ble events witnessed upon Upper Morven: but the child's tale was
not heeded, because everybody knew that Count Manuel was unconquerable,
and--having everything which men desire,--would never be leaving all
these amenities of his own will, and certainly would never be taking
part in any such dubious doings. Therefore little Jurgen was spanked,
alike for staying out all night and for his wild lying: and they of
Poictesme awaited the return of their great Dom Manuel; and not for a
long while did they suspect that Manuel had departed homeward, after
having succeeded in everything. Nor for a long while was the whole of
little Jurgen's story made public.

XL

Colophon: Da Capo

Now Some of Poictesme--but not all they of Poictesme, because the pious
deny this portion of the tale, and speak of an ascension,--some narrate
that after the appalling eucharist which young Jurgen witnessed upon
Upper Morven, the Redeemer of Poictesme rode on a far and troubling
journey with Grandfather Death, until the two had passed the sunset, and
had come to the dark stream of Lethe.

"Now we must ford these shadowy waters," said Grandfather Death, "in
part because your destiny is on the other side, and in part because by
the contact of these waters all your memories will be washed away from
you. And that is requisite to your destiny."

"But what is my destiny?"

"It is that of all loving creatures, Count Manuel. If you have been
yourself you cannot reasonably be punished, but if you have been
somebody else you will find that this is not permitted."

"That is a dark saying, only too well suited to this doubtful place, and
I do not understand you."

"No," replied Grandfather Death, "but that does not matter."

Then the black horse and the white horse entered the water: and they
passed over, and the swine of Eubouleus were waiting for them, but these
were not yet untethered.

So in the moment which remained Dom Manuel looked backward and downward,
and he saw that Grandfather Death had spoken truly. For all the memories
of Manuel's life had been washed away from him, so that these memories
were left adrift and submerged in the shadowy waters of Lethe. Drowned
there was the wise countenance of Helmas, and the face of St. Ferdinand
with a tarnished halo about it, and the puzzled features of Horvendile;
and glowing birds and glistening images and the shimmering designs of
Miramon thronged there confusedly, and among them went with