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diff --git a/13260-0.txt b/13260-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..7bb5a69 --- /dev/null +++ b/13260-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,17167 @@ +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 13260 *** + + DROLL STORIES + + COLLECTED FROM THE ABBEYS OF TOURAINE + + BY + + HONORE DE BALZAC + + + + + TRANSLATORS PREFACE + +When, in March, 1832, the first volume of the now famous _Contes +Drolatiques_ was published by Gosselin of Paris, Balzac, in a short +preface, written in the publisher’s name, replied to those attacks +which he anticipated certain critics would make upon his hardy +experiment. He claimed for his book the protection of all those to +whom literature was dear, because it was a work of art--and a work of +art, in the highest sense of the word, it undoubtedly is. Like +Boccaccio, Rabelais, the Queen of Navarre, Ariosto, and Verville, the +great author of _The Human Comedy_ has painted an epoch. In the fresh +and wonderful language of the Merry Vicar Of Meudon, he has given us a +marvellous picture of French life and manners in the sixteenth +century. The gallant knights and merry dames of that eventful period +of French history stand out in bold relief upon his canvas. The +background in these life-like figures is, as it were, “sketched upon +the spot.” After reading the _Contes Drolatiques_, one could almost find +one’s way about the towns and villages of Touraine, unassisted by map +or guide. Not only is this book a work of art from its historical +information and topographical accuracy; its claims to that distinction +rest upon a broader foundation. Written in the nineteenth century in +imitation of the style of the sixteenth, it is a triumph of literary +archaeology. It is a model of that which it professes to imitate; the +production of a writer who, to accomplish it, must have been at once +historian, linguist, philosopher, archaeologist, and anatomist, and +each in no ordinary degree. In France, his work has long been regarded +as a classic--as a faithful picture of the last days of the moyen age, +when kings and princesses, brave gentlemen and haughty ladies laughed +openly at stories and jokes which are considered disgraceful by their +more fastidious descendants. In England the difficulties of the +language employed, and the quaintness and peculiarity of its style, +have placed it beyond the reach of all but those thoroughly acquainted +with the French of the sixteenth century. Taking into consideration +the vast amount of historical information enshrined in its pages, the +archaeological value which it must always possess for the student, and +the dramatic interest of its stories, the translator has thought that +an English edition of Balzac’s chef-d’oeuvre would be acceptable to +many. It has, of course, been impossible to reproduce in all its +vigour and freshness the language of the original. Many of the quips +and cranks and puns have been lost in the process of Anglicising. +These unavoidable blemishes apart, the writer ventures to hope that he +has treated this great masterpiece in a reverent spirit, touched it +with no sacrilegious hand, but, on the contrary, given as close a +translation as the dissimilarities of the two languages permit. With +this idea, no attempt had been made to polish or round many of the +awkwardly constructed sentences which are characteristic of this +volume. Rough, and occasionally obscure, they are far more in keeping +with the spirit of the original than the polished periods of modern +romance. Taking into consideration the many difficulties which he has +had to overcome, and which those best acquainted with the French +edition will best appreciate, the translator claims the indulgence of +the critical reader for any shortcomings he may discover. The best +plea that can be offered for such indulgence is the fact that, +although _Les Contes Drolatiques_ was completed and published in 1837, +the present is the first English version ever brought before the +public. + +London, January, 1874 + + + + + VOLUME I + THE FIRST TEN TALES + + + + CONTENTS + +PROLOGUE +THE FAIR IMPERIA +THE VENIAL SIN + HOW THE GOOD MAN BRUYN TOOK A WIFE + HOW THE SENESCHAL STRUGGLED WITH HIS WIFE’S MODESTY + THAT WHICH IS ONLY A VENIAL SIN + HOW AND BY WHOM THE SAID CHILD WAS PROCURED + HOW THE SAID LOVE-SIN WAS REPENTED OF AND LED TO GREAT MOURNING +THE KING’S SWEETHEART +THE DEVIL’S HEIR +THE MERRIE JESTS OF KING LOUIS THE ELEVENTH +THE HIGH CONSTABLE’S WIFE +THE MAID OF THILOUSE +THE BROTHER-IN-ARMS +THE VICAR OF AZAY-LE-RIDEAU +THE REPROACH +EPILOGUE + + + + PROLOGUE + +This is a book of the highest flavour, full of right hearty merriment, +spiced to the palate of the illustrious and very precious tosspots and +drinkers, to whom our worthy compatriot, Francois Rabelais, the +eternal honour of Touraine, addressed himself. Be it nevertheless +understood, the author has no other desire than to be a good +Touranian, and joyfully to chronicle the merry doings of the famous +people of this sweet and productive land, more fertile in cuckolds, +dandies and witty wags than any other, and which has furnished a good +share of men of renown in France, as witness the departed Courier of +piquant memory; Verville, author of _Moyen de Parvenir_, and others +equally well known, among whom we will specially mention the Sieur +Descartes, because he was a melancholy genius, and devoted himself +more to brown studies than to drinks and dainties, a man of whom all +the cooks and confectioners of Tours have a wise horror, whom they +despise, and will not hear spoken of, and say, “Where does he live?” + if his name is mentioned. Now this work is the production of the +joyous leisure of good old monks, of whom there are many vestiges +scattered about the country, at Grenadiere-les-St.