"—And besides, you call me a fellow rebel. Now, how can it be possible that Koshchei, who made all things as they are, should be a rebel? unless, indeed, there is some power above even Koshchei. I would very much like to have that explained to me, sir."
"No doubt: but then why should I explain it to you, Jurgen?" says the black gentleman.
"Well, be that as it may, Prince! But—to return a little—I do not know that you have obliged me in carrying off my wife. I mean, of course, my first wife."
"Why, Jurgen," says the black gentleman, in high astonishment, "do you mean to tell me that you want the plague of your life back again!"
"I do not know about that either, sir. She was certainly very hard to live with. On the other hand, I had become used to having her about. I rather miss her, now that I am again an elderly person. Indeed, I believe I have missed Lisa all along."
The black gentleman meditated. "Come, friend," he says, at last. "You were a poet of some merit. You displayed a promising talent which might have been cleverly developed, in any suitable environment. Now, I repeat, I am an Economist: I dislike waste: and you were never fitted to be anything save a poet. The trouble was"—and Koshchei lowered his voice to an impressive whisper,—"the trouble was your wife did not understand you. She hindered your art. Yes, that precisely sums it up: she interfered with your soul-development, and your instinctive need of self-expression, and all that sort of thing. You are very well rid of this woman, who converted a poet into a pawnbroker. To the other side, as is with point observed somewhere or other, it is not good for man to live alone. But, friend, I have just the wife for you."
"Well, Prince," said Jurgen, "I am willing to taste any drink once."
So Koshchei waved his hand: and there, quick as winking, was the loveliest lady that Jurgen had ever imagined.
45.
The Faith of Guenevere