Helen. Why should I? What do you mean now, Horvendile, by your hints that I have faltered in my constancy to Dame Melicent since I saw Queen Helen? I do not like such hints.'
'No less, it is Ettarre whom I love, and have loved not quite in vain, and have loved unfalteringly,' says Horvendile, with his quiet smile: 'and I am certain that it was Ettarre whom I beheld when I looked upon Queen Helen.'
'I may confess,' says Jurgen, clearing his throat, 'that I have always regarded Madame Dorothy with peculiar respect and admiration. For the rest, I am married. Even so, I think that Madame Dorothy is Queen Helen.'
Then they fell to debating this mystery. And presently Perion said the one way out was to leave the matter to Queen Helen. 'She at all events must know who she is. So do one of you go back into the city, and embrace her knees as is the custom of this country when one implores a favor of the King or the Queen: and do you then ask her fairly.'
'Not I,' says Jurgen. 'I am upon terms of some intimacy with a hamadryad just at present. I am content with my Hamadryad. And I intend never to venture into the presence of Queen Helen any more, in order to preserve my contentment.'
'Why, but I cannot go,' says Perion, 'because Dame Melicent has a little mole upon her left cheek. And Queen Helen's cheek is flawless. You understand, of course, that I am certain this mole immeasurably enhances the beauty of Dame Melicent,' he added, loyally. 'None the less, I mean to hold no further traffic with Queen Helen.'
'Now my reason for not going is this,' said Horvendile:—'that if I attempted to embrace the knees of Ettarre, whom people hereabouts call Helen, she would instantly vanish. Other matters apart, I do not wish to bring any such misfortune upon the Island of Leuke.'
'But that,' said Perion, 'is nonsense.'
'Of course it is,' said Horvendile. 'That is probably why it happens.'
So none of them would go. And each of them clung, none the less, to his own opinion about Queen Helen. And presently Perion said they were wasting both time and words. Then Perion bade the two farewell, and Perion continued southward, toward Lacre Kai. And as he went he sang a song in honor of Dame Melicent, whom he celebrated as Heart o' My Heart: and the two who heard him agreed that Perion de la Foret was probably the worst poet in the world.
'Nevertheless, there goes a very chivalrous and worthy gentleman,' said Horvendile, 'intent to play out the remainder of his romance. I wonder if the Author gets much pleasure from these simple characters? At least they must be easy to handle.'
'I cultivate a judicious amount of gallantry,' says Jurgen: 'I do not any longer aspire to be chivalrous. And indeed, Horvendile, it seems to me indisputable that each one of us is the hero in his own romance, and cannot understand any other person's romance, but misinterprets everything therein, very much as we three have fallen out in the simple matter of a woman's face.'
Now young Horvendile meditatively stroked his own curly and reddish hair, brushing it away from his ears with his left hand, as he sat there staring meditatively at nothing in particular.
'I would put it, Jurgen, that we three have met like characters out of three separate romances which the Author has composed in different styles.'
'That also,' Jurgen submitted, 'would be nonsense.'
'Ah, but perhaps the Author very often perpetrates nonsense. Come Jurgen, you who are King of Eubonia!' says Horvendile, with his wide-set eyes a-twinkle; 'what is there in you or me to attest that our Author has not composed our romances with his tongue in his cheek?'
'Messire Horvendile, if you are attempting to joke about Koshchei who made all things as they are, I warn you I do not consider that sort of humor very wholesome. Without being prudish, I believe in common-sense: and I would vastly prefer to have you talk about something else.'
Horvendile was still smiling. 'You look some day to come to Koshchei, as you call the Author. That is easily said, and sounds excellently. Ah, but how will you recognize Koshchei? and how do you know you have not already passed by Koshchei in some street or meadow? Come now, King Jurgen,' said Horvendile, and still his young face wore an impish smile; 'come tell me, how do you know that I am not Koshchei who made all things as they are?'
'Be off with you!' says Jurgen; 'you would never have had the wit to invent a Jurgen. Something else is troubling me: I have just recollected that the young Perion who left us only a moment since, grew to be rich and gray-headed and famous, and took Dame Melicent from her pagan husband, and married her himself: and that all this happened long years ago. So our recent talk with young Perion seems very improbable.'
'Why, but do you not remember, too, that I ran away in the night when Maugis d'Aigremont stormed Storisende? and was never heard of any more? and that all this, too, took place a long, long while ago? Yet we have met as three fine young fellows, here on the beach of fabulous Leuke. I put it to you fairly, King Jurgen: now how could this conceivably have come about unless the Author sometimes composes nonsense?'
'Truly the way that you express it, Horvendile, the thing does seem a little strange; and I can think of no explanation rendering it plausible.'
'Again, see now, King Jurgen of Eubonia, how you underrate the Author's ability. This is one of the romancer's most venerable devices that is being practised. See for yourself!' And suddenly Horvendile pushed Jurgen so that Jurgen tumbled over in the warm sand.
Then Jurgen arose, gaping and stretching himself. 'That was a very foolish dream I had, napping here in the sun. For it was certainly a dream. Otherwise, they would have left footprints, these young fellows who have gone the way of youth so long ago. And it was a dream that had no sense in it. But indeed it would be strange if that were the whole point of it, and if living, too, were such a dream, as that queer Horvendile would have me think.'
Jurgen snapped his fingers.
'Well, and what in common fairness could he or anyone else expect me to do about it! That is the answer I fling at you, you Horvendile whom I made up in a dream. And I disown you as the most futile of my inventions. So be off with you! and a good riddance, too, for I never held with upsetting people.'
Then Jurgen dusted himself, and trudged home to an early supper with the Hamadryad who contented him.
30. Economics of King Jurgen
Now Jurgen's curious dream put notions into the restless head of Jurgen. So mighty became his curiosity that he went shuddering into the abhorred Woods, and passed over Coalisnacoan (which is the Ferry of Dogs), and did all such detestable things as were necessary to placate Phobetor. Then Jurgen tricked Phobetor by an indescribable device, wherein surprising use was made of a cheese and three beetles and a gimlet, and so cheated Phobetor out of a gray magic. And that night while Pseudopolis slept King Jurgen came down into this city of gold and ivory.
Jurgen went with distaste among the broad-browed and great-limbed monarchs of Pseudopolis, for they reminded him of things that he had long ago put aside, and they made him feel unpleasantly ignoble and insignificant. That was his real reason for avoiding the city.
Now he passed between unlighted and silent palaces, walking in deserted streets where the moon made ominous shadows. Here was the house of Ajax Telamon who reigned in sea-girt Salamis, here that of god-like Philoctetes: much-counseling Odysseus dwelt just across the way, and the corner residence was fair-haired Agamemnon's: in the moonlight Jurgen easily made out these names engraved upon the bronze shield that hung beside each doorway. To every side of him slept the heroes of old song while Jurgen skulked under their windows.
He remembered how incuriously—not even scornfully—these people had overlooked him on that disastrous afternoon when he had ventured into Pseudopolis by daylight. And a spiteful little gust of rage possessed him, and Jurgen shook his fist at the big silent palaces.
'Yah!' he snarled: for he did not know at all what it was that he desired to say to those great stupid heroes who did not care what he said, but he knew that he hated them. Then Jurgen became aware of himself growling
