16.Some Victims of Flamberge

16.Some Victims of FlambergeIT was really no affair of Florian’s, how these five vaguely-hued and quaintly appareled persons happened to be standing just behind him. They had not been there a moment ago: but Janicot seemed partial to these small wonder-workings, and such foibles, while in dubious taste, did not greatly matter.So Florian was off again with his silver-laced hat, and Florian saluted these strangers with extreme civility. And Florian inquired of the gray and great-thewed champion if he knew of the whereabouts of Flamberge; and this tall man answered:“No. It was a fine sword, and I wore it once when I had mortal life and was very young. But I surrendered this sword to a woman, in exchange for that which I most desired. So I got no good of Flamberge, nor did anyone else so far as I could ever hear, for there is a curse upon this sword.”“A curse, indeed!” said Florian, somewhat astonished. “Why, but I have always been told, monsieur, that the wearer of Flamberge is unconquerable.”“That I believe to be true. Thus the wearer of Flamberge can get all his desires, and he usually does so: and, having them, he understands that the sword is accursed.”“And did you too get your desire in this world, monsieur, and perceive the worth of it?”“My boy, there is a decency in these matters, and an indecency. I got my desire. And having it, I did not complain. Let that suffice.”With that, the speaker picked up his shield, upon which was blazoned a rampant and bridled stallion, and this tall gray squinting soldier was there no longer.Then came a broad and surly man, in garments of faded scarlet, and with gems dangling from his ears, and he said: “From him, who was in his day a Redeemer, the sword came to my mother, and from her to me, and with it I slew my father, as was foreordained. And the sword made me unconquerable, and I went fearing nobody, and I ruled over much land, and I was dreaded upon the wide sea. And the sword won for me the body of that woman whom I desired, and the sword won for me long misery and sudden ruin.”“A pest!” said Florian. “So you also, monsieur, were the victim of your own triumph!”“Not wholly,” the other answered. “For I learned to envy and to admire that which I could not understand. That is something far better worth learning than you, poor shallow-hearted little posturer, are ever likely to suspect.”And now came a third champion, who said: “From him, who was in his day a most abominable pagan and a very gallant gentleman as well, the sword came to me. And I cast it into the deep sea, because I meant to gain my desire unaided by sorcery and with clean hands. And I did get my desire.”“And did you also live unhappily ever afterward?”“Our marriage was as happy as most marriages. My love defied Time and Fate. Because of my love I suffered unexampled chances and ignominies, and I performed deeds that are still rhymed about; and in the end, through my unswerving love, I got me a wife who was as good as most wives. So I made no complaint.”And Florian nodded. “I take your meaning. There was once a king and a queen. They had three sons. And the third prince succeeded in everything—Your faces and your lives are strange tome. But it is plain all four of us have ventured into the high place, that dreadful place wherein a man attains to his desires.”Then said another person: “That comes of meddling with Flamberge. Now my weapon was, at least upon some occasions, called Caliburn. And I ventured into a great many places, but I was careful of my behavior in all of them.”“And did you never attain to your desire, monsieur?”“Never, my lad, although I had some narrow shaves. Why, once there was only a violet coverlet between me and destruction, but I was poet enough to save myself.”“Parbleu, now that is rather odd! For I first saw my wife—I mean, my present duchess,—asleep beneath a violet coverlet.”“Ah,” said the other, drily, “so that is where you sought a woman to be, of all things, your wife! Then you are braver than I: but you are certainly not a monstrous clever fellow.”“Well, well!” said Florian, “so the refrain of this obsolescent quartet is a jingle-jangle of shallow and cheap pessimism: and the upshot of the matter is that Flamberge is lost somewhere in the old time, and that I know not how to come to it.”CaptionNow FLORIAN came forward.See page234“That is easy,” said the fifth person, the only one who now remained. “You must adventure as they once adventured, who were your forefathers, and you must go with me, who am called Horvendile, into Antan.”“Were those evaporating gentlemen my forefathers?” asked Florian. “And how does one go into Antan?”“They were,” answered Horvendile. “And one goes in this way.” He explained the way, and the need for traveling on it.And Florian looked rather dubious and took snuff. He saw that Janicot had vanished from the asherah stone, with that ostentatious simplicity the brown creature seemed to affect. Then Florian shrugged, and said he would go wherever Horvendile dared go, since this appeared now the only chance of coming by the sword Flamberge.“And as for those who were my forefathers, and begot me, I would of course have said something civil to express my appreciation of their exertions, if I had known. But between ourselves, Monsieur Horvendile, I would have preferred to meet some of the more imposing progenitors of Puysange,—say, heroic old Dom Manuel or the great Jurgen,—instead of these commonplace people. It is depressing to find any of one’s own ancestors just ordinary persons, persons too who seem quite down in the mouth, and with so little life in them—”“To be quite ordinary persons,” replied Horvendile, “is a failing woefully common to all men and to the daughters of all men, nor does that foible shock anybody who is not a romantic. As for having very little life in them, what more do you expect of phantoms? The life that was once in these persons to-day endures in you. For it is a truism—preached to I do not, unluckily, know how many generations,—that the life which informed your ancestor, tall Manuel the Redeemer, did not perish when Manuel passed beyond the sunset, but remained here upon earth to animate the bodies of his children and of their children after them.”“But by this time Manuel must have the progeny of a sultan or of a town bull—”“Yes,” Horvendile conceded, “in a great many bodies, and in countless estates, that life has known a largish number of fruitless emotions. At least, they appear to me to have been rather fruitless. And to-day that life wears you, Monsieur de Puysange, as its temporary garment or, it may be, as a mask: to-morrow you also will have been put by. For that is always the ending of the comedy.”“Well, so that the comedy wherein I figure be merry enough—”“It is not ever a merry comedy,” replied Horvendile, “though, for one, I find it amusing. For I forewarn you that the comedy does not vary. The first act is the imagining of the place where contentment exists and may be come to; and the second act reveals the striving toward, and the third act the falling short of, that shining goal,—or else the attaining of it to discover that happiness, after all, abides a thought farther down the bogged, rocky, clogged, befogged heart-breaking road.”“Ah, but,” said Florian, “these reflections are doubtless edifying, since they combine gloom with verbosity and no exact meaning. Still, it is not happiness I am looking for, but a sword to which all this philosophizing brings us no step nearer. No, it is not happiness I seek. For through that sword, when I have got it, will come such misery as I cannot bear to think of, since its sharp edge must sever me irrevocably from that perfect beauty which I have adored since boyhood. None the less, I have given my word; and these old phantoms have unanimously reassured me that it is better to have love end at fulltide. So let us be logical, and let us go forward, Monsieur Horvendile, as merrily as may be possible.”Lizard emerging from pot

