Allegories; Fantasy fiction; Historical fiction; Middle Ages -- Fiction
Jurgen paused. The moon was risen now. These two sat together upon a
bench of carved stone near the balustrade: and before them, upon the
other side of the highway, were luminous valleys and tree-tops.
Fleetingly Jurgen recollected the boy and girl who had once sat in
this place, and had talked of all the splendid things which Jurgen
was to do, and of the happy life that was to be theirs together.
Then he regarded the composed and handsome woman beside him, and he
considered that the money to pay her latest lover's debts had been
assured with a suitable respect for appearances.
"Come, but this is a gallant lady, who would defy the almanac,"
reflected Jurgen. "Even so, thirty-eight is an undeniable and
somewhat autumnal figure, and I suspect young Nérac is bleeding
his elderly mistress. Well, but at his age nobody has a conscience.
Yes, and Madame Dorothy is handsome still; and still my pulse is
playing me queer tricks, because she is near me, and my voice has
not the intonation I intend, because she is near me; and still I am
three-quarters in love with her. Yes, in the light of such cursed
folly as even now possesses me, I have good reason to give thanks
for the regained infirmities of age. Yet living seems to me a
wasteful and inequitable process, for this is a poor outcome for
the boy and girl that I remember. And weighing this outcome, I am
tempted to weep and to talk romantically, even now."
But he did not. For really, weeping was not requisite. Jurgen was
making his fair profit out of the Countess's folly, and it was
merely his duty to see that this little business transaction was
managed without any scandal.
"So there is nothing more to say," observed Jurgen, as he rose in
the moonlight, "save that I shall always be delighted to serve you,
madame, and I may reasonably boast that I have earned a reputation
for fair dealing."
And he thought: "In effect, since certainly as she grows older she
will need yet more money for her lovers, I am offering to pimp for
her." Then Jurgen shrugged. "That is one side of the affair. The
other is that I transact my legitimate business,--I, who am that
which the years have made of me."
Thus it was that Jurgen quitted the Countess Dorothy, whom, as you
have heard, this pawnbroker had loved in his first youth under the
name of Heart's Desire; and whom in the youth that was loaned him by
Mother Sereda he had loved as Queen Helen, the delight of gods and
men. For Jurgen was quitting Madame Dorothy after the simplest of
business transactions, which consumed only a moment, and did not
actually count one way or the other.
And after this moment which did not count, the pawnbroker resumed
his journey, and so came presently to his home. He peeped through
the window. And there in a snug room, with supper laid, sat Dame
Lisa about some sewing, and evidently in a quite amiable frame of
mind.
Then terror smote the Jurgen who had faced sorcerers and gods and
devils intrepidly. "For I forgot about the butter!"
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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