisa one way or the other, when\nSteinvor outlined her notions to Koshchei who made things as they\nare.\n\nNow Jurgen discovered, too, that, when his eyes first met the eyes\nof the God of Jurgen's grandmother, Jurgen had stayed motionless for\nthirty-seven days, forgetful of everything save that the God of his\ngrandmother was love.\n\n\"Nobody else has willingly turned away so soon,\" Zachariel told him:\n\"and we think that your insensibility is due to some evil virtue in\nthe glittering garment which you are wearing, and of which the like\nwas never seen in Heaven.\"\n\n\"I did but search for justice,\" Jurgen said: \"and I could not find\nit in the eyes of your God, but only love and such forgiveness as\ntroubled me.\"\n\n\"Because of that should you rejoice,\" the four archangels said; \"and\nso should all that lives rejoice: and more particularly should we\nrejoice that dwell in Heaven, and hourly praise our Lord God's\nnegligence of justice, whereby we are permitted to enter into this\nplace.\"\n\n\n\n\n42.\n\nTwelve That are Fretted Hourly\n\n\nSo it was upon Walburga's Eve, when almost anything is rather more\nthan likely to happen, that Jurgen went hastily out of Heaven,\nwithout having gained or wasted any love there. St. Peter unbarred\nfor him, not the main entrance, but a small private door, carved\nwith innumerable fishes in bas-relief, because this exit opened\ndirectly upon any place you chose to imagine.\n\n\"For thus,\" St. Peter said, \"you may return without loss of time to\nyour own illusions.\"\n\n\"There was a cross,\" said Jurgen, \"which I used to wear about my\nneck, through motives of sentiment, because it once belonged to my\ndead mother. For no woman has ever loved me save that Azra who was\nmy mother--\"\n\n\"I wonder if your mother told you that?\" St. Peter asked him,\nsmiling reminiscently. \"Mine did, time and again. And sometimes I\nhave wondered--? For, as you may remember, I was a married man,\nJurgen: and my wife did not quite understand me,\" said St. Peter,\nwith a sigh.\n\n\"Why, indeed,\" says Jurgen, \"my case is not entirely dissimilar: and\nthe more I marry, the less I find of comprehension. I should have\nhad more sympathy with King Smoit, who was certainly my grandfather.\nWell, you conceive, St. Peter, these other women have trusted me,\nmore or less, because they loved a phantom Jurgen. But Azra trusted\nme not at all, because she loved me with clear eyes. She\ncomprehended Jurgen, and yet loved him: though I for one, with all\nmy cleverness, cannot do either of these things. None the less, in\norder to do the manly thing, in order to pleasure a woman,--and a\nmarried woman, too!--I flung away the little gold cross which was\nall that remained to me of my mother: and since then, St. Peter, the\nillusions of sentiment have given me a woefully wide berth. So I\nshall relinquish Heaven to seek a cross.\"\n\n\"That has been done before, Jurgen, and I doubt if much good came of\nit.\"\n\n\"Heyday, and did it not lead to the eternal glory of the first and\ngreatest of the popes? It seems to me, sir, that you have either\nvery little memory or very little gratitude, and I am tempted to\ncrow in your face.\"\n\n\"Why, now you talk like a cherub, Jurgen, and you ought to have\nbetter manners. Do you suppose that we Apostles enjoy hearing jokes\nmade about the Church?\"\n\n\"Well, it is true, St. Peter, that you founded the Church--\"\n\n\"Now, there you go again! That is what those patronizing seraphim\nand those impish cherubs are always telling us. You see, we Twelve\nsit together in Heaven, each on his white throne: and we behold\neverything that happens on Earth. Now from our station there has\nbeen no ignoring the growth and doings of what you might loosely\ncall Christianity. And sometimes that which we see makes us very\nuncomfortable, Jurgen. Especially as just then some cherub is sure\nto flutter by, in a broad grin, and chuckle, 'But you started it.'\nAnd we did; I cannot deny that in a way we did. Yet really we never\nanticipated anything of this sort, and it is not fair to tease us\nabout it.\"\n\n\"Indeed, St. Peter, now I think of it, you ought to be held\nresponsible for very little that has been said or done in the shadow\nof a steeple. For as I remember it, you Twelve attempted to convert\na world to the teachings of Jesus: and good intentions ought to be\nrespected, however drolly they may turn out.\"\n\nIt was apparent this sympathy was grateful to the old Saint, for he\nwas moved to a more confidential tone. Meditatively he stroked his\nlong white beard, then said with indignation: \"If only they would\nnot claim sib with us we could stand it: but as it is, for centuries\nwe have felt like fools. It is particularly embarrassing for me, of\ncourse, being on the wicket; for to cap it all, Jurgen, the little\nwretches die, and come to Heaven impudent as sparrows, and expect me\nto let them in! From their thumbscrewings, and their auto-da-f\u00e9s,\nand from their massacres, and patriotic sermons, and holy wars, and\nfrom every manner of abomination, they come to me, smirking. And\nmillions upon millions of them, Jurgen! There is no form of cruelty\nor folly that has not come to me for praise, and no sort of criminal\nidiot who has not claimed fellowship with me, who was an Apostle and\na gentleman. Why, Jurgen, you may not believe it, but there was an\neminent bishop came to me only last week in the expectation that I\nwas going to admit him,--and I with the full record of his work for\ntemperance, all fairly written out and in my hand!\"\n\nNow Jurgen was surprised. \"But temperance is surely a virtue, St.\nPeter.\"\n\n\"Ah, but his notion of temperance! and his filthy ravings to my\nface, as though he were talking in some church or other! Why, the\nslavering little blasphemer! to my face he spoke against the first\nof my Master's miracles, and against the last injunction which was\nlaid upon us Twelve, spluttering that the wine was unfermented! To\nme he said this, look you, Jurgen! to me, who drank of that noble\nwine at Cana and equally of that sustaining wine we had in the\nlittle upper room in Jerusalem when the hour of trial was near and\nour Master would have us at our best! With me, who have since tasted\nof that unimaginable wine which the Master promised us in His\nkingdom, the busy wretch would be arguing! and would have convinced\nme, in the face of all my memories, that my Master, Who was a Man\namong men, was nourished by such thin swill as bred this niggling\nbrawling wretch to plague me!\"\n\n\"Well, but indeed, St. Peter, there is no denying that wine is often\nmisused.\"\n\n\"So he informed me, Jurgen. And I told him by that argument he would\nprohibit the making of bishops, for reasons he would find in the\nmirror: and that, remembering what happened at the Crucifixion, he\nwould clap every lumber dealer into jail. So they took him away\nstill slavering,\" said St. Peter, wearily. \"He was threatening to\nhave somebody else elected in my place when I last heard him: but\nthat was only old habit.\"\n\n\"I do not think, however, that I encountered any such bishop, sir,\ndown yonder.\"\n\n\"In the Hell of your fathers? Oh, no: your fathers meant well, but\ntheir notions were limited. No, we have quite another eternal home\nfor these blasphemers, in a region that was fitted out long ago,\nwhen the need grew pressing to provide a place for zealous\nChurchmen.\"\n\n\"And who devised this place, St. Peter?\"\n\n\"As a very special favor, we Twelve to whom is imputed the beginning\nand the patronizing of such abominations were permitted to design\nand furnish this place. And, of course, we put it in charge of our\nformer confr\u00e8re, Judas. He seemed the appropriate person. Equally of\ncourse, we put a very special roof upon it, the best imitation which\nwe could contrive of the War Roof, so that none of those grinning\ncherubs could see what long reward it was we Twelve who founded\nChristianity had contrived for these blasphemers.\"\n\n\"Well, doubtless that was wise.\"\n\n\"Ah, and if we Twelve had our way there would be just such another\nroof kept always over Earth. For the slavering madman has left a\nmany like him clamoring and spewing about the churches that were\nnamed for us Twelve, and in the pulpits of the churches that were\nnamed for us: and we find it embarrassing. It is the doctrine of\nMahound they splutter, and not any doctrine that we ever preached or\neven heard of: and they ought to say so fairly, instead of libeling\nus who were Apostles and gentlemen. But thus it is that the rascals\nmake free with our names: and the cherubs keep track of these\nantics, and poke fun at us. So that it is not all pleasure, this\nbeing a Holy Apostle in Heaven, Jurgen, though once we Twelve were\nhappy enough.\" And St. Peter sighed.\n\n\"One thing I did not understand, sir: and that was when you spoke\njust now of the War Roof.\"\n\n\"It is a stone roof, made of the two tablets handed down at Sinai,\nwhich God fits over Earth whenever men go to war. For He is\nmerciful: and many of us here remember that once upon a time we were\nmen and women. So when men go to war God screens the sight of what\nthey do, because He wishes to be merciful to us.\"\n\n\"That must prevent, however, the ascent of all prayers that are made\nin war-time.\"\n\n\"Why, but, of course, that is the roof's secondary purpose,\" replied\nSt. Peter. \"What else would you expect when the Master's teachings\nare being flouted? Rumors get through, though, somehow, and horribly\npreposterous rumors. For instance, I have actually heard that in\nwar-time prayers are put up to the Lord God to back His favorites\nand take part in the murdering. Not,\" said the good Saint, in haste,\n\"that I would believe even a Christian bishop to be capable of such\nblasphemy: I merely want to show you, Jurgen, what wild stories get\nabout. Still, I remember, back in Cappadocia--\" And then St. Peter\nslapped his thigh. \"But would you keep me gossiping here forever,\nJurgen, with the Souls lining up at the main entrance like ants that\nswarm to molasses! Come, out of Heaven with you, Jurgen! and back to\nwhatever place you imagine will restore to you your own proper\nillusions! and let me be returning to my duties.\"\n\n\"Well, then, St. Peter, I imagine Amneran Heath, where I flung away\nmy mother's last gift to me.\"\n\n\"And Amneran Heath it is,\" said St. Peter, as he thrust Jurgen through\nthe small private door that was carved with fishes in bas-relief.\n\nAnd Jurgen saw that the Saint spoke truthfully.\n\n\n\n\n43.\n\nPostures before a Shadow\n\n\nThus Jurgen stood again upon Amneran Heath. And again it was\nWalburga's Eve, when almost anything is rather more than likely to\nhappen: and the low moon was bright, so that the shadow of Jurgen\nwas long and thin. And Jurgen searched for the gold cross that he\nhad worn through motives of sentiment, but he could not find it, nor\ndid he ever recover it: but barberry bushes and the thorns of\nbarberry bushes he found in great plenty as he searched vainly. All\nthe while that he searched, the shirt of Nessus glittered in the\nmoonlight, and the shadow of Jurgen streamed long and thin, and\nevery movement that was made by Jurgen the shadow parodied. And as\nalways, it was the shadow of a lean woman, with her head wrapped in\na towel.\n\nNow Jurgen regarded this shadow, and to Jurgen it was abhorrent.