But now, as has been recorded, it was September, and Jurgen could
see that Anaïtis too was worrying over something. She kept it from
him as long as possible: first said it was nothing at all, then said
he would know it soon enough, then wept a little over the
possibility that he would probably be very glad to hear it, and
eventually told him. For in becoming the consort of a nature myth
connected with the Moon Jurgen had of course exposed himself to the
danger of being converted into a solar legend by the Philologists,
and in that event would be compelled to leave Cocaigne with the
Equinox, to enter into autumnal exploits elsewhere. And Anaïtis was
quite heart-broken over the prospect of losing Jurgen.
"For I have never had such a Prince Consort in Cocaigne, so
maddening, and so helpless, and so clever; and the girls are so fond
of you, although they have not been able to get on at all with so
many of their step-fathers! And I know that you are flippant and
heartless, but you have quite spoiled me for other men. No, Jurgen,
there is no need to argue, for I have experimented with at least a
dozen lovers lately, when I was traveling, and they bored me
insufferably. They had, as you put it, dear, no conversation: and
you are the only young man I have found in all these ages who could
talk interestingly."
"There is a reason for that, since like you, Anaïtis, I am not so
youthful as I appear."
"I do not care a straw about appearances," wept Anaïtis, "but I know
that I love you, and that you must be leaving me with the Equinox
unless you can settle matters with the Master Philologist."
"Well, my pet," says Jurgen, "the Jews got into Jericho by trying."
He armed, and girded himself with Caliburn, drank a couple of
bottles of wine, put on the shirt of Nessus over all, and then went
to seek this thaumaturgist.
Anaïtis showed him the way to an unpretentious residence, where a
week's washing was drying and flapping in the side yard. Jurgen
knocked boldly, and after an interval the door was opened by the
Master Philologist himself.
"You must pardon this informality," he said, blinking through his
great spectacles, which had dust on them: "but time was by ill luck
arrested hereabouts on a Thursday evening, and so the maid is out
indefinitely. I would suggest, therefore, that the lady wait outside
upon the porch. For the neighbors to see her go in would not be
respectable."
"Do you know what I have come for?" says Jurgen, blustering, and
splendid in his glittering shirt and his gleaming armor. "For I warn
you I am justice."
"I think you are lying, and I am sure you are making an unnecessary
noise. In any event, justice is a word, and I control all words."
"You will discover very soon, sir, that actions speak louder than
words."
"I believe that is so," said the Master Philologist, still blinking,
"just as the Jewish mob spoke louder than He Whom they crucified.
But the Word endures."
"You are a quibbler!"
"You are my guest. So I advise you, in pure friendliness, not to
impugn the power of my words."