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And I regret, I bitterly regret, to confess that, in a moment of extreme yet not quite unprovoked excitement, I assassinated the lady whom you now behold." "And I am sure, through no fault of mine," says Sylvia Tereu. "Certainly, my dear, you resisted with all your might. I only wish that you had been a larger and a brawnier woman.
So I beseech you, messire my grandson, for this one night to impersonate my ghost, and with the assistance of Queen Sylvia Tereu to see that at three o'clock the White Turret is haunted to everyone's satisfaction. Otherwise," said Smoit, gloomily, "the consequences will be deplorable." "But I have had no experience at haunting," Jurgen confessed.
And Sylvia began to weep. "And what was that thing, Sylvia?" Queen Sylvia whispered the terrible truth. "My husband did not understand me." "Now, by Heaven," says Jurgen, "when a woman tells me that, even though the woman be dead, I know what it is she expects of me." So Jurgen put his arm about the ghost of Queen Sylvia Tereu, and comforted her.
Then King Smoit observed that it was high time he kept his appointment in Cornwall, and he melted into air, with an easy confidence that bespoke long practise: and Jurgen followed Queen Sylvia Tereu. About a Cock That Crowed Too Soon Next the tale tells of how Jurgen and the ghost of Queen Sylvia Tereu came into the White Turret.
He had given vent to several fiendish "Ha-ha's" and all the old high imprecations he remembered: and in short, everything had gone splendidly when he left the White Turret with a sense of self-approval and Queen Sylvia Tereu. The two of them paused in the winding stairway; and in the darkness, after he had restored her comb, the Queen was telling Jurgen how sorry she was to part with him.
None the less well, my nose, now, from such glimpses of it as mirrors have hitherto afforded, does not appear to be a snub-nose." "Ah, but appearances are proverbially deceitful," observed King Smoit. "And about the left hand corner," protested Queen Sylvia Tereu, "I detect a distinct resemblance." "Now I may seem unduly obtuse," said Jurgen, "for I am a little obtuse.
"Well, I have seen dowager queens who justified some such confusion," observed Jurgen. "Still, I entreat the forgiveness of both of you, for I had no idea that I was addressing royalty." "I was King Smoit," explained the male phantom, "and this was my ninth wife, Queen Sylvia Tereu." Jurgen bowed as gracefully, he flattered himself, as was possible in his circumstances.
"I bid you a good morning, Dame Anaitis," said Jurgen. "But the stairways hereabouts are confusing, and I must have lost my way. I was going for a stroll. This is my distant relative Queen Sylvia Tereu, who kindly offered to accompany me. We were going out to gather mushrooms and to watch the sunrise, you conceive." "Messire de Logreus, I think you had far better go back to bed."
"Yes, I feel that something is expected of me," says Jurgen: "and without knowing what it is, I am tolerably sure, somehow, that it is not an indulgence in endless pleasure. Besides, I do not think death is going to end all for me. If only I could be quite certain my encounter with King Smoit, and with that charming little Sylvia Tereu, was not a dream!
In fact, all Jurgen would have to do would be to drain the embossed goblet which Sylvia Tereu held out to him, with Druidical invocations. And for a moment Jurgen hesitated. The whole business seemed rather improbable. Still, the ties of kin are strong, and it is not often one gets the chance to aid, however slightly, one's long-dead grandfather: besides, the potion smelt very invitingly.
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