\n\n\"Oh, Mother Sereda,\" says he, \"for a whole year your shadow has\ndogged me. Many lands we have visited, and many sights we have seen:\nand at the end all that we have done is a tale that is told: and it\nis a tale that does not matter. So I stand where I stood at the\nbeginning of my foiled journeying. The gift you gave me has availed\nme nothing: and I do not care whether I be young or old: and I have\nlost all that remained to me of my mother and of my mother's love,\nand I have betrayed my mother's pride in me, and I am weary.\"\n\nNow a little whispering gathered upon the ground, as though dead\nleaves were moving there: and the whispering augmented (because this\nwas upon Walburga's Eve, when almost anything is rather more than\nlikely to happen), and the whispering became the ghost of a voice.\n\n\"You flattered me very cunningly, Jurgen, for you are a monstrous\nclever fellow.\" This it was that the voice said drily.\n\n\"A number of people might say that with tolerable justice,\" Jurgen\ndeclared: \"and yet I guess who speaks. As for flattering you,\ngodmother, I was only joking that day in Glathion: in fact, I was\ncareful to explain as much, the moment I noticed your shadow seemed\ninterested in my idle remarks and was writing them all down in a\nnotebook. Oh, no, I can assure you I trafficked quite honestly, and\nhave dealt fairly everywhere. For the rest, I really am very clever:\nit would be foolish of me to deny it.\"\n\n\"Vain fool!\" said the voice of Mother Sereda.\n\nJurgen replied: \"It may be that I am vain. But it is certain that I\nam clever. And even more certain is the fact that I am weary. For,\nlook you, in the tinsel of my borrowed youth I have gone romancing\nthrough the world; and into lands unvisited by other men have I\nventured, playing at spillikins with women and gear and with the\nwelfare of kingdoms; and into Hell have I fallen, and into Heaven\nhave I climbed, and into the place of the Lord God Himself have I\ncrept stealthily: and nowhere have I found what I desired. Nor do I\nknow what my desire is, even now. But I know that it is not possible\nfor me to become young again, whatever I may appear to others.\"\n\n\"Indeed, Jurgen, youth has passed out of your heart, beyond the\nreach of L\u00e9shy: and the nearest you can come to regaining youth is\nto behave childishly.\"\n\n\"O godmother, but do give rein to your better instincts and all that\nsort of thing, and speak with me more candidly! Come now, dear lady,\nthere should be no secrets between you and me. In Leuk\u00ea you were\nreported to be Cybel\u00ea, the great Res Dea, the mistress of every\ntangible thing. In Cocaigne they spoke of you as \u00c6sred. And at\nCameliard Merlin called you Ad\u00e8res, dark Mother of the Little Gods.\nWell, but at your home in the forest, where I first had the honor of\nmaking your acquaintance, godmother, you told me you were Sereda,\nwho takes the color out of things, and controls all Wednesdays. Now\nthese anagrams bewilder me, and I desire to know you frankly for\nwhat you are.\"\n\n\"It may be that I am all these. Meanwhile I bleach, and sooner or\nlater I bleach everything. It may be that some day, Jurgen, I shall\neven take the color out of a fool's conception of himself.\"\n\n\"Yes, yes! but just between ourselves, godmother, is it not this\nshadow of you that prevents my entering, quite, into the appropriate\nemotion, the spirit of the occasion, as one might say, and robs my\nlife of the zest which other persons apparently get out of living?\nCome now, you know it is! Well, and for my part, godmother, I love a\njest as well as any man breathing, but I do prefer to have it\nintelligible.\"\n\n\"Now, let me tell you something plainly, Jurgen!\" Mother Sereda\ncleared her invisible throat, and began to speak rather indignantly.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\n\"Well, godmother, if you will pardon my frankness, I do not think it\nis quite nice to talk about such things, and certainly not with so\nmuch candor. However, dismissing these considerations of delicacy,\nlet us revert to my original question. You have given me youth and\nall the appurtenances of youth: and therewith you have given, too,\nin your joking way--which nobody appreciates more heartily than\nI,--a shadow that renders all things not quite satisfactory, not\nwholly to be trusted, not to be met with frankness. Now--as you\nunderstand, I hope,--I concede the jest, I do not for a moment deny\nit is a master-stroke of humor. But, after all, just what exactly is\nthe point of it? What does it mean?\"\n\n\"It may be that there is no meaning anywhere. Could you face that\ninterpretation, Jurgen?\"\n\n\"No,\" said Jurgen: \"I have faced god and devil, but that I will not\nface.\"\n\n\"No more would I who have so many names face that. You jested with\nme. So I jest with you. Probably Koshchei jests with all of us. And\nhe, no doubt--even Koshchei who made things as they are,--is in turn\nthe butt of some larger jest.\"\n\n\"He may be, certainly,\" said Jurgen: \"yet, on the other hand--\"\n\n\"About these matters I do not know. How should I? But I think that\nall of us take part in a moving and a shifting and a reasoned using\nof the things which are Koshchei's, a using such as we do not\ncomprehend, and are not fit to comprehend.\"\n\n\"That is possible,\" said Jurgen: \"but, none the less--!\"\n\n\"It is as a chessboard whereon the pieces move diversely: the\nknights leaping sidewise, and the bishops darting obliquely, and the\nrooks charging straightforward, and the pawns laboriously hobbling\nfrom square to square, each at the player's will. There is no\ndiscernible order, all to the onlooker is manifestly in confusion:\nbut to the player there is a meaning in the disposition of the\npieces.\"\n\n\"I do not deny it: still, one must grant--\"\n\n\"And I think it is as though each of the pieces, even the pawns, had\na chessboard of his own which moves as he is moved, and whereupon he\nmoves the pieces to suit his will, in the very moment wherein he is\nmoved willy-nilly.\"\n\n\"You may be right: yet, even so--\"\n\n\"And Koshchei who directs this infinite moving of puppets may well\nbe the futile harried king in some yet larger game.\"\n\n\"Now, certainly I cannot contradict you: but, at the same time--!\"\n\n\"So goes this criss-cross multitudinous moving as far as thought can\nreach: and beyond that the moving goes. All moves. All moves\nuncomprehendingly, and to the sound of laughter. For all moves in\nconsonance with a higher power that understands the meaning of the\nmovement. And each moves the pieces before him in consonance with\nhis ability. So the game is endless and ruthless: and there is\nmerriment overhead, but it is very far away.\"\n\n\"Nobody is more willing to concede that these are handsome fancies,\nMother Sereda. But they make my head ache. Moreover, two people are\nneeded to play chess, and your hypothesis does not provide anybody\nwith an antagonist. Lastly, and above all, how do I know there is a\nword of truth in your high-sounding fancies?\"\n\n\"How can any of us know anything? And what is Jurgen, that his\nknowing or his not knowing should matter to anybody?\"\n\nJurgen slapped his hands together. \"Hah, Mother Sereda!\" says he,\n\"but now I have you. It is that, precisely that damnable question,\nwhich your shadow has been whispering to me from the beginning of\nour companionship. And I am through with you. I will have no more of\nyour gifts, which are purchased at the cost of hearing that whisper.\nI am resolved henceforward to be as other persons, and to believe\nimplicitly in my own importance.\"\n\n\"But have you any reason to blame me? I restored to you your youth.\nAnd when, just at the passing of that replevined Wednesday which I\nloaned, you rebuked the Countess Dorothy very edifyingly, I was\npleased to find a man so chaste: and therefore I continued my grant\nof youth--\"\n\n\"Ah, yes!\" said Jurgen: \"then that was the way of it! You were\npleased, just in the nick of time, by my virtuous rebuke of the\nwoman who tempted me. Yes, to be sure. Well, well! come now, you\nknow, that is very gratifying.\"\n\n\"None the less your chastity, however unusual, has proved a barren\nvirtue. For what have you made of a year of youth? Why, each thing\nthat every man of forty-odd by ordinary regrets having done, you\nhave done again, only more swiftly, compressing the follies of a\nquarter of a century into the space of one year. You have sought\nbodily pleasures. You have made jests. You have asked many idle\nquestions. And you have doubted all things, including Jurgen. In the\nface of your memories, in the face of what you probably considered\ncordial repentance, you have made of your second youth just nothing.\nEach thing that every man of forty-odd regrets having done, you have\ndone again.\"\n\n\"Yes: it is undeniable that I re-married,\" said Jurgen. \"Indeed, now\nI think of it, there was Ana\u00eftis and Chloris and Florimel, so that I\nhave married thrice in one year. But I am largely the victim of\nheredity, you must remember, since it was without consulting me that\nSmoit of Glathion perpetuated his characteristics.\"\n\n\"Your marriages I do not criticize, for each was in accordance with\nthe custom of the country: the law is always respectable; and\nmatrimony is an honorable estate, and has a steadying influence, in\nall climes. It is true my shadow reports several other affairs--\"\n\n\"Oh, godmother, and what is this you are telling me!\"\n\n\"There was a Yolande and a Guenevere\"--the voice of Mother Sereda\nappeared to read from a memorandum,--\"and a Sylvia, who was your own\nstep-grandmother, and a Stella, who was a yogini, whatever that may\nbe; and a Phyllis and a Dolores, who were the queens of Hell and\nPhilistia severally. Moreover, you visited the Queen of Pseudopolis\nin circumstances which could not but have been unfavorably viewed by\nher husband. Oh, yes, you have committed follies with divers women.\"\n\n\"Follies, it may be, but no crimes, not even a misdemeanor. Look\nyou, Mother Sereda, does your shadow report in all this year one\nsingle instance of misconduct with a woman?\" says Jurgen, sternly.\n\n\"No, dearie, as I joyfully concede. The very worst reported is that\nmatters were sometimes assuming a more or less suspicious turn when\nyou happened to put out the light. And, of course, shadows cannot\nexist in absolute darkness.\"\n\n\"See now,\" said Jurgen, \"what a thing it is to be careful! Careful,\nI mean, in one's avoidance of even an appearance of evil. In what\nother young man of twenty-one may you look to find such continence?\nAnd yet you grumble!\"\n\n\"I do not complain because you have lived chastely. That pleases me,\nand is the single reason you have been spared this long.\"\n\n\"Oh, godmother, and whatever are you telling me!\"\n\n\"Yes, dearie, had you once sinned with a woman in the youth I gave,\nyou would have been punished instantly and very terribly. For I was\nalways a great believer in chastity, and in the old days I used to\ninsure the chastity of all my priests in the only way that is\ninfallible.\"\n\n\"In fact, I noticed something of the sort as you passed in Leuk\u00ea.\"\n\n\"And over and over again I have been angered by my shadow's reports,\nand was about to punish you, my poor dearie, when I would remember\nthat you held fast to the rarest of all virtues in a man, and that\nmy shadow reported no irregularities with women. And that would\nplease me, I acknowledge: so I would let matters run on a while\nlonger. But it is a shiftless business, dearie, for you are making\nnothing of the youth I restored to you. And had you a thousand lives\nthe result would be the same.