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Updated: May 25, 2025
With the dawn Jurgen arose, and left this Hamadryad Chloris still asleep. He stood where he overlooked the city and the shirt of Nessus glittered in the level sun rays: and Jurgen thought of Queen Helen. Then he sighed, and went back to Chloris and wakened her with the sort of salutation that appeared her just due. Of Compromises in Leuke
What kind of a mythological being am I housing? Did she come at all out of Hamdi Effendi's harem? Is she not rather some strange sea-creature that clambered on board the vessel and bewitched the miserable boy, sucked the soul out of him, and drove him to destruction? Or is she a Vampire? Or a Succubus? Or a Hamadryad? Or a Salamander? One thing, I vow she is not human.
"Well," rejoined the Governor, "what say you to the twenty-second?" "With my Hamadryad! I can never give up my Hamadryad!" "Then," said the Governor, contemptuously hurling the whole set in the direction of Nonnus, "burn which you will, only burn!" The wretched poet sat among his scrolls looking for a victim. All his forty-eight children were equally dear to his parental heart.
Now the tale tells that ten days later Jurgen and his Hamadryad were duly married, in consonance with the law of the Wood: not for a moment did Chloris consider any violation of the proprieties, so they were married the first evening she could assemble her kindred. "Still, Chloris, I already have two wives," says Jurgen, "and it is but fair to confess it."
A dreadful looking creature, a toad that preys on the real or common toads, swallowing them alive just as the hamadryad swallows other serpents, venomous or not, and as the Cribo of Martinique, a big non-venomous serpent, kills and swallows the deadly fer-de-lance.
For this reason it was that the Gods gave Helen to Achilles, and sent the pair to reign in Leuke: though, for my part," concluded the Hamadryad, "I shall never cease to wonder what he saw in her no, not if I live to be a thousand." "I must," says Jurgen, "observe this monarch Achilles before the world is a day older.
He got up to meet her as she approached, a Hamadryad in white muslin, across the grass. "Why, Denis," she exclaimed, "you look perfectly sweet in your white trousers." Denis was dreadfully taken aback. There was no possible retort. "You speak as though I were a child in a new frock," he said, with a show of irritation. "But that's how I feel about you, Denis dear." "Then you oughtn't to."
He grew ferociously sentimental over her, and almost fainted when he shook her hand. He tried to reconstruct from the victim of three-and-sixty years the pink-slippered hamadryad who had haunted him all his life. He wrote of the meeting: "I recognised the divine stateliness of her step; but oh, heavens, how changed she was! her complexion faded, her hair gray.
"But do you not understand?" says Chloris, a little pale, as he saw now. "Since the life of a hamadryad is linked with the life of her tree, nobody can harm me so long as my tree lives: and if they cut down my tree I shall die, wherever I may happen to be." "I had forgotten that." He was really troubled now.
A king is all very well, of course, but no husband wears a crown so as to prevent the affixion of other head-gear." And Jurgen went down into Pseudopolis, swaggering. So in the evening, just after sunset, Jurgen returned to the Hamadryad: he walked now with the aid of the ashen staff which Thersites had given Jurgen, and Jurgen was mirthless and rather humble.
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