30.
Economics of King Jurgen
Now Jurgen's curious dream put notions into the restless head ofJurgen. So mighty became his curiosity that he went shuddering intothe abhorred Woods, and passed over Coalisnacoan (which is the Ferryof Dogs), and did all such detestable things as were necessary toplacate Phobetor. Then Jurgen tricked Phobetor by an indescribabledevice, wherein surprising use was made of a cheese and threebeetles and a gimlet, and so cheated Phobetor out of a gray magic.And that night while Pseudopolis slept King Jurgen came down intothis city of gold and ivory.
Jurgen went with distaste among the broad-browed and great-limbedmonarchs of Pseudopolis, for they reminded him of things that he hadlong ago put aside, and they made him feel unpleasantly ignoble andinsignificant. That was his real reason for avoiding the city.
Now he passed between unlighted and silent palaces, walking indeserted streets where the moon made ominous shadows. Here was thehouse of Ajax Telamon who reigned in sea-girt Salamis, here that ofgod-like Philoctetes: much-counseling Odysseus dwelt just across theway, and the corner residence was fair-haired Agamemnon's: in themoonlight Jurgen easily made out these names engraved upon thebronze shield that hung beside each doorway. To every side of himslept the heroes of old song while Jurgen skulked under theirwindows.
He remembered how incuriously--not even scornfully--these people hadoverlooked him on that disastrous afternoon when he had venturedinto Pseudopolis by daylight. And a spiteful little gust of ragepossessed him, and Jurgen shook his fist at the big silent palaces.
"Yah!" he snarled: for he did not know at all what it was that hedesired to say to those great stupid heroes who did not care what hesaid, but he knew that he hated them. Then Jurgen became aware ofhimself growling there like a kicked cur who is afraid to bite, andhe began to laugh at this Jurgen.
"Your pardon, gentlemen of Greece," says he, with a wide ceremoniousbow, "and I think the information I wished to convey was that I am amonstrous clever fellow."
Jurgen went into the largest palace, and crept stealthily by thebedroom of Achilles, King of Men, treading a-tip-toe; and so came atlast into a little room panelled with cedar-wood where slept QueenHelen. She was smiling in her sleep when he had lighted his lamp,with due observance of the gray magic. She was infinitely beautiful,this young Dorothy whom people hereabouts through some odd errorcalled Helen.
For Jurgen saw very well that this was Count Emmerick's sisterDorothy la Desiree, whom Jurgen had vainly loved in the days whenJurgen was young alike in body and heart. Just once he had won backto her, in the garden between dawn and sunrise: but he was then atime-battered burgher whom Dorothy did not recognise. Now hereturned to her a king, less admirable it might be than some of themany other kings without realms who slept now in Pseudopolis, butstill very fine in his borrowed youth, and above all, armored by agray magic: so that improbabilities were possible. And Jurgen's eyeswere furtive, and he passed his tongue across his upper lip from onecorner to the other, and his hand went out toward the robe ofviolet-colored wool which covered the sleeping girl, for he stoodready to awaken Dorothy la Desiree in the way he often awokeChloris.
But a queer thought held him. Nothing, he recollected, had shown thepower to hurt him very deeply since he had lost this young Dorothy.And to affairs which threatened to result unpleasantly, he hadalways managed to impart an agreeable turn, since then, by virtue ofpreserving a cool heart. What if by some misfortune he were to getback his real youth? and were to become again the flustered boy whoblundered from stammering rapture to wild misery, and back again, atthe least word or gesture of a gold-haired girl?
"Thank you, no!" says Jurgen. "The boy was more admirable than I,who am by way of being not wholly admirable. But then he had awretched time of it, by and large. Thus it may be that my real youthlies sleeping here: and for no consideration would I re-awaken it."
And yet tears came into his eyes, for no reason at all. And itseemed to him that the sleeping woman, here at his disposal, was notthe young Dorothy whom he had seen in the garden between dawn andsunrise, although the two were curiously alike; and that of the twothis woman here was, somehow, infinitely the lovelier.
"Lady, if you indeed be the Swan's daughter, long and long ago therewas a child that was ill. And his illness turned to a fever, and inhis fever he arose from his bed one night, saying that he must setout for Troy, because of his love for Queen Helen. I was once thatchild. I remember how strange it seemed to me I should be talkingsuch nonsense: I remember how the warm room smelt of drugs: and Iremember how I pitied the trouble in my nurse's face, drawn and oldin the yellow lamplight. For she loved me, and she did notunderstand: and she pleaded with me to be a good boy and not toworry my sleeping parents. But I perceive now that I was not talkingnonsense."
He paused, considering the riddle: and his fingers fretted with therobe of violet-colored wool beneath which lay Queen Helen. "Yoursis that beauty of which men know by fabulous report alone, and whichthey may not ever find, nor ever win to, quite. And for that beautyI have hungered always, even in childhood. Toward that beauty I havestruggled always, but not quite whole-heartedly. That night forecastmy life. I have hungered for you: and"--Jurgen smiled here--"and Ihave always stayed a passably good boy, lest I should beyond reasondisturb my family. For to do that, I thought, would not be fair: andstill I believe for me to have done that would have been unfair."
He grimaced at this point: for Jurgen was finding his scruplesinconveniently numerous.
"And now I think that what I do to-night is not quite fair to Chloris.And I do not know what thing it is that I desire, and the will ofJurgen is a feather in the wind. But I know that I would like to lovesomebody as Chloris loves me, and as so many women have loved me. AndI know that it is you who have prevented this, Queen Helen, at everymoment of my life since the disastrous moment when I first seemed tofind your loveliness in the face of Madame Dorothy. It is the memoryof your beauty, as I then saw it mirrored in the face of a jill-flirt,which has enfeebled me for such honest love as other men give women:and I envy these other men. For Jurgen has loved nothing--not even you,not even Jurgen!--quite whole-heartedly. Well, what if I took vengeancenow upon this thieving comeliness, upon this robber that strips life ofjoy and sorrow?"
Jurgen stood at Queen Helen's bedside, watching her, for a longwhile. He had shifted into a less fanciful mood: and the shadow thatfollowed him was ugly and hulking and wavering upon the cedarn wallof Queen Helen's sleeping-chamber.
"Mine is a magic which does not fail," old Phobetor had said, whilehis attendants raised his eyelids so that he could see King Jurgen.
Now Jurgen remembered this. And reflectively he drew back the robeof violet-colored wool, a little way. The breast of Queen Helen laybare. And she did not move at all, but she smiled in her sleep.
Never had Jurgen imagined that any woman could be so beautiful norso desirable as this woman, or that he could ever know such rapture.So Jurgen paused.
"Because," said Jurgen now, "it may be this woman has some fault: itmay be there is some fleck in her beauty somewhere. And sooner thanknow that, I would prefer to retain my unreasonable dreams, and thislonging which is unfed and hopeless, and the memory of to-night.Besides, if she were perfect in everything, how could I live anylonger, who would have no more to desire? No, I would be betrayingmy own interests, either way; and injustice is always despicable."
So Jurgen sighed and gently replaced the robe of violet-coloredwool, and he returned to his Hamadryad.
"And now that I think of it, too," reflected Jurgen, "I am behavingrather nobly. Yes, it is questionless that I have to-night evinced acertain delicacy of feeling which merits appreciation, at all eventsby King Achilles."
Jurgen: A Comedy of Justice Page 32