\"\n\n\"Nevertheless, I am a monstrous clever fellow.\" Jurgen chuckled\nhere.\n\n\"You are, instead, a palterer; and your life, apart from that fine\nsong you made about me, is sheer waste.\"\n\n\"Ah, if you come to that, there was a brown man in the Druid forest,\nwho showed me a very curious spectacle, last June. And I am not apt\nto lose the memory of what he showed me, whatever you may say, and\nwhatever I may have said to him.\"\n\n\"This and a many other curious spectacles you have seen and have\nmade nothing of, in the false youth I gave you. And therefore my\nshadow was angry that in the revelation of so much futile trifling I\ndid not take away the youth I gave--as I have half a mind to do,\neven now, I warn you, dearie, for there is really no putting up with\nyou. But I spared you because of my shadow's grudging reports as to\nyour continence, which is a virtue that we of the L\u00e9shy peculiarly\nrevere.\"\n\nNow Jurgen considered. \"Eh?--then it is within your ability to make\nme old again, or rather, an excellently preserved person of forty-odd,\nor say, thirty-nine, by the calendar, but not looking it by a long\nshot? Such threats are easily voiced. But how can I know that you are\nspeaking the truth?\"\n\n\"How can any of us know anything? And what is Jurgen, that his\nknowing or his not knowing should matter to anybody?\"\n\n\"Ah, godmother, and must you still be mumbling that! Come now,\nforget you are a woman, and be reasonable! You exercise the fair and\nancient privilege of kinship by calling me harsh names, but it is in\nthe face of this plain fact: I got from you what never man has got\nbefore. I am a monstrous clever fellow, say what you will: for\nalready I have cajoled you out of a year of youth, a year wherein I\nhave neither builded nor robbed any churches, but have had upon the\nwhole a very pleasant time. Ah, you may murmur platitudes and\nthreats and axioms and anything else which happens to appeal to you:\nthe fact remains that I got what I wanted. Yes, I cajoled you very\nneatly into giving me eternal youth. For, of course, poor dear, you\nare now powerless to take it back: and so I shall retain, in spite\nof you, the most desirable possession in life.\"\n\n\"I gave, in honor of your chastity, which is the one commendable\ntrait that you possess--\"\n\n\"My chastity, I grant you, is remarkable. Nevertheless, you really\ngave because I was the cleverer.\"\n\n\"--And what I give I can retract at will!\"\n\n\"Come, come, you know very well you can do nothing of the sort. I\nrefer you to S\u00e6vius Nicanor. None of the L\u00e9shy can ever take back\nthe priceless gift of youth. That is explicitly proved, in the\nAppendix.\"\n\n\"Now, but I am becoming angry--\"\n\n\"To the contrary, as I perceive with real regret, you are becoming\nridiculous, since you dispute the authority of S\u00e6vius Nicanor.\"\n\n\"--And I will show you--oh, but I will show you, you jackanapes!\"\n\n\"Ah, but come now! keep your temper in hand! All fairly erudite\npersons know you cannot do the thing you threaten: and it is\nnotorious that the weakest wheel of every cart creaks loudest. So do\nyou cultivate a judicious taciturnity! for really nobody is going to\nput up with petulance in an ugly and toothless woman of your age, as\nI tell you for your own good.\"\n\nIt always vexes people to be told anything for their own good. So\nwhat followed happened quickly. A fleece of cloud slipped over the\nmoon. The night seemed bitterly cold, for the space of a heart-beat,\nand then matters were comfortable enough. The moon emerged in its\nfull glory, and there in front of Jurgen was the proper shadow of\nJurgen. He dazedly regarded his hands, and they were the hands of an\nelderly person. He felt the calves of his legs, and they were\nshrunken. He patted himself centrally, and underneath the shirt of\nNessus the paunch of Jurgen was of impressive dimension. In other\nrespects he had abated.\n\n\"Then, too, I have forgotten something very suddenly,\" reflected\nJurgen. \"It was something I wanted to forget. Ah, yes! but what was\nit that I wanted to forget? Why, there was a brown man--with\nsomething unusual about his feet--He talked nonsense and behaved\nidiotically in a Druid forest--He was probably insane. No, I do not\nremember what it was that I have forgotten: but I am sure it has\ngnawed away in the back of my mind, like a small ruinous maggot: and\nthat, after all, it was of no importance.\"\n\nAloud he wailed, in his most moving tones: \"Oh, Mother Sereda, I did\nnot mean to anger you. It was not fair to snap me up on a\nthoughtless word! Have mercy upon me, Mother Sereda, for I would\nnever have alluded to your being so old and plain-looking if I had\nknown you were so vain!\"\n\nBut Mother Sereda did not appear to be softened by this form of\nentreaty, for nothing happened.\n\n\"Well, then, thank goodness, that is over!\" says Jurgen, to himself.\n\"Of course, she may be listening still, and it is dangerous jesting\nwith the L\u00e9shy: but really they do not seem to be very intelligent.\nOtherwise this irritable maunderer would have known that, everything\nelse apart, I am heartily tired of the responsibilities of youth\nunder any such constant surveillance. Now all is changed: there is\nno call to avoid a suspicion of wrong doing by transacting all\nphilosophical investigations in the dark: and I am no longer\ndistrustful of lamps or candles, or even of sunlight. Old body, you\nare as grateful as old slippers, to a somewhat wearied man: and for\nthe second time I have tricked Mother Sereda rather neatly. My\nknowledge of Lisa, however painfully acquired, is a decided\nadvantage in dealing with anything that is feminine.\"\n\nThen Jurgen regarded the black cave. \"And that reminds me it still\nwould be, I suppose, the manly thing to continue my quest for Lisa.\nThe intimidating part is that if I go into this cave for the third\ntime I shall almost certainly get her back. By every rule of\ntradition the third attempt is invariably successful. I wonder if I\nwant Lisa back?\"\n\nJurgen meditated: and he shook a grizzled head. \"I do not definitely\nknow. She was an excellent cook. There were pies that I shall always\nremember with affection. And she meant well, poor dear! But then if\nit was really her head that I sliced off last May--or if her temper\nis not any better--Still, it is an interminable nuisance washing\nyour own dishes: and I appear to have no aptitude whatever for\nsewing and darning things. But, to the other hand, Lisa nags so: and\nshe does not understand me--\"\n\nJurgen shrugged. \"See-saw! the argument for and against might run on\nindefinitely. Since I have no real preference, I will humor\nprejudice by doing the manly thing. For it seems only fair: and\nbesides, it may fail after all.\"\n\nThen he went into the cave for the third time.\n\n\n\n\n44.\n\nIn the Manager's Office\n\n\nThe tale tells that all was dark there, and Jurgen could see no one.\nBut the cave stretched straight forward, and downward, and at the\nfar end was a glow of light. Jurgen went on and on, and so came to\nthe place where Nessus had lain in wait for Jurgen. Again Jurgen\nstooped, and crawled through the opening in the cave's wall, and so\ncame to where lamps were burning upon tall iron stands. Now, one by\none, these lamps were going out, and there were now no women here:\ninstead, Jurgen trod inch deep in fine white ashes, leaving the\nprint of his feet upon them.\n\nHe went forward as the cave stretched. He came to a sharp turn in\nthe cave, with the failing lamplight now behind him, so that his\nshadow confronted Jurgen, blurred but unarguable. It was the proper\nshadow of a commonplace and elderly pawnbroker, and Jurgen regarded\nit with approval.\n\nJurgen came then into a sort of underground chamber, from the roof\nof which was suspended a kettle of quivering red flames. Facing him\nwas a throne, and back of this were rows of benches: but here, too,\nwas nobody. Resting upright against the vacant throne was a\ntriangular white shield: and when Jurgen looked more closely he\ncould see there was writing upon it. Jurgen carried this shield as\nclose as he could to the kettle of flames, for his eyesight was now\nnot very good, and besides, the flames in the kettle were burning\nlow: and Jurgen deciphered the message that was written upon the\nshield, in black and red letters.\n\n\"Absent upon important affairs,\" it said. \"Will be back in an hour.\"\nAnd it was signed, \"Thragnar R.\"\n\n\"I wonder now for whom King Thragnar left this notice?\" reflected\nJurgen--\"certainly not for me. And I wonder, too, if he left it here\na year ago or only this evening? And I wonder if it was Thragnar's\nhead I removed in the black and silver pavilion? Ah, well, there are\na number of things to wonder about in this incredible cave, wherein\nthe lights are dying out, as I observe with some discomfort. And I\nthink the air grows chillier.\"\n\nThen Jurgen looked to his right, at the stairway which he and\nGuenevere had ascended; and he shook his head. \"Glathion is no fit\nresort for a respectable pawnbroker. Chivalry is for young people,\nlike the late Duke of Logreus. But I must get out of this place, for\ncertainly there is in the air a deathlike chill.\"\n\nSo Jurgen went on down the aisle between the rows of benches\nwherefrom Thragnar's warriors had glared at Jurgen when he was last\nin this part of the cave. At the end of the aisle was a wooden door\npainted white. It was marked, in large black letters, \"Office of the\nManager--Keep Out.\" So Jurgen opened this door.\n\nHe entered into a notable place illuminated by six cresset lights.\nThese lights were the power of Assyria, and Nineveh, and Egypt, and\nRome, and Athens, and Byzantium: six other cressets stood ready\nthere, but fire had not yet been laid to these. Back of all was a\nlarge blackboard with much figuring on it in red chalk. And here,\ntoo, was the black gentleman, who a year ago had given his blessing\nto Jurgen, for speaking civilly of the powers of darkness. To-night\nthe black gentleman wore a black dressing-gown that was embroidered\nwith all the signs of the Zodiac. He sat at a table, the top of\nwhich was curiously inlaid with thirty pieces of silver: and he was\ncopying entries from one big book into another. He looked up from\nhis writing pleasantly enough, and very much as though he were\nexpecting Jurgen.\n\n\"You find me busy with the Stellar Accounts,\" says he, \"which appear\nto be in a fearful muddle. But what more can I do for you,\nJurgen?--for you, my friend, who spoke a kind word for things as\nthey are, and furnished me with one or two really very acceptable\nexplanations as to why I had created evil?\"\n\n\"I have been thinking, Prince--\" begins the pawnbroker.\n\n\"And why do you call me a prince, Jurgen?\"\n\n\"I do not know, sir. But I suspect that my quest is ended, and that\nyou are Koshchei the Deathless.\"\n\nThe black gentleman nodded. \"Something of the sort. Koshchei, or\nArdnari, or Ptha, or Jaldalaoth, or Abraxas,--it is all one what I\nmay be called hereabouts. My real name you never heard: no man has\never heard my name. So that matter we need hardly go into.\"\n\n\"Precisely, Prince. Well, but it is a long way that I have traveled\nroundabout, to win to you who made things as they are. And it is\neager I am to learn just why you made things as they are.