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diff --git a/old/67043-0.txt b/old/67043-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 710d03f..0000000 --- a/old/67043-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,7786 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg eBook of The High Place, by James Branch -Cabell - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and -most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms -of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you -will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before -using this eBook. - -Title: The High Place - A Comedy of Disenchantment - -Author: James Branch Cabell
- -Illustrator: Frank C. Papé
- -Release Date: December 29, 2021 [eBook #67043] - -Language: English
- -Produced by: Charlene Taylor, Les Galloway and the Online Distributed - Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This file was - produced from images generously made available by The - Internet Archive/American Libraries.) - -*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE HIGH PLACE *** - - Transcriber’s Notes - -Obvious typographical errors have been silently corrected. Variations -in hyphenation have been standardised but all other spelling and -punctuation remains unchanged. - -Italics are represented thus _italic_. - -All chapters begin with an illustrated capital, and most end with a -decorative image. These have not been indicated. - - - - - _The - High - Place_ - - - - -BOOKS _by_ MR. CABELL - - -_Biography_: - - BEYOND LIFE - FIGURES OF EARTH - DOMNEI - CHIVALRY - JURGEN - THE LINE OF LOVE - THE HIGH PLACE - GALLANTRY - THE CERTAIN HOUR - THE CORDS OF VANITY - FROM THE HIDDEN WAY - THE RIVET IN GRANDFATHER’S NECK - THE EAGLE’S SHADOW - THE CREAM OF THE JEST - -_Scholia_: - - THE LINEAGE OF LICHFIELD - TABOO - JOSEPH HERGESHEIMER - THE JEWEL MERCHANTS - - * * * * * - - JURGEN AND THE LAW - (_Edited by Guy Holt_) - - - - - [Illustration: Image followed by; - Caption surrounded by a garland: FLORIAN felt himself to be in not - quite the company suited to a - nobleman of his rank. - _See page 147_] - - - - - THE HIGH PLACE: - - A COMEDY OF DISENCHANTMENT - BY JAMES BRANCH CABELL - WITH ILLUSTRATIONS AND DECORATIONS BY - FRANK C. PAPÉ - - - “_Build on high place for Chemosh, the abomination - of Moab, and for horned Ashtoreth, the - abomination of Zidon, and for Moloch, the - abomination of the children of Ammon._” - - - [Illustration: Figure and shadow.] - - - ROBERT M. McBRIDE & COMPANY - NEW YORK: 1923 - - - Copyright, 1923, by - JAMES BRANCH CABELL - - _Printed in the - United States of America_ - - - _This First Edition of THE - HIGH PLACE is limited to - two thousand numbered copies, - of which this is_ - - _Copy Number_ 1825 - - - Published, 1923 - - - - - To - - ROBERT GAMBLE CABELL III - - _this book, where so much more is due_. - - - - -_Contents_ - - - PART ONE - - THE END OF LONG WANTING - - CHAPTER PAGE - - I THE CHILD ERRANT 3 - - II SAYINGS ABOUT PUYSANGE 10 - - III WIDOWERS SEEK CONSOLATION 24 - - IV ECONOMICS OF AN OLD RACE 36 - - V FRIENDLY ADVICE OF JANICOT 42 - - VI PHILOSOPHY OF THE LOWER CLASS 53 - - VII ADJUSTMENTS OF THE RESURRECTED 64 - - VIII AT THE TOP OF THE WORLD 74 - - IX MISGIVINGS OF A BEGINNING SAINT 80 - - X WHO FEASTED AT BRUNBELOIS 89 - - - PART TWO - - THE END OF LIGHT WINNING - - XI PROBLEMS OF BEAUTY 97 - - XII NICETIES OF FRATRICIDE 114 - - XIII DÉBONNAIRE 123 - - XIV GODS IN DECREPITUDE 141 - - XV DUBIETIES OF THE MASTER 148 - - XVI SOME VICTIMS OF FLAMBERGE 159 - - XVII THE ARMORY OF ANTAN 166 - - XVIII PROBLEMS OF HOLINESS 178 - - XIX LOCKED GATES 189 - - XX SMOKE REVEALS FIRE 204 - - - PART THREE - - THE END OF LEAN WISDOM - - - XXI OF MELIOR MARRIED 219 - - XXII THE WIVES OF FLORIAN 225 - - XXIII THE COLLYN IN THE POT 237 - - XXIV MARIE-CLAIRE 246 - - XXV THE GANDER THAT SANG 256 - - XXVI HUSBAND AND WIFE 263 - - XXVII THE FORETHOUGHT OF HOPRIG 275 - - XXVIII HIGHLY AMBIGUOUS 282 - - XXIX THE WONDER WORDS 292 - - XXX THE ERRANT CHILD 304 - - - - -_Illustrations_ - - - Florian felt himself to be in not quite the company - suited to a nobleman of his rank _Frontispiece_ - - FACING - PAGE - - She waited—there was the miracle—for Florian - de Puysange 44 - - He did not move, but lay quite still, staring upward 82 - - Florian’s plump face was transfigured, as he knelt - before his Melior 120 - - Now Florian came forward 162 - - Presently the Collyn of Puysange had opened her - yellow eyes and was licking daintily her - lips 198 - - He closed upon Florian, straightforwardly, without - any miracle-working 250 - - “—And this is the last cloud going west” 286 - - - - - PART ONE - - - _THE END OF LONG WANTING_ - - “_Lever un tel obstacle est à moy peu de chose. - Le Ciel défend, de vray, certains contentemens; - Mais on trouve avec luy des accommodemens._” - - - - -_1._ - -_The Child Errant_ - - -Probably Florian would never have gone into the Forest of Acaire had -he not been told, over and over again, to keep out of it. Obedience -to those divinely set in authority was in 1698 still modish: none the -less, such orders, so insistently repeated to any normal boy of ten, -even to a boy not born of the restless house of Puysange, must make the -venture at one time or another obligatory. - -Moreover, this October afternoon was of the sun-steeped lazy sort which -shows the world as over-satisfied with the done year’s achievements, -of the sort which, when you think about it so long, arouses a dim -dissent from such unambitious aims. It was not that the young Prince -de Lisuarte—to give Florian his proper title,—was in any one point -dissatisfied with the familiar Poictesme immediately about him: he -liked it well enough. It was only that he preferred another place, -which probably existed somewhere, and which was not familiar or even -known to him. It was only that you might—here one approximates to -Florian’s vague thinking, as he lay yawning under the little tree from -the East,—that you might find more excitement in some place which -strove toward larger upshots than the ripening of grains and fruits, in -a world which did not every autumn go to sleep as if the providing of -food-stuffs and the fodder for people’s cattle were enough. - -To-day, with October’s temperate sunlight everywhere, the sleek country -of Poictesme was inexpressibly asleep, wrapped in a mellowing haze. The -thronged trees of Acaire, as Florian now saw them just beyond that low -red wall, seemed to have golden powder scattered over them, a powder -which they stayed too motionless to shake off. Yet logic told him -these still trees most certainly veiled wild excitements of some sort, -for otherwise people would not be at you, over and over again, with -exhortations to keep out of that forest. - -Nobody was watching. There was nothing in especial to do, for Florian -had now read all the stories in this curious new book, by old Monsieur -Perrault of the Academy, which Florian’s father had last month -fetched back from Paris: and, besides, nobody at Storisende had, for -as much as a week, absolutely told Florian not to leave the gardens. -So he adventured: and with the achievement of the adventure came a -strengthening of Florian’s growing conviction that his elders were in -their notions, as a rule, illogical. - -For in Acaire, even when you went as far as Brunbelois, the boy found -nothing hurtful. It was true that, had he not at the beginning of -his wandering met with the small bright-haired woman who guided him -thereafter, he might have made mistakes: and mistakes, as Mélusine -acknowledged, might have turned out awkwardly in approaching the -high place, since monsters have to be handled in just the right -way. She explained to Florian, on that warm long October afternoon, -that sympathy is the main requisite, because the main trouble with -such monsters as the bleps and the strycophanês and the calcar (she -meant only the gray one, of course) is that each is unique, and in -consequence lonely. - -The hatred men feel for every ravening monster that wears fangs and -scales, she pointed out, is due to its apparel being not quite -the sort of thing to which men are accustomed: whereas people were -wholly used to having soldiers and prelates and statesmen ramping -about in droves, and so viewed these without any particular wonder or -disapproval. All that was needed, then, was to extend to the bleps -and the strycophanês a little of the confidence and admiration which -men everywhere else accorded to the destroyers of mankind; and you -would soon see that these glittering creatures—as well as the tawny -eale, and the leucrocotta, with its golden mane and whiskers, and the -opal-colored tarandus,—were a great deal nicer to look at than the most -courted and run-after people, and much less apt to destroy anybody -outside of their meal hours. - -In any event, it was Mélusine who had laid an enchantment upon the high -place in the midst of the wood, and who had set the catoblepas here -and the mantichora yonder to prevent the lifting of her spell, so that -Florian could not possibly have found a better guide than Mélusine. She -was kindly, you saw, but not very happy: and from the first, Florian -liked and, in some sort, pitied her. So he rode with her confidingly, -upon the back of the queerest steed that any boy of ten had ever been -privileged to look at, not to speak of riding on it: and the two talked -lazily and friendlily as they went up and up, and always upward, along -the windings of the green way which long ago had been a road. - -As they went, the body of this sweet-smelling Mélusine was warm and -soft against his body, for Mélusine was not imprisoned in hard-feeling -clothes such as were worn by your governesses and aunts. The monsters -stationed along the way drew back as Mélusine passed; and some purred -ingratiatingly, like gigantic kettles, and others made obeisances: and -you met no other living creatures except three sheep that lay in the -roadway asleep and very dingy with the dust of several hundred years. -No self-respecting monster would have touched them. Thus Florian and -Mélusine came through the forest without any hindrance or trouble, to -the cleft in the mountain tops where the castle stood beside a lake: -and Florian liked the stillness of all things in this high place, where -the waters of the lake were without a ripple, and the tall grass and so -many mist-white flowers were motionless. - -He liked it even more when Mélusine led him through such rooms in -the castle as took his fancy. He was glad that Mélusine did not -mind when Florian confessed the sleeping princess—in the room hung -everywhere with curtains upon which people hunted a tremendous boar, -and stuck spears through one another, and burst forth into peculiarly -solid-looking yellow flames,—seemed to him even more lovely than was -Mélusine. They were very much alike, though, the boy said: and Mélusine -told him that was not unnatural, since Melior was her sister. And -then, when Florian asked questions, Mélusine told him also of the old -unhappiness that had been in this place, and of the reasons which had -led her to put an enduring peacefulness upon her parents and her sister -and all the other persons who slept here enchanted. - -Florian had before to-day heard century-old tales about Mélusine’s -father, Helmas the Deep-Minded. So it was very nice actually to see -him here in bed, with his scarlet and ermine robes neatly folded on -the armchair, and his crown, with a long feather in it, hung on a -peg in the wall, just as the King had left everything when he went -to sleep several hundred years ago. The child found it all extremely -interesting, quite like a fairy tale such as those which he had lately -been reading in the book by old Monsieur Perrault of the Academy. - -But what Florian always remembered most clearly, afterward, was the -face of the sleeping princess, Melior, as he saw it above the coverlet -of violet-colored wool; and she seemed to him so lovely that Florian -was never wholly willing, afterward, to admit she was but part of a -dream which had come to him in his sleeping, on that quiet haze-wrapped -afternoon, in the gardens of his own home. Certainly his father -had found him asleep, by the bench under the little tree from the -East, and Florian could not clearly recollect how he had got back to -Storisende: but he remembered Brunbelois and his journeying to the -high place and the people seen there and, above all, the Princess -Melior, with a clarity not like his memories of other dreams. Nor did -the memory of her loveliness quite depart as Florian became older, and -neither manhood nor marriage put out of his mind the beauty that he in -childhood had, however briefly, seen. - - - - -_2._ - -_Sayings about Puysange_ - - -When Florian awakened he was lying upon the ground, with the fairy -tales of Monsieur Perrault serving for Florian’s pillow, in the gardens -of Storisende, just by the little tree raised from the slip which his -great-uncle, the Admiral, had brought from the other side of the world. -Nobody knew the right name of this tree: it was called simply the tree -from the East. Caterpillars had invaded it that autumn, and had eaten -every leaf from the boughs, and then had gone away: but after their -going the little tree had optimistically put forth again, in the mild -October weather, so that the end of each bare branch was now tipped -with a small futile budding of green. - -It was upon the bench beneath this tree that Florian’s father was -sitting. Monsieur de Puysange had laid aside his plumed three-cornered -hat, and as he sat there, all a subdued magnificence of dark blue and -gold, he was looking down smilingly at the young lazibones whom the -Duke’s foot was gently prodding into wakefulness. The Duke was wearing -blue stockings with gold clocks, as Florian was to remember.... - -Not until manhood did Florian appreciate his father, and come properly -to admire the exactness with which the third Duke of Puysange had -kept touch with his times. Under the Sun King’s first mistress Gaston -de Puysange had cultivated sentiment, under the second, warfare, and -under the third, religion: he had thus stayed always in the sunshine. -It was Florian’s lot to know his father only during the last period, -so the boy’s youth as spent dividedly at the Duke’s two châteaux, at -Storisende and at Bellegarde, lacked for no edifying influence. The -long summer days at Storisende were diversified with all appropriate -religious instruction. In winter the atmosphere of Versailles -itself—where the long day of Louis Quatorze seemed now to be ending -in a twilight of stately serenity through which the old King went -deathward, handsomely sustained by his consciousness of a well-spent -life and by the reverent homage of all his bastards,—was not more pious -than was that of Bellegarde. - -Let none suppose that Monsieur de Puysange affected superhuman -austerities. Rather, he exercised tact. If he did not keep all -fast-days, he never failed to secure the proper dispensations, nor to -see that his dependants fasted scrupulously: and if he sometimes, even -now, was drawn into argument, Monsieur de Puysange was not ever known -after any lethal duel to omit the ordering of a mass, at the local -Church of Holy Hoprig, for his adversary’s soul. “There are amenities,” -he would declare, “imperative among well-bred Christians.” - -Then too, when left a widower at the birth of his second legitimate -son, the Duke did not so far yield to the temptings of the flesh as -to take another wife; for he confessed to scruples if marriage, which -the Scriptures assert to be unknown in heaven, could anywhere be a -quite laudable estate: but he saw to it that his boys were tended by -a succession of good-looking and amiable governesses. His priests -also were kept sleek, and his confessor unshocked, by the Duke’s -tireless generosity to the Church; and were all of unquestioned -piety, which they did not carry to excess. In fine, with youth and -sentiment, and the discomforts of warfare also, put well behind him, -the good gentleman had elected to live discreetly, among reputable but -sympathetic companions.... - -When Florian told his father now about Florian’s delightful adventure -in Acaire, the Duke smiled: and he said that, in this dream begotten -by Florian’s late reading of the fairy tales of Monsieur Perrault, -Florian had been peculiarly privileged. - -“For Madame Mélusine is not often encountered nowadays, my son. She was -once well known in this part of Poictesme. But it was a long while ago -she quarreled with her father, the wise King Helmas, and imprisoned -him with all his court in the high place that ought not to be. Yet -Mélusine, let me tell you, was properly punished for her unfilial -conduct; since upon every Sunday after that, her legs were turned to -fishes’ tails, and they stayed thus until Monday. This put the poor -lady to great inconvenience: and when she eventually married, it led -to a rather famous misunderstanding with her husband. And so he died -unhappily; but she did not die, because she was of the Léshy, born of a -people who are not immortal but are more than human—” - -“Of course I know she did not die, monsieur my father. Why, it was only -this afternoon I talked with her. I liked her very much. But she is not -so pretty as Melior.” - -It seemed to Florian that the dark curls of his father’s superb peruke -now framed a smiling which was almost sad. “Perhaps there will never -be in your eyes anybody so pretty as Melior. I am sure that you have -dreamed all this, jumbling together in your dreaming old Monsieur -Perrault’s fine story of the sleeping princess—La Belle au Bois -Dormant,—with our far older legends of Poictesme—” - -“I do not think that it was just a dream, monsieur my father—” - -“But I, unluckily, am sure it was, my son. And I suspect, too, that -it is the dream which comes in varying forms to us of Puysange, the -dream which we do not ever quite put out of mind. We stay, to the -last, romantics. So Melior, it may be, will remain to you always that -unattainable beauty toward which we of Puysange must always yearn,—just -as your patron St. Hoprig will always afford to you, in his glorious -life and deeds, an example which you will admire and, I trust, emulate. -I admit that such emulation,” the Duke added, more drily, “has not -always been inescapable by us of Puysange.” - -“I cannot hope to be so good as was Monseigneur St. Hoprig,” Florian -replied, “but I shall endeavor to merit his approval.” - -“Indeed, you should have dreamed of the blessed Hoprig also, while you -were about it, Florian. For he was a close friend of your Melior’s -father, you may remember, and performed many miracles at the court of -King Helmas.” - -“That is true,” said Florian. “Oxen brought him there in a stone -trough: and I am sure that Monseigneur St. Hoprig must have loved -Melior very much.” - -And he did not say any more about what his father seemed bent upon -regarding as Florian’s dream. At ten a boy has learned to humor the -notions of his elders. Florian slipped down from the bench, and tucked -his book under his arm, and agreed with his father that it was near -time for supper. - -None the less, though, as the boy stood waiting for that magnificent -father of his to arise from the bench, Florian reflected how queer it -was that, before the falling of the Nis magic, this beautiful Melior -must have known and talked with Florian’s heavenly patron, St. Hoprig -of Gol. It was to Holy Hoprig that Florian’s mother had commended the -boy with her last breath, and it was to Holy Hoprig that Florian’s -father had taught the boy to pray in all time of doubt or peccadillo, -because this saint was always to be the boy’s protector and advocate. -And this made heaven seem very near and real, the knowledge that always -in celestial courts this bright friend was watching, and, Florian -hoped, was upon occasion tactfully suggesting to the good God that -one must not be too severe with growing boys. Melior—Florian thought -now,—was remotely and half timidly to be worshipped: Hoprig, the friend -and intercessor,—a being even more kindly and splendid than was your -superb father,—you loved.... - -Florian had by heart all the legends about Holy Hoprig. Particularly -did Florian rejoice in the tale of the saint’s birth, in such untoward -circumstances as caused the baby to be placed in a barrel, and cast -into the sea, to be carried whither wind and tide directed. Florian -knew that for ten years the barrel floated, tossing up and down in all -parts of the ocean, while regularly an angel passed the necessary food -to young Hoprig through the bung-hole. Finally, at Heaven’s chosen -time, the barrel rolled ashore near Manneville, on the low sands of -Fomor Beach. A fisherman, thinking that he had found a cask of wine, -was about to tap it with a gimlet; then from within, for the first -time, St. Hoprig speaks to man: “Do not injure the cask. Go at once to -the abbot of the monastery to which this land belongs, and bid him come -to baptize me.” - -It seemed to Florian that was a glorious start in life for a boy of -ten, a boy of just the same age as Florian. All the later miracles and -prodigies appeared, in comparison with that soul-contenting moment, to -be compact of paler splendors. Nobody, though, could hear unenviously -of the long voyage to the Red Islands and the realm of Hlif, and to -Pohjola, and even to the gold-paved Strembölgings, where every woman -contains a serpent so placed as to discourage love-making,—of that -pre-eminently delightful voyage made by St. Hoprig and St. Hork in the -stone trough, which, after its landing upon the coasts of Poictesme, -at mid-winter, during a miraculous shower of apple-blossoms, white -oxen drew through the country hillward, with the two saints by turns -preaching and converting people all the way to Perdigon. For that, -Florian remembered, was the imposing fashion in which Holy Hoprig had -come to the court of Melior’s father,—and had wrought miracles there -also, to the discomfiture of the abominable Horrig. But more important, -now, was the reflection that St. Hoprig had in this manner come to -Melior and to the unimaginable beauty which, in the high place, a -coverlet of violet stuff just half concealed.... - -Certainly Monseigneur St. Hoprig must have loved Melior very much, and -these two must have been very marvelous when they went about a more -heroic and more splendid world than Florian could hope ever to inhabit. -It was of their beauty and holiness that the boy thought, with a dumb -yearning to be not in all unworthy of these bright, dear beings. That -was the longing—to be worthy,—which possessed Florian as he stood -waiting for his father to rise from the bench beneath the little tree -from the East. There, the Duke also seemed to meditate, about something -rather pleasant. - -“You said just now, monsieur my father,” Florian stated, a trifle -worried, “that we of Puysange have not always imitated the good -examples of St. Hoprig. Have we been very bad?” - -Monsieur de Puysange had put on his plumed hat, but he stayed seated. -He appeared now, as grown people so often do, amused for no logical or -conceivable reason: though, indeed, the Duke seemed to find most living -creatures involuntarily amusing. - -He said: “We have displayed some hereditary foibles. For it is the -boast of the house of Puysange that we trace in the direct male line -from Poictesme’s old Jurgen. That ancient wanderer, says our legend, -somehow strayed into the bed-chamber of Madame Félise de Puysange; and -the result of his errancy was the vicomte who flourished under the last -Capets.” - -Young Florian, in accord with the quaint custom of the day, had been -reared without misinformation as to how or whence children came into -the world. So he said only, if a little proudly, “Yes,—he was another -Florian, I remember, like me.” - -“There were queer tales about this first Florian, also, who is reputed -to have vanished the moment he was married, and to have re-appeared -here, at Storisende, some thirty years later, with his youth -unimpaired. He declared himself to have slept out the intervening -while,—an excuse for remissness in his marital duties which sceptics -have considered both hackneyed and improbable.” - -“Well,” Florian largely considered, “but then there is Sir Ogier still -asleep in Avalon until France has need of him; and John the Divine is -still sleeping at Ephesus until it is time to bear his witness against -Antichrist; and there is Merlin in Broceliande, and there is St. Joseph -of Arimathæa in the white city of Sarras—and really, monsieur my -father, there is Melior, and all the rest of King Helmas’ people up at -Brunbelois.” - -“Are you still dreaming of your Melior, tenacious child! Certainly you -are logical, you cite good precedents for your namesake, and to adhere -to logic and precedent is always safe. I hope you will remember that.” - -“I shall remember that, monsieur my father.” - -“Certainly, too, this story of persons who sleep for a miraculous -while is common to all parts of the world. This Florian de Puysange, -in any event, married a granddaughter of the great Dom Manuel; so that -we descend from the two most famous of the heroes of Poictesme: but, -I fancy, it is from Jurgen that our family has inherited the larger -number of its traits.” - -“Anyhow, we have risen from just being vicomtes—” - -Florian’s father had leaned back, he had put off his provisional plan -of going in to supper. You could not say that the good gentleman -exactly took pride in his ancestry: rather, he found his lineage worthy -of him, and therefore he benevolently approved of it. - -So he said now, complacently enough: “Yes, our house has prospered. -Steadily our fortunes have been erected, and in dignity too we have -been erected. Luck seems to favor us, however, most heartily when a -woman rules France, and it is to exalted ladies that we owe most of -our erections. Thus Queen Ysabeau the Bavarian notably advanced the -Puysange of her time, very much as Anne of Beaujeu and Catherine de -Medici did afterward. Many persons have noted the coincidence. Indeed, -it was only sixty years ago that Marion de Lorme spoke privately to -the Great Cardinal, with such eloquence that the Puysange of the -day—another Florian, and a notably religious person,—had presently been -made a duke, with an appropriate estate in the south—” - -“I know,” said Florian, not a bit humble about his erudition. “That is -how we came to be here in Poictesme. Mademoiselle de Lorme was a very -kind lady, was she not, monsieur my father?” - -“She was so famed, my son, for all manner of generosity that when my -grandfather remodeled Bellegarde, and erected the Hugonet wing of -the present château, he sealed up in the cornerstone, just as people -sometimes place there the relics of a saint, both of Mademoiselle de -Lorme’s garters. Probably there was some salutary story connected with -his acquiring of them; for my pious grandfather cared nothing for such -vanities as jeweled garters, his mind being wholly set upon higher -things.” - -“I wish we knew that story,” said Florian. - -“But nobody does. My grandfather was discreet. So he thrived. And his -son, who was my honored father, also thrived under the regency of Anne -of Austria. He thrived rather unaccountably in the teeth of Mazarin’s -open dislike. There was some story—I do not know what,—about a nightcap -found under the Queen’s pillow, and considered by his eminence to need -some explaining. My honored father was never good at explaining things. -But he was discreet, and he thrived. And I too, my son, was lucky in -Madame de Montespan’s time.” - -Now Madame de Montespan’s time antedated Florian’s thinking: but about -the King’s last mistress,—and morganatic wife, some said,—Florian was -better informed. - -“Madame de Maintenon also is very fond of you, monsieur my father, is -she not?” - -The Duke slightly waved his hand, as one who disclaims unmerited -tribute. “It was my privilege to know that incomparable lady during -her first husband’s life. He was a penniless cripple who had lost -the use of all his members, and in that time of many wants I was so -lucky as to comfort Madame Scarron now and then. Madame de Maintenon -remembers these alleviations of her unfortunate youth, and notes with -approval that I have forgotten them utterly. So Madame is very kind. -In short,—or, rather, to sum up the tale,—the lords of Puysange are -rumored, by superstitious persons, to have a talisman which enables -them to go farther than may most men in their dealings with ladies.” - -“You mean, like a magic lamp or a wishing cap?” said Florian, “or like -a wizard’s wand?” - -“Yes, something in that shape,” the Duke answered, “and they tell how -through its proper employment, always under the great law of living, -our house has got much pleasure and prosperity. And it is certain the -Collyn aids us at need—” - -“What is the Collyn?” - -“Nothing suitable for a boy of ten to know about. When you are a man I -shall have to tell you, Florian. That will be soon enough.” - -“And what, monsieur my father, is this great law of living?” - -The Duke looked for a while at his son rather queerly. “Thou shalt not -offend,” the Duke replied, “against the notions of thy neighbor.” - -With that he was silent: and, rising at last from the bench, he walked -across the lawn, and ascended the broad curving marble stairway which -led to the south terrace of Storisende. And Florian, following, was for -an instant quiet, and a little puzzled. - -“Yes, monseigneur my father, but I do not see—” - -The Duke turned, an opulent figure in dark blue and gold. He was -standing by one of the tall vases elaborately carved with garlands, the -vases that in summer overflowed with bright red and yellow flowers: -these vases were now empty, and the gardeners had replaced the carved -lids. - -“Youth never sees the reason of that law, my son. I am wholly -unprepared to say whether or not this is a lucky circumstance.” The -Duke again paused, looking thoughtfully across the terrace, toward the -battlemented walls and the four towers of the southern façade. His -gazing seemed to go well beyond the fountain and the radiating low -hedges and gravelled walkways of the terrace, to go beyond, for that -matter, the darkening castle. Twilight was rising: you saw a light in -one window. “At all events, we are home again, young dreamer. I too was -once a dreamer. And at all events, there is Little Brother waiting for -us.” - - - - -_3._ - -_Widowers Seek Consolation_ - - -Little brother was indeed waiting for them, at the arched doorway, -impatient of his governess’ restraint. At sight of them he began -telling, coincidently, of how hungry he was, and of how he had helped -old Margot to milk a cow that afternoon, and of how a courier was -waiting for Monsieur my Father in great long boots, up to here. The -trifold tale was confusing, for at eight little Raoul could not yet -speak plainly. His sleeve was torn, and he had a marvelously dirty face. - -Behind him stood pallid pretty Mademoiselle Berthe, the governess who a -trifle later, during the next winter, killed herself. She had already -begun bewailing her condition to the Duke, even while she obstinately -would have none of the various husbands whom her kindly patron -recommended, from among his dependants, as ready to make that condition -respectable. There seemed no pleasing the girl, and Florian could see -that his father, for all his uniform benevolence, regarded her as a -nuisance. - -But the Duke now gazed down, at the pale frightened-looking creature, -with that fine condescending smile which he accorded almost everybody. -“Mademoiselle, children are a grave responsibility. I have just found -Florian asleep in the mud yonder, whereas you have evidently just -plucked this other small pest from the pig-sty. It is lucky that we -have no more brats to contend with, Mademoiselle, for the present, is -it not?” - -Florian wondered, long afterward, how Mademoiselle had looked, and -what she replied. He could not recollect. But he did remember that at -this instant Little Brother ran from her and hugged first one of his -father’s superb legs and then Florian. Little Brother was warm and -tough-feeling and astonishingly strong, and he smelled of clean earth. - -Florian loved him very much, and indeed the affection between the two -brothers endured until the end of their intercourse. Florian was always -consciously the elder and wiser, and felt himself the stronger long -after Raoul had become taller than Florian. Even after Raoul was well -on in his thirties, and both the boys had boys of their own, Florian -still thought of the Chevalier de Puysange as a little brother with a -dirty face and a smell of clean earth, whom you loved and patronized, -and from whom you had one secret only. For of course you never told -Raoul about Melior. - -You spoke to nobody about Melior. You found it wiser and more delicious -to retain all knowledge of her loveliness for entirely private -consideration, and thus not be bothered with people’s illogical notion -that Melior was only a dream. - -For the memory of the Princess Melior’s loveliness did not depart as -Florian became older, and neither manhood nor marriage could put quite -out of mind the beauty that he had in childhood, however briefly, seen. -Other women came and in due season went. His wives indeed seemed to die -with a sort of uniform prematureness in which the considerate found -something of fatality: nor did the social conventions of the day permit -a Puysange to shirk amusing himself with yet other women. Florian -amused himself so liberally, once his father was dead, and the former -Prince de Lisuarte had succeeded to the major title and to his part of -the estates, that they of Bellegarde were grieved when it was known -that the fourth Duke of Puysange now planned to marry for the fifth -time. - -At Florian’s château of Bellegarde, affairs had sped very pleasantly -since the death of his last wife, and the packing off of his son to -Storisende. Storisende, by the old Duke’s will, had fallen to Raoul. -Affairs had sped so pleasantly, they said at Bellegarde, that it -seemed a deplorable risk for monseigneur to be marrying a woman who -might, conceivably, be forthwith trying to reclaim him from all -fashionable customs. Besides, he was upon this occasion marrying a -daughter of the house of Nérac, just as his brother the Chevalier had -done. And this was a ruiningly virtuous family, a positively dowdy -family who hardly seemed to comprehend—they said at Bellegarde,—that -we were now living in the modern world of 1723, and that fashions had -altered since the old King’s death. - -“For how long, little monster, will this new toy amuse you?” asked -Mademoiselle Cécile. It appears unfair here to record that at nine -o’clock in the morning they were not yet up and about the day’s duties, -without recording also, in palliation of such seeming laziness, that -there was no especial need to hurry, for all of mademoiselle’s trunks -had been packed overnight, and she was not to leave Bellegarde until -noon. - -“Parbleu, one never knows,” Florian replied, as he lay smiling lazily -at the smiling cupids who held up the bed-canopies. “It is a very -beautiful feature of my character that at thirty-five I am still the -optimist. When I marry I always believe the ceremony to begin a new and -permanent era.” - -“Oh, very naturally, since everywhere that frame of mind is considered -appropriate to a bridegroom.” The girl had turned her sleek brown head -a little, resting it more comfortably upon the pillow, and she regarded -Florian with appraising eyes. “My friend, in this, as in much else, I -find your subserviency to convention almost excessive. It becomes a -notorious mania with you to do nothing whatever without the backing of -logic and good precedent—” - -“My father, mademoiselle, impressed upon me a great while ago the -philosophy of these virtues.” - -“Yes, all that is very fine. Yet I at times suspect your logic and -your precedents to be in reality patched-up excuses for following the -moment’s whim: or else I seem to see you adjusting them, like colored -spectacles, to improve in your eyes the appearance of that which you -have in hand.” - -“Now you misjudge me, mademoiselle, with the ruthlessness of intimate -personal acquaintance—” - -“But indeed, indeed, those precedents which you educe are often rather -far-fetched. You are much too ready to refer us to the customs of the -Visigoths, or to cite the table-talk of Aristotle, or to appeal to the -rulings of Quintilian. It sounds well: I concede that. Yet these, and -the similar sonorous pedantries with which you are so glib to justify -your pranks, do not, my friend, let me assure you, seem always wholly -relevant to the conditions of modern life—” - -“My race descends from a most notable scholar, mademoiselle, and it -well may be the great Jurgen has bequeathed to me some flavor of his -unique erudition. For that I certainly need not apologize—” - -“No, you should rather apologize because that ancient hero appears -also to have bequeathed to you a sad tendency to self-indulgence in -matrimony. Now to get married has always seemed to me an indelicate -advertising of one’s intentions: and I assuredly cannot condone in -anybody a selfish habit which to-day leads to my being turned out of -doors—” - -“A pest! you talk as if I too did not sincerely regret those social -conventions which make necessary your departure—” - -“Yet it is you who evoke those silly conventions by marrying again.” - -“—But in a grave matter like matrimony one must not be obstinate -and illiberal. Raoul assures me, you conceive, that his little -sister-in-law is a delightful creature. He thinks that as a co-heiress -of Nérac, without any meddlesome male relatives, she is the person -logically suited to be my wife. And I like to indulge the dear fellow’s -wishes.” - -“Behold a fine sample of your indulgence of others, by marrying a -great fortune! After all, though,” Cécile reflected, philosophically, -“I would not change shoes with her. For it is not wholesome, my -friend, to be your wife. But it has been eminently pleasant to be your -playfellow.” - -Florian smiled. And Florian somewhat altered his position. - -“_Bels dous amicx_,” sang Florian, softly, “_fassam un joc novel—!_” - -“I must ask for some explanation of, at least,” Cécile stated, with -that light, half-muffled laugh which Florian found adorable, “your -words.” - -“I was about to sing, mademoiselle, a very ancient aubade. I was -beginning a morning-song such as each lover in the days of troubadours -was used, here in Poictesme, to sing to his mistress at arising.” - -“So that, now you are, as I perceive, arising, you plan to honor the -old custom? That is well enough for you, who are a Duke of Puysange, -and who have so much respect for precedent and logic. But I am not -logical, I am, as you can see, a woman. Moreover, I am modern in all, -I abhor antiquity. I find it particularly misplaced in a bedroom. And -so, my friend, I must entreat you, whatever you do, not to sing any of -those old songs, which may, for anything I know, have some improper -significance.” - -Florian humored this young lady’s rather strict notions of propriety, -and they for a while stopped talking. Then they parted with a friendly -kiss, and they dressed each for travelling: and Mademoiselle -Cécile rode south upon a tentative visit to Cardinal Borgia, whose -proffered benefactions had thus far been phrased with magniloquence -and vagueness. This fair girl had the religious temperament, and she -delighted in submitting herself to her spiritual fathers, but she -required some daily comforts also. - -Florian next sent for the boy Gian Paolo, who had now for seven months -been Florian’s guest. “I am marrying,” said Florian. “We must part, -Gian Paolo.” - -“Do you think so?” the boy said. “Ah, but you would regret me!” - -“Regretting would become a lost art if people did not sometimes do -their duty. Now that I am about to take a wife, you comprehend, I -shall for the while be more or less pre-empted by my bride. It is -unlikely that I shall be able, at all events during the first ardors -of the honeymoon, to entertain my friends with any adequacy. Let us -be logical, dear Gian Paolo! I find no fault in you, beloved boy, I -concede you to be fit friend for an emperor. It is merely that the -advent of my new duchess now compels me to ensure the privacy of our -honeymoon by parting, however regretfully, with Mademoiselle Cécile and -with you also.” - -“Your decision does not surprise me, Florian, for they say that you -have parted with many persons who loved you, and who left you—” - -“Yes?” said Florian. - -“—Very suddenly—” - -“Yes?” Florian said, again. - -“—And yet without their departure surprising you at all, dear Florian.” - -“Oh, it is merely that in moments of extreme anguish I attempt to -control my emotions, and to give them no undignified display,” said -Florian. “Doubtless, I was as surprised as anybody. Well, but this -foolish gossip of this very censorious neighborhood does not concern -us, Gian Paolo: and, now that you too are about to go, I can assure you -that all your needs”—here for an instant Florian hesitated,—“have been -provided for.” - -“Indeed, I see that you have wine set ready. Is it”—and the boy smiled -subtly, for he was confident of his power over Florian,—“is it my -stirrup-cup, dear Florian?” - -Florian now looked full upon him. “Yes,” Florian said, rather sadly. -Then they drank, but not of the same wine, to the new Duchess of -Puysange. And the boy Gian Paolo died without pain. - -“It is better so,” said Florian. “Time would have spoiled your beauty. -Time would have spoiled your joy in life, Gian Paolo, and would have -shaken your fond belief that I was your slave in everything. Time lay -in wait to travesty this velvet chin with a harsh beard, to waken harsh -doubtings in the merry heart, and to abate your lovely perversities -with harsh repentance. For time ruins all, but you escape him, dear -Gian Paolo, unmarred.” - -Now Florian was smiling wistfully, for he found heartache in this -thinking of the evanescence of beauty everywhere, and heartache too in -thinking of the fate of that charming old lady, La Tophania, who had -been so kind to him in Naples. For Florian could rarely make use of -her recipes without recollecting how cruelly the mob had dealt with -his venerable instructress: that was, he knew, a sentimental side to -his nature, which he could never quite restrain. So he now thought -sadly of this stately old-world gentlewoman, so impiously dragged from -a convent and strangled, now four years ago, because of her charity -toward those who were afflicted by the longevity of others. Yes, life -was wasteful, sparing nobody, not even one who was so wise and amiable -as La Tophania, nor so lovable as Gian Paolo. The thought depressed -him: such wastefulness was illogical: and it seemed to Florian, too, -that this putting of his household into fit order for the reception of -his bride was not wholly a merry business. - -Then Florian, stroking the dead hand which was as yet soft and warm, -said gently: “And though I have slain you, dear Gian Paolo, rather -than see you depart from me to become the friend of another, and -perhaps to talk with him indiscreetly after having learned more about -me than was wise, I have at worst not offended against convention, -nor have I run counter to the fine precedents of the old time. Just -so did the great Alexander deal with his Clitus, and Hadrian with -his Antinous; nor did divine Apollo give any other parting gift to -Hyacinthos, his most dear friend. Now the examples afforded us by -ancient monarchs and by the heathen gods should not, perhaps, be -followed blindly. Indeed, we should in logic remember always that all -these were pagans, unsustained by the promptings of true faith, and -therefore liable to err. None the less, they at least establish an -arguable precedent, they afford people of condition something to go by: -and to have that is a firm comfort.” - -He kissed the dead lips fondly; and he bade his lackeys summon Father -Joseph to bury Gian Paolo, with due ceremony, in the Chapel, next to -Florian’s wives. - -“We obey. Yet, it will leave room for no more graves,” one told him, -“in the alcove wherein monseigneur’s wives are interred.” - -“That is true. You are an admirable servant, Pierre, you think -logically of all things. Do you bury the poor lad in the south -transept.” - -Then Florian took wine and wafers into the secret chamber which nobody -else cared to enter, and he made sure that everything there was in -order. All these events happened on the feast day of St. Swithin of -Winchester, which falls upon the fifteenth of July: and on that same -day Florian left Bellegarde, going to meet his new wife, and traveling -alone, toward Storisende. - - - - -_4._ - -_Economics of an Old Race_ - - -Florian rode alone, spruce and staid in a traveling suit of -bottle-green and silver, riding upon a tall white horse, riding toward -Storisende, where his betrothed awaited him, and where the wedding -supper was already in preparation. He went by the longer route, so -that he might put up a prayer, for the success of his new venture into -matrimony, at the church of Holy Hoprig. Nobody was better known nor -more welcome at this venerable shrine than was Florian, for the Duke of -Puysange had spared nothing to evince his respect for the fame and the -favorable opinion of his patron saint. Whether in the shape of candles -or a handsome window, or a new chapel or an acre or two of meadow -land, Florian was always giving for the greater glory of that bright -intercessor who in heaven, Florian assumed, was tactfully suggesting -that such generosity should not be overlooked. So it was that Florian -kept his accounts balanced, his future of a guaranteeable pleasantness, -and his conscience clear. - -Having prayed for the success of this new marriage and for the -soul of Gian Paolo, and having confessed to all the last month’s -irregularities, Florian went eastward. He passed Amneran and a spur of -the great forest, now that he went to ford the Duardenez. As he neared -Acaire he thought, idly, and with small shrugs, of a boy’s adventuring -to the sleeping princess in the midst of these woods, and of the beauty -which he had not ever forgotten utterly: and his heart was troubled -with that worshipful and hopeless longing which any thinking about this -Melior would always evoke in Florian, because he knew that his “dream,” -as people would call it, was a far more true and vital thing than -Florian’s daily living. - -Then on a sudden he reined up his horse, and Florian waited there, -looking down upon the dark woman who had come out of this not -over-wholesome forest. Florian did not speak for some while, but he -smiled, and he shook his head in a sort of humorous disapprobation. - -This woman was his half-sister, whom Florian’s father had begotten, -with the co-operation of the bailiff of Ranec’s daughter, some while -before middle age and the coming into extreme fashion of continence -had made such escapades criticizable. Marie-Claire Cazaio was