T was really no affair of Florian’s, how these five vaguely-hued and quaintly appareled persons happened to be standing just behind him. They had not been there a moment ago: but Janicot seemed partial to these small wonder-workings, and such foibles, while in dubious taste, did not greatly matter.

So Florian was off again with his silver-laced hat, and Florian saluted these strangers with extreme civility. And Florian inquired of the gray and great-thewed champion if he knew of the whereabouts of Flamberge; and this tall man answered:

“No. It was a fine sword, and I wore it once when I had mortal life and was very young. But I surrendered this sword to a woman, in exchange for that which I most desired. So I got no good of Flamberge, nor did anyone else so far as I could ever hear, for there is a curse upon this sword.”

“A curse, indeed!” said Florian, somewhat astonished. “Why, but I have always been told, monsieur, that the wearer of Flamberge is unconquerable.”

“That I believe to be true. Thus the wearer of Flamberge can get all his desires, and he usually does so: and, having them, he understands that the sword is accursed.”

“And did you too get your desire in this world, monsieur, and perceive the worth of it?”

“My boy, there is a decency in these matters, and an indecency. I got my desire. And having it, I did not complain. Let that suffice.”

With that, the speaker picked up his shield, upon which was blazoned a rampant and bridled stallion, and this tall gray squinting soldier was there no longer.

Then came a broad and surly man, in garments of faded scarlet, and with gems dangling from his ears, and he said: “From him, who was in his day a Redeemer, the sword came to my mother, and from her to me, and with it I slew my father, as was foreordained. And the sword made me unconquerable, and I went fearing nobody, and I ruled over much land, and I was dreaded upon the wide sea. And the sword won for me the body of that woman whom I desired, and the sword won for me long misery and sudden ruin.”

“A pest!” said Florian. “So you also, monsieur, were the victim of your own triumph!”

“Not wholly,” the other answered. “For I learned to envy and to admire that which I could not understand. That is something far better worth learning than you, poor shallow-hearted little posturer, are ever likely to suspect.”

And now came a third champion, who said: “From him, who was in his day a most abominable pagan and a very gallant gentleman as well, the sword came to me. And I cast it into the deep sea, because I meant to gain my desire unaided by sorcery and with clean hands. And I did get my desire.”

“And did you also live unhappily ever afterward?”