\"\n\nUp went the black gentleman's eyebrows into regular Gothic arches.\n\"And do you really think, Jurgen, that I am going to explain to you\nwhy I made things as they are?\"\n\n\"I fail to see, Prince, how my wanderings could have any other\nequitable climax.\"\n\n\"But, friend, I have nothing to do with justice. To the contrary, I\nam Koshchei who made things as they are.\"\n\nJurgen saw the point. \"Your reasoning, Prince, is unanswerable. I\nbow to it. I should even have foreseen it. Do you tell me, then,\nwhat thing is this which I desire, and cannot find in any realm that\nman has known nor in any kingdom that man has imagined.\"\n\nKoshchei was very patient. \"I am not, I confess, anything like as\nwell acquainted with what has been going on in this part of the\nuniverse as I ought to be. Of course, events are reported to me, in\na general sort of way, and some of my people were put in charge of\nthese stars, a while back: but they appear to have run the\nconstellation rather shiftlessly. Still, I have recently been\nfiguring on the matter, and I do not despair of putting the suns\nhereabouts to some profitable use, in one way or another, after all.\nOf course, it is not as if it were an important constellation. But I\nam an Economist, and I dislike waste--\"\n\nThen he was silent for an instant, not greatly worried by the\nproblem, as Jurgen could see, but mildly vexed by his inability to\ndivine the solution out of hand. Presently Koshchei said:\n\n\"And in the mean time, Jurgen, I am afraid I cannot answer your\nquestion on the spur of the moment. You see, there appears to have\nbeen a great number of human beings, as you call them, evolved\nupon--oh, yes!--upon Earth. I have the approximate figures over\nyonder, but they would hardly interest you. And the desires of each\none of these human beings seem to have been multitudinous and\ninconstant. Yet, Jurgen, you might appeal to the local authorities,\nfor I remember appointing some, at the request of a very charming\nold lady.\"\n\n\"In fine, you do not know what thing it is that I desire,\" said\nJurgen, much surprised.\n\n\"Why, no, I have not the least notion,\" replied Koshchei. \"Still, I\nsuspect that if you got it you would protest it was a most unjust\naffliction. So why keep worrying about it?\"\n\nJurgen demanded, almost indignantly: \"But have you not then, Prince,\nbeen guiding all my journeying during this last year?\"\n\n\"Now, really, Jurgen, I remember our little meeting very pleasantly.\nAnd I endeavored forthwith to dispose of your most urgent annoyance.\nBut I confess I have had one or two other matters upon my mind since\nthen. You see, Jurgen, the universe is rather large, and the running\nof it is a considerable tax upon my time. I cannot manage to see\nanything like as much of my friends as I would be delighted to see\nof them. And so perhaps, what with one thing and another, I have not\ngiven you my undivided attention all through the year--not every\nmoment of it, that is.\"\n\n\"Ah, Prince, I see that you are trying to spare my feelings, and it\nis kind of you. But the upshot is that you do not know what I have\nbeen doing, and you did not care what I was doing. Dear me! but this\nis a very sad come-down for my pride.\"\n\n\"Yes, but reflect how remarkable a possession is that pride of\nyours, and how I wonder at it, and how I envy it in vain,--I, who\nhave nothing anywhere to contemplate save my own handiwork. Do you\nconsider, Jurgen, what I would give if I could find, anywhere in\nthis universe of mine, anything which would make me think myself\none-half so important as you think Jurgen is!\" And Koshchei sighed.\n\nBut instead, Jurgen considered the humiliating fact that Koshchei\nhad not been supervising Jurgen's travels. And of a sudden Jurgen\nperceived that this Koshchei the Deathless was not particularly\nintelligent. Then Jurgen wondered why he should ever have expected\nKoshchei to be intelligent? Koshchei was omnipotent, as men estimate\nomnipotence: but by what course of reasoning had people come to\nbelieve that Koshchei was clever, as men estimate cleverness? The\nfact that, to the contrary, Koshchei seemed well-meaning, but rather\nslow of apprehension and a little needlessly fussy, went far toward\nexplaining a host of matters which had long puzzled Jurgen.\nCleverness was, of course, the most admirable of all traits: but\ncleverness was not at the top of things, and never had been.  \"Very\nwell, then!\" says Jurgen, with a shrug; \"let us come to my third\nrequest and to the third thing that I have been seeking. Here,\nthough, you ought to be more communicative. For I have been\nthinking, Prince, my wife's society is perhaps becoming to you a\ntrifle burdensome.\"\n\n\"Eh, sirs, I am not unaccustomed to women. I may truthfully say that\nas I find them, so do I take them. And I was willing to oblige a\nfellow rebel.\"\n\n\"But I do not know, Prince, that I have ever rebelled. Far from it,\nI have everywhere conformed with custom.\"\n\n\"Your lips conformed, but all the while your mind made verses,\nJurgen. And poetry is man's rebellion against being what he is.\"\n\n\"--And besides, you call me a fellow rebel. Now, how can it be\npossible that Koshchei, who made all things as they are, should be a\nrebel? unless, indeed, there is some power above even Koshchei. I\nwould very much like to have that explained to me, sir.\"\n\n\"No doubt: but then why should I explain it to you, Jurgen?\" says\nthe black gentleman.\n\n\"Well, be that as it may, Prince! But--to return a little--I do not\nknow that you have obliged me in carrying off my wife. I mean, of\ncourse, my first wife.\"\n\n\"Why, Jurgen,\" says the black gentleman, in high astonishment, \"do\nyou mean to tell me that you want the plague of your life back\nagain!\"\n\n\"I do not know about that either, sir. She was certainly very hard\nto live with. On the other hand, I had become used to having her\nabout. I rather miss her, now that I am again an elderly person.\nIndeed, I believe I have missed Lisa all along.\"\n\nThe black gentleman meditated. \"Come, friend,\" he says, at last. \"You\nwere a poet of some merit. You displayed a promising talent which might\nhave been cleverly developed, in any suitable environment. Now, I\nrepeat, I am an Economist: I dislike waste: and you were never fitted\nto be anything save a poet. The trouble was\"--and Koshchei lowered his\nvoice to an impressive whisper,--\"the trouble was your wife did not\nunderstand you. She hindered your art. Yes, that precisely sums it up:\nshe interfered with your soul-development, and your instinctive need of\nself-expression, and all that sort of thing. You are very well rid of\nthis woman, who converted a poet into a pawnbroker. To the other side,\nas is with point observed somewhere or other, it is not good for man to\nlive alone. But, friend, I have just the wife for you.\"\n\n\"Well, Prince,\" said Jurgen, \"I am willing to taste any drink once.\"\n\nSo Koshchei waved his hand: and there, quick as winking, was the\nloveliest lady that Jurgen had ever imagined.\n\n\n\n\n45.\n\nThe Faith of Guenevere\n\n\nVery fair was this woman to look upon, with her shining gray eyes and\nsmall smiling lips, a fairer woman might no man boast of having seen.\nAnd she regarded Jurgen graciously, with her cheeks red and white, very\nlovely to observe. She was clothed in a robe of flame-colored silk, and\nabout her neck was a collar of red gold. And she told him, quite as\nthough she spoke with a stranger, that she was Queen Guenevere.\n\n\"But Lancelot is turned monk, at Glastonbury: and Arthur is gone\ninto Avalon,\" says she: \"and I will be your wife if you will have\nme, Jurgen.\"\n\nAnd Jurgen saw that Guenevere did not know him at all, and that even\nhis name to her was meaningless. There were a many ways of accounting\nfor this: but he put aside the unflattering explanation that she had\nsimply forgotten all about Jurgen, in favor of the reflection that the\nJurgen she had known was a scapegrace of twenty-one. Whereas he was\nnow a staid and knowledgeable pawnbroker.\n\nAnd it seemed to Jurgen that he had never really loved any woman\nsave Guenevere, the daughter of Gogyrvan Gawr, and the pawnbroker\nwas troubled.\n\n\"For again you make me think myself a god,\" says Jurgen. \"Madame\nGuenevere, when man recognized himself to be Heaven's vicar upon\nearth, it was to serve and to glorify and to protect you and your\nradiant sisterhood that man consecrated his existence. You were\nbeautiful, and you were frail; you were half goddess and half\nbric-\u00e0-brac. Ohim\u00e9, I recognize the call of chivalry, and my\nheart-strings resound: yet, for innumerable reasons, I hesitate\nto take you for my wife, and to concede myself your appointed\nprotector, responsible as such to Heaven. For one matter, I am not\naltogether sure that I am Heaven's vicar here upon earth. Certainly\nthe God of Heaven said nothing to me about it, and I cannot but\nsuspect that Omniscience would have selected some more competent\nrepresentative.\"\n\n\"It is so written, Messire Jurgen.\"\n\nJurgen shrugged. \"I too, in the intervals of business, have written\nmuch that is beautiful. Very often my verses were so beautiful that\nI would have given anything in the world in exchange for somewhat\nless sure information as to the author's veracity. Ah, no, madame,\ndesire and knowledge are pressing me so sorely that, between them, I\ndare not love you, and still I cannot help it!\"\n\nThen Jurgen gave a little wringing gesture with his hands. His smile\nwas not merry; and it seemed pitiful that Guenevere should not\nremember him.\n\n\"Madame and queen,\" says Jurgen, \"once long and long ago there was a\nman who worshipped all women. To him they were one and all of\nsacred, sweet intimidating beauty. He shaped sonorous rhymes of\nthis, in praise of the mystery and sanctity of women. Then a count's\ntow-headed daughter whom he loved, with such love as it puzzles me\nto think of now, was shown to him just as she was, as not even\nworthy of hatred. The goddess stood revealed, unveiled, and\ndisplaying in all things such mediocrity as he fretted to find in\nhimself. That was unfortunate. For he began to suspect that women,\nalso, are akin to their parents; and are no wiser, and no more\nsubtle, and no more immaculate, than the father who begot them.\nMadame and queen, it is not good for any man to suspect this.\"\n\n\"It is certainly not the conduct of a chivalrous person, nor of an\nauthentic poet,\" says Queen Guenevere. \"And yet your eyes are big\nwith tears.\"\n\n\"Hah, madame,\" he replied, \"but it amuses me to weep for a dead man\nwith eyes that once were his. For he was a dear lad before he went\nrampaging through the world, in the pride of his youth and in the\narmor of his hurt. And songs he made for the pleasure of kings, and\nsword play he made for the pleasure of men, and a whispering he made\nfor the pleasure of women, in places where renown was, and where he\ntrod boldly, giving pleasure to everybody in those fine days. But\nfor all his laughter, he could not understand his fellows, nor could\nhe love them, nor could he detect anything in aught they said or did\nsave their exceeding folly.\"\n\n\"Why, man's folly is indeed very great, Messire Jurgen, and the\ndoings of this world are often inexplicable: and so does it come\nabout that man can be saved by faith alone.