Said Jurgen, scornfully: "But is justice, then, a word?"
"Oh, yes, it is one of the most useful. It is the Spanish justicia, the Portuguese justiça, the Italian giustizia, all from the Latin justus. Oh, yes indeed, but justice is one of my best connected words, and one of the best trained also, I can assure you."
"Aha, and to what degraded uses do you put this poor enslaved intimidated justice!"
"There is but one intelligent use," said the Master Philologist, unruffled, "for anybody to make of words. I will explain it to you, if you will come in out of this treacherous draught. One never knows what a cold may lead to."
Then the door closed upon them, and Anaïtis waited outside, in some trepidation.
Presently Jurgen came out of that unpretentious residence, and so back to Anaïtis, discomfited. Jurgen flung down his magic sword, charmed Caliburn.
"This, Anaïtis, I perceive to be an outmoded weapon. There is no weapon like words, no armor against words, and with words the Master Philologist has conquered me. It is not at all equitable: but the man showed me a huge book wherein were the names of everything in the world, and justice was not among them. It develops that, instead, justice is merely a common noun, vaguely denoting an ethical idea of conduct proper to the circumstances, whether of individuals or communities. It is, you observe, just a grammarian's notion."
"But what has he decided about you, Jurgen?"
"Alas, dear Anaïtis, he has decided, in spite of all that I could do, to derive Jurgen from jargon, indicating a confused chattering such as birds give forth at sunrise: thus ruthlessly does the Master Philologist convert me into a solar legend. So the affair is settled, and we must part, my darling."
Anaïtis took up the sword. "But this is valuable, since the man who wields it is the mightiest of warriors."