-Cyr, in the village +of Sacche-les-Azay-le-Rideau, at Marmoustiers, Veretz, Roche-Cobon, +and the certain storehouses of good stories, which storehouses are the +upper stories of old canons and wise dames, who remember the good old +days when they could enjoy a hearty laugh without looking to see if +their hilarity disturbed the sit of your ruffle, as do the young women +of the present day, who wish to take their pleasure gravely--a custom +which suits our Gay France as much as a water jug would the head of a +queen. Since laughter is a privilege granted to man alone, and he has +sufficient causes for tears within his reach, without adding to them +by books, I have considered it a thing most patriotic to publish a +drachm of merriment for these times, when weariness falls like a fine +rain, wetting us, soaking into us, and dissolving those ancient +customs which make the people to reap public amusement from the +Republic. But of those old pantagruelists who allowed God and the king +to conduct their own affairs without putting of their finger in the +pie oftener than they could help, being content to look on and laugh, +there are very few left. They are dying out day by day in such manner +that I fear greatly to see these illustrious fragments of the ancient +breviary spat upon, staled upon, set at naught, dishonoured, and +blamed, the which I should be loath to see, since I have and bear +great respect for the refuse of our Gallic antiquities. + +Bear in mind also, ye wild critics, you scrapers-up of words, harpies +who mangle the intentions and inventions of everyone, that as children +only do we laugh, and as we travel onward laughter sinks down and dies +out, like the light of the oil-lit lamp. This signifies, that to laugh +you must be innocent, and pure of a heart, lacking which qualities you +purse your lips, drop your jaws, and knit your brow, after the manner +of men hiding vices and impurities. Take, then, this work as you would +take a group of statue, certain features of which an artist could +omit, and he would be the biggest of all big fools if he puts leaves +upon them, seeing that these said works are not, any more than is this +book, intended for nunneries. Nevertheless, I have taken care, much to +my vexation, to weed from the manuscripts the old words, which, in +spite of their age, were still strong, and which would have shocked +the ears, astonished the eyes, reddened the cheeks and sullied the +lips of trousered maidens, and Madame Virtue with three lovers; for +certain things must be done to suit the vices of the age, and a +periphrase is much more agreeable than the word. Indeed, we are old, +and find long trifles, better than the short follies of our youth, +because at that time our taste was better. Then spare me your +slanders, and read this rather at night than in the daytime and give +it not to young maidens, if there be any, because this book is +inflammable. I will now rid you of myself. But I fear nothing from +this book, since it is extracted from a high and splendid source, from +which all that has issued has had a great success, as is amply proved +by the royal orders of the Golden Fleece, of the Holy Ghost, of the +Garter, of the Bath, and by many notable things which have been taken +therefrom, under shelter of which I place myself. + +_Now make ye merry, my hearties, and gayly read with ease of body and +rest of reins, and may a cancer carry you if you disown me after +having read me._ + +These words are those of our good Master Rabelais, before whom we must +also stand, hat in hand, in token of reverence and honour to him, +prince of all wisdom, and king of Comedy. + + + + THE FAIR IMPERIA + +The Archbishop of Bordeaux had added to his suite when going to the +Council at Constance quite a good-looking little priest of Touraine +whose ways and manner of speech was so charming that he passed for a +son of La Soldee and the Governor. The Archbishop of Tours had +willingly given him to his confrere for his journey to that town, +because it was usual for archbishops to make each other presents, they +well knowing how sharp are the itchings of theological palms. Thus +this young priest came to the Council and was lodged in the +establishment of his prelate, a man of good morals and great science. + +Philippe de Mala, as he was called, resolved to behave well and +worthily to serve his protector, but he saw in this mysterious Council +many men leading a dissolute life and yet not making less, nay +--gaining more indulgences, gold crowns and