\"\n\n\"Ah, but this boy had lost his fellows' cordial common faith in the\nimportance of what use they made of half-hours and months and years;\nand because a jill-flirt had opened his eyes so that they saw too\nmuch, he had lost faith in the importance of his own actions, too.\nThere was a little time of which the passing might be made not\nunendurable; beyond gaped unpredictable darkness; and that was all\nthere was of certainty anywhere. Meanwhile, he had the loan of a\nbrain which played with ideas, and a body that went delicately down\npleasant ways. And so he was never the mate for you, dear Guenevere,\nbecause he had not sufficient faith in anything at all, not even in\nhis own deductions.\"\n\nNow said Queen Guenevere: \"Farewell to you, then, Jurgen, for it is\nI that am leaving you forever. I was to them that served me the\nlovely and excellent masterwork of God: in Caerleon and Northgalis\nand at Joyeuse Garde might men behold me with delight, because, men\nsaid, to view me was to comprehend the power and kindliness of their\nCreator. Very beautiful was Iseult, and the face of Luned sparkled\nlike a moving gem; Morgaine and Enid and Viviane and shrewd Nimu\u00eb\nwere lovely, too; and the comeliness of Ettarde exalted the beholder\nlike a proud music: these, going statelily about Arthur's hall,\nseemed Heaven's finest craftsmanship until the Queen came to her\nda\u00efs, as the moon among glowing stars: men then affirmed that God in\nmaking Guenevere had used both hands. And it is I that am leaving\nyou forever. My beauty was no human white and red, said they, but an\nexplicit sign of Heaven's might. In approaching me men thought of\nGod, because in me, they said, His splendor was incarnate. That\nwhich I willed was neither right nor wrong: it was divine. This\nthing it was that the knights saw in me; this surety, as to the\npower and kindliness of their great Father, it was of which the\nchevaliers of yesterday were conscious in beholding me, and of men's\nneed to be worthy of such parentage; and it is I that am leaving you\nforever.\"\n\nSaid Jurgen: \"I could not see all this in you, not quite all this,\nbecause of a shadow that followed me. Now it is too late, and this\nis a sorrowful thing which is happening. I am become as a rudderless\nboat that goes from wave to wave: I am turned to unfertile dust\nwhich a whirlwind makes coherent, and presently lets fall. And so,\nfarewell to you, Queen Guenevere, for it is a sorrowful thing and a\nvery unfair thing that is happening.\"\n\nThus he cried farewell to the daughter of Gogyrvan Gawr. And\ninstantly she vanished like the flame of a blown out altar-candle.\n\n\n\n\n46.\n\nThe Desire of Ana\u00eftis\n\n\nAnd again Koshchei waved his hand. Then came to Jurgen a woman who\nwas strangely gifted and perverse. Her dark eyes glittered: upon her\nhead was a net-work of red coral, with branches radiating downward,\nand her tunic was of two colors, being shot with black and crimson\ncuriously mingled.\n\nAnd Ana\u00eftis also had forgotten Jurgen, or else she did not recognize\nhim in this man of forty and something: and again belief awoke in\nJurgen's heart that this was the only woman whom Jurgen had really\nloved, as he listened to Ana\u00eftis and to her talk of marvelous\nthings.\n\nOf the lore of Tha\u00efs she spoke, and of the schooling of Sappho, and\nof the secrets of Rhodop\u00ea, and of the mourning for Adonis: and the\nrefrain of all her talking was not changed. \"For we have but a\nlittle while to live, and none knows his fate thereafter. So that a\nman possesses nothing certainly save a brief loan of his own body:\nand yet the body of man is capable of much curious pleasure. As thus\nand thus,\" says she. And the bright-colored pensive woman spoke with\nantique directness of matters that Jurgen, being no longer a\nscapegrace of twenty-one, found rather embarrassing.\n\n\"Come, come!\" thinks he, \"but it will never do to seem provincial. I\nbelieve that I am actually blushing.\"\n\nAloud he said: \"Sweetheart, there was--why, not a half-hour\nsince!--a youth who sought quite zealously for the over-mastering\nfrenzies you prattle about. But, candidly, he could not find the\nflesh whose touch would rouse insanity. The lad had opportunities,\ntoo, let me tell you! Hah, I recall with tenderness the glitter of\neyes and hair, and the gay garments, and the soft voices of those\nfond foolish women, even now. But he went from one pair of lips to\nanother, with an ardor that was always half-feigned, and with\nprotestations which were conscious echoes of some romance or other.\nSuch escapades were pleasant enough: but they were not very serious,\nafter all. For these things concerned his body alone: and I am more\nthan an edifice of viands reared by my teeth. To pretend that what\nmy body does or endures is of importance seems rather silly\nnowadays. I prefer to regard it as a necessary beast of burden which\nI maintain, at considerable expense and trouble. So I shall make no\nmore pother about it.\"\n\nBut then again Queen Ana\u00eftis spoke of marvelous things; and he\nlistened, fair-mindedly; for the Queen spoke now of that which was\nhers to share with him.\n\n\"Well, I have heard,\" says Jurgen, \"that you have a notable\nresidence in Cocaigne.\"\n\n\"But that is only a little country place, to which I sometimes\nrepair in summer, in order to live rustically. No, Jurgen, you must\nsee my palaces. In Babylon I have a palace where many abide with\ncords about them and burn bran for perfume, while they await that\nthing which is to befall them. In Armenia I have a palace surrounded\nby vast gardens, where only strangers have the right to enter: they\nthere receive a hospitality that is more than gallant. In Paphos I\nhave a palace wherein is a little pyramid of white stone, very\ncurious to see: but still more curious is the statue in my palace at\nAmathus, of a bearded woman, which displays other features that\nwomen do not possess. And in Alexandria I have a palace that is\ntended by thirty-six exceedingly wise and sacred persons, and\nwherein it is always night: and there folk seek for monstrous\npleasures, even at the price of instant death, and win to both of\nthese swiftly. Everywhere my palaces stand upon high places near the\nsea: so they are beheld from afar by those whom I hold dearest, my\nbeautiful broad-chested mariners, who do not fear even me, but know\nthat in my palaces they will find notable employment. For I must\ntell you of what is to be encountered within these places that are\nmine, and of how pleasantly we pass our time there.\" Then she told\nhim.\n\nNow he listened more attentively than ever, and his eyes were\nnarrowed, and his lips were lax and motionless and foolish-looking,\nand he was deeply interested. For Ana\u00eftis had thought of some new\ndiversions since their last meeting: and to Jurgen, even at forty\nand something, this queen's voice was all a horrible and strange and\nlovely magic. \"She really tempts very nicely, too,\" he reflected,\nwith a sort of pride in her.\n\nThen Jurgen growled and shook himself, half angrily: and he tweaked\nthe ear of Queen Ana\u00eftis.\n\n\"Sweetheart,\" says he, \"you paint a glowing picture: but you are\nshrewd enough to borrow your pigments from the day-dreams of\ninexperience. What you prattle about is not at all as you describe\nit. You forget you are talking to a widely married man of varied\nexperience. Moreover, I shudder to think of what might happen if\nLisa were to walk in unexpectedly. And for the rest, all this to-do\nover nameless delights and unspeakable caresses and other anonymous\nantics seems rather na\u00efve. My ears are beset by eloquent gray hairs\nwhich plead at closer quarters than does that fibbing little tongue\nof yours. And so be off with you!\"\n\nWith that Queen Ana\u00eftis smiled very cruelly, and she said: \"Farewell\nto you, then Jurgen, for it is I that am leaving you forever.\nHenceforward you must fret away much sunlight by interminably\nshunning discomfort and by indulging tepid preferences. For I, and\nnone but I, can waken that desire which uses all of a man, and so\nwastes nothing, even though it leave that favored man forever after\nlike wan ashes in the sunlight. And with you I have no more concern,\nfor it is I that am leaving you forever. Join with your graying\nfellows, then! and help them to affront the clean sane sunlight, by\nmaking guilds and laws and solemn phrases wherewith to rid the world\nof me. I, Ana\u00eftis, laugh, and my heart is a wave in the sunlight.\nFor there is no power like my power, and no living thing which can\nwithstand my power; and those who deride me, as I well know, are but\nthe dead dry husks that a wind moves, with hissing noises, while I\nharvest in open sunlight. For I am the desire that uses all of a\nman: and it is I that am leaving you forever.\"\n\nSaid Jurgen: \"I could not see all this in you, not quite all this,\nbecause of a shadow that followed me. Now it is too late, and this\nis a sorrowful thing which is happening. I am become as a puzzled\nghost who furtively observes the doings of loud-voiced ruddy\npersons: and I am compact of weariness and apprehension, for I no\nlonger discern what thing is I, nor what is my desire, and I fear\nthat I am already dead. So farewell to you, Queen Ana\u00eftis, for this,\ntoo, is a sorrowful thing and a very unfair thing that is\nhappening.\"\n\nThus he cried farewell to the Sun's daughter. And all the colors of\nher loveliness flickered and merged into the likeness of a tall thin\nflame, that aspired; and then this flame was extinguished.\n\n\n\n\n47.\n\nThe Vision of Helen\n\n\nAnd for the third time Koshchei waved his hand. Now came to Jurgen a\ngold-haired woman, clothed all in white. She was tall, and lovely\nand tender to regard: and hers was not the red and white comeliness\nof many ladies that were famed for beauty, but rather it had the\neven glow of ivory. Her nose was large and high in the bridge, her\nflexible mouth was not of the smallest; and yet, whatever other\npersons might have said, to Jurgen this woman's countenance was in\nall things perfect. And, beholding her, Jurgen kneeled.\n\nHe hid his face in her white robe: and he stayed thus, without\nspeaking, for a long while.\n\n\"Lady of my vision,\" he said, and his voice broke--\"there is that in\nyou which wakes old memories. For now assuredly I believe your\nfather was not Dom Manuel but that ardent bird which nestled very\nlong ago in Leda's bosom. And now Troy's sons are all in Ad\u00eas'\nkeeping, in the world below; fire has consumed the walls of Troy,\nand the years have forgotten her tall conquerors; but still you are\nbringing woe on woe to hapless sufferers.\"\n\nAnd again his voice broke. For the world seemed cheerless, and like\na house that none has lived in for a great while.\n\nQueen Helen, the delight of gods and men, replied nothing at all,\nbecause there was no need, inasmuch as the man who has once glimpsed\nher loveliness is beyond saving, and beyond the desire of being\nsaved.