thus -of an age with Florian, being his senior by only three months. In -their shared youth these two had not been strangers, for the old Duke -had handsomely recognized his responsibility for this daughter, and -had kept Marie-Claire about his household until the girl had outraged -propriety by bearing an illegitimate child. After this the Duke had no -choice except to turn her out of doors. She had since then taken up -with companions whose repute was not even dubious: and her manner of -living was esteemed intemperate by the most broad-minded persons in -Poictesme, where sorcery was treated with all reasonable indulgence. - -“My dear,” said Florian, at last, still shaking his head, “I must tell -you, however little good it does, that there was another deputation of -peasants and declamatory grocers at me, only last week, to have you -seized and burned. You are too careless, Marie-Claire, about offending -against the notions of your neighbors. You should persuade your -unearthly lovers to curb their ardors until after dark. You should at -least induce them not to pass over Amneran in such shapes as frighten -your neighbors in the twilight, and so provoke their very natural -desire to burn you at broad noon.” - -“These little peasants will not burn me yet,” she answered. “My term -is not yet run out—” You saw that Marie-Claire was thinking of quite -other matters. She said, “So, they tell me, you are to marry again?” - -She had lifted to him now that half-pensive, half-blind staring which -he uneasily recognized. Florian had always under this woman’s gaze -the illogical feeling that, where he was, Marie-Claire saw some one -else, or, to be exact, saw some one a slight distance behind him. Her -eyes could not be black. Florian knew that nobody’s eyes were really -black. But this woman’s small eyes were very dark, they had such -extraordinarily thick lashes upon both upper and lower lids, that these -little eyes most certainly seemed blobs of infernal ink. There was in -his sister’s eyes a discomfortable knowingness. Puysange looked at -Puysange. - -He answered, quietly, “Yes, Mademoiselle de Nérac is now about to make -me the happiest of men.” - -“Unhappy child! for she too is flesh and blood.” - -“And what does that anatomical truism signify when it is so cryptically -uttered, Marie-Claire?” - -“It means that you and I are not enamored of flesh and blood.” - -Florian did not reply to this in words. But he smiled at his -half-sister, for he was really fond of her, even now, and they -understood each other excellently. - -So he stayed silent, still looking at her. By and by he said: “You come -out of a wood that is not often visited by abbots and cherubim, and you -carry a sieve and shears. Who is yonder?” - -Marie-Claire replied, “How should I know the real name of the adversary -of all the gods of men?” - -“Pardieu!” said Florian, “so it is company of such sinister grandeur -that you entertain nowadays. You progress, my sister, toward a truly -notable damnation.” - -“In these parts, to be sure, they call him Janicot—” - -“Yes, I know,” said Florian, “and, certainly, his local name does not -matter in the least.” Florian smiled benevolently, and said, “Good luck -to you, my dear!” - -Then he rode on, into the pathway from which Marie-Claire had just -emerged. He was interested, for it might well be rather amusing to -overtake this whispered-about Janicot in the midst of his sombre work: -but, even so, the thoughts of Florian were not wholly given over to -Janicot, or to Marie-Claire either. Instead, he was still thinking of -the sleeping woman’s face which he had not ever forgotten utterly: and -this dark sullen sister of his—who had once been so pretty too, he -recollected,—and all her injudicious traffic seemed, somehow, rather -futile. - -No, he reflected, Marie-Claire was not pretty now. Her neck remained -wonderful: it was still the only woman’s neck familiar to Florian that -really justified comparison with a swan’s neck by its unusual length -and roundness and flexibility. But her head was too small for that -superb neck: she had taken on the dusky pallor of a Puysange: she was, -in fine, thirty-five, and looked rather older. It showed you what -irregular and sorcerous living might lead to. Florian at thirty-five -looked—at most, he estimated,—twenty-eight. Yes: it was much more -sensible to adhere to precedent, and to keep all one’s accounts in -order, through St. Hoprig’s loving care, and to retain overhead a -thrifty balance in one’s favor. - - - - -_5._ - -_Friendly Advice of Janicot_ - - -When he had entered a little way into Acaire, Florian came to an open -place, where seven trees had been hewn down. A brown horse was tethered -here, and here seven lilies bloomed with a surprising splendor of -white and gold. These stood waist-high about a sedate looking burgess, -unostentatiously but very neatly dressed in some brown stuff, which -was just the color of his skin. At his feet was a shrub covered with -crimson flowers: no sun shone here, the sky was clouded and cast down a -coppery glow. - -Such was Janicot. Florian saluted him, quite civilly, but with -appropriate reserve. - -“Come,” Janicot said, smiling, “and is this the rapturous countenance -of a bridegroom? I am not pleased with you, Monsieur the Duke, I must -have happy faces among my friends.” - -“So you also have heard of my approaching marriage! Well, I am content -enough, and for me to marry the co-heiress of Nérac seems logical: -but in logic, too, I cannot ignore that I ride toward a disappointing -business. There is magic in the curiously clothed woman who is -mistress of herself, the hour and you: but the prostrate, sweating and -submissive meat in a tangle of bed-clothing—!” Florian shrugged. - -“In fact,” said Janicot, as if pensively, “I have observed you. You -do not enter wholly into the pleasures suitable for men and women: -you do not avoid these agreeabilities, but your sampling of them is -without self-surrender, and there is something else which you hold more -desirable.” - -“That is true.” Florian for an instant meditated. Florian shrugged. -Then Florian dismounted from his white horse, and tethered it. Here was -the one being in whom you might confide logically. Florian told Janicot -the story of how, in childhood, Florian had ascended to the high place, -and had seen the Princess Melior, whom always since that time his heart -had desired. - -And Janicot heard him through, with some marks of interest. Janicot -nodded. - -“Yes, yes,” said Janicot. “I do not frequent high places. But I have -heard of this Melior, from men a long while dead, and they said that -she was beautiful.” - -“Then they spoke foolishly,” replied Florian, “because they spoke -with pitiable inadequacy. Now I do not say that she is beautiful. I do -not speak any praise whatever of Melior, because her worth is beyond -all praising. I am silent as to the unforgotten beauty of Melior, -lest I cry out against that which I love. When I was but a child her -loveliness was revealed to me, and never since then have I been able to -forget the beauty of which all dreams go envious. I jest with women who -are lovable and nicely colored; they have soft voices, and their hearts -are kind: but presently I yawn and say they are not as Melior.” - -“Ah, but in fact,” said Janicot, “in fact, you do—without caring to -commit yourself formally,—believe that this Melior is beautiful?” - -Now Florian’s plump face was altered, and his voice shook a little. He -said: - -“Her beauty is that beauty which women had in the world’s youth, and -whose components the old world forgets in this gray age. It may be that -Queen Helen possessed such beauty, she for whom the long warring was. -It may be that Cleopatra of Egypt, who had for her playmates emperors -and a gleaming snake, and for her lovers all poets that have ever -lived, or it may be that some other royal lady of the old time, in -the world’s youth, wore flesh that was the peer of Melior’s flesh in -loveliness. But such women, if there indeed was ever Melior’s peer, -are now vague echoes and blown dust. I cry the names that once were -magic. I cry to Semiramis and to Erigonê and to Guenevere, and there is -none to answer. Their beauty has gone down into the cold grave, it has -nourished grasses, and cattle chew the cud which was their loveliness. -Therefore I cry again, I cry the name of Melior: and though none -answers, I know that I cry upon the unflawed and living beauty which my -own eyes have seen.” - - -[Illustration: - Caption surrounded by a garland: - She waited—there was the miracle— - for FLORIAN DE PUYSANGE. - _See page 75_ - The image] - - -Janicot sat on a tree-stump, stroking his chin with thumb and -fore-finger. He was entirely brown, with white and gold about him, and -the flowering at his neatly shod feet was more red than blood. He said: - -“In that seeing, denied to all other living persons,—in that, at least, -you have been blessed.” - -“In that,” said Florian, bitterly, “I was accursed. Because of this -beauty which I may not put out of mind, the tinsel prettiness of other -women becomes grotesque and pitiable and hateful. I strive to mate with -them, and I lie lonely in their arms. I seek for a mate, and I find -only meat and much talking. Then I regard the tedious stranger in whose -arms I discover myself, and I wonder what I am doing in this place. I -remember Melior, and I must rid myself of the fond foolish creature who -is not as Melior.” - -“Ah, ah!” said Janicot then, “so that is how it is. I perceive you -are a romantic. The disorder is difficult to cure. Yet we must have -you losing no more wives: there must be an end to the ill luck which -follows your matrimonial adventures and causes hypercritical persons -to whisper. Yes, since you are a romantic, since all other women upset -your equanimity and lead you into bereavements which people, let me -tell you, are festooning with ugly surmises, you certainly must have -this Melior.” - -“No,” Florian said, wistfully, “there is an etiquette in these matters. -Even if I cared to dabble in sorcery, it would not be quite courteous -for me to interfere with the magic which Madame Mélusine has laid upon -the high place and her blood relations. It would be meddling in her -family affairs, it would be an incivility without precedent, to her who -was so kind to me in my childhood.” - -“You think too much about precedent, Monsieur the Duke. In any event, -Mélusine has half forgotten the matter. So much has happened to her, in -the last several hundred years, that her mind has quite gone. She cares -only to wail upon battlements and to pass through dusky corridors at -twilight, predicting the deaths of her various descendants. You can see -for yourself that these are not the recreations of a logical person. -No, Florian, you are considerate, and it does you great credit, but -you would not annoy Madame Mélusine by releasing Brunbelois.” - -Said Florian, gently: “My intimates, to be sure, address me as Florian. -But our acquaintance, Monsieur Janicot, however delightful, remains as -yet of such brevity that, really, whether you be human or divine—” - -“Oh, but, Monsieur the Duke,” replied the other, “but indeed I entreat -your pardon for my inadvertence.” - -And Florian too bowed. “It is merely a social convention, of course. -Yet it is necessary to respect the best precedents even in trifles. -Well, now, and as to your suggestion, I confess you tempt me—” - -“Only, you could not free Brunbelois unaided, nor could any living -sorcerer. For Mélusine’s was the Old Magic that is stronger than the -thin thaumaturgy of these days. Yet I desire to have happy faces about -me, so I will give you this Melior for a while.” - -“And at what price?” - -“I who am the Prince of this World am not a merchant to buy and sell. -I will release the castle, and you may have the girl as a free gift. I -warn you, though, that, since she is of the Léshy, at the year’s end -she will vanish.” - -Florian shook his head, smilingly. He knew of course that marriage -with one of the Léshy could not be permanent. But this fiend must -believe him very simple indeed, if Janicot thought Florian so -uninformed as not to know that whoever accepts a gift from hell is -thereby condemned to burn eternally: and to perceive this amused -Florian. - -“Ah, Monsieur Janicot, but a Puysange cannot take alms from anybody. -No, let us be logical! There must be a price set and paid, so that I -may remain under no distasteful and incendiary debts.” - -Janicot hid excellently the disappointment he must have felt. “Then -suppose we fix it that she is yours until you have had a child by her? -And that then she will vanish, and that then the child is to be given -me, as my honorarium, by”—Janicot explained,—“the old ritual.” - -“Well,” Florian replied, “I may logically take this to be a case of -desperate necessity, since all my happiness depends upon it. Now in -such cases Paracelsus admits the lawfulness of seeking aid from—if -you will pardon the technical term, Monsieur Janicot,—from unclean -spirits. He is supported in this, as I remember it, by Peter Ærodius, -by Bartolus of Sassoferato, by Salecitus, and by other divines and -schoolmen. So I have honorable precedents, I do not offend against -convention. Yes, I accept the offer; and the child, whatever my -paternal pangs, shall be given, as your honorarium, by the old ritual.” - -“Of course,” said Janicot, reflectively, “if there should be no child—” - -“Monsieur, I am Puysange. There will be a child.” - -“Why, then, it is settled. Now I think of it, you will need the sword -Flamberge with which to perform this rite, since Melior is of the -Léshy, and that sword alone of all swords may spill their blood—” - -“But where is Flamberge nowadays?” - -“There is one at home, in an earthen pot, who could inform you.” - -“Let us not speak of that,” said Florian, hastily, “but do you tell me -where is this sword.” - -“I have no notion as to the present whereabouts of Flamberge. Nor, -since you stickle for etiquette, is it etiquette for me to aid you in -finding this sword until you have made me a sacrifice.” - -“Why, but you offered Melior as a free gift!” said Florian, smiling to -see how obvious were the traps this Janicot set for him. “Is a princess -of smaller importance than a sword?” - -“A princess is easier to get, because a princess is easier to make. -A sword, far less a magic sword like Flamberge, cannot be fashioned -without long training and preparation and special knowledge. But no -man needs more than privacy and a queen’s goodwill to make a princess.” - -“I confess, Monsieur Janicot, that your logic is indisputable. Well, -when at the winter solstice you hold your Festival of the Wheel, I -shall not sacrifice to you. That would be to relapse into the old -evil ways of heathenry, a relapse for which is appointed an agonizing -reproof, administered in realms unnecessary to mention, but doubtless -familiar to you. However, I shall be glad to tender you a suitable -Christmas present, since that sacred season falls at the same time.” - -“You may call it whatever you prefer. But it must be a worthy gift that -one offers me at my Yule Feast.” - -“You shall have—not as a sacrifice, you understand, but as a Christmas -present,—the greatest man living in France. You shall have no less a -gift than the life of that weasel-faced prime-minister who now rules -France, the all-powerful Cardinal Dubois. For the rest, your bargain -is reasonable: it contains none of those rash mortgagings of the -soul, about which—if you will pardon my habitual frankness, Monsieur -Janicot,—one has to be careful in all business dealings with your -people. So let us subscribe this bond.” - -Janicot laughed: his traffic was not in souls, he said; and he said -also that Florian, for a nobleman, was deplorably the man of business. -None the less, Janicot now produced from his pocket a paper upon which -the terms of their bargain happened, rather unaccountably, to be neatly -written out: and they both signed this paper, with the pens and ink -which Florian had not previously noticed to be laid there so close at -hand, upon one of the tree-stumps. - -Then Janicot put up the paper, and remarked: “A thing done has an end. -For the rest, these fellows will escort you to Brunbelois.” - -“And of what fellows do you speak?” asked Florian. - -“Why, those servants of mine just behind you,” replied Janicot. - -And Florian, turning, saw in the roadway two very hairy persons in an -oxcart, drawn by two brown goats which were as large as oxen; and yet -Florian was certain no one of these things had been in that place an -instant before. This Janicot, however easy to see through had been his -traps for Florian, was beyond doubt efficient. - -Florian said: “The liveries of your retainers tend somewhat to the -capillary. None the less, I shall be deeply honored, monsieur, to be -attended by any servants of your household.” - -Janicot replied: “Madame Mélusine has ordained against men and the -living of mankind eternal banishment from the high place. Very well!” - -He drew his sword, and without any apparent effort he struck off the -head of his brown horse. He set this head upon a stake, and he thrust -the other end of the stake into the ground, so that the stake stood -upright. - -“I here set up,” said Janicot, “a nithing post. I turn the post. I turn -the eternal banishment against Madame Mélusine.” - -He waited for a moment. He was entirely brown: about him lilies -bloomed, with a surprising splendor of white and gold: and the -flowering at his feet was more red than blood. - -He moved the stake so that the horse’s head now faced the east, and -Janicot said: “Also I turn this post against the protecting monsters -of the high place, in order that they may all become as witless as now -is this slain horse. I send a witlessness upon them from the nithing -post, which makes witless and takes away the strength of the rulers and -of the controlling gods of whatever land this nithing post be turned -against. I, who am what I am, have turned the post. I have sent forth -the Seeing of All, the Seeing that makes witless. A thing done has an -end.” - - - - -_6._ - -_Philosophy of the Lower Class_ - - -Florian parted from brown Janicot for that while, and mounted his -white horse, and rode upward toward the castle of Brunbelois, without -further thought of the girl at Storisende whom logic had picked out -to be his wife. Florian was followed by the oxcart which Janicot had -provided. Florian found all the monsters lying in a witless stupor. -So he fearlessly set upon and killed the black bleps and the crested -strycophanês and the gray calcar. - -He passed on upward, presently to decapitate the eale, which writhed -its movable horns very remarkably in dying. Florian went on intrepidly, -and despatched the golden-maned and-whiskered leucrocotta. The -tarandus, farther up the road, proved more troublesome: this monster -had, after its sly habit, taken on the coloring of the spot in which it -lay concealed, so that it was hard to find; and, when found, its hide -was so tough as to resist for some while the edge of Florian’s sword. -The thin and flabby neck of the catoblepas was in contrast gratifyingly -easy to sever. Indeed, this was in all respects a contemptible monster, -dingily colored, and in no way formidable now that its eyes were shut. - -Florian’s heroic butchery was well-nigh over: so he passed on cheerily -to the next turn in the road; and in that place a moment later the -bright red mantichora was impotently thrusting out its sting in the -death agony, a sudden wind came up from the west, and the posture of -the sun was changed. - -Having dauntlessly performed these unmatched feats, the champion paused -to reward himself with a pinch of snuff. The lid of his snuff-box bore -the portrait of his dear friend and patron, Philippe d’Orléans, and -it seemed odd to be regarding familiar features in these mischancy -uplands. Then Florian, refreshed, looked about him. Three incredibly -weather-beaten sheep were grazing to his right: to the left he saw, -framed by the foliage upon each side of and overhanging the green -roadway, the castle of Brunbelois. - -Thus one by one did Florian cut off the heads of the seven wardens, -with real regret—excepting only when he killed the catoblepas,—that his -needs compelled him to destroy such colorful and charming monsters. -The two remarkably hairy persons, without ever speaking, lifted each -enormous head, one by one, into the cart. The party mounted within -eyeshot of Brunbelois thus triumphantly. And at Brunbelois, where the -old time yet lingered, the hour was not afternoon but early morning: -and at the instant Florian slew the mantichora all the persons within -the castle had awakened from what they thought was one night’s resting. - -Now the first of the awakened Peohtes whom Florian encountered was a -milkmaid coming down from Brunbelois with five cows. What Florian could -see of her was pleasurably shaped and tinted. He looked long at her. - -“To pause now for any frivolous reason,” reflected Florian, “or to -disfigure in any way the moment in which I approach my life’s desire, -is of course unthinkable—” - -Meanwhile the milkmaid looked at Florian. She smiled, and her naturally -high coloring was heightened. - -“—So I do not pause for frivolous reasons. I pause because one must be -logical. For, now that I think of it, to rescue people from enchantment -is a logical proceeding only when one is certain that this rescuing -involves some positive gain to the world. Do you drive on a little -way, and wait for me,” said Florian, aloud, to his hirsute attendants, -“while I discover from this enticing creature what sort of persons we -have resurrected.” - -The hairy servants of Janicot obeyed. Florian, very spruce in -bottle-green and silver, dismounted from his white horse, and in the -ancient roadway now overgrown with grass, held amicable discourse with -this age-old milkmaid. She proved at bottom not wholly unsophisticated. -And when they parted, each had been agreeably convinced that the -persons of one era are much like those of another. - -Florian thus came to the gates of Brunbelois logically reassured -that he had done well in reviving such persons, even at the cost of -destroying charming monsters and of the labor involved in removing so -many heads. He counted smilingly on his finger-tips, but such was his -pleased abstraction that he miscalculated, and made the total eight. - -He found that, now the enchantment was lifted, Brunbelois showed in -every respect as a fine old castle of the architecture indigenous -to fairy tales. Flags were flying from the turrets; sentinels, -delightfully shiny in the early morning sunlight, were pacing the -walls, on the look-out for enemies that had died many hundred years -ago; and at the gate was a night-porter, not yet off duty. This porter -wore red garments worked with yellow thistles, and he seemed dejected -but philosophic. - -“Whence come you, in those queer dusty clothes?” inquired the porter, -“and what is your business here?” - -“Announce to King Helmas,” said Florian, as he brushed the dust from -his bottle-green knees, and saw with regret that nothing could be done -about the grass-stains, which, possibly, had got there when he knelt to -cut off the tarandus’ head,—“announce to King Helmas that the lord of -Puysange is at hand.” - -“You are talking, sir,” the porter answered, resignedly, “most -regrettable nonsense. For the knife is in the collops, the mead is in -the drinking-horn, the eggs are upon the toast, the minstrels are in -the gallery, and King Helmas is having breakfast.” - -“None the less, I have important business with him—” - -“Equally none the less, nobody may enter at this hour unless he is -the son of a king of a privileged country or a craftsman bringing his -craft.” - -“Parbleu, but that is it, precisely. For I bring in that wagon very -fine samples of my craft.” - -The porter left his small grilled lodge. He looked at the piled heads -of the monsters, he poked them with his finger, and he said mildly, -“Why, but did you ever!” Then he returned to the gate. - -“Now, my friend,” said Florian, with the appropriate stateliness, “I -charge you, by all the color and ugliness of these samples of my craft, -to announce to your king that the lord of Puysange is at the gate with -tidings, and with proof, that the enchantment is happily lifted from -this castle.” - -“So there has been an enchantment. I suspected something of the sort -when I came to, after nodding a bit like in the night, and noticed the -remarkably thick forest that had grown up everywhere around us.” - -Florian observed, to this degraded underling who seemed not capable of -appreciating Florian’s fine exploits, “Well, certainly you take all -marvels very calmly.” - -The sad porter replied that, with a reigning family so given to high -temper and sorcery, the retainers of Brunbelois were not easily -astounded. Something in the shape of an enchantment had been predicted -in the kitchen last night, he continued, after the notable quarrel -between Madame Mélusine and her father. - -“My friend,” said Florian, “that was not last night. You speak of a -disastrous family jar in which the milk of human kindness curdled -several centuries ago. Since then there has been an enchantment laid -upon Brunbelois: and the spell was lifted only to-day.” - -“Do you mean, sir, that I am actually several hundred and fifty-two -years old?” - -“Somewhere in that November neighborhood,” said Florian. And he steeled -himself against the other’s outburst of horror and amazement. - -“To think of that now!” said the porter. “I certainly never imagined it -would come to that. However, it is always a great comfort to reflect it -hardly matters what happens to us, is it not, sir?” - -You could not but find, in this stubborn unwillingness to face the -magnitude of Florian’s exploits, something horribly prosaic and -callous. Yet, none the less, Florian civilly asked the man’s meaning. -And the dejected porter replied: - -“It is just a sort of fancying, sir, that one wanders into after -watching the stars, as I do in the way of business, night after night. -One gets to reading them and to a sort of glancing over of the story -that is written in their courses. Yes, sir, one does fall into the -habit, injudiciously perhaps, but then there is nothing else much -to do. And one does not find there quite, as you might put it, the -excitement over the famousness of kings and the ruining of empires -that one might reasonably look for. And one does not find anything at -all there about porters, I can assure you, sir, because they are not -important enough to figure in that story. There is no more writing in -the stars about night-porters than there is about bumble-bees; and that -is always a great comfort, sir, when one feels low-spirited. Because -I would not care to be in that story, myself, for it is not light -pleasant reading.” - -“A pest! so you inform me, with somewhat the gay levity of an oyster, -that you can read the stars!” - -The porter admitted dolefully, “One does come to it, sir, in my way of -business.” - -“And how many chapters, I wonder, are written in the heavens about me?” - -The porter looked at Florian for some while. The porter said, now even -more dolefully: “I would not be surprised if there was a line somewhere -about you, sir. For your planet is Venus, and her people do get written -about in an excessive way, there is no denying it. And I would not care -to be one of them, myself, but of course there is no accounting for -tastes, even if anybody anywhere had any say in the matter.” - -“Parbleu, you may be right about my planet,” said Florian, smiling for -reasons of his own. “Yet, as an artless veteran of the first and second -Pubic Wars, I do not see how you can be certain.” - -“Because of your corporature, sir,” replied the porter. “He that is -born under this planet is of fair but not tall stature, his complexion -being white but tending a little to darkness. He has fine black hair, -the brows arched, the face pretty fleshy, a cherry lip, a rolling -wandering eye. He has a love-dimple in his cheek, and shows in all -as one desirous of trimming and making himself neat and complete in -clothes and body. Now these things I see in your corporature and in the -fretfulness with which you look at the grass-stains on your knees. So -your planet is evident.” - -“That is possible, your speech has a fine ring of logic, and logic -is less common than hens’ teeth. Upon what sort of persons does this -honorable planet attend?” - -“If you could call it attending, sir—For I must tell you that these -planets have a sad loose way of not devoting their really undivided -attention to looking after the affairs of any one particular gentleman, -not even when they see him most magnificent in bottle-green and silver.” - -“They are as remiss, then, as you are precise. So do you choose your -own verb, and tell me—” - -“Sir,” replied the porter, “I regret to inform you that the person whom -Venus governs is riotous, expensive, wholly given to dissipation and -lewd companies of women and boys. He is nimble in entering unlawful -beds, he is incestuous, he is an adulterer, he is a mere skip-jack, -spending all his means among scandalous loose people: and he is in -nothing careful of the things of this life or of anything religious.” - -Florian brightened. “That also sounds quite logical,—in the main,—for -you describe the ways of the best-thought-of persons since the old -King’s death. And one of course endeavors not to offend against the -notions of one’s neighbors by seeming a despiser of accepted modes. -But I must protest to you, my friend, you are utterly wrong in the -article of religion—” - -“Oh, if you come hither to dispute about religion,” said the porter, -“the priests of Llaw Gyffes will attend to you. They love converting -people from religious errors, bless you, with their wild horses and -their red-hot irons. But, for one, I never argue about religion. You -conceive, sir, there is an entire chapter devoted to the subject, in -the writing we were just talking over: and I have read that chapter. So -I say nothing about religion. I like a bit of fun, myself: but when you -find it there, of all places, and on that scale—” Again the dejected -porter sighed. “However, I shall say no more. Instead, with your -permission, Messire de Puysange, I shall just step in, and send up your -news about the enchantment.” - -This much the porter did, and Florian was left alone to amuse himself -by looking about. Through the gateway he saw into a court paved with -cobble-stones. Upon each side of the gate was an octagonal granite -tower with iron-barred windows: each tower was three stories in height, -and the battlements were coped with some sort of bright red stone. - -Then Florian, for lack of other diversion, turned and looked idly down -the valley, toward Poictesme. There he saw something rather odd. A -mile-long bridge was flung across the west, and over it passed figures. -First came the appearance of a bear waddling upon his hind legs, -followed by an ape, and then by a huddled creature with long legs. -Florian saw also an unclothed woman, who danced as she went: over her -head fluttered a bird, and by means of a chain she haled after her a -sedentarily disposed pig. An incredibly old man followed, dressed in -faded blue, and he carried upon his arm an open basket. Last came a -shaggy dog, barking, it seemed, at all. - -These figures were like clouds in their station and in their -indeterminable coloring and vague outline, but their moving was not -like the drifting of clouds: it was the walking of living creatures. -Florian for an instant wondered as to the nature and the business -of these beings that were passing over and away from Poictesme. -He shrugged. He believed the matter to be no concern of one whose -interests overhead were all in the efficient hands of Holy Hoprig. - - - - -_7._ - -_Adjustments of the Resurrected_ - - -They brought Florian to Helmas the Deep-Minded, where the King sat -on a daīs with his Queen Pressina. The King was stately in scarlet -and ermine: his nose too was red, and to his crown was affixed the -Zhar-Ptitza’s silvery feather. Florian found his appearance far more -companionable than was that of the fat Queen (one of the water folk), -whose skin was faintly blue, and whose hair was undeniably green, and -whose little mouth seemed lost and discontented in her broad face. - -Beside them, but not upon the dark red daīs, sat the high-priest of -Llaw Gyffes, a fine looking and benevolent prelate, in white robes -edged with a purple pattern of quaint intricacies: he wore a wreath of -mistletoe about his broad forehead; and around and above this played a -pulsing radiancy. - -To these persons Florian told what had happened. When he had ended, -the Queen said she had never heard of such a thing in her life, that -it was precisely what she had predicted time and again, and that now -Helmas could see for himself what came of spoiling Mélusine, and -letting her have her own way about everything. The wise King answered -nothing whatever. - -But the high-priest of Llaw Gyffes asked, “And how did you lift this -strong enchantment?” - -“Monsieur, I removed it by the logical method of killing the seven -monsters who were its strength and symbol. That they are all quite -dead you can see for yourself,—if I may make so bold as to employ her -Majesty’s striking phrase,—by counting the assortment of heads which I -fetched hither with me.” - -“Yes, to be sure,” the priest admitted. “Seven is seven the world -over: everywhere it is a number of mystic potency. It follows that -seven severed heads must predicate seven corpses; and such proofs are -indisputable, as far as they go—” - -Still, he seemed troubled in his mind. - -Then Helmas, the wise King, said, “It is my opinion that the one way to -encounter the unalterable is to do nothing about it.” - -“Yes,” answered his wife, “and much that will help matters!” - -“Nothing, my dear,” said the wise King, “helps matters. All matters are -controlled by fate and chance, and these help themselves to what they -have need of. These two it is that have taken from me a lordship that -had not its like in the known world, and have made the palaces that -we used to be feasting in, it still seems only yesterday, just little -piles of rubbish, and have puffed out my famousness the way that when -any man gets impudent a widow does a lamp. These two it is that leave -me nothing but this castle and this crevice in the hills where the old -time yet lingers. And I accept their sending, because there is no armor -against it, but I shall keep up my dignity by not letting even fate and -chance upset me with their playfulness. Here the old time shall be as -it has always been, and here I shall continue to do what was expected -of me yesterday. And about other matters I shall not bother, but I -shall leave everything, excepting only my self-respect, to fate and -chance. And I think that Hoprig will agree with me it is the way a wise -man ought to be acting.” - -“Hoprig!” reflected Florian, looking at the halo. “But what the devil -is my patron saint doing here disguised as the high-priest of Llaw -Gyffes?” - -“I am thinking over some other matters,” replied Hoprig, to the King, -“and it is in my thinking that nobody could manage to kill so many -monsters, and to release us from our long sleeping, unless he was a -sorcerer. So Messire de Puysange must be a sorcerer, and that is very -awkward, with our torture-chamber all out of repair—” - -“Ah, monsieur,” said Florian, reproachfully, “and are these quite -charitable notions for a saint to be fostering? And, oh, monsieur, is -it quite fair for you to have been sleeping here this unconscionable -while, when you were supposed to be in heaven attending to the -remission of people’s sins?” - -Hoprig replied: “What choice had I or anybody else except to sleep -under the Nis magic? For the rest, I do not presume to say what a saint -might or might not think of the affair, because in our worship of Llaw -Gyffes of the Steady Hand—” - -“But I, monsieur, was referring to a very famous saint of the Christian -church, which has for some while counted the Dukes of Puysange among -its communicants, and is now our best-thought-of form of worship.” - -“Oh, the Christians! Yes, I have heard of them. Indeed I now remember -very well how Ork and Horrig came into these parts preaching everywhere -the remarkable fancies of that sect until I discouraged them in the way -which seemed most salutary.” - -Florian could make nothing of this. He said, “But how could you, of all -persons, have discouraged the spreading of Christianity?” - -“I discouraged them with axes,” the saint replied, “and with -thumbscrews, and with burning them at the stake. For it really does -not pay to be subtle in dealing with people of that class: and you -have to base your appeal to their better nature upon quite obvious -arguments.” - -“My faith, then, how it came about I cannot say, Monsieur Hoprig; but -for hundreds upon hundreds of years you have been a Christian saint.” - -“Dear me!” observed the saint, “so that must be the explanation of -this halo. I noticed it of course. Still, our minds have been rather -pre-empted since we woke up—But, dear me, now, I am astounded, -and I know not what to say. I do say, though, that this is quite -extraordinary news for you to be bringing a well-thought-of high-priest -of Llaw Gyffes.” - -“Nevertheless, monsieur, for all that you have never been anything but -a high-priest of the heathen, and a persecutor of the true faith, I can -assure you that you have, somehow, been canonized. And I am afraid that -during the long while you have been asleep your actions must have been -woefully misrepresented. Monsieur,” said Florian, hopefully, “at least, -though, was it not true about your being in the barrel?” - -“Why, but how could ever you,” the saint marveled, “have heard about -that rain-barrel? The incident, in any case, has been made far -too much of. You conceive, it was merely that the man came home -most unexpectedly; and since all husbands are at times and in some -circumstances so unreasonable—” - -“Ah, monsieur,” said Florian, shaking his head, “I am afraid you do not -speak of quite the barrel which is in your legend.” - -“So I have a legend! Why, how delightful! But come,” said the saint, -abeam with honest pleasure, and with his halo twinkling merrily, “come, -be communicative; be copious, and tell me all about myself.” - -Then Florian told Hoprig of how, after Hoprig’s supposed death, -miracles had been worked at Hoprig’s putative tomb, near Gol, and this -legend and that legend had grown up around his memory, and how these -things had led to Hoprig’s being canonized. And Florian alluded also, -with perfect tact but a little ruefully, to those fine donations he -had been giving, year in and year out, to the Church of Holy Hoprig, -under the impression that all the while the saint had been, instead of -snoring at Brunbelois, looking out for Florian’s interests in heaven. -And Hoprig now seemed rather pensive, and he inquired particularly -about his tomb. - -“I shall take this,” the saint said, at last, “to be the fit reward -of my tender-heartedness. The tomb near Gol of which you tell me is -the tomb in which I buried that Horrig about whom I was just talking, -after we had settled our difference of opinion as to some points of -theology. Ork was so widely scattered that any formal interment was -quite out of the question. My priests are dear, well-meaning fellows. -Still, you conceive, they are conscientious, and they enter with such -zeal into the performance of any manifest if painful duty—” - -Florian said: “They exhibited the archetypal zeal becoming to the -ministers of an established church in the defence of their vested -rights. They were, with primitive inadequacy, groping toward the -methods of our Holy Inquisition and of civilized prelates everywhere—” - -“—So they were quite tired out when we passed on to Horrig’s case. I -do not deny that I was perhaps unduly lenient about Horrig. It was the -general opinion that, tired as we were, this blasphemer against the -religious principles of our fathers ought to be burned at the stake, -and have his ashes scattered to the winds. But I was merciful. I had -eaten an extremely light breakfast. So I merely had him broken on the -wheel and decapitated, and we got through our morning’s work, after -all, in good time for dinner: and I gave him a very nice tomb indeed, -with his name on it in capital letters. Dear me!” observed Holy Hoprig, -with a marked increase of his benevolent smile, “but how drolly things -fall out! If the name had not been in capital letters, now, I would -probably never have been wearing this halo which surprised me so this -morning when I went to brush my hair—” - -“But what has happened?” said the Queen. - -“Why, madame,” replied the saint, “I take it that, with the passage -of years, the tail of the first R in the poor dear fellow’s name was -somewhat worn away. So when such miracles began to occur at his tomb -as customarily emanate from the tombs of martyrs to any faith which -later is taken up by really nice people, here were tangible and exact -proofs, to the letter, of the holiness of Hoprig. In consequence, this -Christian church has naturally canonized me.” - -“That was quite civil of them of course, if this is considered the -best-thought-of church. But, still,” the Queen said, doubtfully, “the -miracles must have meant that Horrig was right, and you were wrong.” - -“Certainly, madame, it would seem so, as a matter of purely academic -interest. For now that his church is so well-thought-of everywhere -and has canonized me, I must turn Christian, if only to show my -appreciation of the compliment. So there is no possible harm done.” - -“But in that case, it was Horrig that ought to have been made a saint -of.” - -“Now I, madame, for one, cherish humility too much to dare assert any -such thing. For the ways of Providence are proverbially inscrutable: -and it well may be that the abrasion of the tail of that R was also, -in its quiet way, a direct intervention of Heaven to reward my -mercifulness in according Horrig a comparatively pleasant martyrdom.” - -“Yes, but it was he, after all, who had to put up with that martyrdom, -on a dreadfully depressing rainy morning, too, I remember, whereas you -get sainthood out of the affair without putting up with anything.” - -“Do I not have to put up with this halo? How can I now hope to go -anywhere after dark without being observed? Ah, no, madame, I greatly -fear this canonization will cost me a host of friends by adorning -my visits with such conspicuous publicity. Nevertheless, I do not -complain. Instead, I philosophically recognize that well-bred women -must avoid all ostentation, and that the ways of Providence are -inscrutable.” - -“That is quite true,” observed King Helmas, at this point, “and I think -that nothing is to be gained by you two discussing these ways any more. -The poets and the philosophers in every place have for a long while -now had a heaviness in their minds about Providence, and the friendly -advice they have been giving is not yet all acted upon. So let us leave -Providence to look out for itself, the way we would if Providence -had wisdom teeth. And let us turn to other matters, and to hearing -what reward is asked by the champion who has rescued us from our long -sleeping.” - -“I too,” replied Florian, “if I may make so bold as to borrow the -phrase used by your Majesty just now—that phrase by which I was -immeasurably impressed, that phrase which still remains to me a -vocalisation of supreme wisdom in terms so apt and striking—” - -“Wisdom,” said the King, “was miraculously bestowed upon me a great -while ago as a free gift, which I had done nothing to earn and deserve -no credit for not having been able to avoid. And my way of talking, and -using similes and syntax,—along with phraseology and monostiches and -aposiopesis and such-like things,—is another gift, also, which I employ -without really noticing the astonishment and admiration of my hearers. -So do you not talk so much, but come to the point.” - -“I too, then, in your Majesty’s transcendent phrase, shall do what was -expected of me yesterday. I ask the hand of the King’s daughter in -marriage.” - -“That is customary,” wise Helmas said, with approval, “and you show a -very fine sense of courtesy in adhering to our perhaps old-fashioned -ways. Let the lord of Puysange be taken to his betrothed.” - - - - -_8._ - -_At the Top of the World_ - - -“You will find her,” they had said, “yonder,”—and, pointing westerly, -had left him. So Florian went unaccompanied through the long pergola -overgrown with grape-vines, toward the lone figure at the end of this -tunnel of rustling greenness and sweet odors. A woman waited there, in -an eight-sided summer-house, builded of widely-spaced lattice-work that -was hidden by vines. Through these vines you could see on every side -the fluttering bright gardens of Brunbelois, but no living creature. -This woman and Florian were alone in what was not unlike a lovely cage -of vines. Florian seemed troubled. It was apparent that he knew this -woman. - -“I am flesh and blood,” the woman said,—“as you may remember.” - -“Indeed, I have been singularly fortunate—But upon reflection, I -retract the adverb. I have been marvelously fortunate; and I have no -desire to forget it.” - -“She also, the girl yonder, is flesh and blood. You will be knowing -that before long.” - -Florian looked at this woman for some while. “Perhaps that is true. -I think it is not true. I have faith in the love which has endured -since I was but a child. If that fails me, I must die. And I shall die -willingly.” - -He bowed low to this woman, and he passed on, through the summer-house, -and out into the open air. He came thus to a wall, only breast high, -and opened the gate which was there, and so went on in full sunlight, -ascending a steepish incline that was overgrown with coarse grass and -with much white clover. Thus Florian came to the unforgotten princess -and to the beauty which he had in childhood, however briefly, seen. -There was in this bright and windy place, which smelled so pleasantly -of warm grass, nothing except a low marble bench without back or -carving. No trees nor any bushes grew here: nothing veiled this place -from the sun. Upon this sunlit mountain-top was only the bench, and -upon the bench sat Melior, waiting. - -She waited—there was the miracle,—for Florian de Puysange. - -Behind and somewhat below Florian were the turrets and banners of -Brunbelois, a place now disenchanted, but a fair place wherein the -old time yet lingered. Before him the bare hillside sank sheer and -unbroken, to the far-off tree-tops of Acaire: and beyond leagues of -foliage you could even see, not a great number of miles away, but quite -two miles below you, the open country of Poictesme, which you saw not -as anything real and tangible but as a hazed blending of purples and -of all the shades that green may have in heaven. Florian seemed to -stand at the top of the world: and with him, high as his heart, stood -Melior.... - -And