Jurgen by James Branch Cabell (any book recommendations TXT) 📕

“No, sir,” they told him privately.

So as Steinvor talked Koshchei devised illusions in accordance with that which Steinvor said, and created such children and grandchildren as she described. Male and female he created them standing behind Steinvor, and all were beautiful and stainless: and Koshchei gave life to these illusions.

Then Koshchei bade her turn about. She obeyed: and Koshchei was forgotten.

Well, Koshchei sat there alone in the void, looking not very happy, and looking puzzled, and drumming upon his knee, and staring at the little bent gray woman, who was busied with her children and grandchildren, and had forgotten all about him. “But surely, Lindamira,” he hears Steinvor say, “we are not yet in Heaven.”⁠—“Ah, my dear mother,” replies her illusion of Lindamira, “to be with you again is Heaven: and besides, it may be that Heaven is like this, after all.”⁠—“My darling child, it is sweet of you to say that, and exactly like you to say that. But you know very well that Heaven is fully described in the Book of Revelations, in the Bible, as the glorious place that Heaven is. Whereas, as you can see for yourself, around us is nothing at all, and no person at all except that very civil gentleman to whom I was just talking; and who, between ourselves, seems woefully uninformed about the most ordinary matters.”

“Bring Earth to me,” says Koshchei. This was done, and Koshchei looked over the planet, and found a Bible. Koshchei opened the Bible, and read the Revelation of St. John the Divine, while Steinvor talked with her illusions. “I see,” said Koshchei. “The idea is a little garish. Still⁠—!” So he replaced the Bible, and bade them put Earth, too, in its proper place, for Koshchei dislikes wasting anything. Then Koshchei smiled and created Heaven about Steinvor and her illusions, and he made Heaven just such a place as was described in the book.

“And so, Jurgen, that was how it came about,” ended the God of Jurgen’s grandmother. “And Me also Koshchei created at that time, with the seraphim and the saints and all the blessed, very much as you see us: and, of course, he caused us to have been here always, since the beginning of time, because that, too, was in the book.”

“But how could that be done?” says Jurgen, with brows puckering. “And in what way could Koshchei juggle so with time?”

“How should I know, since I am but the illusion of an old woman, as you have so frequently proved by logic? Let it suffice that whatever Koshchei wills, not only happens, but has already happened beyond the ancientest memory of man and his mother. How otherwise could he be Koshchei?”

“And all this,” said Jurgen, virtuously, “for a woman who was not even faithful to her husband!”

“Oh, very probably!” said the God: “at all events, it was done for a woman who loved. Koshchei will do almost anything to humor love, since love is one of the two things which are impossible to Koshchei.”

“I have heard that pride is impossible to Koshchei⁠—”

The God of Jurgen’s grandmother raised His white eyebrows. “What is pride? I do not think I ever heard of it before. Assuredly it is something that does not enter here.”

“But why is love impossible to Koshchei?”

“Because Koshchei made things as they are, and day and night he contemplates things as they are. How, then, can Koshchei love anything?”

But Jurgen shook his sleek black head. “That I cannot understand at all. If I were imprisoned in a cell wherein was nothing except my verses I would not be happy, and certainly I would not be proud: but even so, I would love my verses. I am afraid that I fall in more readily with the ideas of Grandfather Satan than with Yours; and without contradicting You, I cannot but wonder if what You reveal is true.”

“And how should I know whether or not I speak the truth?” the God asked of him, “since I am but the illusion of an old woman, as you have so frequently proved by logic.”

“Well, well!” said Jurgen, “You may be right in all matters, and certainly I cannot presume to say You are wrong: but still, at the same time⁠—! No, even now I do not quite believe in You.”

“Who could expect it of a clever fellow, who sees so clearly through the illusions of old women?” the God asked, a little wearily.

And Jurgen answered:

“God of my grandmother, I cannot quite believe in You, and Your doings as they are recorded I find incoherent and a little droll. But I am glad the affair has been so arranged that You may always now be real to brave and gentle persons who have believed in and have worshipped and have loved You. To have disappointed them would have been unfair: and it is right that before the faith they had in You not even Koshchei who made things as they are was able to be reasonable.

“God of my grandmother, I cannot quite believe in You; but remembering the sum of love and faith that has been given You, I tremble. I think of the dear people whose living was confident and glad because of their faith in You: I think of them, and in my heart contends a blind contrition, and a yearning, and an enviousness, and yet a tender sort of amusement colors all. Oh, God, there was never any other deity who had such dear worshippers as You have had, and You should be very proud of them.

“God of my grandmother, I cannot quite believe in You, yet I am not as those who would come peering at You reasonably. I, Jurgen, see You only through a mist of tears. For You were loved by those whom I loved greatly very long ago: and when I look at You it is Your worshippers and the dear believers of old that I remember. And it seems to me that