\n\n\"To-night,\" says Jurgen, \"as once through the gray art of Phobetor,\nnow through the will of Koshchei, it appears that you stand within\narm's reach. Hah, lady, were that possible--and I know very well it\nis not possible, whatever my senses may report,--I am not fit to\nmate with your perfection. At the bottom of my heart, I no longer\ndesire perfection. For we who are tax-payers as well as immortal\nsouls must live by politic evasions and formulae and catchwords that\nfret away our lives as moths waste a garment; we fall insensibly to\ncommon-sense as to a drug; and it dulls and kills whatever in us is\nrebellious and fine and unreasonable; and so you will find no man of\nmy years with whom living is not a mechanism which gnaws away time\nunprompted. For within this hour I have become again a creature of\nuse and wont; I am the lackey of prudence and half-measures; and I\nhave put my dreams upon an allowance. Yet even now I love you more\nthan I love books and indolence and flattery and the charitable wine\nwhich cheats me into a favorable opinion of myself. What more can an\nold poet say? For that reason, lady, I pray you begone, because your\nloveliness is a taunt which I find unendurable.\"\n\nBut his voice yearned, because this was Queen Helen, the delight of\ngods and men, who regarded him with grave, kind eyes. She seemed to\nview, as one appraises the pattern of an unrolled carpet, every\naction of Jurgen's life: and she seemed, too, to wonder, without\nreproach or trouble, how men could be so foolish, and of their own\naccord become so miry.\n\n\"Oh, I have failed my vision!\" cries Jurgen. \"I have failed, and I\nknow very well that every man must fail: and yet my shame is no less\nbitter. For I am transmuted by time's handling! I shudder at the\nthought of living day-in and day-out with my vision! And so I will\nhave none of you for my wife.\"\n\nThen, trembling, Jurgen raised toward his lips the hand of her who\nwas the world's darling.\n\n\"And so farewell to you, Queen Helen! Oh, very long ago I found your\nbeauty mirrored in a wanton's face! and often in a woman's face I\nhave found one or another feature wherein she resembled you, and for\nthe sake of it have lied to that woman glibly. And all my verses, as\nI know now, were vain enchantments striving to evoke that hidden\nloveliness of which I knew by dim report alone. Oh, all my life was\na foiled quest of you, Queen Helen, and an unsatiated hungering. And\nfor a while I served my vision, honoring you with clean-handed\ndeeds. Yes, certainly it should be graved upon my tomb, 'Queen Helen\nruled this earth while it stayed worthy.' But that was very long\nago.\n\n\"And so farewell to you, Queen Helen! Your beauty has been to me as\na robber that stripped my life of joy and sorrow, and I desire not\never to dream of your beauty any more. For I have been able to love\nnobody. And I know that it is you who have prevented this, Queen\nHelen, at every moment of my life since the disastrous moment when I\nfirst seemed to find your loveliness in the face of Madame Dorothy.\nIt is the memory of your beauty, as I then saw it mirrored in the face\nof a jill-flirt, which has enfeebled me for such honest love as other\nmen give women; and I envy these other men. For Jurgen has loved\nnothing--not even you, not even Jurgen!--quite whole-heartedly.\n\n\"And so farewell to you, Queen Helen! Hereafter I rove no more\na-questing anything; instead, I potter after hearthside comforts,\nand play the physician with myself, and strive painstakingly to make\nold bones. And no man's notion anywhere seems worth a cup of mulled\nwine; and for the sake of no notion would I endanger the routine\nwhich so hideously bores me. For I am transmuted by time's handling;\nI have become the lackey of prudence and half-measures; and it does\nnot seem fair, but there is no help for it. So it is necessary that\nI now cry farewell to you, Queen Helen: for I have failed in the\nservice of my vision, and I deny you utterly!\"\n\nThus he cried farewell to the Swan's daughter: and Queen Helen\nvanished as a bright mist passes, not departing swiftly, as had\ndeparted Queen Guenevere and Queen Ana\u00eftis; and Jurgen was alone\nwith the black gentleman. And to Jurgen the world seemed cheerless,\nand like a house that none has lived in for a great while.\n\n\n\n\n48.\n\nCandid Opinions of Dame Lisa\n\n\n\"Eh, sirs!\" observes Koshchei the Deathless, \"but some of us are\ncertainly hard to please.\" And now Jurgen was already intent to\nshrug off his display of emotion. \"In selecting a wife, sir,\"\nsubmitted Jurgen, \"there are all sorts of matters to be\nconsidered--\"\n\nThen bewilderment smote him. For it occurred to Jurgen that his\nprevious commerce with these three women was patently unknown to\nKoshchei. Why, Koshchei, who made all things as they are--Koshchei,\nno less--was now doing for Jurgen Koshchei's utmost: and that utmost\namounted to getting for Jurgen what Jurgen had once, with the aid of\nyouth and impudence, got for himself. Not even Koshchei, then, could\ndo more for Jurgen than might be accomplished by that youth and\nimpudence and tendency to pry into things generally which Jurgen had\njust relinquished as over-restless nuisances. Jurgen drew the\ninference, and shrugged; decidedly cleverness was not at the top.\nHowever, there was no pressing need to enlighten Koshchei, and no\nwisdom in attempting it.\n\n\"--For you must understand, sir,\" continued Jurgen, smoothly, \"that,\nwhatever the first impulse of the moment, it was apparent to any\nreflective person that in the past of each of these ladies there was\nmuch to suggest inborn inaptitude for domestic life. And I am a\npeace-loving fellow, sir; nor do I hold with moral laxity, now that\nI am forty-odd, except, of course, in talk when it promotes\nsociability, and in verse-making wherein it is esteemed as a\nconventional ornament. Still, Prince, the chance I lost! I do not\nrefer to matrimony, you conceive. But in the presence of these\nfamous fair ones now departed from me forever, with what glowing\nwords I ought to have spoken! upon a wondrous ladder of trophes,\nmetaphors and recondite allusions, to what stylistic heights of\nAsiatic prose I ought to have ascended! and instead, I twaddled like\na schoolmaster. Decidedly, Lisa is right, and I am good-for-nothing.\nHowever,\" Jurgen added, hopefully, \"it appeared to me that when I\nlast saw her, a year ago this evening, Lisa was somewhat less\noutspoken than usual.\"\n\n\"Eh, sirs, but she was under a very potent spell. I found that\nnecessary in the interest of law and order hereabouts. I, who made\nthings as they are, am not accustomed to the excesses of practical\npersons who are ruthlessly bent upon reforming their associates.\nIndeed, it is one of the advantages of my situation that such folk\ndo not consider things as they are, and in consequence very rarely\nbother me.\" And the black gentleman in turn shrugged. \"You will\npardon me, but I notice in my accounts that I am positively\ncommitted to color this year's anemones to-night, and there is a\nrather large planetary system to be discontinued at half-past ten.\nSo time presses.\"\n\n\"And time is inexorable. Prince, with all due respect, I fancy it is\nprecisely this truism which you have overlooked. You produce the\nmost charming of women, in a determined onslaught upon my fancy; but\nyou forget you are displaying them to a man of forty-and-something.\"\n\n\"And does that make so great a difference?\"\n\n\"Oh, a sad difference, Prince! For as a man gets on in life he\nchanges in many ways. He handles sword and lance less creditably,\nand does not carry as heavy a staff as he once flourished. He takes\nless interest in conversation, and his flow of humor diminishes. He\nis not the tireless mathematician that he was, if only because his\nfaith in his personal endowments slackens. He recognizes his\nlimitations, and in consequence the unimportance of his opinions,\nand indeed he recognizes the probable unimportance of all fleshly\nmatters. So he relinquishes trying to figure out things, and\nsceptres and candles appear to him about equivalent; and he is\ninclined to give up philosophical experiments, and to let things\npass unplumbed. Oh, yes, it makes a difference.\" And Jurgen sighed.\n\"And yet, for all that, it is a relief, sir, in a way.\"\n\n\"Nevertheless,\" said Koshchei, \"now that you have inspected the\nflower of womanhood, I cannot soberly believe you prefer your\ntermagant of a wife.\"\n\n\"Frankly, Prince, I also am, as usual, undecided. You may be right\nin all you have urged; and certainly I cannot go so far as to say\nyou are wrong; but still, at the same time--! Come now, could you\nnot let me see my first wife for just a moment?\"\n\nThis was no sooner asked than granted; for there, sure enough, was\nDame Lisa. She was no longer restricted to quiet speech by any\nstupendous necromancy: and uncommonly plain she looked, after the\npassing of those lovely ladies.\n\n\"Aha, you rascal!\" begins Dame Lisa, addressing Jurgen; \"and so you\nthought to be rid of me! Oh, a precious lot you are! and a deal of\nthanks I get for my scrimping and slaving!\" And she began scolding\naway.\n\nBut she began, somewhat to Jurgen's astonishment, by stating that he\nwas even worse than the Countess Dorothy. Then he recollected that,\nby not the most disastrous piece of luck conceivable, Dame Lisa's\nlatest news from the outside world had been rendered by her sister,\nthe notary's wife, a twelvemonth back.\n\nAnd rather unaccountably Jurgen fell to thinking of how\nunsubstantial seemed these curious months devoted to other women, as\nset against the commonplace years which he and Lisa had fretted\nthrough together; of the fine and merry girl that Lisa had been\nbefore she married him; of how well she knew his tastes in cookery\nand all his little preferences, and of how cleverly she humored them\non those rare days when nothing had occurred to vex her; of all the\nbuttons she had replaced, and all the socks she had darned, and of\nwhat tempests had been loosed when anyone else had had the audacity\nto criticize Jurgen; and of how much more unpleasant--everything\nconsidered--life was without her than with her. She was so\nunattractive looking, too, poor dear, that you could not but be\nsorry for her. And Jurgen's mood was half yearning and half\npenitence.\n\n\"I think I will take her back, Prince,\" says Jurgen, very\nsubdued,--\"now that I am forty-and-something. For I do not know but\nit is as hard on her as on me.\"\n\n\"My friend, do you forget the poet that you might be, even yet? No\nrational person would dispute that the society and amiable chat of\nDame Lisa must naturally be a desideratum--\"\n\nBut Dame Lisa was always resentful of long words. \"Be silent, you\nblack scoffer, and do not allude to such disgraceful things in the\npresence of respectable people! For I am a decent Christian woman, I\nwould have you understand. But everybody knows your reputation! and\na very fit companion you are for that scamp yonder! and volumes\ncould not say more!\"\n\nThus casually, and with comparative lenience, did Dame Lisa dispose\nof Koshchei, who made things as they are, for she believed him to be\nmerely Satan. And to her husband Dame Lisa now addressed herself\nmore particularly.\n\n\"Jurgen, I always told you you would come to this, and now I hope\nyou are satisfied. Jurgen, do not stand there with your mouth open,\nlike a scared fish, when I ask you a civil question! but answer when\nyou are spoken to! Yes, and you need not try to look so idiotically\ninnocent, Jurgen, because I am disgusted with you. For, Jurgen, you\nheard perfectly well what your very suitable friend just said about\nme, with my own husband standing by. No--now I beg of you!