benefices than all the +other virtuous and well-behaved ones. Now during one night--dangerous +to his virtue--the devil whispered into his ear that he should live +more luxuriously, since every one sucked the breasts of our Holy Mother +Church and yet they were not drained, a miracle which proved beyond +doubt the existence of God. And the priest of Touraine did not +disappoint the devil. He promised to feast himself, to eat his +bellyful of roast meats and other German delicacies, when he could do +so without paying for them as he was poor. As he remained quite +continent (in which he followed the example of the poor old archbishop +who sinned no longer because he was unable to, and passed for a +saint,) he had to suffer from intolerable desires followed by fits of +melancholy, since there were so many sweet courtesans, well developed, +but cold to the poor people, who inhabited Constance, to enlighten the +understanding of the Fathers of the Council. He was savage that he did +not know how to make up to these gallant sirens, who snubbed +cardinals, abbots, councillors, legates, bishops, princes and +margraves just as if they have been penniless clerks. And in the +evening, after prayers, he would practice speaking to them, teaching +himself the breviary of love. He taught himself to answer all possible +questions, but on the morrow if by chance he met one of the aforesaid +princesses dressed out, seated in a litter and escorted by her proud +and well-armed pages, he remained open-mouthed, like a dog in the act +of catching flies, at the sight of sweet countenance that so much +inflamed him. The secretary of a Monseigneur, a gentleman of Perigord, +having clearly explained to him that the Fathers, procureurs, and +auditors of the Rota bought by certain presents, not relics or +indulgences, but jewels and gold, the favour of being familiar with +the best of these pampered cats who lived under the protection of the +lords of the Council; the poor Touranian, all simpleton and innocent +as he was, treasured up under his mattress the money given him by the +good archbishop for writings and copying--hoping one day to have +enough just to see a cardinal’s lady-love, and trusting to God for the +rest. He was hairless from top to toe and resembled a man about as +much as a goat with a night-dress on resembles a young lady, but +prompted by his desires he wandered in the evenings through the +streets of Constance, careless of his life, and, at the risk of having +his body halberded by the soldiers, he peeped at the cardinals +entering the houses of their sweethearts. Then he saw the wax-candles +lighted in the houses and suddenly the doors and the windows closed. +Then he heard the blessed abbots or others jumping about, drinking, +enjoying themselves, love-making, singing _Alleluia_ and applauding the +music with which they were being regaled. The kitchen performed +miracles, the Offices said were fine rich pots-full, the Matins sweet +little hams, the Vespers luscious mouthful, and the Lauhes delicate +sweetmeats, and after their little carouses, these brave priests were +silent, their pages diced upon the stairs, their mules stamped +restively in the streets; everything went well--but faith and religion +was there. That is how it came to pass the good man Huss was burned. +And the reason? He put his finger in the pie without being asked. Then +why was he a Huguenot before the others? + +To return, however to our sweet little Philippe, not unfrequently did +he receive many a thump and hard blow, but the devil sustained him, +inciting him to believe that sooner or later it would come to his turn +to play the cardinal to some lovely dame. This ardent desire gave him +the boldness of a stag in autumn, so much so that one evening he +quietly tripped up the steps and into one of the first houses in +Constance where often he had seen officers, seneschals, valets, and +pages waiting with torches for their masters, dukes, kings, cardinals +and archbishops. + +“Ah!” said he, “she must be very beautiful and amiable, this one.” + +A soldier well armed allowed him to pass, believing him to belong to +the suite of the Elector of Bavaria, who had just left, and that he +was going to deliver a message on behalf of the above-mentioned +nobleman. Philippe de Mala mounted the stairs as lightly as a +greyhound in love, and was guided by delectable odour of perfume to +certain chamber where, surrounded by her handmaidens, the lady of the +house was divesting herself of her attire. He stood quite dumbfounded +like a thief surprised by sergeants. The lady was without petticoat or +head-dress. The chambermaid and the servants, busy taking off her +stockings and undressing her, so quickly and dextrously had her +stripped, that the priest, overcome, gave vent to a long Ah! which had +the flavour of love about it. + +“What want _you_, little one?” said the lady to him. + +“To yield my soul to you,” said he, flashing his eyes upon her. + +“You can come again to-morrow,” said she, in order to be rid of him. + +To which Philippe replied, blushing, “I will not fail.” + +Then she burst out laughing. Philippe, struck motionless, stood quite +at his ease, letting wander over