"Oh, yes, it is one of the most useful. It is the Spanish _justicia_,
the Portuguese _justiça_, the Italian _giustizia_, all from
the Latin _justus_. Oh, yes indeed, but justice is one of my best
connected words, and one of the best trained also, I can assure you."
"Aha, and to what degraded uses do you put this poor enslaved
intimidated justice!"
"There is but one intelligent use," said the Master Philologist,
unruffled, "for anybody to make of words. I will explain it to you,
if you will come in out of this treacherous draught. One never knows
what a cold may lead to."
Then the door closed upon them, and Anaïtis waited outside, in some
trepidation.
Presently Jurgen came out of that unpretentious residence, and so
back to Anaïtis, discomfited. Jurgen flung down his magic sword,
charmed Caliburn.
"This, Anaïtis, I perceive to be an outmoded weapon. There is no
weapon like words, no armor against words, and with words the Master
Philologist has conquered me. It is not at all equitable: but the
man showed me a huge book wherein were the names of everything in
the world, and justice was not among them. It develops that,
instead, justice is merely a common noun, vaguely denoting an
ethical idea of conduct proper to the circumstances, whether of
individuals or communities. It is, you observe, just a grammarian's
notion."
"But what has he decided about you, Jurgen?"
"Alas, dear Anaïtis, he has decided, in spite of all that I could
do, to derive Jurgen from _jargon_, indicating a confused
chattering such as birds give forth at sunrise: thus ruthlessly does
the Master Philologist convert me into a solar legend. So the affair
is settled, and we must part, my darling."
Anaïtis took up the sword. "But this is valuable, since the man who
wields it is the mightiest of warriors."
"It is a rush, a rotten twig, a broomstraw, against the insidious
weapons of the Master Philologist. But keep it if you like, my dear,
and give it to your next Prince Consort. I am ashamed to have
trifled with such toys," says Jurgen, in fretted disgust. "And
besides, the Master Philologist assures me I shall mount far higher
through the aid of this."
"But what is on that bit of parchment?"
"Thirty-two of the Master Philologist's own words that I begged of
him. See, my dear, he made this cantrap for me with his own hand and
ink." And Jurgen read from the parchment, impressively: "'At the
death of Adrian the Fifth, Pedro Juliani, who should be named John
the Twentieth, was through an error in the reckoning elevated to the
papal chair as John the Twenty-first.'"