--do not\nask me what he said, Jurgen! I leave that to your conscience, and I\nprefer to talk no more about it. You know that when I am once\ndisappointed in a person I am through with that person. So, very\nluckily, there is no need at all for you to pile hypocrisy on\ncowardice, because if my own husband has not the feelings of a man,\nand cannot protect me from insults and low company, I had best be\ngoing home and getting supper ready. I dare say the house is like a\npig-sty: and I can see by looking at you that you have been ruining\nyour eyes by reading in bed again. And to think of your going about\nin public, even among such associates, with a button off your\nshirt!\"\n\nShe was silent for one terrible moment; then Lisa spoke in frozen\ndespair.\n\n\"And now I look at that shirt, I ask you fairly, Jurgen, do you\nconsider that a man of your age has any right to be going about in a\nshirt that nobody--in a shirt which--in a shirt that I can only--Ah,\nbut I never saw such a shirt! and neither did anybody else! You\nsimply cannot imagine what a figure you cut in it, Jurgen. Jurgen, I\nhave been patient with you; I have put up with a great deal, saying\nnothing where many women would have lost their temper; but I simply\ncannot permit you to select your own clothes, and so ruin the\nbusiness and take the bread out of our mouths. In short, you are\nenough to drive a person mad; and I warn you that I am done with you\nforever.\"\n\nDame Lisa went with dignity to the door of Koshchei's office.\n\n\"So you can come with me or not, precisely as you elect. It is all\none to me, I can assure you, after the cruel things you have said,\nand the way you have stormed at me, and have encouraged that\nnotorious blackamoor to insult me in terms which I, for one, would\nnot soil my lips by repeating. I do not doubt you consider it is all\nvery clever and amusing, but you know now what I think about it. And\nupon the whole, if you do not feel the exertion will kill you, you\nhad better come home the long way, and stop by Sister's and ask her\nto let you have a half-pound of butter; for I know you too well to\nsuppose you have been attending to the churning.\"\n\nDame Lisa here evinced a stately sort of mirth such as is\nunimaginable by bachelors.\n\n\"You churning while I was away!--oh, no, not you! There is probably\nnot so much as an egg in the house. For my lord and gentleman has\nhad other fish to fry, in his fine new courting clothes. And\nthat--and on a man of your age, with a paunch to you like a beer\nbarrel and with legs like pipe-stems!--yes, that infamous shirt of\nyours is the reason you had better, for your own comfort, come home\nthe long way. For I warn you, Jurgen, that the style in which I have\ncaught you rigged out has quite decided me, before I go home or\nanywhere else, to stop by for a word or so with your high and mighty\nMadame Dorothy. So you had just as well not be along with me, for\nthere is no pulling wool over my eyes any longer, and you two need\nnever think to hoodwink me again about your goings-on. No, Jurgen,\nyou cannot fool me; for I can read you like a book. And such\nbehavior, at your time of life, does not surprise me at all, because\nit is precisely what I would have expected of you.\"\n\nWith that Dame Lisa passed through the door and went away, still\ntalking. It was of Heitman Michael's wife that the wife of Jurgen\nspoke, discoursing of the personal traits, and of the past doings,\nand (with augmented fervor) of the figure and visage of Madame\nDorothy, as all these abominations appeared to the eye of\ndiscernment, and must be revealed by the tongue of candor, as a\nmatter of public duty.\n\nSo passed Dame Lisa, neither as flame nor mist, but as the voice of\njudgment.\n\n\n\n\n49.\n\nOf the Compromise with Koshchei\n\n\n\"Phew!\" said Koshchei, in the ensuing silence: \"you had better stay\novernight, in any event. I really think, friend, you will be more\ncomfortable, just now at least, in this quiet cave.\"\n\nBut Jurgen had taken up his hat. \"No, I dare say I, too, had better\nbe going,\" says Jurgen. \"I thank you very heartily for your intended\nkindness, sir, still I do not know but it is better as it is. And is\nthere anything\"--Jurgen coughed delicately--\"and is there anything\nto pay, sir?\"\n\n\"Oh, just a trifle, first of all, for a year's maintenance of Dame\nLisa. You see, Jurgen, that is an almighty fine shirt you are\nwearing: it rather appeals to me; and I fancy, from something your\nwife let drop just now, it did not impress her as being quite suited\nto you. So, in the interest of domesticity, suppose you ransom Dame\nLisa with that fine shirt of yours?\"\n\n\"Why, willingly,\" said Jurgen, and he took off the shirt of Nessus.\n\n\"You have worn this for some time, I understand,\" said Koshchei,\nmeditatively: \"and did you ever notice any inconvenience in wearing\nthis garment?\"\n\n\"Not that I could detect, Prince; it fitted me, and seemed to\nimpress everybody most favorably.\"\n\n\"There!\" said Koshchei; \"that is what I have always contended. To\nthe strong man, and to wholesome matter of fact people generally, it\nis a fatal irritant; but persons like you can wear the shirt of\nNessus very comfortably for a long, long while, and be generally\nadmired; and you end by exchanging it for your wife's society. But\nnow, Jurgen, about yourself. You probably noticed that my door was\nmarked Keep Out. One must have rules, you know. Often it is a\nnuisance, but still rules are rules; and so I must tell you, Jurgen,\nit is not permitted any person to leave my presence unmaimed, if not\nactually annihilated. One really must have rules, you know.\"\n\n\"You would chop off an arm? or a hand? or a whole finger? Come now,\nPrince, you must be joking!\"\n\nKoshchei the Deathless was very grave as he sat there, in meditation,\ndrumming with his long jet-black fingers upon the table-top that was\ncuriously inlaid with thirty pieces of silver. In the lamplight his\nsharp nails glittered like flame points, and the color suddenly\nwithdrew from his eyes, so that they showed like small white eggs.\n\n\"But, man, how strange you are!\" said Koshchei, presently; and life\nflowed back into his eyes, and Jurgen ventured the liberty of\nbreathing. \"Inside, I mean. Why, there is hardly anything left. Now\nrules are rules, of course; but you, who are the remnant of a poet,\nmay depart unhindered whenever you will, and I shall take nothing\nfrom you. For really it is necessary to draw the line somewhere.\"\n\nJurgen meditated this clemency; and with a sick heart he seemed to\nunderstand. \"Yes; that is probably the truth; for I have not\nretained the faith, nor the desire, nor the vision. Yes, that is\nprobably the truth. Well, at all events, Prince, I very unfeignedly\nadmired each of the ladies to whom you were friendly enough to\npresent me, and I was greatly flattered by their offers. More than\ngenerous I thought them. But it really would not do for me to take\nup with any one of them now. For Lisa is my wife, you see. A great\ndeal has passed between us, sir, in the last ten years--And I have\nbeen a sore disappointment to her, in many ways--And I am used to\nher--\"\n\nThen Jurgen considered, and regarded the black gentleman with\nmingled envy and commiseration. \"Why, no, you probably would not\nunderstand, sir, on account of your not being, I suppose, a married\nperson. But I can assure you it is always pretty much like that.\"\n\n\"I lack grounds to dispute your aphorism,\" observed Koshchei,\n\"inasmuch as matrimony was certainly not included in my doom. None\nthe less, to a by-stander, the conduct of you both appears\nremarkable. I could not understand, for example, just how your wife\nproposed to have you keep out of her sight forever and still have\nsupper with her to-night; nor why she should desire to sup with such\na reprobate as she described with unbridled pungency and\ndisapproval.\"\n\n\"Ah, but again, it is always pretty much like that, sir. And the\ntruth of it, Prince, is a great symbol. The truth of it is, we have\nlived together so long that my wife has become rather foolishly fond\nof me. So she is not, as one might say, quite reasonable about me.\nNo, sir; it is the fashion of women to discard civility toward those\nfor whom they suffer most willingly; and whom a woman loveth she\nchasteneth, after a good precedent.\"\n\n\"But her talking, Jurgen, has nowhere any precedent. Why, it deafens,\nit appals, it submerges you in an uproarious sea of fault-finding; and\nin a word, you might as profitably oppose a hurricane. Yet you want her\nback! Now assuredly, Jurgen, I do not think very highly of your wisdom,\nbut by your bravery I am astounded.\"\n\n\"Ah, Prince, it is because I can perceive that all women are poets,\nthough the medium they work in is not always ink. So the moment Lisa\nis set free from what, in a manner of speaking, sir, inconsiderate\npersons might, in their unthinking way, refer to as the terrors of\nan underground establishment that I do not for an instant doubt to\nbe conducted after a system which furthers the true interests of\neverybody, and so reflects vast credit upon its officials, if you\nwill pardon my frankness\"--and Jurgen smiled ingratiatingly,--\"why,\nat that moment Lisa's thoughts take form in very much the high\ndenunciatory style of Jeremiah and Amos, who were remarkably fine\npoets. Her concluding observations as to the Countess, in\nparticular, I consider to have been an example of sustained\ninvective such as one rarely encounters in this degenerate age.\nWell, her next essay in creative composition is my supper, which\nwill be an equally spirited impromptu. To-morrow she will darn and\nsew me an epic; and her desserts will continue to be in the richest\nlyric vein. Such, sir, are the poems of Lisa, all addressed to me,\nwho came so near to gallivanting with mere queens!\"\n\n\"What, can it be that you are remorseful?\" said Koshchei.\n\n\"Oh, Prince, when I consider steadfastly the depth and the intensity\nof that devotion which, for so many years, has tended me, and has\nendured the society of that person whom I peculiarly know to be the\nmost tedious and irritating of companions, I stand aghast, before a\nmiracle. And I cry, Oh, certainly a goddess! and I can think of no\nqueen who is fairly mentionable in the same breath. Hah, all we\npoets write a deal about love: but none of us may grasp the word's\nfull meaning until he reflects that this is a passion mighty enough\nto induce a woman to put up with him.\"\n\n\"Even so, it does not seem to induce quite thorough confidence.\nJurgen, I was grieved to see that Dame Lisa evidently suspects you\nof running after some other woman in your wife's absence.\"\n\n\"Think upon that now! And you saw for yourself how little the\nhandsomest of women could tempt me. Yet even Lisa's absurd notion I\ncan comprehend and pardon. And again, you probably would not\nunderstand my overlooking such a thing, sir, on account of your not\nbeing a married person. Nevertheless, my forgiveness also is a great\nsymbol.\"\n\nThen Jurgen sighed and he shook hands, very circumspectly, with\nKoshchei, who made things as they are; and Jurgen started out of the\noffice.\n\n\"But I will bear you company a part of the way,\" says Koshchei.\n\nSo Koshchei removed his dressing-gown, and he put on the fine laced\ncoat which was hung over the back of a strange looking chair with\nthree legs, each of a different metal; the shirt of Nessus Koshchei\nfolded and put aside, saying that some day he might be able to use\nit somehow. And Koshchei paused before the blackboard and he\nscratched his head reflectively. Jurgen saw that this board was\nnearly covered with figures which had not yet been added up; and\nthis blackboard seemed to him the most frightful thing he had faced\nanywhere.