"Back to Trilda; where else?"
"And you will leave me alone in the dark?"
"You have been alone in the dark before."
"We will go to Trilda together, since I have no other place to go. And, as I have already mentioned, I came here of my own volition."
"You show little overt warmth. It is more as if you had steeled yourself to a great challenge.,"
"It is a new experience for me."
With an effort Shimrod controlled his voice. "I might have welcomed you more gladly had you not told your maid to bar the door in my face. When one is judging the disposition of another, this sort of act would seem a significant straw in the wind."
"Possibly so, but the inference might be wrong. Remember, you had intruded into my life and had troubled my mind with your persuasions. At length I was swayed and now I am here, at your behest."
"At Tamurello's behest."
Melancthe smiled. "I am I and you are you. How does Tamurello concern us, one way or another?"
"Is your memory so short? I have reason for concern."
Melancthe looked off across the water. "He gave no orders. He said that you were here at Trilda making a nuisance of yourself. He said that if not for Murgen, he would have long since sent you riding to the far side of the moon on a saw-horse. He said he would be pleased if I beguiled and besotted you until your eyes looked like boiled eggs and you fell asleep at breakfast with your face in the porridge. He said that you had a low-order mind and could deal with no more than one thought at a time, and that if I were at Trilda you would completely forget your meddling, to his great satisfaction, and now you know all of it."
"Just as well." Shimrod looked moodily out over the water. "I wonder what calumnies another five minutes might have brought."
Melancthe moved a step back. "Well then, here I am. What is it to be? Shall I go away? Consult the factions of your brain, and perhaps you will find a consensus."
"I have already decided," said Shimrod. "You shall come to Trilda." And Shimrod, with grim emphasis, added: "There we shall discover who most notably distracts whom, and every morning Tamurello will receive a cheerful greeting... . Notice the waning moon; already it declines into the west. Time that we returned to Trilda."
The two went silently back along the lane, and as they walked a new and disturbing possibility entered Shimrod's mind: might this creature beside him which used the name Melancthe be a guise for another, of a different sort, which at some delicate moment might reveal itself in its true form, and so punish Shimrod for his impudent surveillance?
The concept was not on its face improbable. Luckily, the trick could readily be detected.
Once in the parlour at Trilda, Shimrod took Melancthe's cloak and poured two goblets of pomegranate wine. "The flavor, like yourself, is at once sweet and tart, haunting, mysterious and by no means obvious... . Come! I will show you around Trilda."
Shimrod first took her into the dining saloon ("The oak is cut from a tree which grew on this very site."), across the formal parlour ("Notice the tapestries in the cartouches; they were woven in ancient Parthia."), then into the work-room. Shimrod immediately went to look at his map. The blue point of light glittered from the site of Faroli, far to the north in Dahaut: so much for one of his suspicions, that the woman at his side might even be a guise of the epicene Tamurello; this was clearly not the case.
Melancthe looked here and there without great interest.
Shimrod described two or three pieces of his paraphernalia, then took her before a tall mirror, which reflected her image in clear detail, and another of Shimrod's misgivings was put to rest. Had she been a succuba or a harpy, the creature's true image would have reflected from the mirror.
Melancthe studied the glass with absorbed interest. Shimrod said: "The mirror is of magic. You see reflected the person you think yourself to be. Or you may say: ‘Mirror, show me as I appear to Shimrod!' or, ‘Mirror, show me as I appear to Tamurello!' and you will see these versions of yourself."
Melancthe moved away without undertaking the trials Shimrod had suggested. Shimrod surveyed the mirror from the side. "I could easily confront the mirror and say: ‘Mirror, show me as I appear to Melancthe!' but, in all candor, I lack the courage."
"Let us leave this room," said Melancthe. "It reeks of the brain."
The two returned to the small parlour, where Shimrod brought fire to the hearth, then turned to inspect Melancthe.
She spoke in her soft voice: "You are pensive. Why is this?"
Shimrod stood looking down into the flames. "I find myself with a dilemma. Do you care to hear it?"
"I will listen, certainly."
"At Ys, only a few weeks ago, Shimrod visited Melancthe, to renew their acquaintance and perhaps to discover some mutuality of interest which might enhance their lives. In the end Melancthe scornfully barred the door to him.
"Tonight Shimrod strolls beside Lally Water, watching the moon-set. Melancthe appears, and now, instead of Shimrod pursuing Melancthe, it is Melancthe who pursues Shimrod, that she may beguile and befuddle him in his manse Trilda, that he may desist from molesting her friend Tamurello.
"With perhaps disingenuous frankness she reports Tamurello's unflattering opinion of Shimrod, so that now Shimrod must throw self-esteem to the winds if he obeys his impulses and succumbs to Melancthe's allurements. If he proves steadfast and expels Melancthe from Trilda with the rebuke she deserves, he shows himself to be pompous, inflexible and foolish.
"His dilemma, then, is not whether, or how, or if, to retain pride, dignity and self-respect, but in which direction to cast them aside."
Melancthe asked: "How long do you intend to ponder? I have no self-esteem whatever, and I can make up my mind instantly, according to my inclinations."
"Perhaps that is the best wisdom, after all," said Shimrod. "My character is intensely strong, and my will is like iron; still, I see no reason to demonstrate their strength needlessly."
Melancthe said: "The fire blazes hot, and the room is warm. Shimrod, help me from my cloak."
Shimrod stepped close, parted the clasp at her neck, and took her cloak; in some way her gown also fell to the floor, so that she stood nude in the firelight. Shimrod thought that never had he seen a sight so beautiful. He embraced her and her body first stiffened, then went flexible.
The fire had burned low. Melancthe said in a husky voice: "Shimrod, I am frightened."
"How so?"
"When I looked into the mirror, I saw nothing."
VI
THE DAYS GLIDED BY, easy and quiet, without untoward incident to mark one day from the next. Shimrod occasionally thought that Melancthe attempted to tease and provoke him, but he maintained at all times a manner of imperturbable composure, and in the main all went smoothly. Melancthe seemed at least passively content, and was at all times accessible, or even more than accessible, to Shimrod's erotic inclinations. With dour amusement Shimrod recalled events of the past: her distrait conduct as she walked through his dreams; her boredom during his visits to her villa; her barring of the door against him—and now! His most far-fetched amorous fantasies had become real!
Why? The question constantly came to perplex him. Somewhere there was mystery. Shimrod could not understand how Tamurello profited from the arrangement; according to the blue glint, he never strayed from Faroli.
Melancthe herself volunteered no information, and pride prevented Shimrod from putting aside his pose of urbane equanimity and placing sharp questions.
Now and then, during the course of conversation, Shimrod made an idle inquiry or two, but Melancthe commonly returned only a blank stare, or sometimes an evasion or at worst accused him of overintellectualization. "When something needs to be done I do it! When my nose itches, I scratch it, without an agonizing analysis of the situation."