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"You are the handsomest woman I have seen in a long while," says he, irrelevantly. "You are a woman I have waited for. Duke Jurgen of Logreus will undertake this adventure." There being no help for it, Jurgen rode off with this Dame Yolande, not very well pleased: but as they rode he jested with her.
Then Jurgen looked again into a mirror: and presently the eyes of the lad he found therein began to twinkle. "Have at you, David!" said Jurgen, valorously; "since after all, I see no reason to despair." Excursus of Yolande's Undoing Now Jurgen, self-appointed Duke of Logreus, abode at the court of King Gogyrvan.
"Lo, for I pray to thee, resistless Love," he descanted, "that thou to-day make cry unto my love, to Phyllida whom I, poor Logreus, love so tenderly, not to deny me love! Asked why, say thou my drink and food is love, in days wherein I think and brood on love, and truly find naught good in aught save love, since Phyllida hath taught me how to love."
Then he waved a shriveled hand toward the window, and Gogyrvan began to speak, meditatively: "Messire de Logreus, it is night in my city of Cameliard. And somewhere one of those roofs harbors a girl whom we will call Lynette. She has a lover we will say he is called Sagramor. The names do not matter.
The Duke of Logreus acquitted himself with credit in the opening tournament, unhorsing Sir Dodinas le Sauvage, Earl Roth of Meliot, Sir Epinogris, and Sir Hector de Maris: then Earl Damas of Listenise smote like a whirlwind, and Jurgen slid contentedly down the tail of his fine horse. His part in the tournament was ended, and he was heartily glad of it.
He sheds inexplicable tears as he lurches nearer and nearer to Lynette's window, and his heart is all magnanimity, for Sagramor is celebrating his latest conquest. Do you not think that this or something very like this is happening to-night in my city of Cameliard, Messire de Logreus?". "It happens momently," said Jurgen, "everywhere.
"Very well," said Jurgen, "you have sworn, and it is you whom I love." Surprise now made her lovely. Yolande was frankly delighted at the thought of marrying the young Duke of Logreus, and offered to send for a priest at once. "My dear," says Jurgen, "there is no need to bother a priest about our private affairs." She took his meaning, and sighed.
For Jurgen was Duke of Logreus nowadays, with his glittering shirt and the coronet upon his bridle to show for it. Awkwardly this proved to be an earl's coronet, but incongruities are not always inexplicable. "It was Earl Giarmuid's horse. You have doubtless heard of Giarmuid: but to ask that is insulting." "Oh, not at all. It is humor. We perfectly understand your humor, Duke Jurgen."
"Why, indeed, Messire de Logreus," replied the Bishop, "one cannot but sympathize with Pilate in thinking that the truth about Him is very hard to get at, even nowadays. Was He Melchisedek, or Shem, or Adam? or was He verily the Logos? and in that event, what sort of a something was the Logos?
"And a very pretty fighter I found this famous Giarmuid as I traveled westward. And since he killed my steed in the heat of our conversation, I was compelled to take over his horse, after I had given this poor Giarmuid proper interment. Oh, yes, a very pretty fighter, and I had heard much talk of him in Logreus.
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