Janicot was surprised. “Why, but, Monsieur the Duke, can it be true that you, as a person of refinement, approve of worshipping goats and crocodiles and hawks and cats and hippopotami after the Egyptian custom?”
“Parbleu, not in the least! I, to the contrary—”
“Oh, you admire, then, the monkeys and tigers, in whose honor the men of India build temples?”
“Not at all. You misinterpret me—”
“Ah, I perceive. You approve, instead, of those gods of Greece and Rome, who went about earth as bulls and cock cuckoos and as sprinklings of doubloons and five franc pieces, when they were particularly desirous of winning affection?”
“Now, Monsieur Janicot, you very foolishly affect to misunderstand me. One should be logical in these grave matters. One should know, as the whole world knows, that the Dukes of Puysange care nothing for the silly fables of paganism, and that for five centuries we of Puysange have been notable and loyal Christians.”
Janicot said: “For five whole centuries! Jahveh also, being so young a god, must think that a long while; and doubtless he feels honored by these five centuries of patronage.”
“Well, of course,” said Florian, modestly, “as one of the oldest families hereabouts, we find that our example is apt to be followed. But we ourselves think little of our long lineage, we have grown used to it, we think that logically it is only the man himself who matters: and I confess, Monsieur Janicot, that it seems almost droll to see you impressed by our antiquity.”
“I!” said Janicot. Then he said: “For all that, I am impressed. Yes, men are really wonderful. However, let that pass. So it is Jahveh of whom you approve. You confess it. Why, then, I ask you, as one logical person addressing another—”
“A pest! logic is a fine thing, but let us not put these matters altogether upon the ground of logic,” said Florian, recoiling just perceptibly, as a large tumble-bug climbed on the rock, and sat beside Janicot.
“—I ask you,” Janicot continued, “as one person of good taste addressing another—”
“It is not wholly an affair of connoisseurs. Let us talk about something else.”
“—For you have this Jahveh’s own history of his exploits all written down at his own dictation. I allow him candor, nor, for one so young, does he write badly. For the rest, do these cruelties, these double-dealings, these self-confessed divine blunders and miscalculations, these subornings of murders and thefts and adulteries, these punishments of the innocent, not sparing even his own family—”
Florian yawned delicately, but without removing his eyes from the tumble-bug. “My dear Monsieur Janicot, that sort of talk is really rather naive: it is, if you will pardon my frankness, quite out of date now that we have reached the eighteenth century.”
“Yes, but—”
“No, Monsieur Janicot, I can consent to hear no more of these sophomoric blasphemies. I must tell you I have learned that in these matters, as in all matters, it is better taste to recognize some drastic regeneration may be necessary without doing anything about it, and certainly without aligning ourselves with the foul anarchistic mockers of everything in our social chaos which is making for beauty and righteousness—”
“Why, but, Monsieur the Duke,” said Janicot, “but what—!”
“I must tell you I perceive, in honest sorrow, that with a desire for fescennine expression you combine a vulgar atheism and an iconoclastic desire to befoul the sacred ideas of the average man or woman, collectively scorned as the bourgeoisie—”
“Yes, doubtless, this is excellent talking. Still, what—?”
“I must tell you also that I very gravely suspect you to be one of those half-baked intellectuals who confuse cheap atheism, and the defiling of other men’s altars, with deep thinking; one of those moral and spiritual hooligans who resent all forms of order as an encroachment upon their diminutive, unkempt and unsavory egos; one of the kind of people who relish nasty books about sacred persons and guffaw over the amours of the angels.”
“Yes, I concede the sonority of your periods; but what does all this talking mean ?”
“Why, monsieur,” said Florian, doubtfully, “I do not imagine that it means anything. These are merely the customary noises of well-thought-of persons in reply to the raising of any topic which they prefer not to pursue. It is but an especially dignified manner of saying that I do not care to follow the line of thought you suggest, because logic here might lead to uncomfortable conclusions and to deductions without honorable precedents.”
“Ah, now I understand you,” said Janicot, smiling. He looked down, and stroked the tumble-bug, which under his touch shrank and vanished. “I should have noticed the odor before; and as it is, I confess that, in this frank adhesion to your folly without pretending it is anything else, I recognize a minim of wisdom. So let us say no more about it. Let us return to the question of that sword with which the loyal servant of him who also came not to bring peace, but a sword, has need to sever his family ties. Those persons just behind you were very pretty swordsmen in their day: and I imagine that they can give you all the necessary information as to the sword Flamberge.”
16. Some Victims of Flamberge
IT 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.”