her his eyes that glowed and sparkled +with the flame of love. What lovely thick hair hung upon her ivory +white back, showing sweet white places, fair and shining between the +many tresses! She had upon her snow-white brow a ruby circlet, less +fertile in rays of fire than her black eyes, still moist with tears +from her hearty laugh. She even threw her slipper at a statue gilded +like a shrine, twisting herself about from very ribaldry and allowed +her bare foot, smaller than a swan’s bill, to be seen. This evening +she was in a good humour, otherwise she would have had the little +shaven-crop put out by the window without more ado than her first +bishop. + +“He has fine eyes, Madame,” said one of her handmaids. + +“Where does he comes from?” asked another. + +“Poor child!” cried Madame, “his mother must be looking for him. Show +him his way home.” + +The Touranian, still sensible, gave a movement of delight at the sight +of the brocaded bed where the sweet form was about to repose. This +glance, full of amorous intelligence, awoke the lady’s fantasy, who, +half laughing and half smitten, repeated “To-morrow,” and dismissed +him with a gesture which the Pope Jehan himself would have obeyed, +especially as he was like a snail without a shell, since the Council +had just deprived him of the holy keys. + +“Ah! Madame, there is another vow of chastity changed into an amorous +desire,” said one of her women; and the chuckles commenced again thick +as hail. + +Philippe went his way, bumping his head against a wall like a hooded +rook as he was. So giddy had he become at the sight of this creature, +even more enticing than a siren rising from the water. He noticed the +animals carved over the door and returned to the house of the +archbishop with his head full of diabolical longings and his entrails +sophisticated. + +Once in his little room he counted his coins all night long, but could +make no more than four of them; and as that was all his treasure, he +counted upon satisfying the fair one by giving her all he had in the +world. + +“What is it ails you?” said the good archbishop, uneasy at the groans +and “oh! ohs!” of his clerk. + +“Ah! my Lord,” answered the poor priest, “I am wondering how it is +that so light and sweet a woman can weigh so heavily upon my heart.” + +“Which one?” said the archbishop, putting down his breviary which he +was reading for others--the good man. + +“Oh! Mother of God! You will scold me, I know, my good master, my +protector, because I have seen the lady of a cardinal at the least, +and I am weeping because I lack more than one crown to enable me to +convert her.” + +The archbishop, knitting the circumflex accent that he had above his +nose, said not a word. Then the very humble priest trembled in his +skin to have confessed so much to his superior. But the holy man +directly said to him, “She must be very dear then--” + +“Ah!” said he, “she has swallowed many a mitre and stolen many a +cross.” + +“Well, Philippe, if thou will renounce her, I will present thee with +thirty angels from the poor-box.” + +“Ah! my lord, I should be losing too much,” replied the lad, +emboldened by the treat he promised himself. + +“Ah! Philippe,” said the good prelate, “thou wilt then go to the devil +and displease God, like all our cardinals,” and the master, with +sorrow, began to pray St. Gatien, the patron saint of Innocents, to +save his servant. He made him kneel down beside him, telling him to +recommend himself also to St. Philippe, but the wretched priest +implored the saint beneath his breath to prevent him from failing if +on the morrow that the lady should receive him kindly and mercifully; +and the good archbishop, observing the fervour of his servant, cried +out him, “Courage little one, and Heaven will exorcise thee.” + +On the morrow, while Monsieur was declaiming at the Council against +the shameless behaviour of the apostles of Christianity, Philippe de +Mala spent his angels--acquired with so much labour--in perfumes, +baths, fomentations, and other fooleries. He played the fop so well, +one would have thought him the fancy cavalier of a gay lady. He +wandered about the town in order to find the residence of his heart’s +queen; and when he asked the passers-by to whom belonged the aforesaid +house, they laughed in his face, saying-- + +“Whence comes this precious fellow that has not heard of La Belle +Imperia?” + +He was very much afraid he and his angels were gone to the devil when +he heard the name, and knew into what a nice mess he had voluntarily +fallen. + +Imperia was the most precious, the most fantastic girl in the world, +although she passed for the most dazzling and the beautiful, and the +one who best understood the art of bamboozling cardinals and softening +the hardiest soldiers and oppressors of the people. She had brave +captains, archers, and nobles, ready to serve her at every turn. She +had only to breathe a word, and the business of anyone who had +offended her was settled. A free fight only brought a smile to her +lips, and often the Sire de Baudricourt--one of the King’s Captains +--would ask her if there were any one he could kill for her that day +--a little joke at the expense of the