The Line of Love | Page 6

have not changed, at least," Tiburce answered; and for the first
time he smiled, a little perturbingly by reason of the change in him.
"Tell me," said Florian, "of how you fare yonder."
So Tiburce told him of yet more curious matters. Now the augmenting
mists had shut off all the rest of the world. Florian could see only vague

rolling graynesses and a gray and changed Tiburce sitting there, with
bright wild eyes, and discoursing in a small chill voice. The appearance
of a woman came, and sat beside him on the right. She, too, was gray,
as became Eve's senior: and she made a sign which Florian
remembered, and it troubled him.
Tiburce said then, "And now, young Florian, you who were once so
dear to me, it is to your welfare I drink."
"I drink to yours, Tiburce."
Tiburce drank first: and Florian, having drunk in turn, cried out, "You
have changed beyond recognition!"
"You have not changed," Tiburce d'Arnaye replied again. "Now let me
tell you of our pastimes yonder."
With that he talked of exceedingly curious matters. And Florian began
to grow dissatisfied, for Tiburce was no longer recognizable, and
Tiburce whispered things uncomfortable to believe; and other eyes, as
wild as his, but lit with red flarings from behind, like a beast's eyes,
showed in the mists to this side and to that side, for unhappy beings
were passing through the mists upon secret errands which they
discharged unwillingly. Then, too, the appearance of a gray man now
sat to the left of that which had been Tiburce d'Arnaye, and this
newcomer was marked so that all might know who he was: and
Florian's heart was troubled to note how handsome and how admirable
was that desecrated face even now.
"But I must go," said Florian, "lest they miss me at Storisende, and
Adelaide be worried."
"Surely it will not take long to toss off a third cup. Nay, comrade, who
were once so dear, let us two now drink our last toast together. Then go,
in Sclaug's name, and celebrate your marriage. But before that let us
drink to the continuance of human mirth-making everywhere."
Florian drank first. Then Tiburce took his turn, looking at Florian as

Tiburce drank slowly. As he drank, Tiburce d'Arnaye was changed
even more, and the shape of him altered, and the shape of him trickled
as though Tiburce were builded of sliding fine white sand. So Tiburce
d'Arnaye returned to his own place. The appearances that had sat to his
left and to his right were no longer there to trouble Florian with
memories. And Florian saw that the mists of Walburga's Eve had
departed, and that the sun was rising, and that the graveyard was all
overgrown with nettles and tall grass.
He had not remembered the place being thus, and it seemed to him the
night had passed with unnatural quickness. But he thought more of the
fact that he had been beguiled into spending his wedding-night in a
graveyard, in such questionable company, and of what explanation he
could make to Adelaide.
2. Of Young Persons in May The tale tells how Florian de Puysange
came in the dawn through flowering gardens, and heard young people
from afar, already about their maying. Two by two he saw them from
afar as they went with romping and laughter into the tall woods behind
Storisende to fetch back the May-pole with dubious old rites. And as
they went they sang, as was customary, that song which Raimbaut de
Vaqueiras made in the ancient time in honor of May's ageless triumph.
Sang they:
"_May shows with godlike showing To-day for each that sees May's
magic overthrowing All musty memories In him whom May decrees
To be love's own. He saith, 'I wear love's liveries Until released by
death_.'
"_Thus all we laud May's sowing, Nor heed how harvests please When
nowhere grain worth growing Greets autumn's questing breeze, And
garnerers garner these-- Vain words and wasted breath And spilth and
tasteless lees-- Until released by death.
"Unwillingly foreknowing That love with May-time flees, We take this
day's bestowing, And feed on fantasies Such as love lends for ease
Where none but travaileth, With lean infrequent fees, Until released by

death_."
And Florian shook his sleek black head. "A very foolish and
pessimistical old song, a superfluous song, and a song that is
particularly out of place in the loveliest spot in the loveliest of all
possible worlds."
Yet Florian took no inventory of the gardens. There was but a happy
sense of green and gold, with blue topping all; of twinkling, fluent,
tossing leaves and of the gray under side of elongated, straining leaves;
a sense of pert bird noises, and of a longer shadow than usual slanting
before him,