it was a queer thing that he, who always noticed people’s clothes, -and who tended to be very critical about apparel, could never -afterward, in thinking about this extraordinary morning, recollect one -color which Melior wore. He remembered only a sense of many interwoven -brilliancies, as if the brightness of the summer sea and of the clouds -of sunset and of all the stars were blended here to veil this woman’s -body. She went appareled with the splendor of a queen of the old days, -she who was the most beautiful of women that have lived in any day. -For, if so far as went her body, one could think dazedly of analogues, -nowhere was there anything so bright and lovely as was this woman’s -countenance. And it was to the end that he might see the face of Melior -raised now to him, he knew, that Florian was born. All living had been -the prologue to this instant: God had made the world in order that -Florian might stand here, with Melior, at the top of the world. - -And it seemed to Florian that his indiscretions in the way of removing -people from this dear world, and of excursions into strange beds, and -of failures to attend mass regularly, had become alienate to the man -who waited before Melior. All that was over and done with: he had -climbed past all that in his ascent to this bright and windy place. -Here, in this inconceivably high place, was the loveliness seen once -and never forgotten utterly, the loveliness which had made seem very -cheap and futile the things that other men wanted. Now this loveliness -was, for the asking, his: and Florian found his composure almost -shaken, he suspected that the bearing suitable to a Duke of Puysange -was touched with unbecoming ardors. He feared that logic could not -climb so high as he had climbed. - -Besides, it might be, he had climbed too near to heaven. For nothing -veiled this unimaginably high place: God, seeing him thus plainly, -would be envious. That was the thought which Florian put hastily out of -mind.... - -He parted his lips once or twice. This was, he joyously reflected, -quite ridiculous. A woman waited: and Florian de Puysange could not -speak. Then words came, with a sort of sobbing. - -“My princess, there was a child who viewed you once in your long -sleeping. The child’s heart moved with desires which did not know their -aim. It is not that child who comes to you.” - -“No, but a very gallant champion,” she replied, “to whom we all owe our -lives.” - -He had raised a deprecating hand. It was trembling. And her face seemed -only a blurred shining, for in his eyes were tears. It must be, Florian -reflected, because of the wind: but he did not believe this, nor need -we. - -“Princess, will you entrust to me, such as I am, the life I have -repurchased for you? I dare make no large promises, in the teeth of a -disastrously tenacious memory. Yet, there is no part in me but worships -you, I have no desire in life save toward you. There has never been in -all my life any real desire save that which strove toward you.” - -“Oh, but, Messire Florian,” the girl replied, “of course I will be your -wife if you desire it.” - -He raised now both his hands a little toward her. She had not drawn -back. He did not know whether this was joy or terror which possessed -him: but it possessed him utterly. His heart was shaking in him, with -an insane and ruthless pounding. He thought his head kept time to this -pounding, and was joggling like the head of a palsied old man. He knew -his finger-tips to be visited by tiny and inexplicable vibrations. - -“If I could die now—!” was in his mind. “Now, at this instant! And what -a thought for me to be having now!” - -Instead, he now touched his disenchanted princess. Yet their two bodies -seemed not to touch, and not to have moved as flesh that is pulled by -muscles. They seemed to have merged, effortlessly and without volition, -into one body. - -In fine, he kissed her. So was the affair concluded. - - - - -_9._ - -_Misgivings of a Beginning Saint_ - - -What Florian remembered, afterward, about Brunbelois seemed rather -inconsequential. It was, to begin with, a high place, a remarkably high -place. In the heart of the Forest of Acaire, arose a mountain with -three peaks, of which the middle and lowest was cleared ground. Here -stood the castle of Brunbelois, beside a lake, a lake that was fed by -springs from the bottom, and had no tributaries and no outlet. Forests -thus rose about you everywhere except in the west, where you looked -down and yet further down, over the descending tree-tops of Acaire, and -could see beyond these the open country of Poictesme. - -Now in this exalted and cleared space wherein stood Brunbelois, there -was nothing between you and the sky. You were continually noting such a -hackneyed matter as the sky. You saw it no longer as dome-shaped, but -as, quite obviously now, an interminable reach of space. You saw the -huge clouds passing in this hollowness, each inconceivably detached and -separate as one cloud would pass tranquilly above and behind the other, -sometimes at right angles, sometimes travelling in just the opposite -direction. It troubled you to have nothing between you and a space -that afforded room for all those currents of air to move about in, so -freely, so utterly without any obstruction. It made a Puysange seem -small. And at night the stars also no longer appeared tidily affixed to -the sky, as they appeared to be when viewed from Bellegarde or Paris: -the stars seemed larger here, more meltingly luminous, and they glowed -each in visible isolation, with all that space behind them. It had not -ever before occurred to Florian that the sky could be terrible: and he -began somewhat to understand the notions of the gray-haired porter who -had watched this sky from Brunbelois, night after night, alone. - -And Florian remembered Brunbelois as being a silvery and rustling -place. A continuous wind seemed to come up from the west. The forests -rising about you everywhere except in the west were never still, you -saw all day the gray under side of the leaves twinkling restlessly, and -you heard always their varying but incessant murmur. And small clouds -too were always passing, borne by this incessant wind, very close to -you, drifting through the porches of the castle, trailing pallidly -over the grass, and veiling your feet sometimes, so that you stood -knee-deep in a cloud: and the sunlight was silvery rather than golden. -And under this gentle but perpetual wind the broad lake glittered -ceaselessly with silver sparklings. - -Moreover, the grass here was thick with large white blossoms, which -grew singly upon short stalks without any leaves, and these white -flowers nodded in an unending conference. They loaned the very -ground here an unstable silveriness, for these flowers were not ever -motionless. Sometimes they seemed to nod in sleepy mutual assent, -sometimes the wind, in strengthening, would provoke them to the -appearance of expressing diminutively vigorous indignation. And -humming-birds were continually flashing about: these were too small -for you to perceive their coloring, they went merely as gleams. And -white butterflies fluttered everywhither as if in an abstracted light -reconnoitering for what they could not find. And you were always seeing -large birds high in the air, drifting and wheeling, as it seemed, in an -endless searching for what they never found. - - -[Illustration: -Caption surrounded by a garland: He did not move, but lay quite still, - staring upward. - _See page 136_ - The image.] - - -So Florian remembered, afterward, in the main, the highness and the -silveriness and the instability of the place that he now went about -exultingly with nothing left to wish for. He hardly remembered, -afterward, what he and Melior did or talked of, during the days wherein -Brunbelois prepared for their wedding: time and events, and people too, -seemed to pass like bright shining vapors; all living swam in a haze of -happiness. Florian now thought little of logic, he thought nothing of -precedent; he thrust aside the implications of his depressing discovery -as to his patron saint: he stayed in everything light-headedly -bewildered through hourly contemplation of that unflawed loveliness -which he had for a quarter of a century desired. He was contented now; -he went unutterably contented by that beauty which he in childhood -had, however briefly, seen, and which nothing had since then availed -ever quite to put out of his mind. He could not, really, think about -anything else. He cared about nothing else. - -Still, even now, he kept some habit of circumspection: no man should -look to be utterly naīf about his fifth wife. So when St. Hoprig -contrived to talk in private with Melior, down by the lake’s border, -Florian, for profoundly logical reasons, had followed Hoprig. Florian, -for the same reasons, stood behind the hedge and listened. - -“It is right that you should marry the champion who rescued us all,” -said the voice of Hoprig, “for rules ought to be respected. But I -am still of the opinion that nobody could have disposed of so many -monsters without being an adept at sorcery.” - -“Why, then, it seems to me that we ought to be very grateful for the -sorcery by which we profit,” said the sweet voice of Melior. “For, as I -so often think—” - -“As goes the past, perhaps. The future is another matter. It is most -widely another matter, for us two in particular.” - -“You mean that as his wife I must counsel my husband to avoid all evil -courses—” - -“Yes, of course, I mean that. Your duty is plain enough, since a wife’s -functions are terrestrial. But I, madame! I am, it appears, this young -man’s patron saint, and upon his behavior depends my heavenly credit. -You will readily conceive I thus have especial reason to worry over -the possibility that Messire de Puysange may be addicted to diabolic -practises.” - -“Is it certain, my poor Hoprig, that you are actually a Christian -saint? For, really, when one comes to think—!” - -“There seems no doubt of it. I have tried a few miracles in private, -and they come off as easily as old sandals. It appears that, now I am a -saint, I enjoy, by approved precedents, all thaumaturgic powers, with -especial proficiency in blasting, cursing and smiting my opponents with -terrible afflictions; and have moreover the gift of tongues, of vision -and of prophecy, and the power of expelling demons, of healing the -sick, and of raising the dead. The situation is extraordinary, and I -know not what to do with so many talents. Nor can anybody tell me here. -In consequence, I must go down into this modern world of which Messire -de Puysange brings such remarkable reports, and there I can instruct -myself as to the requirements of my new dignity.” - -“So you will leave Brunbelois with us, I suppose, and then we shall -all—” - -“I do not say that: I do not promise you my company. Probably I shall -establish a hermitage somewhere, once I have seen something of this -later world, and shall live in that hermitage as becomes a Christian -saint. Here, you conceive, everyone knows me too well. Quite apart from -the conduct of my private affairs,—in which I could not anticipate -that sanctity might be looked for,—people would be remembering how I -preached against these Christian doctrines, exposed them by every rule -of logic, and exterminated their upholders. There would be a depressing -atmosphere of merriment. But down yonder, I daresay, I might manage -tolerably well.” - -“I hope you will let depraved women alone,” said the voice of Melior, -“because, as you ought with proper shame to remember—” - -“My princess, let us not over-rashly sneer at depraved women. They -very often have good hearts, they have attested their philanthropy in -repeated instances, and I have noticed that the deeper our research -into their private affairs, the more amiable we are apt to find their -conduct. In any case, as touches myself, a saint is above all carnal -stains and, I believe, diseases also. But it was about other matters -I wished to speak with you. I am, I repeat, suspicious of this future -husband of yours. Sorcerers have an ill way with their wives, and -deplorable habits with their children; and your condition, in view of -your fine health and youth, may soon be delicate. I shall ask for a -revelation upon these points. Whatever impends, though, I shall be at -hand to watch over you both.” - -“So you will establish your hermitage at Bellegarde? For in that event—” - -“Again, madame, you go too fast. I do not know about that either. In -the environs of Bellegarde, they tell me, is a church devoted to my -worship, and Messire de Puysange considers—inexplicably, I think,—that -it might unsettle the faith of my postulants to have me appear among -them. It seems more to the point that this Bellegarde is a retired -place in the provinces, with no gaming parlors, and, Messire de -Puysange assures me, but one respectable brothel—” - -“Then Bellegarde would not suit you—” “No, of course not: for I would -find ampler opportunities to put down the wicked, and to implant good -seed, in large cities, which are proverbially the haunts of vice. In -any case, do you take this ring. It was presented to me as a token of -not unearned esteem and admiration, by a lady who had hitherto found -men contemptible: and at my request—tendered somewhat hastily, but -to the proper authorities,—this ring has been endowed with salutary -virtues. The one trait of the holy ring which concerns us just now -is its recently acquired habit of giving due warning whenever danger -threatens its wearer. Dear me, now, how complete would have been my -relaxation if only in my pagan days I had possessed such a talisman -to put on whenever I undressed for bed! In any case, should the ring -change, then do you invoke me.” - -“And you will come with your miracles and your blightings and your -blastings! My poor Hoprig, I think you do Messire de Puysange a great -wrong, but I will keep the ring, for all that. Because, while you may -be utterly mistaken, and no doubt hope you are as much as I do, still, -the ring is very handsome: and, besides, as I so often think—” - -“Do not be telling me your thoughts just now,” replied the voice of the -saint, “for I can hear the bugle calling us to supper. There is another -precaution I would recommend, a precaution that I will explain to you -this evening, after we have eaten and drunk,” said Hoprig, as they went -away together. - -Florian, after waiting a discreet while, came from behind the hedge. -Florian looked rather thoughtful as he too walked toward the castle. - -Sunset was approaching. The entire heavens, not merely the west, had -taken on a rose-colored glare. Unbelievably white clouds were passing -very rapidly, overhead but not far-off, like scurrying trails of swans’ -down and blown powder puffs. The air was remarkably cool, with rain -in it. The diffused radiancy of this surprising sunset loaned the -gravelled walkway before him a pink hue: the lawns about him, where the -grass was everywhere intermingled with white blossoms, had, in this -roseate glowing which flooded all, assumed a coldly livid tinge. To -Florian’s left hand, piled clouds were peering over the mountain like -monstrous judges, in tall powdered wigs, appraising the case against -someone in Florian’s neighborhood. - -He shrugged, but his look of thoughtfulness remained. It was distinctly -upsetting to have one’s patron saint, in place of contriving absolution -for the past,—a function which that recreant Hoprig had never, after -all, attended to,—now absolutely planning mischief for the future. - - - - -_10._ - -_Who Feasted at Brunbelois_ - - -Florian had been married so often that he had some claim to be -considered a connoisseur of weddings: and never, he protested, had -assembled to see him married a more delightful company than the -revellers who came from every part of Acaire now that the magic was -lifted from these woods. - -Acaire was old, it had been a forest since there was a forest anywhere: -and all its denizens came now to do honor to the champion who had -released them from their long sleeping. The elves came, in their blue -low-crowned hats; the gnomes, in red woolen clothes; and the kobolds, -in brown coats that were covered with chips and sawdust. The dryads and -other tree spirits of course went verdantly appareled: and after these -came fauns with pointed furry ears, and the nixies with green teeth and -very beautiful flaxen hair, and the duergar, whose loosely swinging -arms touched the ground when they walked, and the queer little rakhna, -who were white and semi-transparent like jelly, and the Bush Gods that -were in Acaire the oldest of living creatures and had quite outlived -their divinity. From all times and all mythologies they came, and they -made a tremendous to-do over Florian and the might which had rescued -them from their centuries of sleeping under Mélusine’s enchantment. - -He bore his honors very modestly. But Florian delighted to talk with -these guests, who came of such famous old families: and they told him -strange tales of yesterday and of the days before yesterday, and it -seemed to him that many of these stories were not quite logical. Few -probabilities thrived at Brunbelois. Meanwhile the Elm Dwarfs danced -for him, pouring libations from the dew pools; the Strömkarl left its -waterfall in the forest, to play very sweetly for Florian upon the -golden harp whose earlier music had been more dangerous to hear; and -the Korrid brought him tribute in the form of a purse containing hair -and a pair of scissors. And it was all profoundly delightful. - -“I approve of the high place,” said Florian, upon the morning of his -marriage: “for here I seem to go about a more heroic and more splendid -world than I had hoped ever to inhabit.” - -“Then, why,” asked Helmas, “do you not remain at Brunbelois, instead -of carrying off my daughter to live in that low sort of place down -yonder? Why do you two not stay at Brunbelois, and be the King and -Queen here after I am gone?” - -Florian looked down from the porch where they were waiting the while -that Queen Pressina finished dressing. From this porch Florian could -see a part of the modern world, very far beneath them. He saw the -forests lying like dark flung-by scarves upon the paler green of -cleared fields; he saw the rivers as narrow shinings. In one place, -very far beneath them, a thunderstorm was passing like—of all things, -on this blissful day,—a drifting bride’s-veil. Florian saw it twinkle -with a yellow glow, then it was again a floating small white veil. And -everywhere the lands beneath him bathed in graduations of vaporous -indistinction. Poictesme seemed woven of blue smokes and of green -mists. It afforded no sharp outline anywhere as his gazing passed -outward toward the horizon. And there all melted bafflingly into a -pearl-colored sky: the eye might not judge where, earth ending, heaven -began in that bright and placid radiancy. - -It was droll to see this familiar, everyday, quite commonplace -Poictesme in that guise, to see it as so lovely, when one knew what -sort of men and women were strutting and floundering through what sort -of living down there. It would be pleasant to remain here at high -Brunbelois, and to be a king of the exalted old time that lingered here -and nowhere else in all the world. But Florian remembered his bargain -with brown Janicot, and he knew that in this high place it could -not be performed: and it was as if with the brightness of Florian’s -day-dreaming already mingled the shining of the sword with which -Florian was to carry out his part of the bargain. Flamberge awaited him -somewhere in those prosaic lowlands of 1723, down yonder. - -Therefore, as became a man of honor, Florian said, resolutely: “No, -your majesty, my kingdom may not be of this world. For my duty lies -yonder in that other world, wherein I at least shall yet have many -months of happiness before that happens which must happen.” - -“So you are counting upon many months of happiness,” the King observed. -“Your frame of mind, my son-in-law, is so thoroughly what it should be -that to me it is rather touching.” - -“A pest! and may one ask just what, exactly, moves your majesty toward -sadness?” - -“The reflection that there is no girl anywhere but has in her much of -her mother,” the King answered, darkly. “But my dear wife is already -dressed, I perceive, and is waiting for us, after having detained us -hardly two hours. So let us be getting to the temple.” - -“Very willingly!” said Florian. He wondered a little at the blindness -of fathers, but he was unutterably content. And straightway he and -Melior were married, in the queer underground temple of the Peohtes, -according to the marriage rites of Llaw Gyffes. - -Melior wore that day upon her lovely head a wreath of thistles, and -about her middle a remarkable garment of burnished steel fastened with -a small padlock: in her hand she carried a distaff, flax and a spindle. -And the marriage ceremony of the Peohtes, while new to Florian, proved -delightfully simple. - -First Melior and Florian were given an egg and a quince pear: he handed -her the fruit, which she ate, and the seeds of which she spat out; he -took from her the egg and broke it. Holy Hoprig, who had tendered his -resignation as the high-priest of Llaw Gyffes, but whose successor had -not yet been appointed, then asked the bridegroom a whispered question. - -Florian was astonished, and showed it. But he answered, without -comment, “Well, let us say, nine times.” - -Hoprig divided a cake into nine slices, and placed these upon the -altar. Afterward Hoprig cut the throat of a white hen, and put a little -of its blood upon the feet of Melior and Florian. The trumpets sounded -then, as King Helmas came forward, and gave Florian a small key. - - - - -PART TWO - -_THE END OF LIGHT WINNING_ - - “_En femme, comme en tout, je veux suivre ma mode.... - Et j’ay beny le Ciel d’avoir trouvé mon faict, - Pour me faire une femme au gré de mon souhait_.” - - - - -_11._ - -_Problems of Beauty_ - - -It was conceded even by the younger and most charming ladies of the -neighborhood that the new Duchess of Puysange was quite good looking. -The gentlemen of Poictesme appeared, literally, to be dazzled by any -prolonged consideration of Melior’s loveliness: otherwise, as Florian -soon noted, there was no logical accounting for the discrepancy in -their encomia. Enraptured pæeans upon her eyes, for example, he found -to differ amazingly and utterly in regard to such an important factor -as the color of these eyes. This was, at mildest, a circumstance -provocative of curiosity. - -Florian therefore listened more attentively to what people said of -his wife; and he discovered that his fellows’ ecstasies over Melior’s -hair and shape and complexion were not a whit less inconsistent. These -envious babblers were at one in acclaiming as flawless the beauty which -he had intrepidly fetched down from the high place: but in speaking -of any constituent of this loveliness they seemed not to be talking of -the same woman. Either her perfection actually did dazzle men so that -they were bewilderedly aware of much such a beguiling and intoxicating -brightness as Florian, on looking back, suspected Melior to have been -in his own eyes before he married her, or else the appearance of this -daughter of the Léshy was not to all persons the same. Well, this was -queer: but it was not important. Florian at least was in no doubt of -his wife’s appearance nor of his right to glory in it. - -So Florian tended to let this riddle pass unchallenged, and to quarrel -with nothing, for Florian was very happy. - -He could not have said when or why awoke the teasing question if, -after all, this happiness was greater than or different from that -which he had got of Aurélie or Hortense or Marianne or Carola? Being -married to a comparative stranger was, as always, pleasant; it was, -in fact, delightful: but you had expected, none the less, of the -love which had miraculously triumphed over time and all natural laws -some sharper tang of bliss than ordinarily flavored your honeymoons. -Still, at thirty-five, you were logical about the usual turning-out -of expectations. And you were content: and Melior was beautiful; and -among the local nobility this new Duchess of Puysange had made friends -everywhere, and she was everywhere admired, however puzzlingly men -seemed to word their praise of her loveliness. - -The newly married pair had journeyed uneventfully from Brunbelois to -Florian’s home. The mute hairy persons brought Melior’s trunks in their -cart; and St. Hoprig too came with them through Acaire, but no further. -Florian had at last persuaded him of how untactful it would be for -Hoprig to disrupt a simple and high-hearted faith that had thrived for -so many hundred years, by appearing at Bellegarde in person. Florian -had pointed out the attendant awkwardnesses, for the fetich no less -than for the devotees. And Hoprig, upon reflection, had conceded that -for a saint in the prime of life there were advantages in travelling -incognito. - -So the holy man left them at the edge of the forest. “We shall meet -again, my children,” the saint had said, with a smile, just as he -vanished like a breaking bubble. It seemed to Florian that his heavenly -patron had become a little ostentatious with miracles, but Florian -voiced no criticism. Still, he considered the evanishment of the two -hairy persons and their monstrous goats, an evanishment quite privately -conducted in the stable to which they had withdrawn after uncarting -Melior’s trunks, to be in much better taste. - -But Florian picked no open fault with Hoprig nor with anyone, for -Florian was content enough just now. He began to see that his notions -about Melior had been a trifle extravagant, that the strange loveliness -which he had been adoring since boyhood was worn by a creature whose -brilliance was of the body rather than of the intellect: however, he -had not married her in order to discuss philosophy; and, with practise, -it was easy enough to pretend to listen without really hearing her. - -All this was less worrying, less imminent, than the trouble he seemed -in every likelihood about to have with his brother, on account of -Raoul’s damnable wife. For Madame Marguerite de Puysange, as Florian -now heard, was infuriated by his failure to appear at Storisende upon -the twentieth of July, the day upon which he had been due to marry -her sister: nor by learning that he had married somebody else was the -unconscionable virago soothed. She considered a monstrous affront -had been put upon them all, a deduction which Florian granted to be -truly drawn, if that mattered. What certainly mattered was that the -lean woman had no living adult male relatives. She would be at her -husband to avenge this affront by killing Florian: and dear, plastic, -good-natured Raoul so hated to deny anybody anything that the result -of her coaxing and tears and nagging would probably be a decided -nuisance.... - -“That ring with the three diamonds in it,” Florian had said, “is -deplorably old-fashioned—” - -“Yes, I suppose it is, sweetheart: but it was given me by a dear -friend, and you know the sort of things they pick out, and, besides, I -like to have it keeping me in mind of how ridiculously the best-meaning -people may be sometimes,” his Melior had answered,—very happily, and -nuzzling a very wonderfully soft cheek against his cheek. - -So he had let the matter stand.... - -It was a nuisance, too, this news which Florian had received as to the -great Cardinal Dubois, whom Florian had promised—as he regretted now to -remember, in carelessly loose terms,—to offer as a Christmas present -to Janicot. It appeared that during Florian’s stay at Brunbelois the -over-gallant cardinal had been compelled to submit to an operation -which deprived him of two cherished possessions and shortly afterward -of his life. His death was a real grief to Florian, not as in itself -any loss, but because, with Dubois interred at St. Roch, the greatest -man living in France when Christmas came would be the Duc d’Orléans. - -Florian had long been fond of Philippe d’Orléans, and Florian loathed -the thought of making a present of his friend’s life to a comparatively -slight and ambiguous acquaintance like Janicot. There seemed no way -out of it, however, for Florian had in this matter given his word. -But he regretted deeply that he had thus recklessly promised the -greatest man in the kingdom instead of specifically confining himself -to that selfish Dubois, who could without real self-denial have lived -until December, and who could so easily have furthered everybody’s -well-being by restricting his amours to ladies of such known piety and -wholesomeness and social position as made them appropriate playfellows -for a high prince of the Church. - -But all this was spilt milk. What it came to in the upshot was that -Florian, through his infatuation for Melior, was already in a fair way -to lose his most intimate and powerful friend and his only legitimate -brother. It was a nuisance, for Florian disliked annoying either one of -them, and thus to be burdened with the need of bereaving yourself of -both appeared a positive imposition. But we cannot have all things as -we desire them in this world, his common-sense assured him: and, in the -main, as has been said, the incidental disappointments, now that he had -attained his life’s desire, were tepid and not really very deep. - -For Melior was beautiful; after months of intimacy and fond research -he could find no flaw in her beauty: and in other respects she proved -to be as acceptable a wife as any of his own marrying that he had -ever had. If she was not always reasonable, if sometimes indeed she -seemed obtuse, and if she nagged a little now and then, it was, after -all, what past experience had led him to expect alike in marriage and -in liaisons. The rapture which he had known at first sight of her, the -rapture of the mountain-top, was not, he assured himself, a delusion of -which he had ever expected permanence.... - -“But this remarkably carved staff, my darling—?” - -“Oh, it was one of my sister Mélusine’s old things. I would not be in -the least surprised if it were magical—And while we are speaking about -sisters, Florian, I do wish that black-faced one of yours would not -look at me so hard and then shrug, because she has done it twice, in -quite a personal way—” - -“Marie-Claire is a strange woman, my pet.” - -But that fretted him. He knew so well why Marie-Claire had shrugged.... - -No, he had never, really, expected the rapture of the mountain-top to -be permanent. Besides, he need not expect permanency of Melior. It was -sad, of course, that when she had borne him a child, the child must be -disposed of, and the mother must vanish, in accordance with Florian’s -agreement with Janicot. But there was always some such condition -attached to marriage between a mortal and any of the Léshy, or some -abstention set like a trap whereinto the unwary mortal was sure to -flounder, and so lose the more than mortal helpmate. The union must -always, in one way or another, prove transitory, as was shown by the -sad history of the matrimonial ventures of Melior’s own sister, and of -the knight Helias, and by many other honorable old precedents. - -And Florian now began to see that if the Melior whom he had adored -since boyhood were thus lost to him in the fulltide of their love -and happiness,—for these were still at fulltide, he here assured -himself,—then he would retain only pleasant and heart-breaking and -highly desirable memories. A great love such as his for his present -wife ought, by all the dictates of good taste, to end tragically: to -have it dwindle out into the mutual toleration of what people called -a happy marriage would be anti-climax, it would be as if one were to -botch a sublime and mellifluous sonnet with a sestet in prose. - -Melior, so long as she stayed unattainable, had provided him with -an ideal: and Melior, once lost to him, once he could never hear -another word of that continuous half-witted jabbering,—or, rather, he -emended, of this bright light creature’s very diverting chat,—then -his high misery would afford him even surer ground for a superior -dissatisfaction with the simple catering of nature. So the company -of his disenchanted princess, her company just for the present, could -be endured with a composure not wholly saddened by that dreadful and -permanent bereavement which impended. - -He reasoned thus, and was in everything considerate and loving. His -devotion was so ardent and unremittent, indeed, that, when Florian -left Bellegarde, Melior was forehandedly stitching and trimming -baby-clothes. This was at the opening of December, and he was going to -court in answer to a summons from the great Duke of Orléans. - -“It is rather odd,” observed Florian, “that it is at Philippe’s -expressed desire I go to him. Eh, but one knows that shrewd old saying -as to the gods’ preliminary treatment of those whom they wish to -destroy.” - -“Still, if you ask me,” observed his wife,—not looking at him, but at -her sewing,—“I think it is much better not to talk about the gods any -more than is necessary, and certainly not in that exact tone of voice—” -The break in speech was for the purpose of biting a thread. - -You saw, as she bent over this thread, the top of her frilly little -lace cap efflorescent with tiny pink ribbons. You saw, as she looked -up, that Melior was especially lovely to-day in this flowing pink robe -à la Watteau over a white petticoat and a corsage of white ribbons -arranged in a sort of ladder-work. There was now about her nothing -whatever of the mediæval or the outré: from the boudoir cap upon her -head to the pink satin mules upon her feet, this Melior belonged to the -modern world of 1723: and the whiteness and the pinkness of her made -you think of desserts and confectionery. - -“But what exact tone of voice,” asked Florian, smiling with lenient -pride in his really very pretty duchess, “does my darling find -injudicious?” - -“Why, I mean, as if you were looking at something a great way off, and -smelled something you were not quite certain you liked. To be sure, -now that we are both good Christians, we know that the other gods -are either devils or else illusions that never existed at all—Father -Joseph has the nicest possible manners, and just the smile and the way -of talking that very often reminds me of Hoprig, and qualifies him to -teach any religion in the world, even without stroking both your hands -all the time, but in spite of that, as I told him only last Saturday, -he will not ever speak out quite plainly about them—” - -“About your lovely hands, madame?” - -“Now, monsieur my husband, what foolish questions you ask! I mean, -about whether they are devils or illusions. Because, as I told him -frankly—” - -“Ah, now I comprehend. Yet, surely, these abstruse questions of -theology—” - -She was looking at him in astonishment. “Why, but not in the least! -I am not interested in theology, I merely say that a thing is either -one way or the other: and, as I so often think, nothing whatever is to -be gained by beating about the bush instead of being our own candid -natural selves, and confessing to our ignorance, even if we happen to -be priests, where ignorance is no disgrace—” - -“Doubtless, my dearest, you intend to convey to me—” - -“Oh, no, not for one instant!” And this bewitching seamstress was -virtually giggling, quite as if there were some logical cause for -amusement. “Anybody who called that dear old soft-soaper stupid would -be much more mistaken, monsieur my husband, than you suspect. I merely -mean that is one side of the question, a side which is perfectly -plain. The other is that, as I have told him over and over again, it -is not as if I had ever for a moment denied that Father and Mother are -conservative, but quite the contrary—” - -Florian said: “Dearest of my life, I conjecture you are still referring -to your confessor, the good Father Joseph. Otherwise, I must admit -that, somehow, I have not followed the theme of your argument with an -exactness which might, perhaps, have enabled me to form some faint -notion as to what you are talking about.” - -And again the loveliest face in the world was marveling beneath that -very pleasing disorder of little pink ribbons. “Why, I was talking -about Father Joseph, of course, and about my wanting to know how -my parents at their time of life could be expected to take up with -new ideas. Oh, and I kept at him, too: because, even if they are -worshipping devils up at Brunbelois, and doing something actually -wicked when they sacrifice to Llaw Gyffes a few serfs that are past -their work and are of no use to anybody, and no real pleasure to -themselves,—which is a side you have to look at,—it would be a sort -of comfort to be certain of the worst. Whereas, as for them, the poor -dears, as I so often say, what you do not know about does not worry -you—” - -“I take it, that you mean—” - -“Exactly!” Melior stated, with the most sagacious of nods. “Though, -for my part, I feel it is only justice to say that such devils as my -sister Mélusine used to have in now and again, in the way of sorcery, -were quite civil and obliging. So far as looks go, it is best to -remember in such cases that handsome is as handsome does, and I am sure -they did things for her that the servants would never have so much as -considered—” - -“But, still—” - -“Oh, yes, of course, we all know what a problem that is, at every turn, -with your kindness and your consideration absolutely wasted: and in -fact, as I so often think, if I could just have two rooms somewhere, -and do my own cooking—” Another thread was bitten through by the -loveliest teeth in the world. - -“You aspire to such simple pleasures, my wife, as are denied to a -Duchess of Puysange. No, one must be logical. We have the duties of our -estate. And among these duties, as I was just saying, I now discover -the deplorable need of absenting myself from the delights of your -society and conversation—” - -“I shall miss you, monsieur my husband,” replied Melior, abstractedly -holding up a very small undershirt, and looking at it as if with the -very weightiest of doubts, “of course. But still, it is not as if I -cared to be travelling now, and, besides, there really is a great deal -of sewing to be done for months to come. And with everything in this -upset condition, I do hope that—if by any chance you are sitting on -that other pair of scissors? I thought they must be there. Yes, I do -hope that you will be most careful in this affair, because I already -have enough to contend with. You ought to send the lace at once, -though: and I suppose we might as well have pink yarn and ribbons, -since the chances are equal in any event—” - -“But in what affair, delight of my existence, are you requesting me to -be careful?” - -“Why, how should I know?” And Melior, he perceived, had still the air -of one who is dealing patiently with an irrational person. “It is -probably a very good thing that I do not, since you are plainly up to -something with your friend Orléans which you want nobody to find out -about. All men are like that: and, for my part, I have no curiosity -whatever, because, as I so often think, if everybody would just attend -to their own affairs—” - -He bowed and, murmuring “Your pardon, madame!” he left her contentedly -sewing. It seemed to Florian a real pity that a creature in every way -so agreeable to his eye should steadily betray and tease his ear. -He did not find that, as wives average, his Melior was especially -loquacious: it was, rather, that when she discoursed at any length, -with her bewildering air of commingled self-satisfaction and -shrewdness, he could never make out quite clearly what she was talking -about: and as went intelligence, his disenchanted princess seemed to -him to rank somewhere between a magpie and a turnip. - -This, upon the whole, adorable idiocy might have made it appear, to -some persons, surprising that Melior should divine, as she had so -obviously divined, that Florian, in going to Philippe d’Orléans, was -prompted by motives which discretion preferred to screen. But Florian -had learned by experience that your wives very often astound you by -striking the target of your inmost thinking, fair and full, with just -such seemingly irrational shots of surmise. You might call it intuition -or whatever else you preferred: no husband of any at all lengthy -standing would be quick to call it accident. Rather, he would admit -this to be a faculty which every married woman manifested now and then: -and he would rejoice that, for the health of the world’s peace, such -clairvoyancy was intermittent. Florian esteemed it to be just one of -the inevitable drawbacks of matrimony that the most painstaking person -must sometimes encounter discomfortable moments when his wife appears -to be looking over his secret thoughts somewhat as one glances over -the pages of a not particularly interesting book. So the experienced -husband would shrug and would await this awkward moment’s passing, and -the return of his wife’s normal gullibility and charm. - -Melior, too, then, had her instants of approach to wifely, if not -precisely human, intelligence. And Melior was beautiful. There was -no flaw anywhere in her beauty. This Florian repeated, over and over -again, as he prepared for travel. Here, too, one must be logical. -That ideal beauty which he had hopelessly worshipped, and had without -hope hungered for, ever since his childhood, was now attained: and -the goddess of his long adoration was now enshrined in, to be exact, -the next room but one, already hemming diapers for their anticipated -baby. Nobody could possibly have won nearer to his heart’s desire than -Florian had come; he had got all and more than his highest dreaming had -aspired to: and so, if he was now sighing over the reflection, it must -be, he perceived, a sigh of content. - -Then he kissed his wife, and he rode away from Bellegarde, toward -the vexatious duties which awaited him at court. Florian stopped, of -course, to put up a prayer, for the success of his nearing venture into -homicide, at the Church of Holy Hoprig. That ceremonial Florian could -not well have omitted without provoking more or less speculation as to -why the Duke of Puysange should be defaulting in a pious custom of long -standing; nor, for that matter, without troubling his conscience with -doubts if he was affording the country-side quite the good example due -from one of his rank. - -Through just such mingled considerations of expediency and duty had -Florian, since his return from Brunbelois, continued his giving to -this church with all the old liberality, if with somewhat less comfort -to himself. It was a nuisance to reflect that so many irregularities -which Florian had believed compounded, to everybody’s satisfaction, -had never been attended to at all by his patron saint. It was annoying -to know that the church had got, and was continuing to get, from the -estate of Puysange so many pious offerings virtually for nothing. Even -so, replied logic, what was to be gained by arousing criticism or by -neglecting your religious duties in a manner that was noticeable? Let -us adhere to precedent, and then, if we can no longer count assuredly -on bliss in the next world, we may at least hope for tranquillity in -this one. - -So Florian, for the preservation of the local standards, now put up -a fervent prayer to his patron saint in heaven; and reflected that, -after all, the actual whereabouts, and the receptivity to petitions, -of Holy Hoprig was none of Florian’s affair. A little wonder, however, -about just where the saint might be doing what, was, Florian hoped, -permissible, since he had found such wondering not to be avoided. - - - - -_12._ - -_Niceties of Fratricide_ - - -Now that Florian came out of the provinces, he wished to take matters -in order. Not merely a snobbish pride of race led him to give his -family affairs precedence to those of the Bourbons. It was, rather, -that Florian yet had a day to wait before the coming of the winter -solstice. He was unwilling to waste these twenty-four hours, because -Florian looked with some uneasiness toward the inevitable encounter -with his wife-ridden brother, and Florian was desirous to get this -worry off his mind. For, a thing done, as Janicot had mentioned, has an -end.... - -Florian therefore made inquiries as to where Raoul was passing that -evening; and the two brothers thus met, as if by chance, at the home of -the Duc de Brancas. The circle of Monsieur de Brancas was not gallant -toward women, and his guests were gentlemen in middle age, the most of -whom came each with a boy of seventeen or thereabouts. - -Florian was grieved when, as he approached the group clustered about -the big fireplace, he saw with what ceremony Raoul bowed. Raoul had -fattened, he seemed taller, he was to-night superb in this crimson -coat, with huge turned-back cuffs,—that must be the very latest -mode,—and in this loose gold-laced white waistcoat, descending to the -knees, and unfastened at the bottom. Raoul had the grand air of their -father: a tall man was always so much more impressive. For the rest, it -was fully apparent that the dear fellow’s abominable wife had been at -her mischief-making. - -“Monsieur the Duke,” Raoul began, “this encounter is indeed fortunate.” - -“To encounter Monsieur the Chevalier,” replied Florian, with quite as -sweet a stateliness, but feeling rather like a bantam cock beside this -big Raoul, “is always a privilege.” - -People everywhere were listening now: this gambit hardly seemed -fraternal. The well-bred elderly friends of Monsieur de Brancas, to -be sure, made a considerate pretence at going on with their talk, but -most of the scented and painted boys had betrayed their lower social -degree by gaping openly: and Florian knew he was in for an unpleasant -business. - -“—For I am wondering if you have heard, monsieur,” the Chevalier went -on, “that the Comte d’Arnaye has spread the report that at Madame -de Nesle’s last ball I appeared with two buttons missing from my -waistcoat?” - -“I really cannot answer for the truth of such gossip, monsieur,”—thus -Florian, with high civility,—“since I have not seen my uncle for some -time.” - -“Ah, ah! so the Comte d’Arnaye is your uncle!” Raoul seemed gravely -pleased. “That is excellent, for, inasmuch as I cannot readily obtain -satisfaction for this calumny from your uncle, who has retired into the -provinces for the winter, I can apply to you.” - -Florian said, with careful patience: “I am delighted, monsieur, to -act as his representative. In that capacity I can assure you whoever -asserted Monsieur d’Arnaye declared the waistcoat in which you attended -the last ball of Madame de Nesle to be deficient in two buttons, or in -one button, or in a half-stitch of thread, has told a lie.” - -Raoul de Puysange frowned. “Diantre! it was my own cousin, the Count’s -youngest son, who was my informant; and since my cousin, monsieur, as -you are well aware, is little more than a child—” - -“You should have the less trouble, then,” said Florian, vexed by his -brother’s pertinacity, “in horsewhipping the brat for his silly -falsehood.” - -“Come, Monsieur the Duke, but I cannot have my cousin called a liar, -far less listen to this talk of horsewhipping one who is of my blood. I -must ask satisfaction for these affronts, and I will send a friend to -wait upon you.” - -Florian looked sadly at his brother. But the Duc de Puysange shrugged -before a meddlesome and quite unimportant person. - -Florian answered: “I am well content, Monsieur the Chevalier. Only, to -save time, I would suggest that your friend go direct to the Vicomte de -Lautrec, since he is here to-night, and since I have promised him that -he should second me in my next affair.” - -The two brothers bowed and parted decorously, having thus arranged a -public quarrel in which Mademoiselle de Nérac was in no way involved. -The instant’s tension was over, and the guests of Monsieur de Brancas -thronged hastily through the corridor,—which was rather chilly, because -all the outer side of this corridor was builded of stained glass,—and -went into the little private theatre, where the fiddles were already -tuning for the overture of a new and tuneful burletta that dealt with -The Fall of Sodom. The curtain by and by rose on the civic revels, and -the rest of the evening passed merrily. - -After the first act, while the scenery was being shifted so as to -represent Lot’s cave in the mountains, all details of the fraternal -duel were arranged by Messieurs de Lautrec and de Soyecourt. Tall lean -Monsieur de Soyecourt had, as a cousin, been prompt to insist upon -his right to act for Raoul in an encounter so sure to be discussed -everywhere. Shortly after midnight,—at which hour the other guests -of Monsieur de Brancas went into the Salon des Flagellants to amuse -themselves at a then very fashionable game which you played with little -whips,—the two brothers left the hôtel with their seconds. A surgeon -had been sent for, and he accompanied them and the five girls, whom -the Vicomte de Lautrec had caused to be fetched from La Fillon’s, to a -house near the Port Maillot, where all indulged in various pleasantries -until morning. - -The wine here proved so good, the girls were so amiable and -accomplished, that by daylight Florian had mellowed into an -all-embracing benevolence, and he proposed to compound the affair. The -suggestion roused an almost angry buzz of protest. - -Lautrec was demanding, of the company at large, would you have me, -who was married only last week, staying out all night, with no better -excuse than that I was drunk with these charming girls? Why, I was -committed to three rendezvous last night, and if there be no duel I -shall have trouble with a trio of ladies of the highest fashion. -Nor is it, put in the Marquis de Soyecourt,—whose speaking was -always somewhat indistinct, because of the loss of all his upper -front-teeth,—nor is it kind of you, my dear, to wish to deprive us of -taking part in a business which will make so much noise in the world: -brothers do not fight every day, this affair will be talked about. I -quite agree with Lautrec that your whim is foolish and inconsiderate. -Besides, Raoul was saying reprovingly, the honor of our house is -involved. To have a Puysange cry off from a duel would be a reflection -upon our blood that I could not endure— - -“What is honor,” replied Florian, “to the love which has been between -us?” - -The Chevalier looked half-shocked at this sort of talk: but he only -answered that Hannibal and Agamemnon had been very pretty fellows in -their day while it lasted; so too the boys who had loved each other at -Storisende and Bellegarde. Let the dead rest. No, to go back now was -impossible, without creating a deal of adverse comment, in view of the -publicity of their quarrel. - -Florian sighed, half wearied, half vexed, by the remote sound of his -brother’s talking, and he replied: “That is true. One must be logical. -You three are better advised than I, and we dare not offend against the -notions of our neighbors.” - -The gentlemen went into the park. They walked toward the old Château -de Madrid. There had been a very light fall of snow. It felt like sand -underfoot as you walked. Florian reflected it was droll that oak-trees -should retain so many bronze leaves thus late in winter. They quite -overshadowed this place, and made the snow look bluish. - -The gentlemen prepared for their duel, each of the four being armed -with two pistols and a sword. When all was ready, Raoul fired at once, -and wounded Florian in the left arm. It hurt. The little brother whose -face was always grimy would never have hurt you. - -At Florian’s side Lautrec had fallen, dead. The bullet of the Marquis -de Soyecourt had by an incredible chance struck the Vicomte full in the -right eye, piercing the brain. - -“Name of a name!” observed the Marquis, who was unwounded, “but here is -another widow to be consoled,—when I had aimed too at his ear! That is -the devil of this carousing all night, and then coming to one’s duels -with shaken nerves. But how fare our sons of Œdipus?” - -The Marquis turned, and what he saw was sufficiently curious. - - -[Illustration: -Caption surrounded by a garland: FLORIAN’S plump face was transfigured, - as he knelt before his MELIOR. - _See page 222_ -The image.] - - -Florian had winced when hit, thus for an instant spoiling his aim, -but he at once lowered his pistol, and he shot this tall man who had -nothing to do with his little brother, neatly through the breast. Raoul -de Puysange fired wildly with his second pistol, and drew his sword as -if to rush upon Florian, who merely shifted the yet loaded pistol to -his uncrippled right hand, and waited. But Raoul had not advanced two -paces when Raoul fell. - -Florian dropped the undischarged pistol, and went to his brother. This -thin snow underfoot was like scattered sand, and your treading in it -was audible. - -“You have done for me, my dear,” declared the Chevalier. - -And Florian was perturbed. He wished, for all that his arm was hurting -him confoundedly, to reply whatever in the circumstances was the -correct thing, but he could think of no exact precedent. So he put -aside the wild fancy of responding, “Am I my brother’s keeper?” and -to this stranger at his feet he said, with a quite admirable tremor -wherein anguish blended nicely with a manly self-restraint: “Raoul, you -are the happier of us two. Do you forgive me?” - -“Yes,” replied the other, “I forgive you.” Raoul gazed up fondly at his -brother. Raoul said, with that genius for the obviously appropriate -which Florian always envied, “I feel for you as I know you do for me.” - -Thus speaking, Raoul de Puysange looked of a sudden oddly surprised. -His nostrils dilated, he shivered a little, and so died. - -Florian turned sadly to the gaunt Marquis de Soyecourt. “You spoke of -the sons of Œdipus, Antoine. But many other eminent persons have been -fratricides. There was Romulus, and Absalom in Holy Writ, and Sir Balen -of Northumberland, and several of the Capets and the Valois. King Henry -the First of England, a very wise prince, also put his brother out of -the way, as did Constantius Chlorus, a most noble patron of the Church. -Whereas all Turkish emperors—” - -“Oh, have done with your looking for precedents!” said the Marquis. -“What we should look for now, my dear, is horses to get us away from -this sad affair. For one, I am retiring into the provinces, to spend -Christmas at my venerable father’s chateau at Beaujolais, where I shall -be more comfortable than in the King’s prison of the Bastile. And I -most strongly advise you to imitate me.” - -“No,” Florian said, gently, “these are but the first fruits of the -attainment of my desire. For, as you remind me, Antoine, Christmas -approaches, and I have still unfinished business at court.” - - - - -_13._ - -_Débonnaire_ - - -Thereafter Florian went to the Duke of Orléans, with two motives. One -was the obvious necessity of obtaining a pardon for having killed -the Chevalier: Florian’s other motive was the promise given to brown -Janicot that he should have for his Christmas present, upon this day of -the winter solstice, the life of the greatest man in the kingdom. The -greatest man in the kingdom, undoubtedly, was Philippe of Orléans, the -former Regent, now prime minister, and the next heir to the throne. The -King was nobody in comparison: besides, the King was not a man but a -child of thirteen. One must be logical. Florian regretted the loss of -his friend, for he was unfeignedly fond of Orléans, but a promise once -given by a Puysange was not to be evaded. - -He must get the pardon first. Florian foresaw that the granting -of a pardon out of hand for his disastrous duel would seem to the -Duke of Orléans an action liable to involve the prime minister in -difficulties. Florian thought otherwise, in the light of his firm -belief that to-morrow Orléans would be oblivious of all earthly -affairs, but this was not an argument which Florian could tactfully -employ. Rather, he counted upon the happy fact that Florian’s services -in the past were not benefits which any reflective statesman would -care to ignore. Yes, the pardon would certainly be forthcoming, -Florian assured himself, this afternoon, as he rode forth in his great -gilded coach, for his last chat, as he rather vexedly reflected, with -all-powerful Philippe of Orléans, whom people called Philippe the -Débonnaire. - -“So!” said the minister, when they had embraced, “so, they tell me that -you have married again, and that you killed your brother this morning. -I am not pleased with you, Florian. These escapades will come to no -good end.” - -“Ah, monseigneur, but I like to take a wife occasionally, whereas you -prefer always to borrow one. It is merely a question of taste, about -which we need not quarrel. As to this duel, I lamented the necessity, -your highness, as much as anybody. But these meddling women—” - -“Yes, yes, I know,” replied Orléans, “your sister-in-law talks too -much. In fact, as I recall it, she talks even in her sleep.” - -“Monseigneur, and will you never learn discretion?” - -“I am discreet enough, in any event, to look upon fratricide rather -seriously. So I am sending you to the Bastile for a while, Florian, and -indeed the lettre de cachet ordering your imprisonment was made out an -hour ago.” - -Florian at this had out the small gold box upon whose lid was painted -a younger and far more amiable looking Orléans than frowned here in -the flesh,—in a superfluity of flesh,—and Florian took snuff. It was -always a good way of gaining time for reflection. Wine and cakes were -set ready upon the little table. Philippe was probably expecting some -woman. There had been no lackeys in the corridor which led to this -part of the château. Philippe always sent them away when any of his -women were to come in the day-time. Yes, one was quite alone with this -corpulent, black-browed and purple-faced Philippe, in this quiet room, -which was like a great gilded shell of elaborately carved woodwork, -and which had bright panels everywhere, upon the walls and the -ceiling, representing, very explicitly indeed, The Triumphs of Love. -Such solitude was uncommonly convenient; and one might speak without -reticence. - -Florian put up his snuff-box, dusted his finger-tips, and said: “I -regret to oppose you in anything, monseigneur, but for me to go to -prison would be inconvenient just now. I have important business at the -Feast of the Wheel to-morrow night.” - -Since Philippe had lost the sight of his left eye he cocked his -head like a huge bird whenever he looked at you intently. “You had -best avoid these sorceries, Florian. I have not yet forgotten that -fiend whom your accursed lieutenant evoked for us in the quarries of -Vaugirard—” Orléans paused. He said in a while, “Before that night and -that vision of my uncle’s death-bed, I was less ambitious, Florian, and -more happy.” - -“Ah, yes, poor old Mirepoix!” said Florian, smiling. “What a -preposterous fraud he was, with his absurd ventriloquism and stuffed -crocodiles and magic lanterns! However, he foretold very precisely -indeed the extraordinary series of events which would leave you the -master of this kingdom: and I had not the heart to see the faithful -fellow exposed as an ignoramus who talked nonsense. So I was at some -pains to help his prophesying come true, and to make you actually the -only surviving male relative at the old King’s death-bed.” - -“Let us speak,” said Orléans, with a vexed frown, “of cheerier matters. -Now, in regard to your imprisonment—” - -“I was coming to your notion of a merry topic. This visit to the -Feast of the Wheel is about a family matter, your highness, and is -imperative. So I must keep my freedom for the while: and I must ask, in -place of a lettre de cachet, a pardon in full.” - -“Instead, Florian, let us have fewer ‘musts’ and more friendliness in -this affair.” Orléans now put his arm about Florian. “Come, I will put -off your arrest until the day after to-morrow; you shall spend the -night here, my handsome pouting Florian; and you shall be liberated at -the end of one little week in the Bastile.” - -Florian released himself, rather petulantly. “Pardieu! but I entreat -you to reserve these endearments for your bed-chamber! No, you must -find some other playfellow for to-night. And I really cannot consent to -be arrested, for it would quite spoil my Christmas.” - -Orléans, rebuffed, said only, “But if I continue to ignore your -misbehaviors, people will talk.” - -“That is possible, your highness. It is certain that, under arrest, I -also would become garrulous.” - -“Ah! and of what would you discourse?” - -Florian looked for a while at his red-faced friend beyond the -red-topped writing-table. - -Florian said: “I would talk of the late Dauphin’s death, monseigneur; -of the death of the Duc de Bourgogne; of the death of the little Duc -de Bretagne; and of the death of the Duc de Berri. I would talk of -those inexplicable fatal illnesses among your kinsmen which of a sudden -made you, who were nobody of much consequence, the master of France and -the next heir to the throne.” - -Orléans said nothing for a time. Speaking, his voice was quiet, but -a little hoarse. “It is perhaps as well for you, my friend, that my -people have been dismissed. Yes, I am expecting Madame de Phalaris, -who is as yet amusingly shame-faced about her adulteries. So there is -nobody about, and we may speak frankly. With frankness, then, I warn -you that it is not wholesome to threaten a prince of the blood, and -that if you continue in this tone you may not long be permitted to talk -anywhere, not even in one of the many prisons at my disposal.” - -“Ah, your highness, let us not speak of my death, for it is a death -which you would deplore.” - -“Would I deplore your death?” Orléans’ head was now cocked until it -almost lay upon his left shoulder. “It is a fact of which I am not -wholly persuaded.” - -“Monseigneur, mere self-respect demands that one’s death should rouse -some grief among one’s friends. So I have made certain that your grief -would be inevitable and deep. For I am impatient of truisms—” - -“And what have truisms to do with our affair?” - -“The statement that dead men tell no tales, your highness, is a truism.” - -“Yes, and to be candid, Florian, it is that particular truism of which -I was just thinking.” - -“Well, it is this particular truism I have elected to deride. My -will is made, the disposing of my estate is foreordered, and every -legacy enumerated. One of these legacies is in the form of a written -narrative: it is not a romance, it is an entirely veracious chronicle, -dealing with the last hours of four of your kinsmen; and it is -bequeathed to a fifth kinsman, to your cousin, the Duc de Bourbon. -Should I die in one of your prisons, monseigneur,—a calamity which I -perceive to be already fore-shadowed in your mind,—that paper would go -to him.” - -The Duke of Orléans considered this. There had been much whispering; -mobs in the street had shouted, “Burn the poisoner!” when Orléans -passed: but this was different. Once Bourbon had half the information -which Florian de Puysange was able to give, there would be of course -no question of burning Orléans, since one does not treat a prince of -the blood like fuel: but there would be no doubt, either, of his swift -downfall nor of his subsequent death by means of the more honorable ax. - -Orléans knew all this. Orléans also knew Florian. In consequence -Orléans asked, “Is what you tell me the truth?” - -“Faith of a gentleman, monseigneur!” - -Orléans sighed. “It is a pity. By contriving this conditional -post-mortem sort of confession to the devil-work you prompted, you -have contrived an equally devilish safeguard. Yes, if you are telling -the truth, for me to have you put out of the way would be injudicious. -And you do tell the truth, confound you! Broad-minded as you are in -many ways, Florian, you are a romantic, and I have never known you to -break your given word or to voice any purely utilitarian lie. You are -positively queer about that.” - -“I confess it,” said Florian, frankly. “Puysange lies only for -pleasure, never for profit. But what do my foibles matter? Let us -be logical about this! What does anything matter except the plain -fact that we are useful to each other? I do not boast, but I think -you have found me efficient. You needed only a precipitating of the -inevitable, a little hastening here and there of natural processes, -to give you your desires. Well, four of these accelerations have been -brought about through the recipes of a dear old friend of mine, through -invaluable recipes which have made you the master of this kingdom. It -is now always within your power, without any real trouble, to remove -the scrofulous boy whose living keeps you from being even in title -King of France. Yes, I think I have helped you. Some persons would in -my position be exigent. But all I ask is your name written upon a bit -of paper. I will even promise you that your mercifulness shall create -no adverse comment, and that to-morrow people shall be talking of -something quite different.” - -And Florian smiled ingratiatingly, the while that he fingered what -was in his waistcoat pocket, and reflected that all France would very -certainly have more than enough to talk about to-morrow. - -“This dapper imp, in his eternal bottle-green and silver, will be the -ruin of me,” Orléans observed. But he had already drawn a paper from -the top drawer: and he filled it in, and signed it, and he pushed it -across the red-topped writing-table, toward Florian. - -“I thank you, monseigneur, for this favor,” said Florian, then, “and I -long to repay it by making you King of France. Let us drink to Philippe -the Seventh!” - -“No,” said Orleans,—“let us drink if you will, but i have no thirst for -kingship. I play with the idea, of course. To be a king sounds well, -and I once thought—But it would give me no more than I already have of -endless nuisances to endure. As matters stand, I can make shift with -the discomforts of being a great personage, because I know that I can, -whenever I like, lay aside my greatness. I can at will become again a -private person, and I can find a host of fools eager to fill my place. -But from the throne there is no exit save into the vaults of St. Denis. -So I procrastinate, I play with the idea of putting the boy out of the -way, but I do nothing definite until to-morrow.” - -“There are many adages that speak harshly of procrastination,” said -Florian, as he poured and, with his back to Orléans, flavored the wine -which was set ready. “Logic is a fine thing, monseigneur: and logic -informs me that no man is sure of living until to-morrow.” - -“But it is no fun being a great personage,” Orléans lamented, as he -took the tall, darkly glowing glass. “I have had my bellyful of it: and -I find greatness rather thin fare. I am master of France, indeed I may -with some show of reason claim to be master of Europe. I used to think -it would be pleasant to rule kingdoms; but you may take my word for -it, Florian, the game is not worth the candle. There are times,” said -Orléans, as lazily he sipped the wine which Florian had just seasoned, -“there are times when I wish I were dead and done with it all.” - -“That, your highness, will come soon enough.” - -“Yes, but do you judge what I have to contend with.” Orléans launched -into a bewailing of his political difficulties. Florian kept a polite -pose of attention, without exactly listening to these complaints about -Parliament’s obstinacy, about Alberoni’s and Villeroy’s plottings in -their exile, about the sly underminings of Fréjus, about what the -legitimated princes were planning now, about Bourbon, about Noailles, -about the pig-headedness of the English Pretender, about the empty -Treasury—Of these things Philippe was talking, in a jumble of words -without apparent end or meaning. But Florian thought of a circumstance -unrelated to any of these matters, with a sort of awed amusement. - -“All this to make a maniac of me,” the minister went on, “and with -what to balance it? Anything I choose to ask for, of course. But -then, Florian, what the deuce is there in life for one to ask for at -forty-nine? I was once a joyous glutton: now I have to be careful -of my digestion. I used to stay drunk for weeks: now one night of -virtually puritanic debauchery leaves me a wreck to be patched up by -physicians who can talk about nothing but apoplexy. Women no longer -rouse any curiosity. I know so well what their bodies are like that -an investigation is tautology: and half the time I go to bed with -no inclination to do anything but sleep. Not even my daughters, -magnificent women that you might think them—” - -“I know,” said Florian, with a reminiscent smile. - -“—Not even they are able to amuse me any more. No, my friend, I -candidly voice my opinion that there is nothing in life which -possession does not discover to be inadequate: we are cursed with -a tyrannous need for what life does not afford: and we strive for -various prizes, saying ‘Happiness is there,’ when in point of fact it -is nowhere. They who fail in their endeavors have still in them the -animus of desire: but the man who attains his will cohabits with an -assassin, for, having it, he perceives that he does not want it; and -desire is dead in him, and the man too is dead. No, Florian, be advised -by me; and do you avoid greatness as you should—and by every seeming do -not,—the devil!” - -So Philippe d’Orléans also, thought Florian, had got what he wanted, -only to find it a damnable nuisance. Probably all life was like that. -Over-high and over-earnest desires were inadvisable. It was a sort of -comfort to reflect that poor Philippe at least would soon be through -with his worries. - -A bell rang; and Florian, rising, said: “I shall heed your advice, -monseigneur—But that bell perhaps announces an arrival about which I -should remain in polite ignorance?” - -“Yes, it is Madame de Phalaris. We are to try what Aretino and Romano -can suggest for our amusement, before I go up to my hour’s work with -the King. So be off with you through the private way, for it is a very -modest little bitch.” - -Florian passed through the indicated door, but he did not quite close -it. Instead, he waited there, and he saw the entrance of charming tiny -Madame de Phalaris, whom Orléans greeted with tolerable ardor. - -“So you have come at last, you delicious rogue, to end my expounding of -moral sentiments. And with what fairy tale, bright-eyed Sapphira, will -you explain your lateness?” - -“Indeed, your highness,” said the lady, who had learned that in these -encounters the Duke liked to be heartened with some gambit of free -talk, “indeed, your question reminds me that only last night I heard -the most diverting fairy tale. But it is somewhat—” - -“Yes?” said the Duke. - -“I mean, that it is rather—” - -“But I adore that especial sort of fairy story,” he announced. “So of -course we must have it, and equally of course we must spare our mutual -blushes.” - -Thus speaking, Orléans sat at her feet, and leaned back his head -between her knees, so that neither could see the face of the other. -Her lithe white fingers stroked his cheeks, caressing those great -pendulous red jaws: and her sea-green skirts, flowered with a pattern -of slender vines, were spread like billows to each side of him. - -“There was once,” the lady began, “a king and a queen—” - -“I know the tale,” Orléans said,—“they had three sons. And the two -elder failed in preposterous quests, but the third prince succeeded in -everything, and he was damnably bored by everything. I know the tale -only too well—” - -He desisted from speaking. But he was making remarkable noises. - -“Highness—!” cried Madame de Phalaris. - -She had risen in alarm; and as she rose, the Duke’s head fell to the -crimson-covered footstool at her feet. He did not move, but lay quite -still, staring upward, and his foreshortened face, as Florian saw it, -was of a remarkable shade of purple among the elaborate dark curls of -Orléans’ peruke. - -There was for a moment utter silence. You heard only the gilded clock -upon the red chimney-piece. Then Madame de Phalaris screamed. - -Nobody replied. She rang wildly at the bell-cord beside the -writing-table. You could hear a remote tinkling, but nothing else. The -shaking woman lifted fat Orléans, and propped him against the chair in -which she had just been sitting. Philippe of Orléans sprawled thus, -more drunken looking than Florian had ever seen him in life: the -corpse was wholly undignified. The head of him whom people had called -Philippe the Débonnaire had fallen sideways, so that his black peruke -was pushed around and hid a third of his face. The left eye, the eye -with which Philippe had for years seen nothing, yet leered at the woman -before him. She began again to scream. She ran from the room, and -Florian could now just hear her as she ran, still screaming, about the -corridors in which she could find nobody. It sounded like the squeaking -of a frightened rat. - -Florian came forward without hurry, for there was no pressing need of -haste. Florian quite understood that Orléans had dismissed all his -attendants, so that Madame de Phalaris might come to him unobserved: -her husband was a notionary man. After a little amorous diversion with -the lady, Orléans had meant to go up that narrow staircase yonder, for -an hour’s work with the young King. It was odd to reflect that poor -Philippe would never go to the King nor to any woman’s bed, not ever -any more; odd, too, that anyone could be thus private in this enormous -château wherein lived several thousand persons. At all events, this -privacy was uncommonly convenient. - -So Florian reflected for an instant, after his usual fashion of fond -lingering upon what life afforded of the quaint. It was certainly very -quaint that history should be so plastic. He had, with no especial -effort or discomfort, with no real straining of his powers, changed the -history of all Europe when he transferred this famous kingdom of France -and the future of France from the keeping of Philippe to guardians -more staid. Probably Monsieur de Bourbon would be the next minister. -But whoever might be minister in name, the Bishop of Fréjus, the young -King’s preceptor, would now be the actual master of everything. Well, -to have taken France from a debauchee like this poor staring gaping -Philippe here,—Florian abstractedly straightened the thing’s peruke,—to -give control of France to such an admirable prelate as André de Fleury -was in all a praiseworthy action. It was a logical action. - -Then Florian performed unhurriedly the rite which was necessary, and -there was a sign that Janicot accepted his Christmas present. It was -not a pleasant sign to witness, nor did they who served Janicot appear -to be squeamish. After this came two hairy persons, not unfamiliar -to Florian, and these two removed as much as their master desired of -Philippe d’Orléans. They answered, too, in a fashion no whit less -impressive because of their not speaking, the questions which Florian -put as to the proper manner of his coming to Janicot and the Feast -of the Wheel. Then they were not in this room: and Florian, somewhat -shaken, also went from this room, not as they had gone but by way of -the little private door. - -It was a full half-hour, Florian learned afterward, before Madame de -Phalaris returned with a cortége of lackeys and physicians. These last -attempted to bleed Duke Philippe, but found their endeavors wasted: -La Tophania’s recipes were reliable, and to all appearance he had for -some while been dead of apoplexy. The obscene toy discovered, hanging -about his neck, when they went to undress him, surprised nobody: the -Duke had affected these oddities. When the physicians made yet other -discoveries, a trifle later, they flutteringly agreed this death must, -without any further discussion, be reported to have arisen from natural -causes. “Monsieur d’Orléans,” said one of them, jesting with rather -gray lips, “has died assisted by his usual confessor.” - -Florian had of course not needed to amass good precedents for putting -out of life anybody who was to all intents a reigning monarch. As -he glanced back at history, this seemed to him almost the favorite -avocation of estimable persons. So, as Florian rode leisurely away -in his great gilded coach, leaving behind him the second fruits of -the attainment of his desire, if he lazily afforded a sidethought -to Marcus Brutus and Jacques Clément and Aristogeiton and Ehud the -Benjaminite, and to a few other admirable assassins of high potentates, -it was through force of habit rather than any really serious -consideration. For the important thing to be considered now was how to -come by the sword Flamberge, for which Florian had, that day, paid. - - - - -_14._ - -_Gods in Decrepitude_ - - -Not one of the ambiguous guardians of the place in any way molested -Florian in that journey through which he hoped to win the sword -Flamberge. His bearing, which combined abstraction with a touch of -boredom, discouraged any advances from phantoms, and made fiends -uneasily suspect this little fellow in bottle-green and silver to be -one of those terrible magicians who attend Sabbats only when they are -planning to kidnap with strong conjurations some luckless fiend to -slave for them at unconscionable tasks. That sort of person a shrewd -fiend gives a wide berth: and certainly nobody who was not an adept -at magic would have dared venture hereabouts, upon this night of all -nights in the year, the guardians reasoned, without considering that -this traveler might be a Puysange. So Florian passed to the top of the -hill, without any molestation, in good time for the beginning of the -Feast of the Wheel. - -When Florian came quietly through the painted gate, the Master was -already upon the asherah stone receiving homage. The place was well -lighted with torches which flared bluishly as they were carried about -by creatures that had the appearance of huge dark-colored goats: -each of these goats bore two torches, the first being fixed between -its horns, and the second inserted in another place. Florian stood -aside, and watched these venerable rites of unflinching osculation -and widdershins movings and all the rest of the ritual. One respected -of course the motives which took visible form in these religious -ceremonies, but the formulæ seemed to Florian rather primitive. - -So he sat upon a secluded grassbank, beyond the light of the blue -torches, and waited. It was quaint, and pathetic too in a way, now that -the communicants were reporting upon their unimaginative doings since -the last Sabbat. The Master listened and advised upon each case. To -Florian it appeared a rather ridiculous pother over nothing, all this -to-do about the drying up of a cow or the unfitting of a bridegroom -for his privileges or the sapping away of someone’s health. Florian -inclined to romanticism even in magic, whose proper functions he did -not consider to be utilitarian or imitative of real life. It seemed to -him mere childish petulancy thus to cast laborious spells to hasten -events which would in time have happened anyhow, through nature’s -unprompted blunderings, when the obvious end of magic should be to -bring about chances which could not possibly happen. But the Master had -an air of taking it all quite seriously. - -Nor were the initiations much more diverting, however dreadfully -painful they must be to the virgin novitiates. Florian could not but -think that some more natural paraphernalia would be preferable, would -be more logical, than that horrible, cold and scaly apparatus. It was -interesting, though, to note what disposition was made of the relics -of Philippe d’Orléans: and in the giving of four infants also, by the -old ritual, Florian took a sort of personal concern, and he watched -closely, so as to see just how it was done. He was relieved to find -it a simple enough matter, hardly more difficult than the gutting of -a rabbit, once you had by heart the words of the invocation. Florian -assumed that Janicot would in due course supply the woman whose body -must serve as the altar, and Florian put the matter out of mind. - -Besides, to one with his respect for ancient custom and precedent, the -fertility rites now in full course were interesting: he imagined that -to a professed and not prudish antiquary they would be of absorbing -interest, coming down, as these ceremonies did unaltered, from the -dwarf races that preceded mankind proper. Still, as a whole, the -Feast of the Wheel was rather tedious, Florian declared to his large -neighbor. Florian had just noticed that others sat on this secluded -grassbank, to both sides of him, in a twilight so vague that he could -only see these other watchers of the feast were of huge stature and had -unblinking shining eyes. - -Yes, this dim person assented, these modern ways lacked fervor and -impressiveness: and matters had been infinitely better conducted, -he said, in the good old days when the Sabbat was held in blasphemy -against him. - -Florian, really interested at last, asked questions. It developed -that this shadowy watcher was called Marduk. He had once been rather -widely esteemed, by he had no notion how many millions of men, as the -over-lord of heaven and all living creatures, in whose hands were -the decrees of fate, and as the bright helper and healer from whom -were hid no secrets. Apsu yonder had in those fine days conducted his -blasphemies, Marduk repeated, with considerably more splendor and -display. Yes, the times worsened, the thing was now done meagrely. Apsu -had never been really the same, said Marduk,—with a dry chuckle, like -the stirring of a dead leaf,—since Apsu lost his wife. She was called -Tiamat: and, say what you might about her— - -“I quite agree with you. He was a far more dashing rogue,” put in -another half-seen shape, “in the good times when I was the eternal -source of light, the upholder of the universe, all-powerful and -all-knowing, and when nobody anywhere except that rascal Anra-Mainyu -was bold enough to talk back to Ahura-Madza. Yes, the times worsen in -every way: and even his effrontery flags, if that is any comfort.” - -“Oh, for that matter,” said a third, “this Vukub-Kakix was at hand -with his impudence when the Old Ones covered with Green Feathers first -came out of the waters and tried to make men virtuous. He was then -a splendid rogue. I found him annoying, of course, but wonderfully -amusing. Now the times worsen: and the adversary of all the gods of men -no longer has such opponents as used to keep him on his mettle.” - -“Each one of you,” marvelled Florian, “gives the Master a new and -harder christening! And what, monsieur,” asked Florian, of the last -speaker, “may be your name?” - -The third dim creature answered, “Xpiyacoc.” - -“Ah, now I understand why you should be the most generous to the Master -in the matter of cacophony! I take it that you also have retired from a -high position in the church. And I am wondering if all you veteran gods -are assembled upon half-pay”—here Florian discreetly jerked a thumb -skyward,—“to conspire?” - -“No,” said a fourth,—who, like that poor Philippe, had only one -eye,—“it is true we look to see put down the gods who just now have -men’s worship. But we do not conspire. We are too feeble now, and the -years have taken away from us even anger and malevolence. It was not -so in the merry days when the little children came to me upon spear -points. Now the times worsen: and they can but make the best of very -poor times up yonder, as we do here.” He seemed to listen to the -thing in the appearance of a raven perched on his shoulder, and then -said: “Besides, wise Huginn tells me that the reign of any god is an -ephemeral matter hardly worth fretting over. I fell. They will fall. -But neither fact is very important, says wise Huginn.” - -And about the Master these dim watchers preferred not to talk any -more. He had denied them, they said, when they were kings of heaven -and of man’s worship and terror: and the Master had always maintained -his cult against whatever god was for the moment supreme. He had -never been formidable, he had never shown any desire toward usurping -important powers. He had remained content to assert himself Prince of -this World, whoever held the heavens and large stars: and while he had -never meddled with the doings of any god in other planets, here upon -earth he had displayed such pertinacity that in the end most rulers -of the universe let him alone. And now their omnipotence had passed, -but the Master’s little power—somehow—endured. The old gods found it -inexplicable; but they were under no bonds to explain it; and it was -not worth bothering about: nor was anything else worth bothering about, -said they, whom time had freed of grave responsibilities. - -And Florian mildly pitied their come-down in life, and their descent -into this forlorn condition, but felt himself, none the less, to be -sitting among ne’er-do-wells, and to be in not quite the company suited -to a nobleman of his rank. So it was really a relief when the Master’s -religious services were over, and when, with the coming of red dawn, -his servants departed, trooping this way and that way, but without ever -ascending far above earth as they passed like sombre birds. The Master -now stood unattended upon the asherah stone. - -Florian then nodded civilly to the fallen gods, and left them. Florian -came forward and, removing his silver-laced green hat with a fine -stately sweep, he gave Janicot that ceremonious bow which Florian -reserved for persons whose worldly estate entitled them to be treated -as equals by a Duke of Puysange. - - - - -_15._ - -_Dubieties of the Master_ - - -“Come,” said Janicot, yawning in the dawn of Christmas Day, “but here -is our romantic lordling of Puysange, to whom love is divine, and the -desired woman a goddess.” - -Florian did not at once reply. He had for the instant forgotten his -need of the sword Flamberge. For on account of the requirements of the -various ceremonies, Janicot, except for a strip of dappled fawn-skin -across his chest, was not wearing any clothes, not even any shoes. -Florian had just noticed Janicot’s feet. But Florian was too courteous -to comment upon personal peculiarities: for this only is the secret -of all good-breeding, he reflected, not ever to wound the feelings of -anybody, in any circumstances, without premeditation. So his upsetment -was but momentary, and was not shown perceptibly, he felt sure, by the -gasp which politeness had turned into a sigh. - -“But what the deuce,” said Janicot then, “is this a proper groan, is -this the appropriate countenance, for one whose love has overridden the -by-laws of time and nature and even of necromancy?” - -“Ah, Monsieur Janicot,” answered Florian, “gravity everywhere goes -arm-in-arm with wisdom, and I am somewhat wiser than I was when we last -talked together. For I have been to the high place, and my desires have -been gratified.” - -“That is an affair of course, since all my friends have all their -desires in this world. What cannot be with equal readiness taken for -granted is the fact that you appear on that account to be none the -happier.” - -“Merriment,” replied Florian, “is a febrile passion. But content is -quiet.” - -“So, then, you are content, my little duke?” - -“The word ‘little,’ Monsieur Janicot, has in its ordinary uses no -uncivil connotations. Yet, when applied to a person—” - -“I entreat your pardon, Monsieur the Duke, for the ill-chosen -adjective, and I hastily withdraw it.” - -“Which pardon, I need hardly say, I grant with even more haste. I am -content, then, Monsieur Janicot. I have achieved my heart’s desire, -and I find it”—Florian coughed,—-“beyond anything I ever imagined. But -now, alas! the great love between my wife and me draws toward its sweet -fruition, and one must be logical. So I comprehend—with not unnatural -regret,—that my adored wife will presently be leaving me forever.” - -“Ah, to be sure! Then you have already, in this brief period, passed -from the pleasures of courtship to the joys of matrimony—?” - -“Monsieur, I am a Puysange. We are ardent.” - -“—And she is already—?” - -“Monsieur, I can but repeat my remark.” - -“Eh,” replied Janicot, “you have certainly spared no zeal, you have not -slept, in upholding the repute of your race: and this punctilious and -loving adherence to the fine old forthright customs of your fathers -affects me. There remains, to be sure, our bargain. Yet I am honestly -affected, and since this parting grieves you so much, Florian, some -composition must be reached—” - -“It is undeniable,” said Florian, with a reflective frown, “that my -most near acquaintances address me—” - -“I accept the reproof, I withdraw the vocative noun, and again I -entreat your pardon, Monsieur the Duke.” - -“I did not so much voice a reproof, Monsieur Janicot, as a sincere -lament that I have never enjoyed the privilege of your close -friendship.” And Florian too bowed. “I was about to observe, then, -that a gentleman adheres in all to all his bargains. So I can in logic -consider no alteration of our terms, though you comprehend, I trust, -how bitter I find their fulfilment.” - -“Yes,” Janicot responded, “it is precisely the amount of your grief -which I begin to comprehend. Its severity has even brought on a -bronchial irritation which prevents your speaking freely: and indeed, -one might have foreseen this.” - -“—So I have come to inquire how I am to get the sword Flamberge, which, -as you may remember, must figure in the ceremony of—your pardon, but -I really do appear to have contracted a quite obstinate cough in the -night air,—of giving you your honorarium, by the old ritual.” - -Janicot for a moment reflected. “You have sacrificed—” - -“Monsieur, pray let us be logical! I have offered you no sacrifice. I -have participated in no such inadvisable custom of heathenry. I must -remind you that this is Christmas; and that I, naturally, elect to -follow our Christian custom of exchanging appropriate gifts at this -season of the year.” - -“I again apologize, I withdraw the verb. You have made me a Christmas -present, then, of the life of a person of some note and mightiness, as -your race averages. So it is your right to demand my aid. Yet there -is one at your home, in an earthen pot, who could have procured for -you the information, and very probably the sword too, without your -stirring from your fireside and adored wife. It appears to me odd that, -with so few months of happiness remaining, you should absent yourself -from the sources of your only joy.” - -Florian’s hand had risen in polite protest. “Ah, but, Monsieur Janicot, -but in mere self-respect, one would not employ the power of which -you speak, unless there were some absolute need. Now, for my part, -I have always found it simple enough to get what I wanted without -needing to thank anyone for help except myself. And Flamberge too is a -prize that I prefer to win unaided, at the trivial price of a slight -token of esteem at Christmas. I prefer, you conceive,” said Florian, -as smilingly he reflected upon the incessant carefulness one had to -exercise in dealing with these fiends, “to settle the affair without -incurring humiliating and possibly pyrotechnic obligations to anybody.” - -Janicot replied: “Doubtless, such independent sentiments are admirable. -And it shall be as you like—” - -“Still, Monsieur Janicot,” said Florian, with just the proper amount of -heartbreak in his voice, “is it not regrettable that this cruel price -should be exacted of me?” - -“Old customs must be honored, and mine are oldish. Besides, as I recall -it, you suggested the bargain, not I.” - -“Yes, because I know that gifts from you are dangerous. Why, but let -us be logical! Would you have me purchase an ephemeral pleasure at -the price of my own ruin, when I could get it at the cost of somewhat -inconveniencing others?” - -“You say that my gifts are dangerous. Yet, what do you really know -about me, Florian? Again I entreat your pardon, Monsieur the Duke, but, -after all, our acquaintance progresses.” - -“I know nothing about you personally, Monsieur Janicot, beyond the -handsomeness of your generosity. I only know the danger of accepting a -free gift from any fiend; and you I take to be, in cosmic politics, a -leader of the party in opposition.” - -Janicot looked grave for a moment. He said: - -“No, I am not a fiend, Monsieur the Duke; nor, for that matter, does -your current theology afford me any niche.” - -“Well, then,” asked Florian, with his customary fine frankness, “if you -are not the devil, what the devil are you?” - -Janicot answered: “I am all that has been and that is to be. Never has -any man been able to imagine what I am.” - -“Ah, monsieur, that sounds well, and, quite possibly, it means -something. Of that I know no more than a frog does about toothache, but -I do know they call you the adversary of all the gods of men—” - -“Yes,” Janicot admitted, rather sadly, “I have been hoping, now for a -great while, that men would find some god with whom a rational person -might make terms, but that seems never to happen.” - -“Monsieur, monsieur!” cried Florian, “pray let us have no scepticism—!” - -“Scepticism also is a comfort denied to me. Men have that refuge always -open. But I have in my time dealt at close grips with too many gods to -have any doubt about them. No, I believe, and I shudder with distaste.” - -“Come, now, Monsieur Janicot, religion and somewhere to go on Sundays -are quite necessary amenities—” - -Janicot was surprised. “Why, but, Monsieur the Duke, can it be true -that you, as a person of refinement, approve of worshipping goats -and crocodiles and hawks and cats and hippopotami after the Egyptian -custom?” - -“Parbleu, not in the least! I, to the contrary—” - -“Oh, you admire, then, the monkeys and tigers, in whose honor the men -of India build temples?” - -“Not at all. You misinterpret me—” - -“Ah, I perceive. You approve, instead, of those gods of Greece and -Rome, who went about earth as bulls and cock cuckoos and as sprinklings -of doubloons and five franc pieces, when they were particularly -desirous of winning affection?” - -“Now, Monsieur Janicot, you very foolishly affect to misunderstand me. -One should be logical in these grave matters. One should know, as the -whole world knows, that the Dukes of Puysange care nothing for the -silly fables of paganism, and that for five centuries we of Puysange -have been notable and loyal Christians.” - -Janicot said: “For five whole centuries! Jahveh also, being so young a -god, must think that a long while; and doubtless he feels honored by -these five centuries of patronage.” - -“Well, of course,” said Florian, modestly, “as one of the oldest -families hereabouts, we find that our example is apt to be followed. -But we ourselves think little of our long lineage, we have grown used -to it, we think that logically it is only the man himself who matters: -and I confess, Monsieur Janicot, that it seems almost droll to see you -impressed by our antiquity.” - -“I!” said Janicot. Then he said: “For all that, I am impressed. Yes, -men are really wonderful. However, let that pass. So it is Jahveh of -whom you approve. You confess it. Why, then, I ask you, as one logical -person addressing another—” - -“A pest! logic is a fine thing, but let us not put these matters -altogether upon the ground of logic,” said Florian, recoiling just -perceptibly, as a large tumble-bug climbed on the rock, and sat beside -Janicot. - -“—I ask you,” Janicot continued, “as one person of good taste -addressing another—” - -“It is not wholly an affair of connoisseurs. Let us talk about -something else.” - -“—For you have this Jahveh’s own history of his exploits all -written down at his own dictation. I allow him candor, nor, for one -so young, does he write badly. For the rest, do these cruelties, -these double-dealings, these self-confessed divine blunders and -miscalculations, these subornings of murders and thefts and adulteries, -these punishments of the innocent, not sparing even his own family—” - -Florian yawned delicately, but without removing his eyes from the -tumble-bug. “My dear Monsieur Janicot, that sort of talk is really -rather naïve: it is, if you will pardon my frankness, quite out of date -now that we have reached the eighteenth century.” - -“Yes, but—” - -“No, Monsieur Janicot, I can consent to hear no more of these -sophomoric blasphemies. I must tell you I have learned that in these -matters, as in all matters, it is better taste to recognize some -drastic regeneration may be necessary without doing anything about it, -and certainly without aligning ourselves with the foul anarchistic -mockers of everything in our social chaos which is making for beauty -and righteousness—” - -“Why, but, Monsieur the Duke,” said Janicot, “but what—!” - -“I must tell you I perceive, in honest sorrow, that with a desire for -fescennine expression you combine a vulgar atheism and an iconoclastic -desire to befoul the sacred ideas of the average man or woman, -collectively scorned as the bourgeoisie—” - -“Yes, doubtless, this is excellent talking. Still, what—?” - -“I must tell you also that I very gravely suspect you to be one of -those half-baked intellectuals who confuse cheap atheism, and the -defiling of other men’s altars, with deep thinking; one of those -moral and spiritual hooligans who resent all forms of order as an -encroachment upon their diminutive, unkempt and unsavory egos; one of -the kind of people who relish nasty books about sacred persons and -guffaw over the amours of the angels.” - -“Yes, I concede the sonority of your periods; but what does all this -talking mean?” - -“Why, monsieur,” said Florian, doubtfully, “I do not imagine -that it means anything. These are merely the customary noises of -well-thought-of persons in reply to the raising of any topic which -they prefer not to pursue. It is but an especially dignified manner of -saying that I do not care to follow the line of thought you suggest, -because logic here might lead to uncomfortable conclusions and to -deductions without honorable precedents.” - -“Ah, now I understand you,” said Janicot, smiling. He looked down, and -stroked the tumble-bug, which under his touch shrank and vanished. “I -should have noticed the odor before; and as it is, I confess that, in -this frank adhesion to your folly without pretending it is anything -else, I recognize a minim of wisdom. So let us say no more about it. -Let us return to the question of that sword with which the loyal -servant of him who also came not to bring peace, but a sword, has need -to sever his family ties. Those persons just behind you were very -pretty swordsmen in their day: and I imagine that they can give you all -the necessary information as to the sword Flamberge.” - - - - -_16._ - -_Some Victims of Flamberge_ - - -It was really no affair of Florian’s, how these five vaguely-hued and -quaintly appareled persons happened to be standing just behind him. -They had not been there a moment ago: but Janicot seemed partial to -these small wonder-workings, and such foibles, while in dubious taste, -did not greatly matter. - -So Florian was off again with his silver-laced hat, and Florian saluted -these strangers with extreme civility. And Florian inquired of the gray -and great-thewed champion if he knew of the whereabouts of Flamberge; -and this tall man answered: - -“No. It was a fine sword, and I wore it once when I had mortal life and -was very young. But I surrendered this sword to a woman, in exchange -for that which I most desired. So I got no good of Flamberge, nor did -anyone else so far as I could ever hear, for there is a curse upon this -sword.” - -“A curse, indeed!” said Florian, somewhat astonished. “Why, but I -have always been told, monsieur, that the wearer of Flamberge is -unconquerable.” - -“That I believe to be true. Thus the wearer of Flamberge can get all -his desires, and he usually does so: and, having them, he understands -that the sword is accursed.” - -“And did you too get your desire in this world, monsieur, and perceive -the worth of it?” - -“My boy, there is a decency in these matters, and an indecency. I got -my desire. And having it, I did not complain. Let that suffice.” - -With that, the speaker picked up his shield, upon which was blazoned a -rampant and bridled stallion, and this tall gray squinting soldier was -there no longer. - -Then came a broad and surly man, in garments of faded scarlet, and with -gems dangling from his ears, and he said: “From him, who was in his -day a Redeemer, the sword came to my mother, and from her to me, and -with it I slew my father, as was foreordained. And the sword made me -unconquerable, and I went fearing nobody, and I ruled over much land, -and I was dreaded upon the wide sea. And the sword won for me the body -of that woman whom I desired, and the sword won for me long misery and -sudden ruin.” - -“A pest!” said Florian. “So you also, monsieur, were the victim of your -own triumph!” - -“Not wholly,” the other answered. “For I learned to envy and to admire -that which I could not understand. That is something far better worth -learning than you, poor shallow-hearted little posturer, are ever -likely to suspect.” - -And now came a third champion, who said: “From him, who was in his day -a most abominable pagan and a very gallant gentleman as well, the sword -came to me. And I cast it into the deep sea, because I meant to gain -my desire unaided by sorcery and with clean hands. And I did get my -desire.” - -“And did you also live unhappily ever afterward?” - -“Our marriage was as happy as most marriages. My love defied Time and -Fate. Because of my love I suffered unexampled chances and ignominies, -and I performed deeds that are still rhymed about; and in the end, -through my unswerving love, I got me a wife who was as good as most -wives. So I made no complaint.” - -And Florian nodded. “I take your meaning. There was once a king and -a queen. They had three sons. And the third prince succeeded in -everything—Your faces and your lives are strange to me. But it is -plain all four of us have ventured into the high place, that dreadful -place wherein a man attains to his desires.” - -Then said another person: “That comes of meddling with Flamberge. Now -my weapon was, at least upon some occasions, called Caliburn. And I -ventured into a great many places, but I was careful of my behavior in -all of them.” - -“And did you never attain to your desire, monsieur?” - -“Never, my lad, although I had some narrow shaves. Why, once there -was only a violet coverlet between me and destruction, but I was poet -enough to save myself.” - -“Parbleu, now that is rather odd! For I first saw my wife—I mean, my -present duchess,—asleep beneath a violet coverlet.” - -“Ah,” said the other, drily, “so that is where you sought a woman to -be, of all things, your wife! Then you are braver than I: but you are -certainly not a monstrous clever fellow.” - -“Well, well!” said Florian, “so the refrain of this obsolescent quartet -is a jingle-jangle of shallow and cheap pessimism: and the upshot of -the matter is that Flamberge is lost somewhere in the old time, and -that I know not how to come to it.” - - -[Illustration: -Caption, surrounded by garland. Now FLORIAN came forward. - _See page 234_ -The image.] - - -“That is easy,” said the fifth person, the only one who now remained. -“You must adventure as they once adventured, who were your forefathers, -and you must go with me, who am called Horvendile, into Antan.” - -“Were those evaporating gentlemen my forefathers?” asked Florian. “And -how does one go into Antan?” - -“They were,” answered Horvendile. “And one goes in this way.” He -explained the way, and the need for traveling on it. - -And Florian looked rather dubious and took snuff. He saw that Janicot -had vanished from the asherah stone, with that ostentatious simplicity -the brown creature seemed to affect. Then Florian shrugged, and said he -would go wherever Horvendile dared go, since this appeared now the only -chance of coming by the sword Flamberge. - -“And as for those who were my forefathers, and begot me, I would of -course have said something civil to express my appreciation of their -exertions, if I had known. But between ourselves, Monsieur Horvendile, -I would have preferred to meet some of the more imposing progenitors -of Puysange,—say, heroic old Dom Manuel or the great Jurgen,—instead -of these commonplace people. It is depressing to find any of one’s own -ancestors just ordinary persons, persons too who seem quite down in the -mouth, and with so little life in them—” - -“To be quite ordinary persons,” replied Horvendile, “is a failing -woefully common to all men and to the daughters of all men, nor does -that foible shock anybody who is not a romantic. As for having very -little life in them, what more do you expect of phantoms? The life -that was once in these persons to-day endures in you. For it is a -truism—preached to I do not, unluckily, know how many generations,—that -the life which informed your ancestor, tall Manuel the Redeemer, did -not perish when Manuel passed beyond the sunset, but remained here upon -earth to animate the bodies of his children and of their children after -them.” - -“But by this time Manuel must have the progeny of a sultan or of a town -bull—” - -“Yes,” Horvendile conceded, “in a great many bodies, and in countless -estates, that life has known a largish number of fruitless emotions. At -least, they appear to me to have been rather fruitless. And to-day that -life wears you, Monsieur de Puysange, as its temporary garment or, it -may be, as a mask: to-morrow you also will have been put by. For that -is always the ending of the comedy.” - -“Well, so that the comedy wherein I figure be merry enough—” - -“It is not ever a merry comedy,” replied Horvendile, “though, for one, -I find it amusing. For I forewarn you that the comedy does not vary. -The first act is the imagining of the place where contentment exists -and may be come to; and the second act reveals the striving toward, -and the third act the falling short of, that shining goal,—or else the -attaining of it to discover that happiness, after all, abides a thought -farther down the bogged, rocky, clogged, befogged heart-breaking road.” - -“Ah, but,” said Florian, “these reflections are doubtless edifying, -since they combine gloom with verbosity and no exact meaning. Still, -it is not happiness I am looking for, but a sword to which all this -philosophizing brings us no step nearer. No, it is not happiness I -seek. For through that sword, when I have got it, will come such -misery as I cannot bear to think of, since its sharp edge must sever -me irrevocably from that perfect beauty which I have adored since -boyhood. None the less, I have given my word; and these old phantoms -have unanimously reassured me that it is better to have love end -at fulltide. So let us be logical, and let us go forward, Monsieur -Horvendile, as merrily as may be possible.” - - - - -_17._ - -_The Armory of Antan_ - - -The way to Antan was made difficult by darkness and obstacles and -illusions, and the three that guarded the cedar-shadowed way were -called Glam of the Haunting Eyes and Ten-jo of the Long Nose and -Maya of the Fair Breasts. But these warders did not greatly bother -Horvendile, who passed them by the appointed methods and through means -which Florian found remarkable if not actually indelicate. In no other -way than through these cedar-groves and the local customs might you -win to Freydis, whom love brought out of Audela to suffer as a mortal -woman, and whom the druids and satirists had brought, through Sesphra’s -wicked aid, to Antan. Thus had she come to reign in Antan, and to -attest, with many dreadful instances, her ardor to do harm and work -great mischief. - -Now this Antan was a queer place, all cloudiness and grayness, but -full of gleamings which reminded you of sparks that linger insecurely -among ashes: and there were no real noises, not even when you talked. -And when Horvendile had departed, you asked this gray and dimly golden -woman if the sword Flamberge was to be come by anywhere in madame’s -most charming and tasteful residence? She replied, a shadow speaking -with the shadow of a voice, that it was very probably somewhere in her -armory: and she led the way into a misty place wherein were the famous -swords whereby came many deaths and a little fame. - -Very curious it was to see them coldly shining in the mistiness, and -to handle them. Here was long Durandal, with which Sir Roland split -a cleft in the Pyrenees; and beside it hung no less redoubtable -Haulte-Claire, with which Sir Oliver had held his own against Durandal -and Durandal’s fierce master, in that great battling which differed -from other military encounters by resulting in something memorable -and permanent, in the form of a proverb. Here was Lancelot’s sword -Aroundight, here was Ogier’s Courtain, and Siegfried’s Balmung. One saw -in this dim place the Cid’s Colada, Sir Bevis’s Morglay, the Crocea -Mors of Cæsar, and the Joyeuse of Charlemagne. Nor need one look in -vain for Curtana and Quernbiter, those once notable guardians of -England and Norway, nor for Mistelstein, nor Tizona, nor Greysteel, nor -Angurvadel, nor any other charmed sword of antiquity. All were here: -and beside Joyeuse was hung Flamberge; for Galas made both of them. - -Well, you estimated, Flamberge was by no means the handsomest of the -lot: but it would serve your turn, you did not desire to seem grasping. -And since madame appeared somewhat oversupplied with cutlery— - -Indeed that was the truth, as Freydis could not deny, in the thin tones -which people’s voices had in Antan, since not only these patrician -murderers harbored here. Here too were death’s plebeian tools in -every form. Here were Italian stilettoes heaped with Malay krisses, -the hooked Turkish scimitar with the Venetian schiavona; curved Arab -yataghans, sabres that Yoshimitzu had tempered, the Albanian cutlass, -and the notched blades of Zanzibar; the two-handed claymores of -Scotland, the espada of the Spanish matador, the scalping-knives of -the Red Indians and the ponderous glaives of executioners: swords from -all cities and all kingdoms of the world, from Ferrara and Toledo and -Damascus, from Dacia and Peru and Muscovy and Babylon. - -To which you replied that, while you had never greatly cared for -the cataloguing method in literature, you allowed its merits in -conversation. These crisp little résumés indicated a really firm grasp -of the subject. For the rest, it was most interesting to note what -ingenuity people had displayed in contriving how to kill one another. - -Freydis assented as to men’s whole-heartedness in malignity, but -was disposed to view without optimism the support it got from human -ingenuity. She considered these swords in any event to be outmoded -lumber, as concerned the needs of anybody who really desired to do harm -and work any actually great mischief. - -Still, you, whose speaking seemed even to you a whisper in the -grayness, declined to be grasping: and Flamberge would serve your turn. -Therefore it was vexatious that, instead of gracefully presenting you -with the sword, the Queen of Antan went through a gray vague corridor, -wherein upon a table lay a handful of rusty iron nails and a spear, and -then into another twilit place. - -Here, as you hastily observed, were madame’s pistols, cannons, -culverins, grenades, musketoons, harquebusses, bombs, petronels, -siege-guns, falconets, carbines, and jingals, and swivels. Yes, it was -most interesting. - -Freydis looked at you somewhat queerly: and it was, again, as outmoded -lumber that she appraised this arsenal. Then Freydis almost proudly -showed the weapons she had in store for men’s needs when men should go -to war to-morrow, and such assistants would further every patriot’s -desire to do harm and work great mischief. And you felt rather -uncomfortable to see the sleek efficiency of these gleaming things in -this ambiguous place. - -Yes, they were very interesting, and beside them, Flamberge certainly -seemed inadequate. Still, you admitted, you had never been grasping: -and Flamberge would serve your turn. - -It was really maddening how the woman kept turning to irrelevant -matters. These engines of destruction, although ingenious and -devastating toys within their limits, should not be regarded -overseriously. A million or so of persons, or at most a few nations, -could be removed with these things, but that was all. So speaking, she -passed into a room wherein were books,—but not many books,—and four -figures modelled in clay, as she told you, by old Dom Manuel very long -ago. It was more important, her thin talking went on, that as occasion -served she was sending into the world these figures, to follow their -six predecessors, to all whom she had given a life empoisoned with -dreams, with dreams that were immortal and contagious; and so would -infect others and yet others eternally, and would make living as -unhappy and detestable a business as dying. What were these dreams? she -was asked: and she in turn asked, Why should I tell you? Your dream is -different, nor may you escape it. This must suffice: that these dreams -are the most subtle and destructive of poisons, and do harm and work -great mischief, in that they enable men to see that life and all which -life can afford is inadequate to men’s desires. - -This seemed rather morbid talk. To evade it tactfully, the four -changelings as yet unborn were examined, with civil comments: and -indeed there was about one little hook-nosed figure a something which -quite took the fancy. He reminds me of a parrot, was your smilingly -tendered verdict: and Freydis, with her habitual tired shrugging, -replied that others, later, would detect, without much reticence, a -resemblance to that piratical and repetitious bird. - -Now then, all this was very interesting, most interesting, and -you really regretted having to return to the topic of the sword -Flamberge—Freydis had not made up her mind: she might or might not give -the sword, and her deciding must pivot upon what harm you meant to do -with it. Her visitor from the more cheery world of daylight was thus -forced to make a clean breast of why he needed Flamberge, the only -sword that may spill the blood of the Léshy, so that he might give, by -the old ritual, his unborn child, and rid himself of his wife. - -Whereon Queen Freydis expressed frank indignation, because the child -would by this plan be rescued from all, and the woman from much, -sorrow. Could even a small madman in bottle-green and silver suppose -that the Queen of Antan, after centuries of thriving malevolence, was -thus to be beguiled into flagrant philanthropy? - -But it was not, in the long run, philanthropy, you insisted. It was -depressing to have to argue about anything in this gray, vague, -gleaming, endless place, wherein you seemed only to whisper: and you -were, privately, a little taken aback by the unaccustomed need to -prove an action, not amply precedented and for the general good, but -the precise contrary. Aloud,—though not actually aloud, but in the -dim speech one uses in Antan,—you contended that when a man thus rid -himself of his wife he did harm and worked great mischief, because -the spectacle made all beholders unhappy. Women of course had obvious -reasons for uneasiness lest the example be followed generally: and men -were roused to veritable frenzies of pious reprovings when they saw the -thing they had so often thought of doing accomplished by somebody else. - -Did married men, then, at heart always desire to murder their wives? -was what Freydis wondered. No, you did not say that: not always; -some wives let weeks go by without provoking that desire. And to -appearances, most men became in the end more or less reconciled to -having their wives about. Still, let us not go wholly by appearances. -Let us be logical! Whom does any man most dislike? - -Freydis had settled down, with faint golden shimmerings, upon a couch -that was covered with gray cushions, and she meditated. What person -does any man most dislike? Why, Freydis estimated, the person who most -frequently annoys him, the person with whom he finds himself embroiled -in the most bitter quarrels, the person whose imperfections are to him -most glaringly apparent, and, in fine, the person who most often and -most poignantly makes him uncomfortable. - -Just so, you assented: and in the life of any possible married man, -who was that person? The question was rhetorical. You did not have -to answer it, any more than did most husbands. None the less, you -esteemed it a question which no married man had failed to consider, if -gingerly and as if from afar, with the mere tail of his mental eye, in -unacknowledged reveries. It was perhaps the memory of these cloistered -considerations which made married men acutely uncomfortable when any -other man disposed of his wife without all this half-hearted paltering -with the just half-pleasant notion that some day she would go so far as -to make justifiable—A gesture showed what, as plainly as one could show -anything in this vague endlessness of grays and gleamings. No, madame -might depend upon it, to assist any gentleman in permanently disposing -of his wife was not, in the long run, philanthropy. It really did make -the majority of other husbands uncomfortable, whether through envy or -though a conscience-stricken recalling of unacknowledged reveries, you -did not pretend to say. - -All that might be true enough, Freydis admitted, from her dim nook -among the gray cushions, without alluring her into the charitable act -of preventing a child’s enduring the sorrows and fatigues of living. - -Ah, but here again, madame must not reason so carelessly, nor be misled -by specious first appearances. Let us, instead, be logical! The child, -knowing nothing, would not know what it was escaping: and it would not -be grateful, it would derive no æsthetic pleasure from the impressive -ceremony of giving by the old ritual, it would even resent the moment’s -physical pain. But the beholders of the deed, and all that heard of it, -would be acutely uncomfortable, since the father that secured for his -child immunity from trouble and annoyance, did harm and worked great -mischief by setting an example which aroused people to those frenzies -evocable by no other prodigy than a display of common-sense. - -For people would turn from this proof of paternal affection, to the -world from which the child was being removed: and people would -be unhappy, because, with all their natural human propensity for -fault-finding tugging them toward denunciation, nobody would be able -to deny the common-sense of rescuing a child from discomforts and -calamities. What professional perjurer anywhere, madame, whether in -prison or politics or the pulpit, could muster the effrontery to -declare life other than a long series of discomforts diversified -only by disasters? What dignity was possible in an arena we entered -in the manner of urine and left in the shape of ordure? What father -endowed with any real religious faith could, after the most cursory -glancing over of the sufferings he had got gratis in this life and -had laboriously earned in the next,—could then appraise without -conscience-stricken remorse the dilemma in which he had placed his -offspring? - -Well, to see thus revealed the one sure way of rescuing the child from -this disastrous position, and to know himself too much a poltroon to -follow the example of which his judgment and all his better instincts -approved, was a situation that, madame, must make every considerate -parent actually and deeply miserable, through self-contempt. In one -manner alone might every man be made really miserable,—by preventing -him from admiring himself any longer. - -For people would look, too, toward the nearest police officer and -toward the cowardice in their own hearts: and these commingled -considerations would prevent many fathers from doing their plain -duty. They would send many and it might be the hapless majority of -fathers to bed that night with clean hands, with the pallid hands of -self-convicted dastards: and self-contempt would make these fathers -always unhappy. No, here again, madame might depend upon it that to -assist a gentleman in this giving, by the old ritual, of his offspring -was not, in the long run, and whatever the deed might seem to a first -glance, philanthropy. It did some good: one could not deny that: but, -after all, the child was absolutely the only person who profited, -and through the benefits conferred upon the child was furthered the -greatest ill and discomfort for the greatest number, who, here as in -every other case, replied to any display of common-sense with frenzies -that did harm and everywhither splutteringly worked mischief. - -And you spoke with such earnestness, and so much logic, that in the -end the vaguely golden Queen of Antan smiled through the gray mist, -and said that you reminded her of her own children. You were enamored -of words, you delighted in any nonsense which was sonorous. You were -like all her children, she told you, the children whom, in spite of -herself, she pitied. Here Freydis sighed. - -Pity has kindred, you stated. Freydis leaned back among the gray -cushions of her couch, so as to listen in perfect ease, and bade you -explain that saying. - -And as you sat down beside her, Puysange arose to the occasion. -Here was familiar ground at last, the ground on which Puysange -thrust forward with most firmness. And you reflected that it would -be inappropriate to lament, just now, that not even in Antan did a -rigidity of logic seem to get for anyone the victory which you foresaw -to be secured by your other gifts.... - -When Florian left Antan, the needed sword swung at his thigh. - - - - -_18._ - -_Problems of Holiness_ - - -Thus it was not until Handsel Monday that Florian took the serious step -which led from the realm in which Queen Freydis ruled, to the world of -every day: and Florian found there, standing on the asherah stone upon -which Janicot had received homage, no other person than Holy Hoprig. - -“So I catch you creeping out of Antan,” observed the saint, and his -halo glittered rather sternly. “I shall not pry into your actions -there, because Antan is not a part of this world, and it is only your -doings in this world which more or less involve my heavenly credit. -Upon account of that annoying tie I now admonish you. For now we -enter a new year, and this is the appropriate season for making good -resolutions. It would be wise for you to make a great many of them, my -son, for I warn you that I am a resolute spiritual father, and do not -intend to put up with any wickedness now that you return to the world -of men.” - -This was to Florian a depressing moment. He had been to a deal of -trouble to get the sword Flamberge, upon whose powers depended his -whole future. And the instant he had it, here in his path was a far -stronger power, with notions which bid fair to play the very devil with -Florian’s plans. Now one could only try what might be done with logic -and politeness. - -“Your interest in my career, Monsieur Hoprig, affects me more deeply -than I can well express; and I shall treasure your words. Still, -Monsieur Hoprig, in view of your own past, and in view of all your -abominable misdeeds as a priest of heathenry, one might anticipate a -little broad-mindedness—” - -“My past is quite good enough for any saint in eternity, and so, my -son, ought not to be sneered at by any whippersnapper of a sorcerer—” - -“Putting aside your delusion as to my necromantic accomplishments, -I had always supposed, monsieur, that the living of a saint would -be distinguished by meritorious actions, by actions worthy of our -emulation. And so—!” - -Hoprig sat down, sitting where Janicot had sat, and Hoprig made himself -comfortable. “That is as it may be. People get canonized in various -ways, and people, if you have ever noticed it, are human—” - -“Still, for all that, monsieur—” - -“—With human frailties. Now my confrères, I find since the extension of -my acquaintance in heavenly circles, are no exception to this rule. St. -Afra, the patroness of Augsburg, was for many years a courtesan in that -city, conducting a brothel in which three other saints, the blessed -Digna, Eunomia and Eutropia, exerted themselves with equal vigor and -viciousness. St. Aglae and St. Boniface for a long while maintained -an illicit carnal connection. St. Andrea of Corsini conducted himself -in every respect abominably until his mother dreamed that she had -given birth to a wolf, and so, of course, converted him. As for -St. Augustine, I can but blush, my dear son, and refer you to his -Confessions—” - -“Still, monsieur, I think—” - -“You are quite wrong. St. Benedict led for fifteen years a sinful life, -precisely as St. Bavon was a profligate for fifty. St. Bernard Ptolemei -was a highly successful lawyer, than which I need say no more—” - -“Yet, monsieur, if I be not mistaken—” - -“You are mistaken,” replied Hoprig. “The Saints Constantine and -Charlemagne committed every sort of atrocity and abomination, excepting -only that of parsimony to the Church. St. Christopher made a pact with -Satan, and St. Cyprian of Antioch was, like you, my poor child, a most -iniquitous sorcerer until he was converted through his lust for the -very holy Justina—” - -“Let us go no further in the alphabet, for there are twenty-six -letters, of which, I perceive, you have reached only the third. I was -merely about to observe,” said Florian, at a venture, “that you, after -living dishonestly—” - -“Now, if you come to that, St. George of Cappadocia was an embezzler, -St. Guthlac of Croydon was by profession a cut-throat and a thief—” - -“—After,” continued Florian, where guessing seemed to thrive, “I know -not how many escapades with women—” - -“Whom I at worst accompanied in just the physical experiments through -which were graduated into eternal grace St. Margaret of Cortona, St. -Mary the Egyptian, St. Mary the Penitent, St. Mary Magdalene, and I -cannot estimate how many other ladies now canonized.” - -“—And, worst of all, after your persecuting and murdering of real -Christians—” - -“St. Paul stoned Stephen the Protomartyr, St. Vitalis of Ravenna and -St. Torpet of Pisa both served under Nero, that arch-persecutor of the -faithful, and St. Longinus conducted the Crucifixion. No, Florian: no, -I admit that at first I was a trifle uncertain. For I did remember some -incidents that were capable of misconstruction and exaggeration, and -people talk too much upon this side of the grave for burial quite to -cure them of the habit. But since moving more widely among the elect, -it has been extremely gratifying to find my past as blameless as that -of most other holy persons.” - -“—You, after all these enormities, I say, have been canonized by the -lost tail of an R, and through mistake have been fitted out with a -legend in which there is no word of truth—” - -“The histories of many of my more immaculate confrères have that same -little defect. St. Hippolytus, who never heard of Christianity, since -he lived, if at all, several hundred years before the Christian era, -was canonized by a mistake. St. Filomena’s legend rests upon nothing -save the dreams of a priest and an artist, who were thus favored with -unluckily quite incompatible revelations. The name of St. Viar was -presented for beatification because of a time-disfigured tombstone, -like mine, a stone upon which remained only part of the Latin word -_viarum_: and two syllables of a road-inspector’s vocation were thus -esteemed worthy of being canonized. The record of St. Undecimilla was -misread as relating to eleven thousand virgins, and so swelled the -Calendar with that many saints who were later discovered never to have -existed. No, Florian, mistakes seem to occur everywhere, in awarding -the prizes of celestial as well as earthly life: but not even those of -the elect who have without any provocation been thrust into the highest -places of heaven ought to complain, for one never really gains anything -by being hypercritical.” - -“Why, then, monsieur, I say that all these legends—” - -“You are quite wrong. They are excellent legends. I know that, for -one, I have been moved to tears and to the most exalted emotions of -every kind through considering my own history. What boy had ever a more -edifying start in life than that ten years of meditation in a barrel? -It was not a beer barrel either, I am sure, for stale beer has a vile -odor. No, Florian, you may depend upon it, that barrel had been made -aromatic by a generous and full-bodied wine, by a rather sweetish wine, -I think—” - -“Yes, but, monsieur—” - -Still Hoprig’s rolling voice went on, unhurriedly and very nobly, and -with something of the stateliness of an organ’s music: and in the -saint’s face you saw unlimited benevolence, and magnanimity, and such -deep and awe-begetting wisdom as seemed more than human. - -And Hoprig said: “Wonder awakens in me when I consider my travels, and -stout admiration when I regard the magnificence of my deeds. Why, -but, my son, I defied two emperors to their pagan faces, I sailed in -a stone trough beyond the sunset, I killed five dragons, I forget -how many barbarous tribes I converted, and I intrepidly went down -into Pohjola and into the fearful land of Xibalba, among big tigers -and blood-sucking bats, to the rescue of my poor friend Hork! Now I -consider these things with a pride which is not selfish, but with pride -in the race and in the religion which produces such heroism: and I -consider these things with tears also, when I think of my steadfastness -under heathen persecution. Do you but recall, my dear child, what -torments I endured! I was bound to a wheel set with knives, I was given -poison to drink, I was made to run in red-hot iron shoes, I was cast -into quicklime—But I abridge the list of my sufferings, for it is too -harrowing. I merely point out that the legend is excellent.” - -“But, monsieur, this legend is not true.” - -“The truth, my son,” replied the saint, “is that which a person, for -one reason or another, believes. Now if I had really been put to the -horrible inconvenience of doing all these splendid things, and they had -been quite accurately reported, my legend would to-day be precisely -what it is: it would be no more or less than the fine legend which -piety has begotten upon imagination. You will grant that, I hope?” - -“Nobody denies that. It is only—” - -“Then how can it to-day matter a pennyworth whether or not I did these -things?” asked the saint, reasonably. - -“Well, truly now, Monsieur Hoprig, the way you put it—” - -“I put it, my son, in the one rational way. We must zealously preserve -those invigorating stories of the heroic and virtuous persons who -lived here before our time so gloriously, because people have need of -these excellent examples. It would be a terrible misfortune if these -stories were not known everywhere, and were not always at hand to -hearten everybody in hours of despondency by showing what virtuous -men can rise to at need. These examples comfort the discouraged with -a sentiment of their importance as moral beings and of the greatness -of their destinies. So, since the actual living of men has at no time, -unluckily, afforded quite the necessary examples, the philanthropic -historian selects, he prunes, he colors, he endeavors, like any other -artist, to make something admirable out of his raw material. The -miracles which the painter performs with evil-smelling greases, the -sculptor with mud, and the musician with the intestines of a cat, the -historian emulates through the even more unpromising medium of human -action. And that is as it should be: for life is a continuous battle -between the forces of good and evil, and news from the front ought to -be delivered in the form best suited to maintain our morale. Yes, it is -quite as it should be, for fine beliefs do everybody good.” - -“Parbleu, monsieur, I cannot presume to argue with you; but this sort -of logic is unsettling. It is also unsettling to reflect that all the -magnificent gifts I have been offering to your church were sheer waste, -since you have not been at your post attending to the forgiveness of my -irregularities. You conceive, monsieur, I had kept very exact accounts, -with an equitable and even generous assessment for every form of -offence; and to find that all this painstaking has gone for nothing has -upset my conscience.” - -“That is probable. Still, I suspect that famous conscience of yours is -as much good to you upset as in any other position.” - -“Well, but, monsieur, now that my other troubles seem in every -likelihood to approach a settlement,” said Florian, caressing the -pommel of Flamberge, “what would you have me do about rectifying my -unfortunate religious status?” - -The saint looked now at Florian for a long while. In the great shining -pale blue eyes of Hoprig was much of knowledge and of pity. “You must -repent, my son. What are good works without repentance?” - -“A pest! if that is all which is needful, I shall put my mind to it -at once,” said Florian, brightening. “And doubtless, I shall find -something to repent of.” - -“I think that more than probable. What is certain is that I have no -more time to be wasting on you. I have given you my fair warning, -in the most delicate possible terms, without even once alluding to -my enjoyment of thaumaturgic powers and my especial proficiency in -blasting, cursing and smiting people with terrible afflictions. I -prefer, my dear child, to keep matters on a pleasant footing as long,” -the saint said meaningly, “as may prove possible. So I have not in -any way alluded to these little personal gifts. I have merely warned -you quite affably that, for the sake of my celestial credit, I intend -to put up with no wickedness from you; and I have duly called you to -repentance. With these duties rid of, I can be off to Morven. After -having seen, during the last five months, as much of this modern -world as particularly appeals to a saint in the prime of life, I am -establishing a hermitage upon Morven.” - -“And for what purpose, may one ask?” Florian was reflecting that Morven -stood uncomfortably near to Bellegarde. - -The saint regarded Florian with some astonishment. “One may ask, to be -sure, my son: but why should one answer?” - -“Well, but, monsieur, Morven is a place of horrible fame, a place which -is reputed still to be given over to sorcery—” - -“I would feel some unavoidable compassion for any sorcerer that I -caught near my hermitage: but, none the less, I would do my duty as a -Christian saint with especial proficiency—” - -“—And, monsieur, you would be terribly lonely upon Morven.” - -It appeared to Florian that the saint’s smile was distinctly peculiar. -“One need never be lonely,” St. Hoprig stated, “when one is able to -work miracles.” - -With that he slightly smacked his lips and vanished. - -And Florian remained alone with many and firm grounds for depression, -and with forebodings which caused him to look somewhat forlornly at the -sword Flamberge. For there seemed troubles ahead with which Flamberge -could hardly cope. - - - - -_19._ - -_Locked Gates_ - - -Florian did not at once set forth for Bellegarde, to make the utmost of -the four months of happiness he might yet hope to share with Melior. -Instead, he despatched a very loving letter to his wife, lamenting that -business matters would prevent his returning before February. - -Meanwhile he had gone to the Hôtel de Puysange. Along with Clermont, -Simiane, the two Belle-Isles, and all the rest of Orléans’ fraternity -of roués, Florian found himself evicted from Versailles. His rooms -there had already been assigned to the de Pries, by the new minister, -Monsieur de Bourbon, whom Florian esteemed to have acted with -unbecoming promptness and ingratitude. - -Florian, in any event, went to the Hôtel de Puysange, where he lived -rather retiredly for a month. He did not utterly neglect his social -duties between supper-and breakfast-time. But during the day he -excused himself from participation in any debauchery, and save for -three trivial affairs of honor,—in which Florian took part only as a -second, and killed only one of his opponents, an uninteresting looking -young Angevin gentleman, whose name he did not catch,—with these -exceptions, Florian throughout that month lived diurnally like an -anchorite. - -Nobody could speak certainly of what went on in the day-time within the -now inhospitable gates of the Hôtel de Puysange, but the rumors as to -Florian’s doings were on that account none the less numerous. - -It was public, in any event, that he had retained Albert Aluys, the -most accomplished sorcerer then practising in the city. What these -two were actually about at this time, behind the locked gates of the -Hôtel de Puysange, remains uncertain, for Florian never discussed the -matter. Aluys, when questioned,—though the value of his evidence is -somewhat tempered by his known proficiency and ardor at lying,—reported -that Monsieur the Duke made use of his services only to evoke the most -famous and beautiful women of bygone times. That was reasonable enough: -but, what the deuce! once these marvelous creatures were materialized -and ready for all appropriate employment, monseigneur asked nothing of -the loveliest queens and empresses except to talk with him. It was not -as if he got any pleasure from it, either: for after ten minutes of -the prettiest woman’s talking about how historians had misunderstood -her with a fatuity equalled only by that of her husband and his -relatives, and about what had been the true facts in her earthly -life,—after ten minutes of these friendly confidences, monseigneur -would shake his head, and would sometimes groan outright, before he -requested that the lady be returned to her last home. - -Monseigneur, in point of fact, seemed put out by the circumstance that -these ladies manifested so little intelligence. As if, a shrugging -Aluys demanded of Heaven’s common-sense, it were not for the benefit -of humanity at large that all beautiful women were created a trifle -stupid. The ladies whom one most naturally desired to seduce were thus -made the most apt to listen to the seducer: for the good God planned -the greatest good for the greatest number. - -When February had come, and Florian might hope to share with Melior -only three more months of happiness, Florian sent a letter to his -wife to bewail the necessity of his remaining away from home until -March. The rumors as to his doings were now less colorful but equally -incredible. Yet nothing certainly was known of his pursuits, beyond the -fact that Aluys reported they were evoking the dead persons who had -been most famed for holiness and other admirable virtues. And with -these also Monsieur de Puysange seemed unaccountably disappointed. - -For he seemed, Aluys lamented, really not to have comprehended that -when men perform high actions or voice impressive sentiments, this -is by ordinary the affair of a few moments in a life of which the -remainder is much like the living of all other persons. Monsieur de -Puysange appeared to have believed that famous captains won seven -battles every week, that authentic poets conversed in hexameters, and -that profound sages did not think far less frequently about philosophy -than their family affairs. As if too, Aluys cried out, it were not -very pleasant to know the littlenesses of the great and the frailties -of the most admirable! Æschylus had confessed to habitual drunkenness, -the prophet Moses stuttered, and Charlemagne told how terribly he had -suffered with bunions. Monsieur de Puysange ought to be elated by -securing these valuable bits of historical information, but, to the -contrary, they seemed to depress him. He regretted, one judged, that -his colloquies with the renowned dead revealed that human history had -been shaped and guided by human beings. A romantic! was Aluys’ verdict: -and you cannot cure that. The gentleman will have an unhappy life. - -“His wives die quickly,” was hazarded. - -“They would,” Aluys returned: “and it makes for the benefit of all -parties.” - -Upon the first day of March, when Florian could hope at most to share -only two more months of happiness with Melior, Florian sent a letter to -his wife announcing the postponement until April of his homecoming. And -throughout this month too he lived in equal mystery, except that toward -the end of March he entertained a party of young persons at a supper -followed by the debauch just then most fashionable, a fête d’Adam. - -“Let us not be epigrammatic,” Florian had said, at outset. “Love -differs from marriage; and men are different from women; and a -restatement of either of these facts is cleverness. It is understood -that we are all capable of such revamping. So let us, upon this my -birthnight, talk logically.” - -They discussed, in consequence, the new world and the new era that was -upon them. For Europe was just then tidying up the ruin into which the -insane ambition of one man, discredited Louis Quatorze, had plunged -civilization. All the conventions of society had given way under the -strain of war, so that the younger generation was left without any -illusions. Those older people, who had so boggled matters, had been -thrust aside in favor of more youthful and more vigorous exponents of -quite new fallacies, and everyone knew that he was privileged to live -at a period in the world’s history hitherto unparalleled. So they had -a great deal to talk over at supper, with the errors of human society -at last triumphantly exposed, and with the younger generation at last -permitted utter freedom in self expression, and with recipes for all -the needful social regeneration obtainable everywhere. - -“We live,” it was confidently stated, “in a new world, which can never -again become the world we used to know.” - -Thus it was not until the coming of spring that Florian rode away -from the Hôtel de Puysange, wherein he had just passed the first -actually unhappy period of Florian’s life. For this man had long and -fervently cherished his exalted ideals: and since his boyhood the -beauty of Melior and the holiness of Hoprig had been at once the -criteria and the assurance of human perfectibility. To think of these -two had preserved him in faith and in wholesome optimism: for here was -perfect beauty and perfect holiness attained once by mankind, and in -consequence not unattainable. To dream of these two had kept Florian -prodigally supplied with lofty thoughts of human excellence. And these -two had thus enriched the living of Florian with unfailing streams of -soothing and ennobling poesy, of exactly the kind which, in Hoprig’s -fine phrase, was best suited to impress him with a sentiment of his -importance as a moral being and of the greatness of man’s destiny. - -Now all was changed. Now in the saint he found, somehow, a sort of -ambiguity; not anything toward which one could plump a corporeal -fore-finger, but, rather, a nuance of some indescribable inadequacy. -Florian could not but, very respectfully and with profound -unwillingness, suspect that any daily living, hour in and hour -out, with Holy Hoprig—in that so awkwardly situated hermitage upon -Morven,—would bear as fruitage discoveries woefully parallel to the -results of such intimacy with Melior. - -And of Melior her husband thought with even more unwillingness. At -Bellegarde he had found her, to the very last, endurable. But now that -Florian was again at court, the exigencies of his social obligations -had drawn him into many boudoirs. One could not be uncivil, nobody -would willingly foster a reputation for being an eccentric with a -mania for spending every night in the same bed. In fact, a husband -who had lost four wives in a gossip-loving world had obvious need to -avoid the imputation of being a misogynist. So Florian followed the -best-thought-of customs; and in divers bedrooms had, unavoidably and -logically, drawn comparisons. - -For at this time Florian was brought into quite intimate contact with -many delightful and very various ladies: with Madame de Polignac, -just then in the highest fashion on account of her victory in the -pistol duel she had fought with Madame de Nesle; with La Fillon, -most brilliant of blondes,—though, to be sure, she was no longer -in her first youth,—who was not less than six feet in height; with -Madame du Maine (in her Cardinal’s absence), who was the tiniest and -most fairy-like creature imaginable; with La Tencin, the former nun, -and with Emilie and La Souris, those most charming actresses; with -Madame de Modena and the Abbess de Chelles, both of whom were poor -Philippe’s daughters; with dashing Madame de Prie, who now ruled -everything through her official lover, Monsieur de Bourbon, and who in -the apartments from which Florian had been evicted accorded him such -hospitality as soon removed all hard feeling; and with some seven or -eight other ladies of the very finest breeding and wit. These ladies -now were Florian’s companions night after night: it was as companions -that he compared them with Melior: and his deductions were unavoidable. - -He found in no tête-à-tête, and through no personal investigation, any -beauty at all comparable to the beauty of Melior. This much seemed -certain: she was the most lovely animal in existence. But one must be -logical. She was also an insufferable idiot: she was, to actually -considerate eyes, a garrulous blasphemer who profaned the shrine -of beauty by living in it: and Florian was tired of her, with an -all-possessing weariness that troubled him with the incessancy of a -physical aching. - -Time and again, in the soft arms of countesses and abbesses of the -very highest fashion, even there would Florian groan to think how many -months must elapse before he could with any pretence of decency get -rid of that dreadful woman at Bellegarde. For the methods formerly -available would not serve here: his pact with brown Janicot afforded to -a man of honor no choice except to wait for the birth of the child that -was to be Janicot’s honorarium, of the dear child, already beloved with -more than the ordinary paternal fondness, whose coming was to ransom -its father from so much discomfort. No, it was tempting, of course, to -have here, actually in hand, the requisite and unique means for killing -any of the Léshy. But to return to Bellegarde now, and to replace that -maddening idiotic chatter by the fine taciturnity of death, would be -a reprehensible action in that it would impugn the good faith of a -Puysange. For to do this would be to swindle Janicot, and to evade an -explicit bargain. One had no choice except to wait for the child’s -birth. - -So Florian stood resolutely, if rather miserably, upon his point of -honor. He must—since a Puysange could not break faith, not even with -a fiend,—carry out his bargain with Janicot, so far as went the reach -of Florian’s ability. He could foresee a chance of opposition. Melior -might perhaps have other views as to the proper disposal of the child: -and Melior certainly had the charmed ring which might, if she behaved -foolishly with it, overspice the affair with a tincture of Hoprig’s -officiousness. And this at worst might result in some devastating -miracle that would destroy Florian; and at best could not but harrow -his conscience with the spectacle of a Duke of Puysange embroiled in -unprecedented conflict with his patron saint. - -His conscience, to be sure, was already in a sad way. Ever since -the awakening of Hoprig, Florian had stayed quite profoundly -conscience-stricken by the discovery that all the irregularities of -his past remained unforgiven. That was from every aspect a depressing -discovery. It had not merely a personal application: it revealed that -in this world the most painstaking piety might sometimes count for -nothing. It was a discovery which troubled your conscience, which -darkened your outlook deplorably, and which fostered actual pessimism. - - -[Illustration: -Caption surrounded by garland: Presently the COLLYN of PUYSANGE - had opened her yellow eyes and was - licking daintily her lips. - _See page 237_ -The image] - - -For what was he to do now? “Repent!” the saint had answered: it was -the sort of saying one expected of a saint, and indeed, from Hoprig, -who was secure against eternity, such repartees were natural enough. -The serene physician had prescribed, but who would compound, the -remedy? Florian himself was ready to do anything at all reasonable -about those irregularities which had remained unforgiven through, as -he must respectfully point out to inquirers, no remissness of his; -he quite sincerely wanted to spare Heaven the discomfort of having a -Duke of Puysange in irrevocable opposition: but he did not clearly see -how repentance was possible. The great majority of such offences as -antedated, say, the last two years had, after putative atonements, gone -out of his mind, just as one puts aside and forgets about receipted -bills: he could not rationally be expected to repent for misdemeanors -without remembering them. That was the deuce of having placed unbounded -faith in this—somehow—ambiguous Hoprig and in Hoprig’s celestial -attorneyship. - -Even such irregularities as Florian recalled seemed unprolific of -actual repentance. Florian now comprehended that he—perhaps through a -too careful avoidance of low company, perhaps, he granted, through a -tinge of pharisaism,—had never needed to incite the funerals of any -but estimable and honorable persons who were upon the most excellent -footing with the Church. He could not, with his rigid upbringing, for -one instant doubt that all these had passed from this unsatisfactory -world to eternal bliss. He could not question that he had actually been -the benefactor of these persons. The only thing he could be asked to -repent of here was a benevolent action, and to do that was, to anyone -of his natural kindliness, out of all thinking. - -His irregularities in the way of personal friendship, too, appeared, -upon the whole, to have resulted beneficially. Girls and boys that he -had raised from sometimes the most squalid surroundings, even rescuing -them in some cases from houses of notorious ill fame, had passed from -him to other friends, and had prospered. Louison had now her duke, -Henri his prince, and little Sapho her princess of the blood royal,—and -so it went. All were now living contentedly, in opulence, and they all -entertained the liveliest gratitude for their discoverer. You could not -repent of having given the ambitious and capable young a good start in -life. Among Florian’s married friends of higher condition, among a host -of marquises and duchesses and countesses, his passing had tinged the -quiet round of matrimony with romance, had left a plenitude of pleasant -memories, and not infrequently had improved the quality of that -household’s progeny. Here too he had in logic to admit he had scattered -benefactions, of which no kindly-hearted person could repent. - -He had never, he rather wistfully reflected, either coveted or stolen -anything worth speaking of: he might have had some such abominable -action to repent of, if only he had not always possessed a plenty of -money to purchase whatever he fancied. That over-well filled purse had -also kept him from laboring upon the Sabbath, or any day. And it had, -by ill luck, never even occurred to him to worship a graven image. - -Nor had it ever occurred to him to break his given word. Philippe, he -remembered, had referred to that as being rather queer, but it did -not seem queer to Florian: this was simply a thing that Puysange did -not do. The word of honor of a Puysange, once given, could not in any -circumstances be broken: to Florian that was an axiom sufficiently -obvious. - -He had told many falsehoods, of course. For an instant the reflection -brightened him: but he found dejectedly, on looking back, that all -these falsehoods appeared to have been told either to some woman who -was chaste or to some husband who was suspicious, entirely with the -view of curing these failings and making matters more pleasant for -everybody. A Puysange did not lie with the flat-footed design of -getting something for himself, because such deviations from exactness, -somehow, made you uncomfortable; nor through fear, because a Puysange, -quite candidly, did not understand what people meant when they talked -about fear. - -No, one must be logical. Florian found that his sins—to name for once -the quaint term with which so many quaint people would, he knew, label -the majority of his actions,—seemed untiringly to have labored toward -beneficence. Florian was not prepared to assert that this established -any general rule: for some persons, it well might be that the practise -of these technical irregularities produced actual unhappiness: but -Florian was here concerned just with his own case. And it did not, -whatever a benevolent saint advised,—and ought, of course, in his -exalted position to advise,—it did not afford the material for any -rational sort of repentance. And to prevaricate about this deficiency, -or to patch up with Heaven through mutual indulgence some not quite -candid compromise, was not a proceeding in which Florian cared to -have part, or could justify with honorable precedents. Say what you -might, even though you spoke from behind the locked gates of paradise, -Puysange remained Puysange, and wholly selfish and utilitarian lying -made Puysange uncomfortable. - -In fine, Florian earnestly wanted to repent, where repentance was -so plainly a matter of common-sense, and seemed his one chance for -an inexcruciate future: but the more he reflected upon such of his -irregularities as he could for the life of him recollect, the less -material they afforded him for repentance. No, one must be logical. -And logic forced him to see that under the present divine régime there -was slender hope for him. So his conscience was in these days in a -most perturbed state: he seemed to be deriving no profit whatever from -a wasted lifetime of pious devotion: and the more widely he and Aluys -had conducted their investigations, the less remunerative did Florian -everywhere find the pursuit of beauty and holiness. - - - - -_20._ - -_Smoke Reveals Fire_ - - -Thus it was not until the coming in of spring that Florian rode away -from the Hôtel de Puysange, riding toward Bellegarde and the business -which must be discharged. Florian went by way of Storisende, the home -of his dead brother, for Florian’s son still lived there, and Florian -now felt by no means certain he would ever see the boy again, now that -Holy Hoprig roosted over the Bellegarde to which Florian returned. - -Florian came to Storisende unannounced, as was his usage. Madame -Marguerite de Puysange and Raoul’s children kept her chamber, with a -refusal to see Florian which the steward, to all appearance, had in -transmission considerably censored. Florian thought that this poor -fellow faced somewhat inadequately the problem of the proper demeanor -toward a great peer who had very recently killed your master; and that -too much fidgeting marred his endeavor to combine the politeness -appropriate to a duke with the abhorrence many persons feel to be -demanded by fratricide. - -Meanwhile the father wished to know of his son’s whereabouts. Monsieur -the Prince de Lisuarte had left the house not long after breakfast, it -was reported, and might not return until evening. Florian shrugged, -dined alone, and went out upon the south terrace, walking downward, -into gardens now very ill tended. Raoul had let the gardens fall from -their old, well remembered, sleek estate.... - -So much of Florian’s youth had been passed here that with Florian went -many memories. He had made love to a host of charming girls in this -place, in these gardens which were now tenantless and half ruined: and -none of these girls had he been able to love utterly, because of his -mad notions about Melior. He comprehended now of how much he had been -swindled by this lunacy. His dislike of Melior—of that insufferable -bright-colored imbecile,—rose hot and strong. - -So many women had been to him only the vis-à-vis in a pleasurable -coupling, when he might have got from them the complete and high -insanity which other lads got out of loving! He remembered, for -example, another April afternoon in this place, the April before his -first marriage.... Yes, it had happened just yonder. - -Florian turned to the right, passing the little tree from the East, -which seemed no bigger now than he remembered it in boyhood; and then -trampled through a thick undergrowth which hid what he remembered -as a trim lawn. Raoul had really let the gardens fall into a quite -abominable state. A person who had taken no better care of Storisende -had not deserved to inherit such a fine property: and Florian -remembered now with some compunction how easily, when he disposed of -their father, he could also have disposed of their father’s foolish -will. But Florian too, as he admitted, had always spoiled Raoul. - -Florian came to a boulder some four feet in height, before which stood -a smaller rock that was flat-topped and made a natural seat. Both -were overgrown with patches of gray-green lichen. He looked downward. -Against the boulder, partly hidden by old withered leaves, lay two flat -stones which were each near a foot in length and about an inch thick, -two valueless unextraordinary stones which he remembered. - -He lifted these stones. Where they had lain, the ground showed dark -and wet, and was perforated with small holes. The raising of the first -stone disclosed a bloodless yellow centipede, which flustered and -wavered into hiding among the close-matted dead leaves. Under the other -stone, a great many ants were hastily carrying their small white eggs -into those holes in the ground. Some twenty gray winged ants remained -clustering together futilely. There was adhering to the under side of -this second stone a clotted web. Florian saw the evicted spider, large -and clumsy looking but very quick of movement, trundling away from -molestation much as the centipede had fled. - -It seemed to him that no life ought to be in this place; not even the -life of insects should survive in this ruined haunt of memories. He set -the two rocks at right angles to the boulder, just as he and a girl, -who no longer existed anywhere, had placed them eighteen years ago. -Moss had grown upon the boulder, so that the rocks did not fit against -it so snugly as they had done once, but they stood upright now a foot -apart. Florian gathered five fallen twigs, broke them, and piled the -fragments in this space. From his pocket he took a letter, from the -Abbess de Chelles, which he crumpled and thrust under the twigs. He -took out flint and steel, and struck a spark, which fell neatly into -the crevice between his left thumb and the thumbnail. The pensive -gravity of his face was altered as he said “Damn!” and sucked at his -thumb. Then he tried again, and soon had there just such a tiny fire as -he and that dark-haired girl had once kindled in this place. - -He sat there, feeding the small blaze with twigs and yet more twigs: -and through his thinking flitted thoughts not wholly seized. But this -fire was to him a poem. So went youth, and by and by, life. Brief heat -and bluster and brilliancy, a little noise, then smoke and ashes: then -youth was gone, with all its sparkle and splutter. You were thirty-six: -you still got love-letters from abbesses of the blood royal, but your -heart was a skuttle of cold cinders. And all that which had been, in -these gardens and in so many other places, did not matter to you. It -probably did not matter to anybody, and never had mattered. Yes, like -this tiny blazing here, so went youth, and by and by, life.... - -“Why, what the devil, my friend—!” - -Someone was speaking very close at hand. Florian looked up, strangely -haggard, looked into the face of his son Gaston. The young Prince de -Lisuarte was not alone, for a little behind him stood a dark-haired -staring peasant girl. She was rather pretty, in a fresh and wholesome -way that acquitted her of rational intelligence; and her bodice, -Florian noted, had been torn open at the neck. Well, after all, Gaston -was sixteen. - -“My father!” the boy said now. But Florian observed with approval -that the embarrassment was momentary. “This is in truth a delightful -surprise, monsieur,” Gaston continued. “We saw the smoke, and could -not imagine what caused it here in the park—” - -“So that,” said Florian, “you very naturally investigated—” - -He was reflecting that, after all, he was not answerable, and owed no -explanation, to his son for making a small fire in the spring woods. -That was lucky, for the boy would not understand the poetry of it. -Florian saw too with approval that the young woman had disappeared. For -her to have remained would have been wholly tactless, since it would -have committed him to some expression of elevated disapproval. As it -was, he needed only to rise and shake hands with this tall son of his, -and then sit down again. - -Gaston was rather picturesquely ugly: he indeed most inconsiderately -aspersed his grandmother’s memory by this injudicious resemblance to -the late King of England whom rumor had credited with the begetting of -Gaston’s mother. Carola, though, had been quite pretty. Florian thought -for a while of his first wife with less dislike than he had entertained -toward her for years. Still, he perceived, he did not actually like -this tall boy who waited before him, all in black. That would be for -Raoul.... - -“My son,” said Florian, slowly, “I am on my way homeward to dispose of -an awkward business in which there is an appreciable likelihood of my -getting my death. So the whim took me to see you, it may be, for the -last time.” - -“But, monsieur, if there is danger you should remember that I count as -a man now that I am seventeen next month. I have already two duels to -my credit, I must tell you, in which I killed nobody, to be sure, but -gave very handsome wounds. So may I not aid in this adventure?” - -“Would you fight then in my defence, Gaston?” - -“Assuredly, monsieur.” - -“But why the devil should you? Let us be logical, Gaston! You loved -that handsome hulking uncle of yours, not me, as people are customarily -supposed to love their fathers: and I have recently killed him. Your -damned aunt, I know, has been telling you that I ill-treated and -murdered your mother also. To cap all, you have a great deal to gain by -my death, for you are my heir. And I am too modest to believe that my -engaging qualities have ever ensnared you into any personal affection.” - -The boy reflected. “No, there has been no love between us. And they say -you are wicked. But I would fight for you. I do not know why.” - -Florian smiled. He nodded his head, in a sort of unwilling approval. -“We come of a queer race, my son. That is the reason you would fight in -my cause. It is also a reason why we may speak candidly.” - -“Is candor, monsieur, quite possible between father and son?” - -Florian liked that too, and showed as much. He said: “All -eccentricities are possible to our race. There are many quaint -chronicles to attest this, for there has always been a Puysange -somewhere or another fluttering the world. To-day I am Puysange. -To-morrow you will be Puysange. So I sit here with my little blaze -of spluttering twigs already half gray ashes. And you stand there, -awaiting my leisure, I will not ask how patiently.” - -“I regard you, monsieur, with every appropriate filial sentiment. But -you can remember, I am afraid, just what that comes to.” - -“I remember most clearly. In these matters we are logical. So it is the -defect of our race not ever to love anybody quite whole-heartedly; and -certainly we are not so ill-advised as to squander adoration upon one -another. Rather, we must restively seek everywhither for our desire, -even though we never discover precisely what is this desire. That also, -Gaston, is logic: for we of Puysange know, incommunicably but very -surely, that this unapprehended desire ought to be gratified. It is -this lean knowledge which permits us no rest, no complacent living in -the usual drowsiness....” - -“They tell me, monsieur, that we derive this trait from that old Jurgen -who was our ancestor, and from tall Manuel too, whose life endures in -us of Puysange.” - -“I do not know. I talked lately with a Monsieur Horvendile, who had -extreme notions about an Author who compiles an endless Biography, of -the life that uses us as masks and temporary garments. But I do not -know. I only know that this life was given me by my father, without any -knowledge as to what use I should preferably make of the unsought gift. -I only know that I have handed on this life to you, on the same terms. -Do with the life I gave you whatever you may elect. Now that I see you -for the last time, my premonitions tell me, I proffer no advice. I -shall not even asperse the effects of vice and evil-doing by protesting -that I in person illustrate them. No, I am conscious of a little -compassion for you, but that is all: I do not really care what becomes -of you. So I proffer no advice.” - -“Therein, monsieur, at least, you do not deal with me as is the custom -of fathers.” - -“No,” Florian replied. “No, I find you at sixteen already fighting -duels and tumbling wenches in the spring woods: and I spare you every -appropriate paternal comment. For one thing, I myself had at your age -indulged in these amusements; in fact, at your age, with my wild oats -sown, I was preparing to settle down to quiet domesticity with your -mother: and for another thing, I cannot see that your escapades matter. -It is only too clear to me as I sit here, with my little blaze of -spluttering twigs already half gray ashes, that in a while you and your -ardors and your adversaries and your plump wenches will be picked bones -and dust about which nobody will be worrying. These woods will then be -as young as ever: and nobody anywhere will be thinking about you nor -your iniquities nor your good actions, or about mine either; but in -this place every April will still be anemones.” - -“Meanwhile I have my day, monsieur—” - -“Yes,” Florian agreed,—“the bustling, restless and dissatisfying day of -a Puysange. That is your right, it is your logical inheritance. Well, -there has always been a Puysange, since Jurgen also made the most of -day and night,—a Puysange to keep his part of the world atwitter until -he had been taught, with bruises and hard knocks, to respect the great -law of living. Yes, there has always been a Puysange at that schooling, -and each in turn has mastered the lesson: and I cannot see how, in the -end, this, either, has mattered.” - -“But what, monsieur, is this great law of living?” - -Florian for a moment stayed silent. He could see yonder the little tree -from the East, already budding in the spring. He was remembering how, -a quarter of a century ago, another boy had asked just this question -just here. And living seemed to Florian a quite futile business. Men’s -trials and flounderings got them nowhither. A wheel turned, that was -all. Too large to be thought about, a wheel turned, without haste and -irresistibly. Men clung a while, like insects, to that wheel. The wheel -had come full circle. Now it was not Florian but Florian’s son who -was asking of his father, “What is this great law of living?” And no -response was possible except the old, evasive and cowardly answer. So -Florian gave it. One must be logical, and voice what logic taught. - -“Thou shalt not offend against the notions of thy neighbor,” Florian -replied,—“or not, at least, too often or too openly. I do not say, mark -you, my son, but that in private, and with the exercise of discretion, -one may cultivate one’s faculties.” - -“Yes, but, monsieur, I do not see—” - -“No,” Florian conceded, with a smiling toward his tall son which was -friendly but a little sad, “no, naturally you do not. How should you, -infamous seducer of the peasantry, when this is a law which no young -person anywhere is able to believe? Yet it is certain, dear child, that -if you openly offend against these notions you will be crushed: and it -is certain that if you honor them,—with, I am presupposing, a suitable -appreciation of the charms of privacy and sympathetic companions,—then -all things are permitted, and nobody will really bother about your -discreet pursuing of your desires. A wise man will avoid, though, for -his comfort’s health, all over-high and over-earnest desires.... This -is the knowledge, Gaston, which every father longs to communicate to -his son, without caring to confess that his own life has been such as -to permit the acquiring of this knowledge.” - -And the boy shook his head. “I understand your words. But your meaning, -monsieur, I do not see....” - - - - -PART THREE - -_THE END OF LEAN WISDOM_ - - - _“Ne point aller chercher ce qu’on fait dans la lune, - Et vous mesler un peu de ce qu’on fait chez vous, - Où nous voyons aller tout sans-dessus-dessous.”_ - - - - -_21._ - -_Of Melior Married_ - - -Now Florian returned to Bellegarde to face the disillusion appointed -for every husband in passing from infatuation to paternity. His -disenchanted princess now was hardly recognizable. Her face was like -dough, her nose seemed oddly swollen; under and about the blood-shot -eyes were repulsive yellow splotches. As for the bloated body, he could -not bear to look at it. He was shaken with hot and sick disgust when he -saw this really perfectly dreadful looking creature. - -Perhaps, though, Florian reflected, he saw her through emotions which -exaggerated every blemish unfairly. He knew all other pregnant women -had seemed to him unattractive rather than actually loathsome. But -here, here was the prize he had so long and fervently desired, the -prize to gain which he had sacrificed those dearest to him in this -world, and had parted with the comforting assurances of religion.... -For, Melior, then, had flawless and unequalled beauty. So he had -bought, at an exceedingly stiff price, this shining superficies, -to learn almost immediately thereafter that she possessed not one -other desirable quality. And now Melior had not even the thin mask -of loveliness. Worse still, the beauty which he had worshipped since -boyhood now existed nowhere. To purchase an hour or two of really not -very remarkable entertainment, he had himself destroyed this beauty.... - -“My love,” said Florian, “now if only I were a conceited person, I -would dare to hope that the long months since I last saw you have -passed as drearily with you as with me.” - -He kissed her tenderly. Even the woman’s breath was now unpleasant. It -seemed to Florian that nothing was being spared him. - -“Yes, that sort of talk is all very well,” replied Melior, fretfully. -“But I do think that at a time when I have every right to expect -particular attention and care, you might at least have made an effort -to get home sooner, and not leave everything upon my shoulders, -especially with all the neighbors everywhere pretending, whenever I -come into the room, that they were not talking about your having killed -your brother—” - -“Yes, yes, a most regrettable affair! But what, sweetheart, has been -going amiss at Bellegarde?” - -“That is a pretty question for you to ask, with me in my condition, -with all these other worries on top of it, about your friend Orléans. -Because, knowing you as well as I do, Florian, and not being able to -feel as you do that a prime minister is no more than a house fly or -a flea,—and seeing quite well, too, how little you consider what my -feelings naturally would be if they cut off your head—” - -“Ah, but let us take one thing at a time, and for the present leave my -head where it is. Do you mean that you have been unwell, my pet?” - -“Have you no eyes in the head you keep talking about just to keep me -upset! But I do not wonder you prefer not to look at me, now I am such -a fright, and that is you men all over. Still, you might at least have -the decency to remember who is responsible for it, and that much I must -say.” - -“But, dearest, I have both the eyes about which you inquire, and in -those doubtless partial orbs you happen not to look a fright. So I -cannot quite follow you. No, let us be logical! There is a slight -pallor, to be sure—But, no! No, dear Melior, upon the whole, I never -saw you looking lovelier, and I wonder of what you are talking.” - -“I mean, you fool, that I am sick and miserable because now almost any -day I am going to have a baby.” - -Florian was honestly shocked. He could remember no precedent among -his mistresses of anybody’s having put this news so bluntly: and -when he recalled the behavior of his first wife in precisely these -circumstances, he could not but feel that women were deteriorating. -A wife endowed with proper sensibility would have hidden her face -upon his shoulder, just as Carola had done, and would in this posture -have whispered her awed surmise that Heaven was shortly to consign -them a little cherub. But this big-bellied vixen appeared to have -no sensibilities. “You fool, now almost any day I am going to have -a baby!” was neither a loving nor a dignified way of announcing the -nearness of his freedom. - -But Florian’s plump face was transfigured, as he knelt before his -Melior, and very reverently lifted to his lips her hand. He slipped a -cushion under his knee, made himself comfortable, and, kneeling still, -went on to speak of his bliss and of his love for her and of how sacred -in his eyes appeared the marks of her condition. She listened: he -could see that Melior was pleased; and he in consequence continued his -gallant romanticizing. - -For Florian really wanted to be pleasant to the woman; and was resolved -politely to ignore even this last disillusionment, and to condone as -far as was humanly possible, the lack of consideration through which -this dreadful creature had now added to stupidity and garrulity even -physical ugliness. - -But while Florian was talking he could see, too, that the central -diamond in the charmed ring that Melior wore was to-day quite black, -like an onyx, so that he took care to keep it covered with his hand all -the while he was talking about his adoration. Here was an appalling -omen, a portent, virtually, of open conflict between Florian and his -patron saint. The central stone of this ring had become as black and -as bright and as inimical looking as though, he reflected, one of the -small eyes of Marie-Claire Cazaio stared thence. This was a depressing -sight: and it seemed to Florian quite vexingly illogical that the ring -should change in this fashion when, after all, he was planning no harm -against Melior. - -When she had borne her child, he meant of course to carry out his -bargain with brown Janicot,—a bargain that Florian considered an -entirely private matter, and an affair with which Hoprig could -not meddle without exhibiting absolute ill breeding. Then Melior -would disappear, Florian did not know whither, to be sure, but her -destination would be none of his selecting or responsibility. A really -logical ring would not call that contriving any harm against Melior. -Even Holy Hoprig must be reasonable enough to see that much. So Florian -for the while put aside his foreboding, and assured himself that, with -anything like fair luck, he was on the point of getting rid of this -dreadful woman forever. The reflection spurred him to eloquence and to -the kindliness which Florian had always felt to be due his wives in -their last hours. - - - - -_22._ - -_The Wives of Florian_ - - -Florian watched his Melior with a not unnatural care. She remained, to -the eye, unperturbed, and was her usual maddening self throughout the -evening: it seemed to him she must inevitably have noticed the changing -of her ring; and in that event, he granted the woman’s duplicity at -least to be rather magnificent. - -For Melior talked, on and on and on,—with that quite insupportable -air of commingled self-satisfaction and shrewdness,—about Monsieur du -Belloc’s new liveries, which were the exact color, my dear, of Madame -des Roches’ old wig, the one she was wearing that day she drove in -here in all that rain; and about how that reminded Melior of what a -thunderstorm had come up only last Thursday without the least warning; -and about how Marie-Claire had been looking at Melior again in that -peculiar way and ought not to be permitted to raise storms and cast -spells that dried up people’s cows. - -Even so, Melior continued, milk was fattening and was not really good -for you in large quantities, and, for one, she meant to give it up, -though if you were intended to be fat you had in the end simply to put -up with it, just as some persons got bald sooner than others, and no -hair-dresser could help you, not even if he was as airy and as pleased -with himself as that high-and-mighty François over at Manneville. Oh, -yes, but Florian must certainly remember! He was the very skinny one -whom she had in two or three times last autumn, and who had turned out -to be a Huguenot or a Jansenist or something of that sort, so that, -people did say, the dear old Bishop was going to take the proper steps -the very instant he was out again. That was the trouble, though, with -colds at his age, you never knew what they might lead to at the moment -you were least expecting it— - -So her talking went, on and on and on, while Florian looked at the -woman,—who was repulsive now even to the eye,—and he reflected: “And it -was for this that I intrepidly assailed the high place, and slaughtered -all those charming monsters! It was for this that I have sacrificed -poor Philippe and my dear Raoul!” - -Bed-time alone released him from listening to her; but not from prudent -watchfulness. - -That night he roused as Melior slipped from their bed. Through -discreetly half-closed eyelids Florian saw her take from the closet -that queer carved staff which had once belonged to her sister Mélusine. -Now Melior for a while regarded this staff dubiously. She replaced it -in the closet. She took up the night-light from the green-covered table -beside the bed, and she passed out of the room. - -He lay still for a moment, then put on his dressing-gown and slippers, -and followed her. Melior turned, with her lamp, at the second corridor, -and went out into the enclosed Thoignet Court-yard, skirted the well, -and so disappeared through the small porch into the Chapel. Florian -followed, quite noiselessly. The paved court was chilly underfoot: as -he went into the porch a spray of ivy brushed his cheek in the dark. - -Inside the Chapel three hanging lamps burned before the altar, like -red stars, but they gave virtually no illumination. Florian saw that -Melior had carried her yellow lamp into the alcove where his earlier -wives were buried. She knelt there. She was praying, no doubt, for the -intercession of that meddlesome Hoprig. Florian was rather interested. -Then his interest was redoubled, for of a sudden the place was flooded -with a wan throbbing bluish luminousness. The effigies upon the tombs -of Florian’s wives were changed; and the recumbent marble figures -yawned and stretched themselves. Thus, then, began the unimaginative -working of Hoprig’s holy ring, with a revamping of the affliction put -upon Komorre the Cursed in the old nursery tale, Florian decided; and -these retributory resurrections were rather naïve. He drew close his -dressing-gown, and got well into the shadow of his great-grandfather’s -tomb, the while that his four earlier wives sat erect and looked -compassionately at Melior. - -“Beware, poor lovely child,” said the likeness of Aurélie, “for it is -apparent that Florian intends to murder you also.” - -“I was beginning to think he had some such notion,” Melior replied, -“for otherwise, of course, he would hardly be fetching home the sword -Flamberge.” - -She had arisen from her knees, and there was in the composure with -which she now sat sociably beside the ghost of Carola, on top of -Carola’s tomb, something that Florian found rather admirable. And he -recalled too with admiration the innocence and the unconcern with which -Melior had commented upon his having acquired such a delightfully -quaint and old-fashioned looking sword.... - -“Yes, for, my dear,” said Carola, “you have permitted him to get tired -of you. It was for that oversight he murdered all of us.” - -“But I have no time to put up with the man’s foolishness just now, -when I am going to have a baby,” said Melior, with unconcealed vexation. - -“Go seek protection of St. Hoprig,” advised Hortense. - -“And how may she escape,” asked Marianne, “when Florian’s lackeys are -everywhere, and Florian’s great wolfhounds guard the outer courts?” - -“She can give them the sweet-scented poison which destroyed me,” said -Carola. “But all the gates of Bellegarde are locked fast; and how could -anyone climb down the unscalable high walls of the outer fortress?” - -“By means of the strong silken cord which strangled me,” answered -Marianne. - -“But who would guide her through the dark to sorcerous Morven?” - -“The molten lead which was poured into my ear,” replied Aurélie, “will -go before her glowing like a will-o’-the-wisp.” - -“And how can she, in her condition, make so long a journey?” - -“Let her take the fine ebony cane which broke my skull,” rejoined -Hortense. “For now the cup of Florian’s iniquity runs over, and all the -implements of his wickedness revolt against him.” - -“Come now,” said Melior, “there has been a great deal of nonsense -talked. But you have at last, poor ghost, suggested something really -practical, and something that had occurred to me also. Yes, you are -entirely right, and your suggestion is most sensible, though, to be -sure, it can hardly be ebony: for now that I am quite certain about -Florian I simply owe it to my self-respect to leave him before he -murders me too, and the easiest way to do that of course is to use -my unfortunate and misguided sister’s staff. But ebony, you know, is -perfectly black—” - -“Now of what staff can you be talking?” - -“Why, but, my dear! As anybody at Brunbelois, even the veriest tidbits -of children, could tell you, it was presented to Mélusine by one of -the most fearful and ruthless demons resident in the Red Sea. It was -the staff the poor darling always rode on. I do not, of course, mean -him: in fact, I only saw him once, on a Saturday, when I was the merest -child. And with all those scales, he could hardly expect anybody to -call him a darling, even if you overlooked his having a head like a -cat. Only much more so, of course, on account of his being larger. No, -I meant that Mélusine rode on it—” - -Now Florian was reflecting, “With what a lovely air of innocence she -lied to me about that staff!” And Aurélie was saying, ineffectively, -“Yes, but—” - -“—Not as a steady thing, of course, but when she was about some -particularly important enchantment, and wanted to make an impression. -Mélusine was accomplished, and all that, and nobody denies it, but, -if you ask me about being vain, then I can only say that, sister or -not, I believe in being truthful. And as for leaving her things about -helter-skelter, even the crown jewels—for Mélusine was the oldest of us -girls, and Father always spoiled her quite terribly, and Mother never -cared especially for dressing up,—why, we all know what clever people -are in that way: and I need only say that I found this very staff stuck -away in a cupboard, like an old worn-out broom—” - -Said Marianne, “Yes, but—” - -“—When I was getting my things together to leave Brunbelois. And, -much as I hate to contradict anybody, it has a distinctly red tinge, -so that it could not possibly be ebony. So, what with all the talk, -and Hoprig’s suspicions about Florian, it simply occurred to me that -this staff was not the sort of thing my dear father would care to be -stirring up unpleasant old memories with, by seeing it, after all his -trouble with Mélusine. For, even if Hoprig had been quite wrong, still, -marriage, as I so often think, is really just a lottery—” - -“Yes, but,” said Hortense, “but, but, but! one needs to know the charm -that controls the staff—” - -“My dear creature! But you are Hortense, are you not? Yes, I remember -Florian told me all about you: and after the manner in which he has -behaved to me, I am perfectly willing to believe that he misrepresented -you in every way. Even if you used to make it a regular habit of flying -at people’s throats like that, I know how many perfectly well meaning -women simply do not realize what an annoyance it is for any one person -to want to do all the talking—” - -“I think so too, but—” - -“Oh, I am not in the least offended, my dear. It is merely that, -as I was telling you, Hortense, my sister Mélusine was one of the -most potent sorceresses in the known world, and so utterly devoted -to her art that hardly a day passed without at any rate a little -parlor conjuring. And I used often to be playing in the corner with -my building blocks and my dolls when she was at her practising. If I -were to tell you half the things I have witnessed with my own eyes, -you simply would not believe a word of it. Yes, Mélusine was quite -accomplished, there is no denying that. And as I was saying, you know -how children are, and how often they surprise you when you had no -notion they were paying the least attention. Yes, as I often think, it -is the littlest pitchers that have the largest ears—” - -“If you know how the cantraps run, then, to be sure—” - -“Why, but,” said Melior, now with her air of one who is dealing -patiently with an irrational person, “but everybody knows if it is -not the _Eman hetan_ charm, it has to be either the _Thout tout a -tout_ or the _Horse and hattock_ one. And so, I do hope, you see my -feeling in the matter. Because, of course, appreciating as I do the -perfectly well-meant suggestions of every one of you, still nobody in -my delicate condition exactly likes to go about sliding down ropes and -poisoning the servants, not to speak of the dogs, who, after all, are -not responsible for their master’s doings, and walking nobody knows -how many miles in the dark. So I shall go to Hoprig more carefully, -and quickly too, upon the demon’s staff, vexatious as it is not to -be remembering his name. I distinctly remember there was a Z in it, -because there always seemed to me something romantic about a Z, and -that he had talons like an eagle; but it was not Bembo, or Celerri, or -El-Gabal—No, it has quite gone out of my mind, but, in any event, I am -much obliged to all of you. And no doubt it will come back to me the -moment I stop trying to remember—” - -Thus speaking, Melior arose from the tomb, and left the Chapel -reflectively. A brief silence followed, a silence that was broken by -Marianne. She said, “Poor Florian!” - -“He had his faults of course,” assented Hortense, “but really, to a -person of any sensibility—Do peep, my love, and tell me if my skirts -are down properly—” - -Now Florian came forward, as statelily as anybody can walk in bedroom -slippers, just as his wives were settling back upon their various tombs. - -“Dear ladies,” said he, “I perceive with real regret that not even -death is potent enough to allay your propensities for mischief making.” - -“Oh, oh!” they cried, each sitting very erect, “here is the foul -murderer!” - -“Parbleu, my pets, what grievance, after all, have you against me? Are -you not happier in your present existence than when you lived with me?” - -“I should think so, indeed!” replied Carola, indignantly. “Why, -wherever do you suppose we went to?” - -“I do not inquire. It is a question raised by no widower of real -discretion: he merely inclines in this, as in most matters, to be -optimistic. Yet come now, let us be logical! Is it quite right for you -four to complain against me, and to harbor actual animosity, on account -of what was in the beginning just the natural result of my rather hasty -disposition, and in the end my quadruple misfortune? Do you, Carola, -for example, honestly believe that, after having been blessed with your -affection, I could ever be actually satisfied with Melior?” - -“For one, I certainly see nothing in her. And I really do think, -Florian—” - -“Nor I, either,” said Aurélie, “nor could any rational person. And for -your own good, I must tell you quite frankly, Florian—” - -“Though, heaven