abbots. With the exception of the +potentates among the high clergy with whom Madame Imperia managed to +accommodate her little tempers, she ruled everyone with a high hand in +virtue of her pretty babble and enchanting ways, which enthralled the +most virtuous and the most unimpressionable. Thus she lived beloved +and respected, quite as much as the real ladies and princesses, and +was called Madame, concerning which the good Emperor Sigismund replied +to a lady who complained of it to him, “That they, the good ladies, +might keep to their own proper way and holy virtues, and Madame +Imperia to the sweet naughtiness of the goddess Venus”--Christian +words which shocked the good ladies, to their credit be it said. + +Philippe, then thinking over it in his mind that which on the +preceding evening he had seen with his eyes, doubted if more did not +remain behind. Then was he sad, and without taking bite or sup, +strolled about the town waiting the appointed hour, although he was +well-favoured and gallant enough to find others less difficult to +overcome than was Madame Imperia. + +The night came; the little Touranian, exalted with pride caparisoned +with desire, and spurred by his “alacks” and “alases” which nearly +choked him, glided like an eel into the domicile of the veritable +Queen of the Council--for before her bowed humbly all the authority, +science, and wisdom of Christianity. The major domo did not know him, +and was going to bundle him out again, when one of the chamber-women +called him from the top of the stairs--“Eh, M. Imbert, it is Madame’s +young fellow,” and poor Philippe, blushing like a wedding night, ran +up the stairs, shaking with happiness and delight. The servant took +him by the hand and led into the chamber where sat Madame, lightly +attired like a brave woman who awaits her conqueror. + +The dazzling Imperia was seated near a table covered with a shaggy +cloth ornamented with gold, and with all the requisites for a dainty +carouse. Flagons of wine, various drinking glasses, bottles of the +hippocras, flasks full of good wine of Cyprus, pretty boxes full of +spices, roast peacocks, green sauces, little salt hams--all that would +gladden the eyes of the gallant if he had not so madly loved Madame +Imperia. + +She saw well that the eyes of the young priest were all for her. +Although accustomed to the curl-paper devotion of the churchmen, she +was well satisfied that she had made a conquest of the young priest +who all day long had been in her head. + +The windows had been closed; Madame was decked out in a manner fit to +do honours to a prince of the Empire. Then the rogue, beatified by the +holy beauty of Imperia, knew that Emperor, burgraf, nay, even a +cardinal about to be elected pope, would willingly for that night have +changed places with him, a little priest who, beneath his gown, had +only the devil and love. + +He put on a lordly air, and saluted her with a courtesy by no means +ungraceful; and then the sweet lady said to him, regaling with a +piercing glance-- + +“Come and sit close to me, that I may see if you have altered since +yesterday.” + +“Oh yes,” said he. + +“And how?” said she. + +“Yesterday,” replied the artful fellow, “I loved you; today, we love +each other, and from a poor sinner I have become richer than a king.” + +“Oh, little one, little one!” cried she, merrily; “yes, you are indeed +changed, for from a young priest I see well you have turned into an +old devil.” + +And side by side they sat down before a large fire, which helped to +spread their ecstasy around. They remained always ready to begin +eating, seeing that they only thought of gazing into each other’s +eyes, and never touched a dish. Just as they were beginning to feel +comfortable and at their ease, there came a great noise at Madame’s +door, as if people were beating against it, and crying out. + +“Madame,” cried the little servant hastily, “here’s another of them.” + +“Who is it?” cried she in a haughty manner, like a tyrant, savage at +being interrupted. + +“The Bishop of Coire wishes to speak with you.” + +“May the devil take him!” said she, looking at Philippe gently. + +“Madame he has seen the light through the chinks, and is making a +great noise.” + +“Tell him I have the fever, and you will be telling him no lie, for I +am ill of this little priest who is torturing my brain.” + +But just as she had finished speaking, and was pressing with devotion +the hand of Philippe who trembled in his skin, appeared the fat Bishop +of Coire, indignant and angry. The officers followed him, bearing a +trout canonically dressed, fresh from the Rhine, and shining in a +golden platter, and spices contained in little ornamental boxes, and a +thousand dainties, such as liqueurs and jams, made by the holy nuns at +his Abbey. + +“Ah, ah!” said he, with his deep voice, “I haven’t time to go to the +devil, but you must give me a touch of him in advance, eh! my little +one.” + +“Your belly will one day make a nice sheath for a sword,” replied she, +knitting her brows above her eyes, which from being soft and gentle +had become mischievous enough to make one tremble. + +“And this little chorus singer is here to offer that?” said the +bishop, insolently turning his great rubicund face towards Philippe. + +“Monseigneur, I’m here to confess Madame.” + +“Oh, oh, do you not know the canons? To confess the ladies at this +time of night is a right reserved to bishops, so take yourself off; go +and herd with simple monks, and never come back here again under pain +of excommunication.” + +“Do not move,” cried the blushing Imperia, more lovely with passion +than she was with love, because now she was possessed both with +passion and love. “Stop, my friend. Here you are in your own house.” + Then he knew that he was really loved by her. + +“It is it not in the breviary, and an evangelical regulation, that you +should be equal with God in the valley of Jehoshaphat?” asked she of +the bishop. + +“‘Tis is an invention of the devil, who has adulterated the holy +book,” replied the great numskull of a bishop in a hurry to fall to. + +“Well then, be equal now before me, who am here below your goddess,” + replied Imperia, “otherwise one of these days I will have you +delicately strangled between the head and shoulders; I swear it by the +power of my tonsure which is as good as the pope’s.” And wishing that +the trout should be added to the feast as well as the sweets and other +dainties, she added, cunningly, “Sit you down and drink with us.” But +the artful minx, being up to a trick or two, gave the little one a +wink which told him plainly not to mind the German, whom she would +soon find a means to be rid of. + +The servant-maid seated the Bishop at the table, and tucked him up, +while Philippe, wild with rage that closed his mouth, because he saw +his plans ending in smoke, gave the archbishop to more devils than +ever were monks alive. Thus they got halfway through the repast, which +the young priest had not yet touched, hungering only for Imperia, near +whom he was already seated, but speaking that sweet language which the +ladies so well understand, that has neither stops, commas, accents, +letters, figures, characters, notes, nor images. The fat bishop, +sensual and careful enough of the sleek, ecclesiastical garment of +skin for which he was indebted to his late mother, allowed himself to +be plentifully served with hippocras by the delicate hand of Madame, +and it was just at his first hiccough that the sound of an approaching +cavalcade was heard in the street. The number of horses, the “Ho, ho!” + of the pages, showed plainly that some great prince hot with love, was +about to arrive. In fact, a moment afterwards the Cardinal of Ragusa, +against whom the servants of Imperia had not dared to bar the door, +entered the room. At this terrible sight the poor courtesan and her +young lover became ashamed and embarrassed, like fresh cured lepers; +for it would be tempting the devil to try and oust the cardinal, the +more so as at that time it was not known who would be pope, three +aspirants having resigned their hoods for the benefit of Christianity. +The cardinal, who was a cunning Italian, long bearded, a great +sophist, and the life and soul of the Council, guessed, by the +feeblest exercise of the faculties of his understanding, the alpha and +omega of the adventure. He only had to weigh in his mind one little +thought before he knew how to proceed in order to be able to +hypothecate his manly vigour. He arrived with the appetite of a hungry +monk, and to obtain its satisfaction he was just the man to stab two +monks and sell his bit of the true cross, which were wrong. + +“Hulloa! friend,” said he to Philippe, calling him towards him. The +poor Tourainian, more dead than alive, and expecting the devil was +about to interfere seriously with his arrangements, rose and said, +“What is it?” to the redoubtable cardinal. + +He taking him by the arm led him to the staircase, looked him in the +white of the eye and said without any nonsense--“Ventredieu! You are a +nice little fellow, and I should not like to have to let your master +know the weight of your carcass. My revenge might cause me certain +pious expenses in my old age, so choose to espouse an abbey for the +remainder of your days, or to marry Madame to-night and die tomorrow.” + +The poor little Tourainian in despair murmured, “May I come back when +your passion is over?” + +The cardinal could scarcely keep his countenance, but he said sternly, +“Choose the gallows or a mitre.” + +“Ah!” said the priest, maliciously; “a good fat abbey.” + +Thereupon the cardinal went back into the room, opened an escritoire, +and scribbled upon a piece of parchment an order to the envoy of +France. + +“Monseigneur,” said the Tourainian to him while he was spelling out +the order, “you will not get rid of the Bishop of Coire so easily as +you have got rid of me, for he has as many abbeys as the soldiers have +drinking shops in the town; besides, he is in the favour of his lord. +Now I fancy to show you my gratitude for this so fine Abbey I owe you +good piece of advice. You know how fatal has been and how rapidly +spread this terrible pestilence which has cruelly harassed Paris. Tell +him that you have just left the bedside of your old friend the +Archbishop of Bordeaux; thus you will make him scutter away like straw +before a