PART II
6. CHAPTER VI.
(continued)
"Probably there's some new silliness about it," said Mrs.
Epanchin, sarcastically.
"There is no silliness about it at all--only the profoundest
respect," said Aglaya, very seriously. She had quite recovered
her temper; in fact, from certain signs, it was fair to conclude
that she was delighted to see this joke going so far; and a
careful observer might have remarked that her satisfaction dated
from the moment when the fact of the prince's confusion became
apparent to all.
"'Profoundest respect!' What nonsense! First, insane giggling,
and then, all of a sudden, a display of 'profoundest respect.'
Why respect? Tell me at once, why have you suddenly developed
this 'profound respect,' eh?"
"Because," replied Aglaya gravely, "in the poem the knight is
described as a man capable of living up to an ideal all his life.
That sort of thing is not to be found every day among the men of
our times. In the poem it is not stated exactly what the ideal
was, but it was evidently some vision, some revelation of pure
Beauty, and the knight wore round his neck, instead of a scarf, a
rosary. A device--A. N. B.--the meaning of which is not
explained, was inscribed on his shield--"
"No, A. N. D.," corrected Colia.
"I say A. N. B., and so it shall be!" cried Aglaya, irritably.
"Anyway, the 'poor knight' did not care what his lady was, or
what she did. He had chosen his ideal, and he was bound to serve
her, and break lances for her, and acknowledge her as the ideal
of pure Beauty, whatever she might say or do afterwards. If she
had taken to stealing, he would have championed her just the
same. I think the poet desired to embody in this one picture the
whole spirit of medieval chivalry and the platonic love of a pure
and high-souled knight. Of course it's all an ideal, and in the
'poor knight' that spirit reached the utmost limit of asceticism.
He is a Don Quixote, only serious and not comical. I used not to
understand him, and laughed at him, but now I love the 'poor
knight,' and respect his actions."
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