Therefore King Jurgen addressed himself, as his need was, to submit to the strange customs of the Philistines. "Now do you judge me fairly," cried Jurgen to his judges, "if there be any justice in this mad country. And if there be none, do you relegate me to limbo or to any other place, so long as in that place this tumblebug is not omnipotent and sincere and insane." And Jurgen waited.... * * * * * JURGEN ... _amara lento temperet risu_ 1. Why Jurgen Did the Manly Thing It is a tale which they narrate in Poictesme, saying: In the old days lived a pawnbroker named Jurgen; but what his wife called him was very often much worse than that. She was a high-spirited woman, with no especial gift for silence. Her name, they say, was Adelais, but people by ordinary called her Dame Lisa. They tell, also, that in the old days, after putting up the shop-windows for the night, Jurgen was passing the Cistercian Abbey, on his way home: and one of the monks had tripped over a stone in the roadway. He was cursing the devil who had placed it there. "Fie, brother!" says Jurgen, "and have not the devils enough to bear as it is?" "I never held with Origen," replied the monk; "and besides, it hurt my great-toe confoundedly." "None the less," observes Jurgen, "it does not behoove God-fearing persons to speak with disrespect of the divinely appointed Prince of Darkness. To your further confusion, consider this monarch's industry! day and night you may detect him toiling at the task Heaven set him. That is a thing can be said of few communicants and of no monks. Think, too, of his fine artistry, as evidenced in all the perilous and lovely snares of this world, which it is your business to combat, and mine to lend money upon. Why, but for him we would both be vocationless! Then, too, consider his philanthropy! and deliberate how insufferable would be our case if you and I, and all our fellow parishioners, were to-day hobnobbing with other beasts in the Garden which we pretend to desiderate on Sundays! To arise with swine and lie down with the hyena?--oh, intolerable!" Thus he ran on, devising reasons for not thinking too harshly of the Devil. Most of it was an abridgement of some verses Jurgen had composed, in the shop when business was slack. "I consider that to be stuff and nonsense," was the monk's glose. "No doubt your notion is sensible," observed the pawnbroker: "but mine is the prettier." Then Jurgen passed the Cistercian Abbey, and was approaching Bellegarde, when he met a black gentleman, who saluted him and said: "Thanks, Jurgen, for your good word." "Who are you, and why do you thank me?" asks Jurgen. "My name is no great matter. But you have a kind heart, Jurgen. May your life be free from care!" "Save us from hurt and harm, friend, but I am already married." "Eh, sirs, and a fine clever poet like you!" "Yet it is a long while now since I was a practising poet."