The best short stories of 1919, and the yearbook of the American short story
General
The best short stories of 1919, and the yearbook of the American short story
American fiction -- 20th century; Short stories -- 20th century -- Bibliography; Short stories -- 20th century -- Indexes; Short stories, American
"Yes, but, Mother, both the cook and the butler are somewhere in the
bushes yonder, up to some nonsense that I prefer to know nothing about.
You know how servants are, particularly on holidays. I could scramble
him some eggs, though, with a rasher. And Adhelmar's room it had better
be, I suppose, though I had meant to have it turned out. But as for
bigamy and being your wife," she concluded more cheerfully, "it seems to
me the least said the soonest mended. It is to nobody's interest to rake
up those foolish bygones, so far as I can see."
"Adelaide, you profane equally love, which is divine, and marriage,
which is a holy sacrament."
"Florian, do you really love Adelaide de Nointel?" asked this terrible
woman. "And now that I am free to listen to your proposals, do you wish
to marry me?"
"Well, no," said Florian; "for, as I have just said, you are no longer
the same person."
"Why, then, you see for yourself. So do you quit talking nonsense about
immortality and sacraments."
"But, still," cried Florian, "love is immortal. Yes, I repeat to you,
precisely as I told Tiburce, love is immortal."
Then said Dame Melicent, nodding her shriveled old head:
"When I was young, and served by nimbler senses and desires, and housed
in brightly colored flesh, there were many men who loved me. Minstrels
yet tell of the men that loved me, and of how many tall men were slain
because of their love for me, and of how in the end it was Perion who
won me. For the noblest and the most faithful of all my lovers was
Perion of the Forest, and through tempestuous years he sought me with a
love that conquered time and chance; and so he won me. Thereafter he
made me a fair husband, as husbands go. But I might not stay the girl he
had loved, nor might he remain the lad that Melicent had dreamed of,
with dreams be-drugging the long years in which Demetrios held Melicent
a prisoner, and youth went away from her. No, Perion and I could not do
that, any more than might two drops of water there retain their place in
the stream's flowing. So Perion and I grew old together, friendly
enough; and our senses and desires began to serve us more drowsily, so
that we did not greatly mind the falling away of youth, nor greatly mind
to note what shriveled hands now moved before us, performing common
tasks; and we were content enough. But of the high passion that had
wedded us there was no trace, and of little senseless human bickerings
there were a great many. For one thing"--and the old lady's voice was
changed--"for one thing, he was foolishly particular about what he would
eat and what he would not eat, and that upset my house-keeping, and I
had never any patience with such nonsense."
"Well, none the less," said Florian, "it is not quite nice of you to
acknowledge it."
Then said Dame Adelaide:
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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