Allegories; Fantasy fiction; Historical fiction; Middle Ages -- Fiction
"It was a slip of the tongue, my pet, an involuntary but not
unnatural association of ideas. As for the Ephesian Diana, she
reminds me of an animated pine-cone, with that eruption of breasts
all over her, and I can assure you of your having no particular
reason to be jealous of her. It was merely of the female myths in
general I spoke. Of course they all make eyes at me: I cannot well
help that, and you should have anticipated as much when you selected
such an attractive Prince Consort. What do these poor enamored
creatures matter when to you my heart is ever faithful?"
"It is not your heart I am worrying over, Jurgen, for I believe you
have none. Yes, you have quite succeeded in worrying me to
distraction, if that is any comfort to you. However, let us not talk
about it. For it is now necessary, absolutely imperative, that I go
into Armenia to take part in the mourning for Tammouz: people would
not understand it at all if I stayed away from such important
orgies. And I shall get no benefit whatever from the trip, much as I
need the change, because, without speaking of that famous heart of
yours, you are always up to some double-dealing, and I shall not
know into what mischief you may be thrusting yourself."
Jurgen laughed, and kissed her. "Be off, and attend to your
religious duties, dear, by all means. And I promise you I will stay
safe locked in the Library till you come back."
Thus Jurgen abode among the offspring of heathen perversity, and
conformed to their customs. Death ends all things for all, they
contended, and life is brief: for how few years do men endure, and
how quickly is the most subtle and appalling nature myth explained
away by the Philologists! So the wise person, and equally the
foreseeing nature myth, will take his glut of pleasure while there
is yet time to take anything, and will waste none of his short lien
upon desire and vigor by asking questions.
"Oh, but by all means!" said Jurgen, and he docilely crowned himself
with a rose garland, and drank his wine, and kissed his Anaïtis.
Then, when the feast of the Sacæ was at full-tide, he would whisper
to Anaïtis, "I will be back in a moment, darling," and she would
frown fondly at him as he very quietly slipped from his ivory dining
couch, and went, with the merest suspicion of a reel, into the
Library. She knew that Jurgen had no intention of coming back: and
she despaired of his ever taking the position in the social life of
Cocaigne to which he was entitled no less by his rank as Prince
Consort than by his personal abilities. For Anaïtis did not really
think that, as went natural endowments, her Jurgen had much reason
to envy even such a general favorite as Priapos, say, from what she
knew of both.
So it was that Jurgen honored custom. "Because these beastly nature
myths may be right," said Jurgen; "and certainly I cannot go so far
as to say they are wrong: but still, at the same time--!"
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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