Guenevere, of course, is the lady, charming but of errant fancy, to whom the chronicles Morte d’Arthur and Mabinogion were devoted, and of whose vagaries speak Tennyson’s “Idyls of the King.” At this time her marriage to Arthur has been arranged, and Lancelot is coming as his master’s envoy to arrange the details of the wedding. In the end Lancelot captures the heart of Guenevere (147) but, meanwhile her inclinations have their way with Jurgen. For Jurgen abides with her father in the latter’s city of Cameliard, which, of course, is but another name for Camelot (78-146). It is, to use the words of our time, a house party; and, like many house parties, it brings forth various events. To the guest Jurgen it befalls to do things ancient and modern, to rescue a princess from a giant, after the fashion of Sir Thomas Malory (82-3), to converse with ghosts in a haunted bed room (145-9) and to carry on with the fickle Guenevere, whose outstanding trait is “her innocence, combined with a certain moral obtuseness” (108). Her worldlywise father learns of the affair, talks it over with Jurgen, and reminds him of the duty apparent in the circumstances, that, if necessary, Jurgen should lie like a gentleman (93). The matter, however, comes to nothing, for the time of Guenevere’s marriage to Arthur is at hand. So she and Jurgen part, she with her mind already full of Lancelot (147) and Jurgen being taken with the charms of a new person of the play, of whom presently. In short, Jurgen leaves Guenevere where Tennyson takes her up, the stage being thus cleared for the drama of Lancelot. Jurgen leaves Cameliard with one who is called Anaitis (147). But even as Guenevere typifies innocence combined with obtuseness (108) Anaitis is the personification of a capital sin. Like the earth goddess Sereda, known also to men as Cybele and Æsred (of whom _supra_) this Anaitis bears different names in different places. But always she is the same. In the Arthurian legend she is the Lady of the Lake (109), in classic lands she was Venus, on Eastern soil she was Ashtoreth. She serves the moon (150), she is the sun’s daughter (173); and in all lands from Paphos to Babylon do men rear temples in her honor (341-3). But the breath of evil nevertheless goes forth from her; and in her train follows Alecto, whose quality is retribution (178). With this Venus, this Anaitis in her land of Cocaigne, Jurgen lives for a time. But he is not the only guest of whom legend bears record, not the only visitor of whom contemporary literature and art have spoken. Mr. Cabell, however, preserving that balance of humor which always in this book is kept level, has given this situation a new color. Tannhäuser is tempted to return to the Venusberg; Jurgen leaves Anaitis with never a glance behind.