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are glad to be rid of her, are you not?

      Jurgen

      I confess a certain—relief.

      Dorothy

      Then why are you here?

      Jurgen

      Because everyone said it was the manly thing to do, to try and find her. I have always been too deferential to the opinion of mankind.

      Dorothy

      How did you get here?

      Jurgen

      You wouldn’t believe me. You are a monstrously clever person.

      Dorothy

      Try me.

      Jurgen

      A centaur that I met on the road brought me. He gave me this shirt.

      Dorothy

      That’s ridiculous. I don’t believe you.

      Jurgen

      Perfectly all right. You’d be daft if you did. But are you not Dorothy la Désirée—the only woman I ever loved?

      Dorothy

      Certainly, I am she. Count Emerrich’s daughter.

      Jurgen (bitterly)

      And the wife of Hetman Michael.

      Dorothy

      That oaf! I would never marry him.

      Jurgen

      So you told me when I was young. But you married him all the same.

      Dorothy

      You’re funny. Are you mad? Who are you, friend, that you have such curious notions about me?

      Jurgen

      I will answer that question, even though you clearly know the answer. I am Jurgen.

      Dorothy

      I know but one Jurgen—and he is much younger than you.

      Jurgen

      Ah, I understand. I have returned to my youth. I have heard of this other Jurgen. A monstrously clever fellow—and he loved you.

      Dorothy

      No more than I love him. A whole summer I have loved him.

      Jurgen

      The poor devil loved you, too. I can testify to it. For a whole summer and perhaps all of his life.

      Dorothy

      You talk in riddles, friend.

      Jurgen

      That is customary when age talks to youth. For I am a man of forty, and you—you will be sixteen in two months—for it is August—the August of a year I had not expected ever to see again.

      Dorothy

      You really are a strange fellow—but I like you. In fact, I liked you instantly, as soon as you told me your name was Jurgen.

      Jurgen

      Well—and what can I do about it? Somehow, I—who am but the shadow of what I was, walk with the love of my youth. In this same garden, there was once a boy who loved a girl with such a love as it puzzles me to think of now. And for a whole summer these two were as brave and comely and clean a pair of sweethearts as the world has known.

      Dorothy

      Tell me about yourself, sir. For I love all tales of lovers.

      Jurgen

      Ah, dear child—if only I could. Who can tell the glory of a first love—moonlight nights—unreasonable laughter—and the feeling that suddenly you are—alive. A story not worth raking up at this late date. Preposterous, really.

      Dorothy

      What happened then?

      Jurgen

      There was a difficulty. She was a count’s daughter and he was the son of a pawnbroker.

      Dorothy (excited)

      I know a case just like it. (curious) What happened?

      Jurgen

      Well—it seemed a transient discrepancy because our hero intended to become an Emperor.

      Dorothy

      And then? And then?

      Jurgen

      Well—our hero had to go away for a while—and before long he learned that his lady had married Hetman Michael.

      Dorothy

      Isn’t that strange? There is a Hetman Michael that my family is plaguing me to marry. But I won’t. (thoughtfully) Anyway, go on.

      Jurgen

      There’s nothing further to tell, really. The boy became a pawnbroker and married a shrew—and suffered ever after until a devil befriended him and carried off his wife.

      Dorothy (disappointed)

      So his life was ruined!

      Jurgen

      To be perfectly honest, no more than most. He met her again in her married state and decided she was rather dull and stupid—yet—well—he could not retain his composure in her presence.

      Dorothy (interested)

      So he still loved her!

      Jurgen

      My child, you are incurably romantic. He hated her—naturally.

      Dorothy (bawling)

      Oh—couldn’t they have become lovers?

      Jurgen

      No, it did not work out. She took many lovers—and he, the legend tells, had many affaires de coeur—but never did these two become lovers.

      Dorothy

      What an awful, cynical, stupid story. I am going to leave you.

      Jurgen (quickly)

      No. Now that I have found you again it would not be possible to lose you. Not so long as there is Justice upon Earth. Why, there is no imaginable God who would permit a boy to be robbed of so noble a dream twice.

      Dorothy

      You—upset me. It seems to me you are my Jurgen—yet you are not my Jurgen.

      Jurgen

      But truly, I am Jurgen, and I have won back that first love whom every man must lose no matter whom he marries. Had I known you awaited me in this garden of youth—between dawn and sunrise—I would have had the heart to live. Surely, you are a reparation. I will not let you go—for you and you alone are my heart’s desire.

      Dorothy

      Hands off, old lecher! I can’t stand an old man!

      (Jurgen is pushed off balance and she escapes.)

      Jurgen

      Well, I am answered—yet, I know it is not the final answer. Am I so changed?

      (Enter Old Monk.)

      Old Monk

      Good and evil keep exact accounts, and the face of every man is their ledger.

      Jurgen

      What is Dorothy doing here?

      Old Monk

      Why, all women a man has ever loved live here—for very obvious reasons.

      Jurgen

      That is a hard saying, friend. This is a world that never was. Was Dorothy la Désirée an imaginary creature?

      Old Monk

      Poet! Do you not know she was your masterpiece? Actually, she was a shallow

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