knows,” said Marianne, “it is not as if any of us could -envy the poor idiot for being your wife—” - -“It is merely that one cannot help wondering,” said Hortense, “that -even you should have had no more sense or good taste—” - -So for an instant the sweet voices were like a choir of birds in -fourfold descant: and they thrilled him with remembered melodies, -vituperative and plaintive and now strangely dear. Then came the -changing. All, Florian saw in that queer bluish light, were pitiably -eager to talk about Melior, and to explain to him exhaustively just -what a fool he had been, and how exactly like him was such behavior. -But the magic of Hoprig’s revivifying ring was spent: and color and -flexibility were going away from the pretty bodies, so that their lips -could but move stiffly and feebly now, without making the least noise. -It was really heart-breaking, Florian thought, to see these lovely -women congeal into stone, and be thus petrified upon the verge of -candors which would have completely freed their minds. - -Then that strange throbbing bluish light was gone: and Florian was -alone in the dark Chapel where only three dim lamps were glowing like -red stars. An ordinary person would have estimated that this gloom did -but very inadequately prefigure Florian’s future. But a Puysange knew -perfectly where next to apply for help against any and all saints. - - - - -_23._ - -_The Collyn in the Pot_ - - -Florian went from the Chapel to the secret chamber which nobody else -cared to enter. At this last pinch he was resolved to enlist in his -defence that power which was at least as strong as Hoprig’s power. So -Florian carried with him wine and wafers. - -He opened a wicker basket, wherein was an earthen pot. Inside this -pot lay, upon strips of white and black wool, a small, very smooth -dun-colored creature that had the appearance of a cat. Florian with a -green-handled little knife pricked the end of his ring-finger until -he got the necessary blood; and presently the Collyn of Puysange had -opened her yellow eyes and was licking daintily her lips so as to lose -no drop of the offering. Florian fed her also with the wine and wafers. - -“Whither,” asked Florian then, “will the staff carry Melior?” - -The Collyn answered, in a tiny voice: “To the hut which is between -Amneran and Morven. For that hut is the outpost of romance, and is as -near as the demon’s staff may dare approach to the hermitage of Holy -Hoprig.” - -“Where is that hermitage?” - -“Upon Morven, upon the highest uplands of Morven, between a thorn-tree -and an ash-tree, and beneath an oak-tree.” - -“What is my patron saint doing in this place?” - -“Master, I also keep away from these saints. But it is rumored that -this Hoprig is now somewhat recklessly exercising the privileges of -sainthood; that his doings are not very favorably looked down upon; and -that the angels, in particular, are complaining because of his frequent -demands on them.” - -“That does not sound at all well,” said Florian, “and certainly there -is no precedent for the wife of a Puysange consorting with people who -annoy the angels.” - -The Collyn yawned: and for a while she looked at Florian somewhat as -ordinary cats regard a mouse-hole. - -“Master, I would not bother about this last wife. Why should you count -so scrupulously one woman more or less on the long list?” - -“It is not the woman I wish to keep. Faith of a gentleman, no! But I -must keep my plighted word.” - -“Master,” said the cool and tiny voice, “you are thrusting yourself -into a dangerous business. For this woman is now under Hoprig’s -protection, and the powers of these saints are not to be despised.” - -“That is true, but I must hold to my bargain with Monsieur Janicot. The -pious old faith that made my living glad has been taken away from me, -the dreams that I preserved from childhood have been embodied for my -derision. I see my admirations and my desires for what they are, and -this is a spectacle before which crumbles my self-conceit. The past, -wherein because of these empoisoned dreams I stinted living, has become -hateful: and of my hopes for the future, the less said the better. All -crumbles, Collyn: but Puysange remains Puysange.” - -“I wonder, now,” the cat asked, innocently, “if that means anything?” - -“Yes, Collyn,” Florian answered: “it means that I shall keep my own -probity unstained, keep honor at least, whatever else goes by the -board. One must be logical. My quiet unassuming practise of religion -and my constant love which once derided time and change—and in fact, -the entire code of ideals by which I have lived so comfortably for -all of thirty-six years,—appear to have been founded everywhere upon -delusion and half-knowledge. Yet Helmas, I find, was truly wise. I also -shall keep up my dignity by not letting even fate and chance upset me -with their playfulness, and I shall continue to do what was expected -of me yesterday. For the code by which I have lived contents me, or, -rather, I am subdued to it. So I must go on living by it while living -lasts.” - -“Yet if this romantic code of yours be based upon nothing—” - -“If I have wholly invented it, without the weaving into its fabric of -one strand of fact,—why, then, all the more reason for me to be proud -of and to cherish what is peculiarly mine. Do my dreams fail me? That -is no reason why I should fail my dreams, which indeed, Collyn, have -erred solely in contriving a more satisfactory world than Heaven seems -able to construct.” - -“And does all this, too, mean something?” - -“A pest! it seems to mean at least my destruction, since it is an -article of my code that a gentleman may not in any circumstances -break his word. For the rest, I find that abstract questions of right -and wrong are too deep for me, too wholly based upon delusion and -half-knowledge, so I shall meddle with them no more. Good and evil must -settle their own vaporous battles, with which I am no longer concerned.” - -“To fling down your cards in a rage profits nobody.” - -“But do I indeed rage? Do I speak bitterly? Well, for thirty-six years -I have taken sides, and for thirty-six years I have been the most -zealous of churchmen, only to find at the last that not one of my -irregularities has been charged off. I can assure you, Collyn, that -it is quite vexing to have the business credit of one’s religion thus -shaken by the news that so much piety has ended with more debts than -assets.” - -The small predatory beast still waited warily: and never for an instant -did her unwinking tilted yellow eyes leave looking at Florian. - -“So many of you I have served! your father, and your grandfather, and -all the others that for a brief while were here. And in the end you all -come to nothing.” - -“Ah, Collyn, if the life of a Puysange be of no account,—although that -is an unprecedented contention, let me tell you,—then so much the more -reason for me to shape what remains of that life to my own liking.” - -Florian thought for a while. Florian shrugged. That was the deuce -of listening to yourself when you were talking. Florian, who had -come hither to purchase aid from the Collyn, had logically convinced -himself, through this sad trick of heeding his own words, that Puysange -must stand or fall unaided. Yes, vexing as it was, that which he had -spoken with so much earnestness was really true. - -“All these years,” said Florian, rather sadly, “you have lain here at -my disposal, prepared to serve me in my need, with no small power. And -I, unlike the others of my race, have bought of you nothing. What I -have wanted I have taken, asking no odds of anyone, whether here or -below. It is true I have made to Heaven some civil tenders, in the -shape of good works and church-windows, just as I have been at pains -to supply you with blessed wine and wafers. It seemed well in logic to -preserve a friendly relation with both sides. For the rest, whatever I -felt my life to lack I have myself fetched into it, even holiness and -beauty, even”—Florian smiled,—“even Melior and Hoprig. It is perhaps -for this self-sufficiency that I am punished in a world wherein people -are expected to live and to act in herds because of their common -distrust of the future and of one another. I do not complain; and I -remain self-sufficient.” - -“In fact, with me to aid you, master, you need lack for nothing.” - -That was precisely what Florian had been thinking when he came hither. -But Florian had since then been listening to that most insidious of -counsellors, himself. He was utterly convinced; and one must be logical. - -So Florian replied languidly: - -“My dear creature! but I do not require your aid. Instead, I am come -to declare you free from your long bondage to the house of my fathers. -Yes, you are free, with no claim upon me, alone of all my race, since -now that I renounce good I shall put away evil also. For I am Puysange: -I dare to look into my own heart, and I can find there no least -admiration for Heaven or for Heaven’s adversaries. It may be I am fey: -I speak under correction, since that is not a condition with which I -have had any experience. But it seems to me that gods and devils are -poor creatures when compared to man. They live with knowledge. But man -finds heart to live without any knowledge or surety anywhere, and yet -not to go mad. And I wonder now could any god endure the testing which -all men endure?” - -At this sort of talking the Collyn purred. - -“Master, you shall evade that testing, for you shall have unbounded -knowledge. Ah, but what secrets and what powers I will give you, my -proud little master, for a compact and a price.” - -“No: I have no doubt the powers you offer are very pleasant, very -amusing to exercise, and all that; but I have had quite enough of -compacts.” - -“I will give you the master-word of darkness, that single word which -death speaks to life, and which none answers. I will give you the power -of the crucified serpent, and the spell which draws the sun and the -moon to bathe in a silver tub and do your will. There is wealth in -that spell, the wealth which purchases kingdoms. And I will give you, -who have smiled so long, the power to laugh. I will do more, my proud -little master: for I will give you the bravery to weep—” - -But Florian answered: “You cannot give me anything worthy of comparison -with that which I once had, and now have lost. I had my dreams of -beauty and of holiness. I had the noblest dreams imaginable. These -dreams I have embodied as no other man has ever done before me: these -dreams I have made vital things, and I have introduced them into my -living, full measure. No, you can give me nothing worthy of comparison -with what I have lost. And you are free. In all these years the one -service I have asked of you, who have been so long the mainstay and the -destroyer of Puysange, is now at the last to reveal to me the shortest -way to my patron saint.” - -“From these saints you will get a quick and ugly shrift: from me long -years of ease and wisdom, master,—utter wisdom, and no more restless -doubtings about anything.” - -Florian felt of a sudden that this small fawning creature was -loathsome: and just as suddenly, Florian too was weary of all things -that are and of all that was ever to happen anywhere. - -“No, Collyn, I repudiate your wicked aid; and I set you free, not -really hating evil or good either. But I honestly prefer to owe -allegiance to nobody except myself. Because of that preference I -shall go undefended to yet another high place in quest of my embodied -dreams,—now for a second time, and now with a somewhat different -intent.” - -“You march toward death and toward utter destruction, my proud little -master, when even now my power might save you. There is no other power -that would befriend you now, for you march up against Heaven.” - -“Yes, yes! that is regrettable of course, it tends to establish a bad -precedent. But it is my ill luck to be both a gentleman and a poet,—a -poet who, I can assure you,” Florian said, hastily, “has never written -any verses. That, at least, nobody can charge me with. Now to a -gentleman destruction is preferable to dishonor: and to a married poet, -Collyn, there are worse things than death.” - - - - -_24._ - -_Marie-Claire_ - - -Florian left Bellegarde at dawn. For once, he did not travel in his -favorite bottle-green and silver. Good taste suggested that a plain -black suit with his best Mechlin ruffles, was the appropriate wear in -which to court destruction. Thus clad, he girded on Flamberge, and set -out as merrily as might be, afoot: no horse could come to the top of -Morven, where once had stood the grove of Virbius. - -Florian journeyed first to Amneran, and went to a very retired cottage -built of oak and plaster upon a stone foundation. Here was his last -hope of aid, and of succour which he might accept without any detriment -to the pride of Puysange, for this was the ill spoken-of home of his -half-sister, Marie-Claire Cazaio. She was alone at her spinning when he -came into the room. He took her hand. He kissed it. - -“You told me once, dear Marie-Claire, a long while since, that in -the end I would come to you in an old garden where dead leaves were -falling, and would kiss your hand, and tell you I had loved you all my -life. I wonder, Marie-Claire, if you remember that?” - -“I have forgotten,” she said, “nothing.” - -“You were wrong as to the garden and as to the dead leaves. But in all -else you were right. This is the end, Marie-Claire. And in the end I -fulfill your prophecy.” - -She looked at him, for no brief while, with those small darkened eyes -which seemed to see beyond him. “Yes, you are speaking the truth. I -had thought that when this happened it would matter. And it does not -matter.” - -“Only one thing has mattered in all our lives, Marie-Claire. I was at -Storisende last week. I remembered you and our youth.” - -“And were you”—she smiled faintly,—“and were you properly remorseful?” - -“No. I have regretted many of my doings. But I can find nowhere in -me any of the highly requisite repentance for those of my actions -which people would describe as criminal. I suppose it is because we -of Puysange are so respectful of the notions of others that we do -not commit crimes rashly. We enter into no illegal turpitude until -rather careful reflection has assured us of its expediency. I, in any -event, have sometimes been virtuous with unthinking levity, and with -depressing upshots: but my vices, which my judgment had to endorse -before prudence would venture on them, have resulted well enough. So I -can regret no irregularities, and certainly not the happiness of our -far-off youth.” - -Again Marie-Claire was in no hurry to reply. When she spoke, it was -without any apparent conviction either one way or the other. “Our -happiness involved, they say, considerable misdoing.” - -This stirred him to mild indignation. “And is love between brother -and sister a misdoing? Come, Marie-Claire, but let us be logical! All -scientists will tell you that endogamy is natural to mankind as long -as men stay uncorrupted by over-civilization. The weight of history -goes wholly one way. The Pharaohs and the Ptolemies afford, I believe, -precedents that are tolerably ancient. Strabo is explicit as to the old -Irish, Herodotus as to the Persians. In heaven also Osiris and Zeus -and I know not how many other supreme gods have, in cherishing extreme -affection for their sisters, set the example followed upon earth by the -Kings of Siam and of Phœnicia, and by the Incas of Peru—” - -She shook that small dark head. “But, none the less—” - -“—An example followed by the Sinhalese, the Romans of the old -Republic, the Tyrians, the Guanches of the Canary Islands—” - -“Let us say no more about it—” - -“—An example, in short, of the best standing in all quarters of the -globe. In the Rig-Veda you will find Yami defending with unanswerable -eloquence the union of brother and sister. In Holy Writ we see Heaven’s -highest blessings accorded to the fruit of Abraham’s affection for his -sister Sarah, nor need I allude to the marriage of Azrun with her two -brothers, Abel and Cain. And in the Ynglinga Saga—” - -She laid her hand upon his mouth. “Yes, yes, you have your precedents: -and in your eyes, I know, that is the main thing, because of your -dread of being unconventional and offending the neighbors. We were -not wicked, then, whatever our less well-read father thought: we were -merely”—and here she smiled,—“we were merely logical in our youth. In -any event, we wasted our youth.” - -“Yes,” Florian admitted, “for I was then logical, but not sufficiently -logical. I could, as easily at that time as later, have cured our -father of his habit of meddling with my affairs. But I turned -unthinkingly away from the contented decades of technical criminality -which we might have shared. For I was in those days enamored of the -beauty that I in childhood had, however briefly, seen: even while my -body rioted, my thoughts remained bewilderedly aware of a beguiling -and intoxicating brightness which stayed unwon to; and I could care -whole-heartedly about nothing else.” - -“I know,” she answered. “You were a dear boy. And it does not matter, -now, that you went away from me, and played at being a man about whom I -knew nothing and cared nothing. For old times’ sake my sending followed -you to Brunbelois, and even there for old times’ sake I warned you. But -you would not heed—” - -“I cared for nothing then save the beauty of Melior. And now her -beauty,” he said, with a wry smile, “is gone. And that also does not -matter. For months her beauty has been the one thing about her I never -think of.” - -“She is flesh and blood,” said Marie-Claire, as if that explained -everything. “It is a combination which does not long detain Puysange. -What is this peril that you go to encounter to-day?” - -“I go up upon Morven to keep my word as frankly and as utterly as I -gave it; and thereby to be embroiled, I am afraid, in open conflict -with my patron saint.” - -“That is bad. You must keep your word of course, because favoritism to -anybody is wrong. But these saints do not understand this; they build -all upon Heaven’s favoritism: and these holy persons are stronger than -we, precisely because they are immune to such clear seeing as we are -cursed with.” - - -[Illustration: -Caption, surrounded by garland: He closed upon FLORIAN, straight- - forwardly, without any miracle- - working. - _See page 281_ -The image] - - -“But your powers of sending and perverting and blighting and so on,” he -said,—“are none of these to be enlisted in my favor?” - -“Not against Hoprig,” she replied, “for the elect have that invincible -unreason and stupidity against which alone our powers are feeble. No, -my dearest, I cannot aid you. For these saints are stronger than we -are: and in the end, whatever grounds they may afford us for contempt -or for laughing at them, they conquer us.” - -It was in some sort a relief to know there was not hope anywhere. -Florian spoke now with more animation. “No, Marie-Claire. Even at the -last let us adhere to logic! These saints do not conquer; they destroy -us, that is all. The ruthless power of holiness is strong enough for -that, but it is not strong enough to hold me, not for one instant, in -subjection.” - -“Ah, and must you still be playing, dear boy that was, at being a most -tremendous fellow?” she said, still smiling very tenderly. “Heaven will -destroy you, then: and this is the hour of your return, the hour which -I once prophesied, the hour which comes—so unportentously!—to end our -living. So let us not waste that hour in quibbles.” - -“You are so practical,” he lamented, “and with all that is lovable -you combine such a dearth of admirable sentiments. In brief, you are -Puysange.” - -She said pensively: “You were not lonely in my little time of -happiness. You would not ever have been lonely with me.” - -“Have you divined that also, Marie-Claire? Yes, it has been lonely. -I have had many friends and wives and mistresses. Perhaps I have had -everything which life has to give—” - -Florian sat looking moodily at two queer drawings done in red and black -upon the plaster of the wall: one represented a serpent swallowing -rods, the other a serpent crucified. Beneath these drawings was a dark -shining stone, and in its gleaming he saw figures move. - -Florian turned, and said without any apparent emotion: “But I have -lived quite alone, with no comprehension of anyone, and with so much -distrust of everybody! And now it is too late.” - -She considered this: she spread out her hands, smiling without mirth. -“Yes, it is too late, even with me. Nothing is left, where all was -yours once, Florian. I seem a husk. I do not either love or hate -you any longer. Only,”—again that dark blind staring puzzled over -him,—“only, it is not you who wait here in this fine black suit.” - -That made him too smile, and shrug a little. “It is what remains of -me, my dear,—all that remains anywhere to-day. Such is the end of every -person’s youth and passion. I sometimes think that we reside in an -ill-managed place. For look, Marie-Claire!” He waved toward the window, -made up of very small panes of leaded glass, through which you saw the -first vaporous green of the low fruit trees and much sunshine. “Look, -Marie-Claire! spring is returning now, on every side. That seems so -tactless.” - -But Marie-Claire replied, with more tolerance: “That is Their notion of -humor. I suppose it amuses the poor dears, so let us not complain.” - -Then they fell to talking of other matters, and they spoke of shared -small happenings in that spring of eighteen years ago, talking quite at -random as one trifle reminded them of another. The son of Marie-Claire, -young Achille Cazaio, was away from home in the way of business: for -at seventeen he had just set up as a brigand, and he was at this time -only a hopeful apprentice in the trade through which he was to prosper -and to win success and some fame. So they were undisturbed; and Florian -that day saw nothing of the stripling bandit, whom gossip declared -remarkably to resemble his half-uncle. - -And Florian stayed for some while in this neat sparsely furnished -room. He was content. At the bottom of his mind had always been the -knowledge that by and by he would return to Marie-Claire. Such -events as had happened since he left her, and the things that people -had said and thought and done because of him, and in particular the -responsibilities with which he had been entrusted,—his dukedom, his -wives, his order of the Holy Ghost, a whole château to do with whatever -he pleased,—were the materials of a joke which he was to share with his -sister some day, when the boy that had left her came back after having -hoodwinked so many persons into regarding him as mature and efficient -and unprincipled and all sorts of other amusing things. Marie-Claire -alone knew that this fourth Duke of Puysange was still the boy who had -loved her; and her blind gazing seemed always to penetrate the disguise. - -Well! he had come back to her, to find that both of them were changed. -The fact was sad, because it seemed to him that boy and girl had been -rather wonderful. But it did not matter. Probably nothing mattered. -Meanwhile he was again with Marie-Claire. It was sufficient to be home -again, for the little while which remained before his destruction by -that pig-headed and meddlesome Hoprig. And Florian was content.... - -Toward mid-day Florian parted with his sister for the last time. He -found it rather appalling that neither she nor he was moved by this -leave-taking. Then he reflected: “But we are dead persons, dead a -great while ago. This is the calm of death.” - -He saw that this was true, and got from it the comfort which he always -derived from logic. - -Nevertheless, he went back very softly, and he peered through the door -he had left not quite closed. Marie-Claire now knelt before the dark -polished stone in whose gleaming moved figures. - -“Lalle, Bachera, Magotte, Baphia—” she had begun. - -Florian shrugged as, this time, he really went away from the house of -oak and plaster. He knew whom she invoked. But that did not matter -either. And in fact, for Marie-Claire to pass from him to that other -was profoundly logical. - - - - -_25._ - -_The Gander That Sang_ - - -Florian followed the brook. Florian went hillward, walking upon what -seemed a long-ruined roadway. As he went upstream, the brook was to his -left hand: to his right was the hillside thick with trees. Florian, -whose familiarity with rural affairs was limited, was perforce content -to recognize among these trees the maples, the oaks, the pines and the -chestnuts. - -“Only, I should by every precedent, now that I go to inevitable -destruction, be observing everything with unnatural vividness,” he -reflected: “and to have about me so many familiar looking but to me -anonymous trees and bushes makes my impression of the scenery quite -unbecomingly vague.” - -Midges danced vexatiously about his face, and now and again he slapped -at them without gaining the least good. So much of the ruined roadway -had collapsed into the brook, in disorderly jumbles of stones and clay -and splintered slate, that what remained was very awkward to walk on: -your right foot was always so much higher up the hill than your left. -All was peculiarly still this afternoon: it startled you, when, as -happened once or twice, a grasshopper sprang out of your way, rising -from between your feet with vicious unexpected whirrings. That did not -seem wholly natural, in April. - -Florian came at last to a log hut beside three trees. Here then was -the hermitage of Holy Hoprig, wherein Florian was to encounter the -unpredictable. Florian regarded this hut with disfavor. He had never -thought to be destroyed in such an unimpressive looking building. - -He shrugged, he loosened Flamberge in the scabbard, he went forward, -and he pushed open the door. “Now if only,” he reflected, “I had the -height and the imposing appearance of Raoul!” Florian made the most of -every inch; and entered with the bearing becoming to a Duke of Puysange. - -The hut was unoccupied, save that in one corner was a cage painted -brown; and inside this sat, upon a red silk cushion, a large gander. - -“Do not disturb me,” said this bird, at once, “for I have had quite -enough to upset me already.” - -Florian for an instant stayed silent and somewhat confused. For this -evidently was not the saint’s hermitage, and a talking gander seemed -not wholly natural. Then Florian recollected that Morven had always -been the home of sorcery. So Florian replied, with great civility, that -he had not meant to intrude, but merely happened to be passing. And -Florian then talked with this gander, who told of the quite disgusting -scene he had witnessed when a woman, riding upon a magic staff, had -come into the hut, and had there been delivered of a child. - -“Children are not usually acquired so,” said the gander, “for as a -rule, a stork brings them, and that is a much nicer method.” - -“But where,” said Florian, “is now this honorarium?” - -“I do not know what that means,” the bird replied, “but I do know that -if it means anything objectionable it has almost certainly been in here -to-day to annoy me.” - -And the bird told of how a dove had come and had carried off in its -beak the ring the woman had given it. He told how presently had come -a fine looking man with a shining about his head, not flying but -luxuriously riding through the air upon a gold cloud, with cherubs’ -heads floating about him; and how the woman and the child had gone away -upon this same cloud, surrounded by, the gander thought, extremely -fretful looking cherubs. - -“The whole affair has upset me very much,” said the gander, “for I was -composing, and I can never bear to be interrupted.” - -And the gander sang to Florian of the proper way in which children -should be born and should live thereafter. About the glory of love and -the felicities of marriage, about patriotism and success in business -and about the high assurances of religion, the gander sang, and about -optimism and philanthropy and about the steady advancing of every kind -of social improvement. And of man that is the child and heir of God, -and of the splendor of man’s works, and of the magnanimity of human -nature, and of the wonder of man’s living upon earth, the gander sang -also. - -“Parbleu, but let us be logical about this!” said Florian. “Your art is -very pleasing; but it embellishes a lazar-house with pastels. For human -living is not at all like the song you have made concerning it.” - -“So much the worse for human living,” the gander answered. “It does not -bother me here in my cage. Besides, the purpose and the effect of my -singing, like that of all great singing, is to fill my fellows with a -sentiment of their importance as moral beings and of the greatness of -their destinies. So I do not mimic. I create.” - -Florian looked at the gander for some while, and Florian sighed. This -creature too had in it nothing of the realist, Florian reflected, -and it preferred to live by its own code; but its æsthetic theories -coincided with Hoprig’s. And the hermitage of that—somehow—ambiguous -Hoprig was still to seek. - -Florian left the imprisoned gander singing very gloriously, and Florian -went now across Morven, that place of abominable fame. These uplands -were thickly overgrown with a queer vine that had large oval leaves, -the green of which was mottled with red, somewhat like the skin of -snakes. Here also grew strawberry vines. As he walked this undergrowth -was continually catching in the buckles of Florian’s shoes. Everywhere -were inexplicable soft noises, and about his face danced a small cloud -of midges. - -There was no other sign of life except that once five large black and -white birds rose from the ground immediately before him, seeming to -rise from between his feet as the grasshoppers had done. This did not -frighten Florian, exactly, but the suddenness of it, in this lonely -place, gave him a shock not wholly delightful. These birds, he saw, -had been feeding there upon the berries of a small bush, upon purple -berries which were about the size of a wren’s egg, and whose outer -sides had been pecked away by the birds, leaving the seeds exposed. All -this was natural enough until you reflected that in these latitudes no -bush produced berries as early as April. - -Now toward twilight Florian came to clumps of big and vividly yellow -toad-stools, which seemed fat and poisonous and very evil. He passed -among these, breaking many of them with his feet, and reflecting -that the tiny screams which appeared to be uttered by these broken, -loathsomely soft things must be the cry of some other sort of queer -bird hidden somewhere near at hand. And he presently saw the appearance -of a man coming toward him, and about the head of this man was a -shining, as Florian perceived from afar, and was so assured that this -was Hoprig. - -Florian went forward intrepidly, once he had loosened Flamberge in the -scabbard. But this was not Hoprig. It was, instead, an incredibly old -man in faded blue, who carried upon his arm an open basket filled with -small roots. At his heel came a blue and white dog. The old man looked -once at Florian, with peculiarly bright eyes, like the eyes of those -who had watched the Feast of the Wheel, and he passed without speaking. -The dog paused, and without making any noise, sniffed about Florian’s -legs once or twice, as if this inspection were a matter of duty, and -then followed this old man who had about his head a shining. It was -odd, but the dog made no noise when he sniffed thus close to you; -and neither the man in blue nor the blue and white dog made any least -noise as they passed through the thick and tangled vines underfoot; nor -did their passing at all move these vines which caught at the buckles -of Florian’s shoes so that he was continually tripping. These things -rendered it difficult to believe that the man and the dog could be -wholly natural. - -And still those pertinacious midges danced before Florian’s eyes: and -he was tired of slapping at them without ever driving them away. Morven -did not appear a merry place, upon this the last day of April, as -Florian toiled through Morven’s thickening twilight, in search of Holy -Hoprig’s hermitage, wherein was now the child that Florian had need of. - - - - -_26._ - -_Husband and Wife_ - - -Toward evening Florian came into the saint’s hermitage. Inside, it -proved a most comfortable hermitage, having walls builded of logs with -the interstices filled with plaster. It seemed rather luxuriously -furnished, to Florian’s glance, which took exact note of nothing more -specific than the skull upon the lectern and the three silver-gilt -candelabra. These twelve candles, as you came in from the twilight, -made the room quite cosy. Florian did not, however, look at the room’s -equipment with the interest he reserved for his wife. - -Melior sat there, alone except for the newborn child in her lap. At the -sound of Florian’s entrance she had drawn the child closer, raising her -blue mantle about it in an involuntary movement of protection: and as -she faced him thus, Florian could see, without any especial interest, -that with motherhood all her lost beauty had returned. It seemed -inexplicable, but Melior was, if anything, more lovely than she had -ever been: it was probably one of Hoprig’s miracles: and Florian found -time to wonder why he should be, so unquestionably and so actively, -irritated by the sight of a person in everything so pleasing. - -Neither spoke for a while. - -“I thought that you would be here before long: and all I have to say -is that I wonder how you can look me in the face,” observed Melior, -at last. “Still, that you should be so bent upon your own destruction -that you have followed us even here, does, I confess, astonish me. Why, -Florian, have you no sense at all!” - -“My dearest, you underestimate the power of paternal affection.” -Florian came to her, and gently uncovered the child’s face. The baby, -having supped, was asleep. Florian looked at it for a moment and -for yet another moment. He shrugged. “No: I am aware of none of the -appropriate emotions. The creature merely seems to me unfinished. Its -head, in particular, has been affixed most unsatisfactorily; and I -lament the general appearance of having been recently boiled. No, I -sacrifice little.” - -Melior put the sleeping child into the cradle yonder, a cradle -which Florian supposed that Hoprig must have created extempore and -miraculously when a cradle was needed. It hardly seemed the most -natural appurtenance of an anchorite’s retreat. - -Then Melior turned, and she regarded Florian with her maddening air of -dealing very patiently with an irrational person. - -“Do you actually think, Florian, that, now, you can harm the little -pet? Florian, that is one fault you have, though I am far from saying -it is the only one. Still, as I so often think, no one of us is -perfect: and perpetual fault-finding never gets you anywhere, does -it? Even so, Florian, there is no denying you do not like to take a -common-sense view of the most self-evident facts when the facts are not -quite what you want them to be, and that much I feel I ought to tell -you frankly. Otherwise, Florian, you would comprehend at once that I -have only to cry out to St. Hoprig, who is back yonder chopping the -wood to cook our supper, after those cherubs were positively rude about -being asked to do it, and then he will blast you with a miracle.” - -She had gone back to her outlandish mediæval clothing. He recognized, -now, the dreadful gown she was wearing the morning he first came to her -upon the mountain top,—that glaring, shiny, twinkling affair, which -reminded you of an Opera dancer’s costume in some spectacular ballet. -For a Duchess of Puysange to be thus preposterously attired was -unbecoming, and was in quite abominable taste. - -“First, madame,” said Florian, with a vexed, rather tired sigh, “let us -explain matters. I have loved you since my boyhood, Melior, with a love -which no woman, I think, can understand. For I loved you worshipfully, -without hope, without any actual desire: and I loved you, by ill-luck, -with a whole-heartedness which has prevented my ever loving anything -else. It is droll that a little color and glitter and a few plump -curves, seen once and very briefly, should be able to make all other -things not quite worth troubling about. But the farce is old. They used -to call us nympholepts; and they fabled that the beauty which robbed us -of all normal human joys was divine. Well, I have no desire to discuss -the nature of divinity, madame, nor to bore you with any further -talking about what no woman understands. It suffices that I loved you -in this pre-eminently ridiculous fashion; and that a way was offered me -by which I might very incredibly win to you.” - -To which Melior replied: “You mean about your bargaining with Janicot, -I suppose, and I am sure I never heard of such nonsense in my life. -Why, Florian, to think that the moment I let you out of my sight, even -if it was a little while before I first actually saw you, because that -does not in the least alter the principle of the thing,—quite apart -from its happening the same morning, anyhow,—that you should be mixing -yourself up with such people! It is positively incredible! But, as for -your supposing that I am going to let you and your Janicots lay one -finger on my precious lamb—!” - -“Madame,” he replied, “let us be logical! I can conceive of no -possible reason why you should especially value this child. It may -be no more repulsive looking than other babies: that is a point upon -which I cannot pretend to speak with authority. But it is certainly -not in itself an attractive animal. And your acquaintance with it, -dating only from this morning, is far too brief to have permitted the -forming of any personal attachment. For the rest, this bargain with -Monsieur Janicot is an affair in which I have given my word. I can say -no more. It is in your power, of course, to summon my patron saint, -who, from what I know of him, will probably attempt to coerce me into -rank dishonesty; and in that case the issue remains doubtful. The -most probable outcome—need I say?—in view of his boasted proficiency -in blasting, cursing and smiting, seems my annihilation. Would you, -madame, who are of royal blood and are born of a race that is more than -human,—would you have me, on that account, hold back in an affair in -which my honor is involved?” - -“Why, Florian, since you are asking my advice, I think it is not quite -nice to speak of the power of a saint as being at all doubtful. We both -know perfectly well that he would resent any impudence from you with a -palsy or an advanced case of leprosy or perhaps a thunderbolt, and make -things most unpleasant for everybody. And besides, it is just as well -to avoid the subject of doubtfulness, because after talking with your -other wives, I confess, Florian, that I have the very gravest doubts as -to what you are planning to have become of me.” - -“You will vanish, madame, after the usual custom of your race. I am -sure I do not know whither the Léshy usually vanish.” - -“I decline to vanish. Now that I am a Christian, Florian, I should -think that even you would know I must decline to take any part in any -such silly and irreligious proceedings—” - -To which he answered patiently, “But I have given my word, madame.” - -And still this obstinate woman clung to her pretence that he was -behaving irrationally. She said, with an effect of being almost sorry -for him: - -“My poor Florian! now but let us be perfectly friendly about this. I am -disposed to bear no malice, because, as I so often think, what is the -odds? In the long run, I mean—” - -“Madame, it is my misfortune never quite to know what you mean.” - -“Why, I mean that we all make mistakes, and that it is to be expected, -and the least said about it, the soonest mended. Besides, as I was -telling you, I do not know of course who it was that first set women -upon a pedestal, and even if I did, I would be willing to overlook his -mistakes too—” - -“But you have not been telling me about this over-imaginative unmarried -person! You were talking about malice and vanishing—” - -“—Still, I certainly would not thank him, because I have had to pay for -that mistake, even more heavily than women do now. Ah, Florian, as I so -often think, it is always the woman who pays! For, you conceive, in my -first life, back at Brunbelois, I mean, in those perfectly awful days -of chivalry, I used to be worshipped, or at least that was what it came -to in practise, as a symbol of heavenly excellence—” - -Florian said, with an attempt at gallantry, “I can well imagine—” - -“Oh, it was without any actually personal application, you understand: -it was just that all ladies were regarded in that light. It was -considered that in making women Heaven had revealed the full extent -of Heaven’s powers. So they made us sit upon uncomfortable thrones at -their tournaments—” - -“But,” Florian protested, “these honorable and extremely picturesque -customs—” - -“My dear, that is all very well! but they used to last for a week -sometimes. And there we would have to sit, from six to seven hours a -day, with canopies but no cushions, and with no toilet conveniences, -and with nothing whatever to do except to watch them sticking and -poking and chopping one another in order to show how they respected -us,—though I could never understand just how that came in, because my -back hurt me too much, apart from my other troubles—” - -“But as a symbol—” This horrible woman seemed resolved to leave him no -one last shred of his dream. - -“It was not the symbolism I objected to, Florian, but the endless -inconvenience. The tournaments were only a part of it; and of course -even after them you could get liniment, and you soon learned not to -drink anything with your breakfast. But they walked off with your -sleeves and handkerchiefs, with or without your leave: and when you go -to put on your gloves, let me tell you, it is most annoying to find -that the other one is several miles away in somebody’s helmet—” - -“Now,” Florian said, yet more and more shocked, “you illogically apply -prosaic standards to the entirely poetic attitude of chivalry—” - -“Oh, as for their poetry, telling what marvelous creatures they thought -us, they were all over the place with it. That was trying enough in -the day-time: but when it came to being waked up long before dawn, -and prevented from getting a wink of beauty-sleep at night, by their -aubades and serenas about how wonderful you were, I do assure you, it -was really very tiresome—” - -“I can see that.” Logic compelled the admission, however repulsive it -was to find a woman blundering into logic. “But, still, madame—” - -“Yes, you can see that, Florian, now, because you now comprehend you -have been as foolishly exaggerative as any of them. Florian, you are a -romantic: and from the first that has been the trouble, because it was -that which made you fall in love with your notion of Melior. That was -just what you did, without even having talked with me—” - -“Parbleu, but certainly it was without having heard you talk—” - -“And as far as it went, it was quite nice of you, Florian, for you -appear even to have imperilled your soul—which, to be sure, must have -been in a rather dangerous way already,—through your desire to have -me for your wife. Nobody thinks of denying that was a very pretty -compliment, but, if you ask me, it was a mistake—” - -This seemed to Florian such a masterpiece in the art of understatement -that he said almost sullenly, “We needs must love the highest—” - -“Nonsense, Florian, I am far from being the highest. And so, let me -tell you, is any other woman. After a month or two of sleeping with -and mooning around me,—who, you must do me the justice to admit, never -laughed at you once, though I do not deny that I was tempted, for, -Florian, my dear, it seems only fair to tell you that at times you are -simply—! But then, it is not as if other men were very different—” - -“Let us,” said Florian,—who was reflecting that he had never really -detested anybody before he met this woman,—“let us turn to more -profitable topics than masculine romanticism—” - -“So you made the appalling discovery that I did not belong upon a -pedestal. That was inevitable, though I must say it was not as if I had -endeavored to hide it from you. And you resented it fiercely. That too, -I suppose, was only you romantic men all over, though it was just as -foolish as the mooning. And from what I can gather, you appear to have -been equally rash and—if you do not mind my saying so, dear,—equally -inconsiderate, in your treatment of your other wives. Though, to be -sure, whatever you could see in those women, even at the first—!” - -“I am a Puysange. We are ardent—” - -“In any event, it is not as if anything could be done about them now. -So, really, Florian, taking one consideration with another, I do not -see why, now that we have talked it over amicably, and you have more -or less explained yourself,—and, I am willing to believe, are quite -properly sorry,—we should not get on tolerably well. And about men I -say nothing, because one does want to be kind, but I doubt if any woman -anywhere really hopes for more than that when she marries.” - -Melior had stopped talking. Not that fact alone had roused Florian to -chill amazement. He said, “You plan, madame—?” - -“Why, first of all, I plan for both of us to appeal, in a suitably -religious and polite manner, to your patron saint. That is the plain -duty of a Christian. For if this Janicot has any real claim upon the -little darling, you surely must see how much nicer it would be, in -every way, for Hoprig to be working miracles against him instead of -smiting you with something unpleasant. And besides, I do not see how he -can have any real claim—” - -Florian resolutely thrust aside the suspicion that this obstinate and -shiny and gross-minded woman was now planning, among other enormities, -to return to living with him. He said only: - -“I am astounded. I am grieved. You would have me meanly crawl out of my -bargain by invoking the high powers of Heaven to help me in a swindle, -very much as one hears of dishonest persons repudiating fair debts -through the chicanery of a death-bed repentance. Pardieu, madame! since -you suggest such infamies, and since you will not hear reason, I can -but leave you, to defy this Hoprig to his ugly nose, and to perish, if -necessary, upon his woodpile with untarnished faith.” - -He turned sadly from this woman who appeared to have no sense of -logic or honor, not even any elementary notion of fair-dealing. And -as Florian turned, he saw the door open, and through the doorway -came first an armful of faggots and behind it the flushed but still -benevolent face of Hoprig. - - - - -_27._ - -_The Forethought of Hoprig_ - - -“Come now,” said St. Hoprig, as he laid down the wood, “but here is -that abominable ward of mine! and upon the point of defying me too!” -Whereon he shook hands cordially with Florian. - -“Ah, but, monsieur,” said Florian, “be logical! We meet as enemies.” - -“Frequently,” observed the saint, “that is the speediest way of -reaching a thorough understanding. I suppose that you have come about -your foolish bargain with Janicot.” - -“Upon my word,” replied Florian, “but all my business affairs appear to -be well known to everybody upon Morven!” - -The saint had turned to Melior, with a wise nod. “So, you perceive, -madame, our precautions were justified. Now, my dear son, do not worry -any more about your contract with the powers of evil, but off with your -things, and have some supper with us. For I have excellent news for -you. You were to sacrifice to Janicot the first child that you and -Madame Melior might have, and she was then to vanish. Your bargain is -void, or, rather, the terms have not yet been fulfilled.” - -Florian looked forlornly at his wife, then toward the cradle, and he -said, “I fail to perceive the omission, Monsieur Hoprig.” - -“Luckily for human society, my son, a great many persons are similarly -obtuse.” - -“Ah,” said Florian, “but let us have no daring coruscations of wit -where plain talking is needed.” - -“I must tell you, then,” the saint continued, “that, when my suspicions -were aroused at Brunbelois, I communicated with higher powers, and the -Recording Angel obliged me with a fair copy of your first interview -with Janicot. He objected to giving it: but I stood up for my rights -as a saint, and in the end, after some little unpleasantness, he did -give it. One really has to be firm with these angels, I find, in order -to get the least bit of service. After that, at all events, the way -to foil your wicked scheme was clear enough: in fact, it was the one -possible way to prevent, without open scandal, your begetting of a -child upon your wife for deplorable purposes. I advised the Princess to -follow this way, and to make sure before marrying you that you should -win to her embraces a bit too late to be the father of her child.” - -“That seems to be unprecedented advice,” said Florian, sternly, “to -have come from a saint of the Calendar.” - -He tried, at least, to speak sternly: but a dreadful thought had -smitten him, and Florian knew that he, who had wondered what people -meant when they talked about fear, had done with wondering. - -“It was for your own good and eternal salvation,” observed Melior, -“though, to be sure, all men are like that, and, as I often think, the -more you do for them the less they seem to appreciate your trouble—” - -Florian said only, “May I inquire, madame, without appearing unduly -intrusive, who was your collaborator in arranging this infant’s début?” - -“Why, but of course she received all the necessary assistance,” replied -St. Hoprig, “from me. I never grudge the efforts necessary to a good -action of this sort: and all night long, my son, I labored cheerfully -for your salvation. For it was my plain duty as your celestial patron -to save you, at any cost, from falling into grave sin: and, besides, -it was a matter hardly to be entrusted to any other gentleman without -considerable possibilities of scandal.” - -Florian looked from one to the other. “So it was to prevent scandal -that my wife and my patron saint have put together their heads: and -beauty and holiness—they also!