\n\nThen Koshchei came out of the cave with Jurgen, and Koshchei walked\nwith Jurgen across Amneran Heath, and through Morven, in the late\nevening. And Koshchei talked as they went; and a queer thing Jurgen\nnoticed, and it was that the moon was sinking in the east, as though\nthe time were getting earlier and earlier. But Jurgen did not\npresume to criticize this, in the presence of Koshchei, who made\nthings as they are.\n\n\"And I manage affairs as best I can, Jurgen. But they get in a\nfearful muddle sometimes. Eh, sirs, I have no competent assistants.\nI have to look out for everything, absolutely everything! And of\ncourse, while in a sort of way I am infallible, mistakes will occur\nevery now and then in the actual working out of plans that in the\nabstract are right enough. So it really does please me to hear\nanybody putting in a kind word for things as they are, because,\nbetween ourselves, there is a deal of dissatisfaction about. And I\nwas honestly delighted, just now, to hear you speaking up for evil\nin the face of that rapscallion monk. So I give you thanks and many\nthanks, Jurgen, for your kind word.\"\n\n\"'Just now!'\" thinks Jurgen. He perceived that they had passed the\nCistercian Abbey, and were approaching Bellegarde. And it was as in\na dream that Jurgen was speaking, _\"Who are you, and why do you\nthank me?\"_ asks Jurgen.\n\n_\"My name is no great matter. But you have a kind heart, Jurgen.\nMay your life lie free from care.\"_\n\n_\"Save us from hurt and harm, friend, but I am already married_--\"\nThen resolutely Jurgen put aside the spell that was befogging him.\n\"See here, Prince, are you beginning all over again? For I really\ncannot stand any more of your benevolences.\"\n\nKoshchei smiled. \"No, Jurgen, I am not beginning all over again. For\nnow I have never begun, and now there is no word of truth in\nanything which you remember of the year just past. Now none of these\nthings has ever happened.\"\n\n\"But how can that be, Prince?\"\n\n\"Why should I tell you, Jurgen? Let it suffice that what I will, not\nonly happens, but has already happened, beyond the ancientest memory\nof man and his mother. How otherwise could I be Koshchei? And so\nfarewell to you, poor Jurgen, to whom nothing in particular has\nhappened now. It is not justice I am giving you, but something\ninfinitely more acceptable to you and all your kind.\"\n\n\"But, to be sure!\" says Jurgen. \"I fancy that nobody anywhere cares\nmuch for justice. So farewell to you, Prince. And at our parting I\nask no more questions of you, for I perceive it is scant comfort a\nman gets from questioning Koshchei, who made things as they are. But\nI am wondering what pleasure you get out of it all?\"\n\n\"Eh, sirs,\" says Koshchei, with not the most candid of smiles, \"I\ncontemplate the spectacle with appropriate emotions.\"\n\nAnd so speaking, Koshchei quitted Jurgen forever.\n\n\"Yet how may I be sure,\" thought Jurgen, instantly, \"that this black\ngentleman was really Koshchei? He said he was? Why, yes; and\nHorvendile to all intents told me that Horvendile was Koshchei. Aha,\nand what else did Horvendile say!--'This is one of the romancer's\nmost venerable devices that is being practised.' Why, but there was\nSmoit of Glathion, also, so that this is the third time I have been\nfobbed off with the explanation I was dreaming! and left with no\nproof, one way or the other.\"\n\nThus Jurgen, indignantly, and then he laughed. \"Why, but, of course!\nI may have talked face to face with Koshchei, who made all things as\nthey are; and again, I may not have. That is the whole point of\nit--the cream, as one might say, of the jest--that I cannot ever be\nsure. Well!\"--and Jurgen shrugged here--\"well, and what could I be\nexpected to do about it?\"\n\n\n\n\n50.\n\nThe Moment That Did Not Count\n\n\nAnd that is really all the story save for the moment Jurgen paused\non his way home. For Koshchei (if it, indeed, was Koshchei) had\nquitted Jurgen just as they approached Bellegarde: and as the\npawnbroker walked on alone in the pleasant April evening one called\nto him from the terrace. Even in the dusk he knew this was the\nCountess Dorothy.\n\n\"May I speak with you a moment?\" says she.\n\n\"Very willingly, madame.\" And Jurgen ascended from the highway to\nthe terrace.\n\n\"I thought it would be near your supper hour. So I was waiting here\nuntil you passed. You conceive, it is not quite convenient for me to\nseek you out at the shop.\"\n\n\"Why, no, madame. There is a prejudice,\" said Jurgen, soberly. And\nhe waited.\n\nHe saw that Madame Dorothy was perfectly composed, yet anxious to\nspeed the affair. \"You must know,\" said she, \"that my husband's\nbirthday approaches, and I wish to surprise him with a gift. It is\ntherefore necessary that I raise some money without troubling him.\nHow much--abominable usurer!--could you advance me upon this\nnecklace?\"\n\nJurgen turned it in his hand. It was a handsome piece of jewelry,\nfamiliar to him as formerly the property of Heitman Michael's\nmother. Jurgen named a sum.\n\n\"But that,\" the Countess says, \"is not a fraction of its worth!\"\n\n\"Times are very hard, madame. Of course, if you cared to sell\noutright I could deal more generously.\"\n\n\"Old monster, I could not do that. It would not be convenient.\" She\nhesitated here. \"It would not be explicable.\"\n\n\"As to that, madame, I could make you an imitation in paste which\nnobody could distinguish from the original, I can amply understand\nthat you desire to veil from your husband any sacrifices that are\nentailed by your affection.\"\n\n\"It is my affection for him,\" said the Countess quickly.\n\n\"I alluded to your affection for him,\" said Jurgen--\"naturally.\"\n\nThen Countess Dorothy named a price for the necklace. \"For it is\nnecessary I have that much, and not a penny less.\" And Jurgen shook\nhis head dubiously, and vowed that ladies were unconscionable\nbargainers: but Jurgen agreed to what she asked, because the\nnecklace was worth almost as much again. Then Jurgen suggested that\nthe business could be most conveniently concluded through an\nemissary.\n\n\"If Messire de N\u00e9rac, for example, could have matters explained to\nhim, and could manage to visit me tomorrow, I am sure we could carry\nthrough this amiable imposture without any annoyance whatever to\nHeitman Michael,\" says Jurgen, smoothly.\n\n\"N\u00e9rac will come then,\" says the Countess. \"And you may give him the\nmoney, precisely as though it were for him.\"\n\n\"But certainly, madame. A very estimable young nobleman, that! and\nit is a pity his debts are so large. I heard that he had lost\nheavily at dice within the last month; and I grieved, madame.\"\n\n\"He has promised me when these debts are settled to play no\nmore--But again what am I saying! I mean, Master Inquisitive, that I\ntake considerable interest in the welfare of Messire de N\u00e9rac: and\nso I have sometimes chided him on his wild courses. And that is all\nI mean.\"\n\n\"Precisely, madame. And so Messire de N\u00e9rac will come to me to-morrow\nfor the money: and there is no more to say.\"\n\nJurgen paused. The moon was risen now. These two sat together upon a\nbench of carved stone near the balustrade: and before them, upon the\nother side of the highway, were luminous valleys and tree-tops.\nFleetingly Jurgen recollected the boy and girl who had once sat in\nthis place, and had talked of all the splendid things which Jurgen\nwas to do, and of the happy life that was to be theirs together.\nThen he regarded the composed and handsome woman beside him, and he\nconsidered that the money to pay her latest lover's debts had been\nassured with a suitable respect for appearances.\n\n\"Come, but this is a gallant lady, who would defy the almanac,\"\nreflected Jurgen. \"Even so, thirty-eight is an undeniable and\nsomewhat autumnal figure, and I suspect young N\u00e9rac is bleeding\nhis elderly mistress. Well, but at his age nobody has a conscience.\nYes, and Madame Dorothy is handsome still; and still my pulse is\nplaying me queer tricks, because she is near me, and my voice has\nnot the intonation I intend, because she is near me; and still I am\nthree-quarters in love with her. Yes, in the light of such cursed\nfolly as even now possesses me, I have good reason to give thanks\nfor the regained infirmities of age. Yet living seems to me a\nwasteful and inequitable process, for this is a poor outcome for\nthe boy and girl that I remember. And weighing this outcome, I am\ntempted to weep and to talk romantically, even now.\"\n\nBut he did not. For really, weeping was not requisite. Jurgen was\nmaking his fair profit out of the Countess's folly, and it was\nmerely his duty to see that this little business transaction was\nmanaged without any scandal.\n\n\"So there is nothing more to say,\" observed Jurgen, as he rose in\nthe moonlight, \"save that I shall always be delighted to serve you,\nmadame, and I may reasonably boast that I have earned a reputation\nfor fair dealing.\"\n\nAnd he thought: \"In effect, since certainly as she grows older she\nwill need yet more money for her lovers, I am offering to pimp for\nher.\" Then Jurgen shrugged. \"That is one side of the affair. The\nother is that I transact my legitimate business,--I, who am that\nwhich the years have made of me.\"\n\nThus it was that Jurgen quitted the Countess Dorothy, whom, as you\nhave heard, this pawnbroker had loved in his first youth under the\nname of Heart's Desire; and whom in the youth that was loaned him by\nMother Sereda he had loved as Queen Helen, the delight of gods and\nmen. For Jurgen was quitting Madame Dorothy after the simplest of\nbusiness transactions, which consumed only a moment, and did not\nactually count one way or the other.\n\nAnd after this moment which did not count, the pawnbroker resumed\nhis journey, and so came presently to his home. He peeped through\nthe window. And there in a snug room, with supper laid, sat Dame\nLisa about some sewing, and evidently in a quite amiable frame of\nmind.\n\nThen terror smote the Jurgen who had faced sorcerers and gods and\ndevils intrepidly. \"For I forgot about the butter!\"\n\nBut immediately afterward he recollected that, now, not even what\nLisa had said to him in the cave was real. Neither he nor Lisa, now,\nhad ever been in the cave, and probably there was no longer any such\nplace, and now there never had been any such place. It was rather\nconfusing.\n\n\"Ah, but I must remember carefully,\" said Jurgen, \"that I have not\nseen Lisa since breakfast, this morning. Nothing whatever has\nhappened. There has been no requirement laid upon me, after all, to\ndo the manly thing. So I retain my wife, such as she is, poor dear!\nI retain my home. I retain my shop and a fair line of business. Yes,\nKoshchei--if it was really Koshchei--has dealt with me very justly.\nAnd probably his methods are everything they should be; certainly I\ncannot go so far as to say that they are wrong: but still, at the\nsame time--!\"\n\nThen Jurgen sighed, and entered his snug home. Thus it was in the\nold days.\n\n\nEXPLICIT","title":"Jurgen: A Comedy of Justice","tradition":"myth-cosmogony","translated_text":null,"word_count":95346}