“Our marriage was as happy as most marriages. My love defied Time and Fate. Because of my love I suffered unexampled chances and ignominies, and I performed deeds that are still rhymed about; and in the end, through my unswerving love, I got me a wife who was as good as most wives. So I made no complaint.”

And Florian nodded. “I take your meaning. There was once a king and a queen. They had three sons. And the third prince succeeded in everything—Your faces and your lives are strange tome. But it is plain all four of us have ventured into the high place, that dreadful place wherein a man attains to his desires.”

Then said another person: “That comes of meddling with Flamberge. Now my weapon was, at least upon some occasions, called Caliburn. And I ventured into a great many places, but I was careful of my behavior in all of them.”

“And did you never attain to your desire, monsieur?”

“Never, my lad, although I had some narrow shaves. Why, once there was only a violet coverlet between me and destruction, but I was poet enough to save myself.”

“Parbleu, now that is rather odd! For I first saw my wife—I mean, my present duchess,—asleep beneath a violet coverlet.”

“Ah,” said the other, drily, “so that is where you sought a woman to be, of all things, your wife! Then you are braver than I: but you are certainly not a monstrous clever fellow.”

“Well, well!” said Florian, “so the refrain of this obsolescent quartet is a jingle-jangle of shallow and cheap pessimism: and the upshot of the matter is that Flamberge is lost somewhere in the old time, and that I know not how to come to it.”

Caption

Now FLORIAN came forward.See page234

“That is easy,” said the fifth person, the only one who now remained. “You must adventure as they once adventured, who were your forefathers, and you must go with me, who am called Horvendile, into Antan.”

“Were those evaporating gentlemen my forefathers?” asked Florian. “And how does one go into Antan?”

“They were,” answered Horvendile. “And one goes in this way.” He explained the way, and the need for traveling on it.

And Florian looked rather dubious and took snuff. He saw that Janicot had vanished from the asherah stone, with that ostentatious simplicity the brown creature seemed to affect. Then Florian shrugged, and said he would go wherever Horvendile dared go, since this appeared now the only chance of coming by the sword Flamberge.

“And as for those who were my forefathers, and begot me, I would of course have said something civil to express my appreciation of their exertions, if I had known. But between ourselves, Monsieur Horvendile, I would have preferred to meet some of the more imposing progenitors of Puysange,—say, heroic old Dom Manuel or the great Jurgen,—instead of these commonplace people. It is depressing to find any of one’s own ancestors just ordinary persons, persons too who seem quite down in the mouth, and with so little life in them—”

“To be quite ordinary persons,” replied Horvendile, “is a failing woefully common to all men and to the daughters of all men, nor does that foible shock anybody who is not a romantic. As for having very little life in them, what more do you expect of phantoms? The life that was once in these persons to-day endures in you. For it is a truism—preached to I do not, unluckily, know how many generations,—that the life which informed your ancestor, tall Manuel the Redeemer, did not perish when Manuel passed beyond the sunset, but remained here upon earth to animate the bodies of his children and of their children after them.”

“But by this time Manuel must have the progeny of a sultan or of a town bull—”

“Yes,” Horvendile conceded, “in a great many bodies, and in countless estates, that life has known a largish number of fruitless emotions. At least, they appear to me to have been rather fruitless. And to-day that life wears you, Monsieur de Puysange, as its temporary garment or, it may be, as a mask: to-morrow you also will have been put by. For that is always the ending of the comedy.”

“Well, so that the comedy wherein I figure be merry enough—”

“It is not ever a merry comedy,” replied Horvendile, “though, for one, I find it amusing. For I forewarn you that the comedy does not vary. The first act is the imagining of the place where contentment exists and may be come to; and the second act reveals the striving toward, and the third act the falling short of, that shining goal,—or else the attaining of it to discover that happiness, after all, abides a thought farther down the bogged, rocky, clogged, befogged heart-breaking road.”

“Ah, but,” said Florian, “these reflections are doubtless edifying, since they combine gloom with verbosity and no exact meaning. Still, it is not happiness I am looking for, but a sword to which all this philosophizing brings us no step nearer. No, it is not happiness I seek. For through that sword, when I have got it, will come such misery as I cannot bear to think of, since its sharp edge must sever me irrevocably from that perfect beauty which I have adored since boyhood. None the less, I have given my word; and these old phantoms have unanimously reassured me that it is better to have love end at fulltide. So let us be logical, and let us go forward, Monsieur Horvendile, as merrily as may be possible.”

Lizard emerging from pot

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