whirl-wind. + +“Oh, oh!” cried the cardinal, “thou meritest more than an abbey. Ah, +Ventredieu! my young friend, here are 100 golden crowns for thy +journey to the Abbey of Turpenay, which I won yesterday at cards, and +of which I make you a free gift.” + +Hearing these words, and seeing Philippe de Mala disappear without +giving her the amorous glances she expected, the beautiful Imperia, +puffing like a dolphin, denounced all the cowardice of the priest. She +was not then a sufficiently good Catholic to pardon her lover +deceiving her, by not knowing how to die for her pleasure. Thus the +death of Philippe was foreshadowed in the viper’s glance she cast at +him to insult him, which glance pleased the cardinal much, for the +wily Italian saw he would soon get his abbey back again. The +Touranian, heeding not the brewing storm avoided it by walking out +silently with his ears down, like a wet dog being kicked out of a +Church. Madame drew a sigh from her heart. She must have had her own +ideas of humanity for the little value she held in it. The fire which +possessed her had mounted to her head, and scintillated in rays about +her, and there was good reason for it, for this was the first time +that she had been humbugged by priest. Then the cardinal smiled, +believing it was all to his advantage: was not he a cunning fellow? +Yes, he was the possessor of a red hat. + +“Ah, ah! my friend,” said he to the Bishop, “I congratulate myself on +being in your company, and I am glad to have been able to get rid of +that little wretch unworthy of Madame, the more so as if you had gone +near him, my lovely and amiable creature, you would have perished +miserably through the deed of a simple priest.” + +“Ah! How?” + +“He is the secretary of the Archbishop of Bordeaux. The good man was +seized this morning with the pestilence.” + +The bishop opened his mouth wide enough to swallow a Dutch cheese. + +“How do you know that?” asked he. + +“Ah!” said the cardinal, taking the good German’s hand, “I have just +administered to him, and consoled him; at this moment the holy man has +a fair wind to waft him to paradise.” + +The Bishop of Coire demonstrated immediately how light fat man are; +for when men are big-bellied, a merciful providence, in the +consideration of their works, often makes their internal tubes as +elastic as balloons. The aforesaid bishop sprang backwards with one +bound, burst into a perspiration and coughed like a cow who finds +feathers mixed with her hay. Then becoming suddenly pale, he rushed +down the stairs without even bidding Madame adieu. When the door had +closed upon the bishop, and he was fairly in the street, the Cardinal +of Ragusa began laughing fit to split his sides. + +“Ah! my fair one, am I not worthy to be Pope, and better than that, +thy lover this evening?” + +But seeing Imperia thoughtful he approached her to take her in his +arms, and pet her after the usual fashion of cardinals, men who +embrace better than all others, even the soldiers, because they are +lazy, and do not spare their essential properties. + +“Ha!” said she, drawing back, “you wish to cause my death, you +ecclesiastical idiot. The principal thing for you is to enjoy +yourself; my sweet carcass, a thing accessory. Your pleasure will be +my death, and then you’ll canonise me perhaps? Ah, you have the +plague, and you would give it to me. Go somewhere else, you brainless +priest. Ah! touch me not,” said she, seeing him about to advance, “or +I will stab you with this dagger.” + +And the clever hussy drew from her armoire a little dagger, which she +knew how to use with great skill when necessary. + +“But my little paradise, my sweet one,” said the other, laughing, +“don’t you see the trick? Wasn’t it necessary to be get rid of that +old bullock of Coire?” + +“Well then, if you love me, show it” replied she. “I desire that you +leave me instantly. If you are touched with the disease my death will +not worry you. I know you well enough to know at what price you will +put a moment of pleasure at your last hour. You would drown the earth. +Ah, ah! you have boasted of it when drunk. I love only myself, my +treasures, and my health. Go, and if tomorrow your veins are not +frozen by the disease, you can come again. Today, I hate you, good +cardinal,” said she, smiling. + +“Imperia!” cried the cardinal on his knees, “my blessed Imperia, do +not play with me thus.” + +“No,” said she, “I never play with blessed and sacred things.” + +“Ah! ribald woman, I will excommunicate thee tomorrow.” + +“And now you are out of your cardinal sense.” + +“Imperia, cursed daughter of Satan! Oh, my little beauty--my love--!” + +“Respect yourself more. Don’t kneel to me, fie for shame!” + +“Wilt thou have a dispensation in articulo mortis? Wilt thou have my +fortune--or better still, a bit of the veritable true Cross?