—must combine to avoid offending against -the notions of the neighbors. You will permit the remark that here is -ambiguous logic.” - -“Ah, but my dear,” replied Melior, “can you with logic deny that we did -it for your own good? So often, when affairs look wrong, if you will -just regard the spirit of the thing—” - -“Madame,” said Florian, without unkindliness, “let us not argue about -that. I am sure you were persuaded as to the spirit of the thing, when -no doubt Monsieur Hoprig went into it at full length—” - -Yet Florian spoke perturbedly, for in his heart remained despair and -terror. To find that he had been hoodwinked was not a discovery to -upset a person used to the ways of the world and of more wives than -he had ever married: to be hoodwinked was the métier of husbands. -Moreover, reflection had already suggested that the saint had followed -the honorable old tradition of various nations who deputed exactly the -task which Hoprig had spared Florian to their most holy persons. - -Florian took snuff. With his chin well up, he inhaled luxuriously.... - -Yes, Florian reflected, there were priests everywhere,—the Brahmans of -Malabar, the Piaches of the Arawaks, the Dedes of Lycia, the Chodsas -of the Dersim uplands, and the Ankuts of the Esquimaux,—to all these -priests was formally relegated the performing of this task when a woman -was about to marry. Every part of the world wherein mankind remained -unspoiled by civilization, reflected Florian, afforded an exact and -honorable precedent: and he could advance no ground for complaint. -For one was logical. Certain physical reservations were made much of, -to be sure, in Holy Writ and in the sermons preached in convents to -auditories of schoolgirls. And this theory perhaps did no great harm. -But, after all, there was a grain of folly in this theory that to-day’s -letters still in the post contained of necessity more virtuous matter -than did yesterday’s letters, whose seals had been broken. No, let us -be logical about this theory. - -He closed his snuff-box. The lid bore the portrait of poor Philippe. -He regretted Philippe, who had been destroyed with no real gain to -anybody. Florian slipped the box into his waistcoat pocket.... - -Hoprig’s painstaking forethought, then, gave a philosopher no ground -for wonder or dissatisfaction. But none the less, in the heart of -Florian was despair and terror. The terms of his bargain had not been -fulfilled, and the one course open to a gentleman who held by his word -was to go on living with his disenchanted princess for, at the very -least—he estimated, appalled,—another full year. - -Florian extended his right hand, dusting the fingers one against the -other. He liked those long white fingers. But this was simply dreadful: -and he would have to speak now, he would have to say something. They -were both waiting. Negligently he straightened the Mechlin ruffles at -his throat.... - -Then with a riotous surge of joy, he recollected that the current -conventions of society afforded him a colorable pretext to provoke -the saint into annihilating him. As against continuing to live within -earshot of Melior’s insufferable jabbering,—as against a year of hourly -frettings under a gross-minded idiot’s blasphemies against the bright -and flawless shrine of beauty which she inhabited,—the everywhere -betrayed romantic had still the refuge of bodily destruction in this -world and damnation in the next. And all because of a graceful social -convention! all because of one of those fine notions which, precisely -as he had always contended, made human living among the amenities -of civilization so much more comely and more satisfying than was -the existence of such savages as lived ignobly with no guide except -common-sense. The Piaches and the Brahmans and the Ankuts were all -savages, and their obscene notions were wholly abominable. - -“Madame,” said Florian, with his best dignity, “whatever the contrast -between the purity of your intentions and of your conduct, I shall -cling to the old simple faith of my ancestors. I am a Puysange. I do -not care for airdrawn abstractions, I do not palter with such dangerous -subtleties as you suggest. I act with the forthright simplicity which -becomes a gentleman, and I avenge my wounded honor.” - -Whereupon, with due respect for the possible incandescence of a halo, -Florian struck Hoprig on the jaw. - -“Now, holy Michael aid me!” cried the saint, and he closed upon -Florian, straightforwardly, without any miracle-working. - -And as Hoprig spoke, there was a great peal of thunder. The crash, with -its long shuddering reverberations was utterly appalling, but Hoprig -was not appalled. Instead, he had drawn away from Florian, and Hoprig -was now smiling deprecatingly. - -“Dear me!” the saint observed, “but I am always forgetting. And now, I -suppose, they will be vexed again.” - - - - -_28._ - -_Highly Ambiguous_ - - -And then as the last shaken note of thunder died away, and as Melior -fell to comforting the awakened baby, a tall warrior entered. He -wore the most resplendent of ancient corselets, and embossed greaves -protected his legs, but no helmet hid his flaxen curls. He now laid -down an eight-sided shield, emblazoned argent with a cross gules, and -he rustled his wings rather indignantly. - -“Really, Hoprig,” said the new-comer, “this is carrying matters -entirely too far; and you must not summon the princes of Heaven from -their affairs to take part in your fisticuffs.” - -“What more can you expect, good Michael, of misguided efforts to make -saints of my people?” - -This was a voice which was not unknown to Florian. And he saw that -Janicot too had come,—not in that unreserved condition in which Florian -had last seen him, but discreetly clothed and showing in everything -as the neat burgess of Florian’s first encounter. And it was evident -that this Janicot was not a stranger to St. Michael, either, when the -archangel answered: - -“It is well enough for you to grin, but with us the matter is no joke. -This Hoprig has been duly canonized. When he invokes any of us we are -under formal obligations to minister unto him, for he is entitled to -all the perquisites of a saint: and he puts them to most inappropriate -uses. For I must tell you—” - -“Come, Monseigneur St. Michael,” observed Hoprig, waving toward -Melior’s back, where she was comforting the mewing baby without the -least attention to anything else,—“come, let us remember that a lady is -present.” - -“And for that matter, upon how many nights since you began going about -earth—But I shall say no more upon a topic so painful. It is sufficient -to state that the entire affair is most unsettling, and has displeased -those high in authority. The Church has canonized you, and we have of -course to stand by the Church, with which our relations have for some -while been, in the main, quite friendly. I do not deny that if anything -could have been done about you, just quietly—But we find the Church has -provided no method whatever for removing saints from the Calendar—” - -“You might remove him from earth, however,” Janicot suggested, -helpfully. “A thunderbolt is not expensive.” - -“It has been considered. But the effect, we believe, would not upon -the whole be salutary. It would discourage the pious in their efforts -toward sanctity to observe that bolt coming from, of all quarters, -heaven. Besides, as a saint, he must, directly after being killed, -ascend to eternal glory. You ought to understand that we would be the -last persons actually to hurry him.” - -“I think I see,” said Janicot. “You are bound to stand by the Church as -faithfully as I do, if not through quite the same motives. Now, I hold -no brief for this saint. He has swindled me,—cleverly enough, but with -that lack of common honesty which as a rule lends ambiguity to pious -actions,—out of Madame Melior’s child. I name only the mother, because, -as I understand—?” - -He had turned to Florian, and Janicot’s raised eyebrows were -sententious. - -Florian answered them, “Yes, Monsieur Janicot; it appears that I have -acquired an increase of grace through works of supererogation.” - -“Ah! and I had thought you were ardent! The child, in any event, is a -detail about which there is no hurry. I am not fond of children myself—” - -And Florian marvelled. “Then, why—?” - -“It is merely that my servants have a use for them. Yes, my servants -make them quite useful, by adding the juice of water parsnip and soot -and cinquefoil and some other ingredients. And I endeavor to supply my -servants’ needs. However!”—and Janicot waved the matter aside,—“when -I am beaten I acknowledge it. The disenchanted princess remains -yours: and I shall have no claim upon you until”—here Janicot smiled -again,—“until the great love between your wife and you has approached a -somewhat more authentic fruition.” - -“Monsieur Janicot,” replied Florian, “you set the noble example of -confessing when one is beaten. I was very careful when we made the -compact which secured me this flawlessly beautiful lady as my wife. I -am no longer careful. I cannot live with her for another year, not for -a month, not for a half-hour! As you perceive, at the bare thought I -grow hysterical. I tell you I cannot face the thought that this is the -woman whom I have worshipped so long! I am a broken man, and I repent -of every crime I committed in order to get her. Therefore let us make a -second compact, my dear Monsieur Janicot, a compact by which she will -be taken away from me! And you may name your own terms.” - -“Ah, but you are all alike!” sighed Janicot. “You palter and haggle -about the securing of your desires: but once you have your desires, -no price appears too high to rid you of them. I cannot understand my -people, and my failure quite to comprehend them troubles me: yet I -could have told you, Florian, the first day we met, that it would come -to this. But you were that droll creature the romantic, the man who -cherishes superhuman ideals. And I really cannot put up with ideals—” -Janicot ceased from talking half as if in meditation. He now glanced -from one to another of the company with a sort of friendly petulance. -“However, why is everybody looking so solemn? I like to have happy -faces about me.” - -“It is well enough for you to philosophize and grin,” Michael -returned, in lordly indignation. “But grinning settles few religious -difficulties, and philosophy muddles them worse than ever. Yet, if -you ask why I look solemn, it is because this saint here has become a -scandal on earth, a nuisance in heaven, and an impossibility in hell. -And after all our conferences we can find no place for him anywhere -to-day.” - -“Yet the affair is really very simple,” replied Janicot. “Let Hoprig -and Melior, and their child too, return to Brunbelois and to the old -time before he was a saint. Let them return to the high place and to -the old time that is overpast now everywhere except at Brunbelois. Thus -earth will be rid of your scandal-breeding saint, and Hoprig of his -halo and Florian of his threatened hysteria. And this Melior and this -Hoprig will no longer be real persons, but will once more blend into an -ancient legend of exceeding beauty and holiness. And nobody anywhere -will be dissatisfied. This I suggest because I like to have happy faces -about me, and happy faces everywhere, even in heaven.” - - -[Illustration: -Caption surrounded by garland: “—And this is the last cloud going - west.” - _See page 291_ -The image] - - -Michael said: “You are subtle. That is not our strong point, of course. -Still, I really do wonder why, after so many conferences, we never -thought of such an obvious solution as to antedate him at Brunbelois.” - -And Michael looked at Hoprig. - -Hoprig smiled, benevolently as always, but not in the least -repentantly, and Hoprig said: “Why, after all, I have seen quite as -much of this modern world as interests a saint in the prime of life; -this halo certainly is, in ways we need not go into, sometimes in -inconvenience; and there is no real pleasure in being ministered unto -by unwilling angels. So that I am ready to leave it to the lady.” - -Now Melior arose from beside the cradle, wherein the child was now once -more asleep. And Melior looked at Florian, without saying anything: but -she was smiling rather sadly; and Florian knew that nowhere in this -world, at any time, had there been any person more lovely than was his -disenchanted princess. - -And Florian said: “A pest! but, in the name of earth and sky and -sea, in the name of Heaven and all the fiends, let this be done! For -the moment you are again a legend, madame, I shall recapture the dear -misery of my love for you and for that perfect beauty which should be -seen and not heard.” - -“Indeed,” she replied, “I daresay that is the truth. So, for all our -sakes, Hoprig and I will go back to the time before I married you: and -then, on account of the baby, I suppose I will have to marry Hoprig, -who at least takes women as he finds them.” - -“You speak, I assume, metaphorically,” observed the saint, “but, in any -case, I believe you exhibit good sense. So let us be going.” - -Then Florian said farewell to Melior and to Hoprig also. Florian -had put aside his dapper look: he had quite lost his usual air of -tolerating a mixture of vexation and mirth: and for that moment he did -not show in anything as a jaunty little person of the very highest -fashion. - -“Now that you two,” said Florian, “become again a legend and a symbol, -I can believe in and love and worship you once more. It is in vain, -it is with pitiable folly, that any man aspires to be bringing beauty -and holiness into his daily living. These things are excellent for -dilettanti to admire from afar. But they are not attainable, in any -quantity that suffices. We needs believe in beauty: and there needs -always flourish the notion that beauty exists in human living, so long -as memory transfigures what is past, and optimism what is to come. And -sometimes one finds beauty even in the hour which is passing, here and -there, at wide intervals: but it is mixed—as inextricably as is mixed -your speaking, bright-colored enemy of all romance,—with what is silly -and commonplace and trivial.” - -“It seems so very vexatious,” Melior stated, as if from depths of long -deliberation, “when you can distinctly remember having brought your -hat, to be quite unable—Yes, go on talking, Florian. It is on the peg -by the door, and we are all listening.” - -“And I would like to believe,” continued Florian, “that there is -holiness in human living; but I at least have always found this also -mixed with, I do not say hypocrisy, but ambiguity.... Mankind have -their good points, but—to my knowledge,—no firm claim of any sort on -admiration. I have been familiar with no person without finding that -intimacy made some liking inevitable and any real respect preposterous. -I deduce that in no virtue, and in no viciousness, does man excel: -his endowments, either way, are inadequate. So holiness and beauty -must remain to me just notions very pleasant to think about, and quite -harmless to aim at if you like, if only because such aiming makes no -noticeable difference anywhere. But they remain also unattained by -mortal living. I do not know why this should be the law. I merely know -that I overrode the law which says that only mediocrity may thrive in -any place; and that I have been punished, with derision and with too -clear seeing.” - -“Yes, but,” said Janicot, “you are punishing everybody else with -verbosity—” - -“I also can perceive no reason, my son,” declared St. Hoprig, “for -talking highflown bombast and attempting to drag an apologue from the -snarls of a most annoying affair. It should be sufficient to reflect -that your romantic hankerings have upset heaven, and have given rise—I -gather from the sneers of this brown fiend,—to unfavorable comment even -in hell. And there is simply no telling into what state my temple of -Llaw Gyffes may have got during the months you have held me in this -frivolous modern world.” - -“Your temple of Llaw Gyffes!” said Florian, sadly. “But can it be, -monsieur, that, after having been a saint of the Calendar, now that you -return to heathen Brunbelois and the old time—?” - -“My son, in any time,” Hoprig replied, “and in any place, my talents -are such as qualify me only for the best-thought-of church. My nature -craves stability and the support of tradition and of really nice -people. New faiths sometimes allure unthinking hot-heads like that -poor dear Horrig, but not ever me: for I find that any religion, when -once it is endowed and made respectable, works out in its effect -upon human living pretty much like any other religion. Meanwhile, of -course, one naturally prefers to retain a solid position in society. -So that really it does seem foolish to quarrel, in any time or place, -with the best-thought-of faith. No, Florian, creeds shift and alter in -everything except in promising salvation through church-work: but the -prelate remains immortal. And I will tell you another thing, Florian, -that you should remember when we are gone: and it is that all men and -all women are human beings, and that nothing can be done about it.” And -Hoprig at this point regarded Florian for some while with a sort of -pity. “In any case,” the saint said then, “do you look out for another -celestial patron, and for a second father in the spirit, now that -sunset approaches, and this is the last cloud going west.” - -And Melior took up the still sleeping child, without saying anything, -but smiling very lovelily at Florian: and she and Hoprig entered into -a golden cloud, and these two went away from Florian forever. And they -went as a blurred shining: for Florian was recollecting a child’s -desire to be not in all unworthy of these bright, dear beings; and -Florian somewhat wistfully recalled that brave aspiring, and that glad -ignorance, which nothing now could ever reawaken any more. - - - - -_29._ - -_The Wonder Words_ - - -“But now,” said Florian, “what now is to become of me, who have no -longer any standards of beauty and holiness?” And he looked expectantly -from Janicot to the archangel, and back again, to see when they would -begin their battling for possession of the Duke of Puysange. Both -spirits seemed almost unflatteringly unbellicose. - -“I have no instructions about you,” replied Michael. “I did not come -hither in the way of official duty, but only at the summons of that -fellow—It is really a very great comfort to reflect that, now he has -gone back to the old time before he was canonized, he is no longer a -saint! Still, as for you, your ways have been atrocious, and it is -hardly doubtful that your end should be the same.” - -Florian at that had out the magic sword Flamberge. “Then, Monseigneur -St. Michael, logic prompts one to make the best of this: and I entreat -that you do me the honor of crossing blades with me, so that I may -perish not ignobly.” - -“Come,” Michael said, “so this shrimp challenges an archangel! That is -really a fine gesture.” - -“Yes, there is spirit in this romantic,” Janicot declared. “It seems -to take the place of his intelligence. I cannot see it matters what -becomes of the creature, but, after all, old friends will welcome any -excuse to chat together. See, here is excellent wine in the saint’s -cupboard, and over a cup of it let us amicably decide what we should do -with this little Florian.” - -“It is well thought of,” Michael estimated, “for I have been working -all day upon the new worlds behind Fomalhaut, with the air full of -comet dust. Yes, that rapscallion Hoprig fetched me a long way, and I -am thirsty.” - -So these two sat down at the table to settle the fate of Florian. -Janicot poured for Florian also: and Florian took the proffered cup, -and a chair too, which he modestly placed against the log-and-plaster -wall at some distance from his judges. - -Florian’s judges made an odd pair. For resplendent Michael showed in -everything as divine, and in his face was the untroubled magnanimity of -a great prince of Heaven. But Janicot had the appearance of a working -man, all a sober and practical brown, which would show no stains after -the performance of any necessary labor, and his face was the more -shrewd. - -“First,” said Janicot, “let us drink. That is the proper beginning of -any dispute, for it makes each think his adversary a splendid fellow, -it promotes confidence and candor alike.” - -“Nobody should lack confidence and candor when it comes to dealing with -sin,” replied Michael: and with one heroic draught he emptied his cup. - -Florian sipped his more tentatively: for this seemed uncommonly queer -wine. - -“Sin,” Janicot said now, as if in meditation, “is a fine and impressive -monosyllable.” - -“Sin,” Michael said, with sternness, “is that which is forbidden by the -word of God.” - -“But, to be sure!” Florian put in. “Sin is a very grave matter: and -to expiate it requires stained windows and candles and, above all, -repentance—” - -“Ah, but a word,” said Janicot, “has no inherent meaning, it has -merely the significance a mutual agreement arbitrarily attaches to -that especial sound. Let me refill your cup, which I perceive to be -empty: and, Monsieur the Duke, do you stop talking to your judges. That -much—to resume,—is true of all words. And the word of your god has been -so variously pronounced, my good Michael, it has been so diversely -interpreted, that, really, men begin to wonder—” - -“I did not sit down,” cried Michael, “to hear blasphemies, but to -settle the doom of this sinner. Nor will I chop logic with you. I am a -blunt soldier, and you are subtle. Yes, the world knows you are subtle, -but how far has your subtlety got you? Why, it has got you as far as -from heaven to hell.” - -Florian vastly admired that just and pious summing-up as he leaned back -in his chair, and looked toward Janicot. Florian was feeling strangely -complacent, though, for Hoprig’s wine was extraordinarily potent tipple -to have come from the cupboard of a saint. - -“Ah, friend,” returned Janicot, smiling, “and do you really put actual -faith in that sensational modern story that I was an angel who rebelled -against your Jahveh?” - -“It was before my time, of course,” Michael conceded. “I only know -that my Lord created me with orders to conquer you, who call yourself -the Prince of this World. So I did this, though, to give the devil his -due, it was no easy task. But that is far-off stuff: a soldier bears no -malice when the fighting is over: and I drink to you.” - -“Your health, bright adversary! Yet what if I were not conquered, but -merely patient? Why should not I, who have outlived so many gods, -remain as patient under the passing of this tribal god come out of -Israel as I stayed once under Baal and Beltane? Both of these have had -their adorers and tall temples hereabouts: and Mithra and Zeus and -Osiris and I know not how many thousands of other beautiful and holy -deities have had their dole of worship and neglect and oblivion. Now I -have never been omnipotent, I am not worshipped in any shining temple -even to-day; but always I have been served.” - -Florian, through half-closed eyelids,—for he felt a trifle drowsy after -that extraordinary wine,—was admiring the curious proud look which -had come into the brown face of Janicot. Florian began complacently -to allow this fiend had his redeeming points. This Janicot was quite -distinguished looking. - -“For I,” said Janicot, “am the Prince of this World, not to be ousted: -and I have in my time, good Michael, had need to practise patience. -You think with awed reverence of your Jahveh: and that in your station -is commendable. Yet you should remember, too, that to me, who saw but -yesterday your Jahveh’s start in life as a local storm-god upon Sinai, -he is just the latest of many thousands of adversaries whom I have seen -triumph and pass while I stayed patient under all temporary annoyances. -For in heaven they keep changing dynasties, and every transient ruler -of heaven is bent upon making laws for my little kingdom. Oh, I blame -nobody! The desire is natural in omnipotence: and many of these laws I -have admired, as academic exercises. The trouble seemed to be that they -were drawn up in heaven, where there is nothing quite like the nature -of my people—” - -“A very sinful people!” said Michael. - -“There, as in so many points, bright adversary, our opinions differ. -You perceive only that they are not what, in accordance with your -master’s theories, they ought to be. I am more practical: I accept them -as they are, and I make no complaint. That which you call their lust -and wantonness, I know to be fertility—” And Janicot spread out both -hands. “But it is an old tale. God after god has set rules to bridle -and to change the nature of my people. Meanwhile I do not meddle with -their natures, I urge them to live in concord with their natures, -and to make the most of my kingdom. To be content and to keep me -well supplied with subjects, is all that any reasonable prince would -require. And as for sin, I have admitted it is a fine word. But the -wages of sin—in any event, very often,” said Janicot, and with a smile -he illuminated the parenthesis,—“is life.” - -“To all this,” said Michael, extending his empty cup, “the answer is -simple. You are evil, and you lie.” - -“Before your days, before there were men like those of to-day,” said -Janicot, indulgently, as he poured sombre wine, “and when the dwarf -peoples served me in secret places, even they had other official -gods. When your Jahveh is forgotten, men will yet serve me, if but -in secrecy. Creeds pass, my friend, just as that little Hoprig said. -And it is true, too, that the prelate remains always, as my technical -opponent. But the lingham and the yoni do not pass, they do not change, -they keep their strong control of all that lives: and these serve me -alone.” - -“If my Lord passes,” Michael answered, very nobly and very simply, -“I pass with Him. We that love Him could then desire no other fate. -Meanwhile I have faith in Him, and in His power and in His wisdom, and -my faith contents me.” - -“Faith!” Janicot said, rather wistfully. “Ah, there we encounter -another fine word, a wonder word: and I admit that your anodyne -is potent. But it is not to my taste. However, this wine here is -emphatically to my taste. So let us drink!” - -“It is a good wine. But it begets a treacherous softness of heart and -an unsuitable, a quite un-Hebraic tendency to let bygones be bygones. I -mean, unsuitable for one in my service. For, after all, old adversary, -without intending any disrespect, of course, we were originally for -martial law and military strictness, for smiting hip and thigh when -the least thing went wrong: and in spite of our recent coming over to -these new Christian doctrines—And, by the way, that reminds me of this -sinner here. We seem to keep wandering from the point.” - -They had looked toward Florian, who discreetly remained lying back in -his chair, watching them between nearly closed lids. - -“Indeed, we have so utterly neglected him that he has gone to sleep. So -let us drink, and be at ease,” said Janicot, “now that we are relieved -of his eavesdropping. This little Florian annoys me, rather. For he -makes something too much of logic: so he rebels against your creed of -faith and of set laws to be obeyed, asking Why? Did you never hear -the creature crying out, Let us be logical! in, of all places, this -universe? And he rebels against my creed, which he believes a mere -affair of the lingham and the yoni, saying This is not enough. Such -men as he continue to dream, my friend, and I confess such men are -dangerous: for they obstinately aspire toward a perfectibility that -does not exist, they will be content with nothing else; and when your -master and I do not satisfy the desire which is in their dreams, they -draw their appalling logical conclusions. To that humiliation, such as -it is, I answer Drink! For the Oracle of Bacbuc also—that oracle which -the little curé of Meudon was not alone in misunderstanding,—that -oracle speaks the true wonder word.” - -Michael had listened, with one elbow on the table, and with one hand -propping his chin. Michael had listened with a queer mingling, in his -frank face, of admiration and distrust. - -The archangel now slightly raised his head, just free of his hand, and -he asked rather scornfully, “But what have we to do with their dreams?” - -“A great deal. Men go enslaved by this dream of beauty: but never yet -have they sought to embody it, whether in their wives or in their -equally droll works of art, without imperfect results, without results -that were maddening to the dreamer. Men are resolved to know that -which they may whole-heartedly worship. No, they are not bent upon -emulating what they worship: it is, rather, that holiness also is a -dream which allures mankind resistlessly. But thus far,—by your leave, -good Michael,—they have found nothing to worship which bears logical -inspection much better than does Hoprig. The dangerous part of all this -is that men, none the less, still go on dreaming.” - -“They might be worse employed.” Michael himself refilled his cup. “For -I could tell you—” - -“Pray spare my blushes! Yes, they obstinately go on dreaming. Your -master is strong, as yet, and I too am strong, but neither of us is -strong enough to control men’s dreams. Now, the dreaming of men—mark -you, I do not say of humankind, for women are rational creatures,—has -an aspiring which is ruthless. It goes beyond decency, it aspires -to more of perfectibility than any god has yet been able to provide -or even to live up to. So this quite insane aspiring first sets up -beautiful and holy gods in heaven, then in the dock; and, judging all -by human logic, decrees this god not to be good enough. Thus their -logic has dealt with Baal and Beltane and Mithra; thus it will deal—” -Janicot very courteously waved a brown and workmanlike hand. “But let -us not dwell upon reflections that you may perhaps find unpleasant. In -the meanwhile, me too this human dreaming thrusts aside, as not good -enough.” - -It was plain that Michael distrusted Janicot in all and yet in some -sort admired him most unwillingly. Michael asked, with a reserved -smiling, “What follows, O subtle one?” - -“It follows that all gods must pass until—perhaps—a god be found who -satisfies the requirements of this disastrously exigent human dreaming. -It follows that I must perforce go quietly about my kingdom because -of this insane toplofty dreaming.” And Janicot sighed. “Yes, it is -humiliating: but I also have my anodyne, I have my wonder word. And it -is Drink!” - -“Of course it would be,” Michael replied, with the most dignified of -hiccoughs, “since drunkenness is a particularly low form of sin.” - -“The drinking I advocate is not merely of the grape. No, it is from the -cup of space that I would have all drink, accepting all that is, in one -fearless draught. Some day, it may be, my people here will attain to -my doctrine: and even these fretful little men will see that life and -death, and the nature of their dreams, and of their bodies also, are -but ingredients in a cup from which the wise drink fearlessly.” - -Janicot had risen now. He came toward Florian, and stood there, looking -down. And Florian discreetly continued his mimicry of untroubled -slumber. - -“Meanwhile he does not drink, he merely dreams, this little Florian. He -dreams of beauty and of holiness fetched back by him to an earth which -everywhere fell short of his wishes, fetched down by him intrepidly -from that imagined high place where men attain to their insane desires. -He dreams of aspiring and joy and color and suffering and unreason, and -of those quaint taboos which you and he call sin, as being separate -things, not seeing how all blends in one vast cup. Nor does he see, as -yet, that this blending is very beautiful when properly regarded, and -very holy when approached without human self-conceit. What would you -have, good Michael? He and his like remain as yet just fretted children -a little rashly hungry for excitement.” - -Michael stood now beside Janicot. Michael also was looking at Florian, -not unkindlily. - -“Yes,” Michael said. “Yes, that is true. He is yet a child.” - -Then the two faces which bent over Florian were somehow blended into -one face, and Florian knew that these two beings had melted into one -person, and that this person was prodding him very gently. - - - - -_30._ - -_The Errant Child_ - - -His father, after all these years, was still wearing the blue stockings -with gold clocks. Florian noted that first, because his father’s foot -was gently prodding Florian into wakefulness, as Florian’s father sat -there under the little tree from the East. Beyond the Duke’s smiling -countenance, beyond the face which was at once the face of Michael and -of Janicot, Florian could now see a criss-crossery of stripped boughs, -each one of which was tipped with a small bud of green. - -“Come, lazibones, but you will get your death of cold, sleeping here on -the bare ground, at harvest-time.” - -“At harvest-time—I have been dreaming—” Florian sat erect, rubbing at -his eyes with a hand whose smallness he instantly noted with wonder. -The ground, too, seemed surprisingly close to him, the grass blades -looked bigger than was natural. He could feel sinking away from him -such childish notions about God and wickedness, and about being a grown -man, as the little boy—who was he, as he now recollected,—had blended -in his callow dreaming: and Florian sat there blinking innocent and -puzzled eyes. He was safe back again, he reflected, in the seventeenth -century: Louis Quatorze was King once more: and all the virtues were -again modish. And this really must be harvest-time, for the sleek -country of Poictesme appeared inexpressibly asleep, wrapped in a -mellowing haze. - -Florian said, “It was a very queer dream, monsieur my father—” - -“A pleasant dream, however, I hope, my son. No other sort of dream -is worth inducing by sleeping under what, they used to tell me, is a -charmed tree, and by using for your pillow a book that at least is -charming.” - -And the Duke pointed to the book by Monsieur Perrault of the Academy, -in which Florian had that very morning read with approving interest -about the abominable Bluebeard and about the Cat with Boots and about -the Sleeping Beauty and about Cendrillon and about a variety of other -delightful persons. - -But Florian just now was not for fairy tales, rather all his thoughts -still clung to his queer dream. And the child said, frowning: - -“It was pleasant enough. But it was puzzling. For there were beautiful -ladies that nobody could stand living with, and a saint that was an -out-and-out fraud, and”—Florian slightly hesitated,—“and a wicked man, -as bad almost as Komorre the Cursed, that did everything he wanted to, -without ever being exactly punished, or satisfied either—” - -“Behold now,” Monsieur de Puysange lamented, “how appalling are the -advances of this modern pessimism! My own child, at ten, advises -me that beauty and holiness are delusions, and that not even in -untrammeled wickedness is to be found contentment.” - -“No: that was not the moral of my dream. That is what bothers me, -monsieur my father. There was not any moral: and nothing seemed to be -leading up to anything else in particular. I seemed to live a long -while, monsieur my father, I had got to be thirty-six and over, without -finding any logic and reasonableness anywhere—” - -“Doubtless, at that advanced age, your faculties were blunted, and you -had become senile—” - -“—And the people that wanted things did not want them any longer once -they had got them. They seemed rather to dislike them—” - -“From your pronominal disorder,” the Duke stated, “I can deduce fancies -which are not a novelty here in Poictesme. Such was the crying, in a -somewhat more poetic and grammatical version, of our reputed begetters, -men say,—of Dom Manuel and of Jurgen also,—in the old days before there -was ever a Puysange.” - -“Yes, but that was so long ago! when people were hardly civilised. -And what with all the changes that have been since then—! Well, -but it really seems to me, monsieur my father, that—just taking it -logically,—now that we have almost reached the eighteenth century, and -all the nations have signed that treaty at Ryswick to prevent there -ever being any more wars, and people are riding about peaceably in -sedan chairs, and are living in America, and even some of the peasants -have glass windows in their houses—” - -“Undoubtedly,” said the Duke, “we live in an age of invention and of -such material luxury as the world has never known. All wonders of -science have been made our servants. War, yesterday our normal arbiter, -has now become irrational, even to the most unreflective, since one -army simply annihilates the other with these modern cannons that shoot -for hundreds of feet. To cross the trackless Atlantic is now but the -affair of a month or two in our swift sailing ships. And we trap and -slaughter even the huge whale to the end that we, ignoring the sun’s -whims, may loan to nights of feverish dissipation the brilliancy of -afternoon, with our oillamps. We have perhaps exhausted the secrets of -material nature. And in intellectual matters too we have progressed. -Yet all progress, I would have you note, is directed by wise persons -who discreetly observe the great law of living—” - -“And what is that law, monsieur my father?” - -“Thou shalt not offend,” the Duke replied, “against the notions of -thy neighbor. Now to the honoring of this law the wise person will -bring more of earnestness than he will bring to the weighing of -discrepancies between facts and well-thought-of ideas about these -facts. So, at most, he will laugh, he will perhaps cast an oblique jest -with studied carelessness: and he will then pass on, upon the one way -that is safe—for him,—without ever really considering the gaucherie of -regarding life too seriously. And his less daring fellows will follow -him by and by, upon the road which they were going to take in any -event. That is progress.” - -“Thou shalt not offend against the notions of thy neighbor!” Florian -repeated. “Yes, I remember. That was a part of my dream, too.” He was -silent for an instant, glancing eastward beyond the gardens of his -home. The thronged trees of Acaire, as Florian now saw them just beyond -that low red wall, seemed to have golden powder scattered over them, a -powder which they stayed too motionless to shake off. “But—in my dream, -you know,— that had been learned by living wickedly. And you have -always taught Little Brother and me to be very good and religious—” - -“My son, my son! and have I reared an errant child, an actual atheist, -who doubts that in the next world also we have—a Neighbor?” - -“Do you mean the good God, monsieur my father?” - -“Eh,” said the Duke, “I would distinguish, I would avoid -anthropomorphology, I would speak here with exactness. I mean that -in this world we must live always in subjection to notions which a -moment’s thought shows always to be irrational; and that nothing -anywhere attests the designer of this world, however high His place or -whatever His proper title, to be swayed at all by what we describe as -justice and logic.” - -“I can see that,” said Florian: “though I have been thinking about -another sort of high place—” - -But the Duke was still speaking: and now, to Florian’s ear, his -father’s tone was somewhat of a piece with this sun-steeped and -tranquil and ineffably lazy October afternoon, which seemed to show the -world as over-satisfied with the done year’s achievements. - -“So life, my son, must always display, to him who rashly elects to -think about it, just the incoherency and the inconclusiveness of -a child’s dreammaking. No doubt, this is to be explained by our -obtuseness: I design, in any event, no impiety, for to be impious is -unwise. I merely mean that I assume Someone also to be our neighbor, -in His high place, and that I think His notions also should be treated -with respect.” - -“I see,” said Florian. But all that was youthful in him seemed to stir -in dim dissent from unambitious aims. - -“I mean, in short, that the wise person will conform—with, it may be, a -permissible shrug,—to each and every notion that is affected by those -neighbors whose strength is greater than his. I would also suggest -that, if only for the sake of his own comfort, the wise person will -cultivate a belief that these notions, however incomprehensible, may -none the less be intelligent and well-meaning.” - -“I see,” the boy said, yet again. He spoke abstractedly, for he was now -thinking of brown Janicot and of resplendent Monseigneur St. Michael, -in that queer dream. His father appeared in some sort to agree with -both of them. - -And as the Duke continued, speaking slowly, and with something of the -languor of this surrounding autumnal world,—which seemed to strive -toward no larger upshots than the ripening of grains and fruits,—it -occurred to Florian, for the first time in Florian’s life, that this -always smiling father of his was, under so many graces, an uneasy and -baffled person. - -The Duke said: “To submit is the great lesson. I too was once a -dreamer: and in dreams there are lessons. But to submit, without -dreaming any more, is the great lesson; to submit, without either -understanding or repining, and without demanding of life too much of -beauty or of holiness, and without shirking the fact that this universe -is under no least bond ever to grant us, upon either side of the grave, -our desires. To do that, my son, does not satisfy and probably will not -ever satisfy a Puysange. But to do that is wisdom.” - -The boy for some while considered this. He considered, too, the -enigmatic, just half-serious face of his father, the face that was -at once the face of Michael and of Janicot. To accept things as they -were, in this world which was now going to sleep as if the providing -of food-stuffs and the fodder for people’s cattle were enough; and to -have faith without reasoning over-logically about it: all these grown -persons seemed enleagued to proffer him this stupid and unaspiring -advice. - -But Florian, at ten, had learned to humor the notions of his elders. So -he said affably, if not quite without visible doubtfulness, “I see....” - - - EXPLICIT - - It is gratifying to relate that, in a world wherein most moral lessons - go to waste, young Florian duly honored the teaching of his dream. - Therefore, as the boy grew toward maturity, he reduplicated in action - all the crimes he had committed in fancy, and was appropriately - grateful for his fore-knowledge that all would turn out well. But, - when he had reached the thirty-sixth year of his living and the fourth - chapter of this history, he then, at the conclusion of his talking - with Marie-Claire Cazaio, decorously crossed himself, and he shrugged. - - “Let sleeping ideals lie,” said Florian: “for over-high and - over-earnest desires are inadvisable.” - - Thereafter he rode, not into Acaire, but toward the Duardenez. He - forded this river uneventfully; and four days later, at Storisende, - was married, _en cinquièmes noces_, to Mademoiselle Louise de Nérac. - - It is likewise pleasant to know that this couple lived together in - an amity sufficient to result in the begetting of three daughters, - and to permit, when the fourth Duke of Puysange most piously and - edifyingly quitted this life, in the November of 1736, the survival - of his widow.... The moral of all which seems to be that no word of - this book, after the fourth chapter, need anybody regard with any - least seriousness, unless you chance to be one of those discomfortable - folk who contend that a fact is something which actually, but only, - happens. A truth—so these will tell you,—does not merely “happen,” - because truth is unfortuitous and immortal. 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