--Wilt +thou?” + +“This evening, all the wealth of heaven above and earth beneath would +not buy my heart,” said she, laughing. “I should be the blackest of +sinners, unworthy to receive the Blessed Sacrament if I had not my +little caprices.” + +“I’ll burn the house down. Sorceress, you have bewitched me. You shall +perish at the stake. Listen to me, my love,--my gentle Dove--I promise +you the best place in heaven. Eh? No. Death to you then--death to the +sorceress.” + +“Oh, oh! I will kill you, Monseigneur.” + +And the cardinal foamed with rage. + +“You are making a fool of yourself,” said she. “Go away, you’ll tire +yourself.” + +“I shall be pope, and you shall pay for this!” + +“Then you are no longer disposed to obey me?” + +“What can I do this evening to please you?” + +“Get out.” + +And she sprang lightly like a wagtail into her room, and locked +herself in, leaving the cardinal to storm that he was obliged to go. +When the fair Imperia found herself alone, seated before the fire, and +without her little priest, she exclaimed, snapping angrily the gold +links of her chain, “By the double triple horn on the devil, if the +little one has made me have this row with the Cardinal, and exposed me +to the danger of being poisoned tomorrow, unless I pay him over to my +heart’s content, I will not die till I have seen him burned alive +before my eyes. Ah!” said she, weeping, this time real tears, “I lead +a most unhappy life, and the little pleasure I have costs me the life +of a dog, let alone my salvation.” + +As she finished this jeremiad, wailing like a calf that is being +slaughtered, she beheld the blushing face of the young priest, who had +hidden himself, peeping at her from behind her large Venetian mirror. + +“Ah!” said she, “Thou art the most perfect monk that ever dwelt in +this blessed and amorous town of Constance. Ah, ah! Come my gentle +cavalier, my dear boy, my little charm, my paradise of delectation, +let me drink thine eyes, eat thee, kill thee with my love. Oh! my +ever-flourishing, ever-green, sempiternal god; from a little monk I +would make a king, emperor, pope, and happier than either. There, thou +canst put anything to fire and sword, I am thine, and thou shalt see +it well; for thou shalt be all a cardinal, even when to redden thy +hood I shed all my heart’s blood.” And with her trembling hands all +joyously she filled with Greek wine the golden cup, brought by the +Bishop of Coire, and presented it to her sweetheart, whom she served +upon her knee, she whose slipper princes found more to their taste +than that of the pope. + +But he gazed at her in silence, with his eye so lustrous with love, +that she said to him, trembling with joy “Ah! be quiet, little one. +Let us have supper.” + + + + THE VENIAL SIN + + +HOW THE GOOD MAN BRUYN TOOK A WIFE. + +Messire Bruyn, he who completed the Castle of Roche-Corbon-les-Vouvray, +on the banks of the Loire, was a boisterous fellow in his +youth. When quite little, he squeezed young ladies, turned the house +out of windows, and played the devil with everything, when he was +called upon to put his Sire the Baron of Roche-Corbon some few feet +under the turf. Then he was his own master, free to lead a life of +wild dissipation, and indeed he worked very hard to get a surfeit of +enjoyment. Now by making his crowns sweat and his goods scarce, +draining his land, and a bleeding his hogsheads, and regaling frail +beauties, he found himself excommunicated from decent society, and had +for his friends only the plunderers of towns and the Lombardians. But +the usurers turned rough and bitter as chestnut husks, when he had no +other security to give them than his said estate of Roche-Corbon, +since the Rupes Carbonis was held from our Lord the king. Then Bruyn +found himself just in the humour to give a blow here and there, to +break a collar-bone or two, and quarrel with everyone about trifles. +Seeing which, the Abbot of Marmoustiers, his neighbour, and a man +liberal with his advice, told him that it was an evident sign of +lordly perfection, that he was walking in the right road, but if he +would go and slaughter, to the great glory of God, the Mahommedans who +defiled the Holy Land, it would be better still, and that he would +undoubtedly return full of wealth and indulgences into Touraine, or +into Paradise, whence all barons formerly came. + +The said Bruyn, admiring the great sense of the prelate, left the +country equipped by the monastery, and blessed by the abbot, to the +great delight of his friends and neighbours. Then he put to the sack +enough many towns of Asia and Africa, and fell upon the infidels +without giving them warning, burning the Saracens, the Greeks, the +English, and others, caring little whether they were friends or +enemies, or where they came from, since among his merits he had that +of being in no way curious, and he never questioned them until after +he had killed them. At this business, agreeable to God, to the King +and to himself, Bruyn gained renown as a good Christian and loyal +knight, and enjoyed himself thoroughly in these lands beyond the seas, +since he more willingly gave a crown to the girls than to the poor, +although he met many more poor people than perfect maids; but like a +good Touranian he made soup of anything. At length, when he was +satiated with the Turks, relics, and other blessings of the Holy Land, +Bruyn, to the great astonishment of the people of Vouvrillons, +returned from the Crusades laden with crowns and precious stones; +rather differently from some who, rich when they set out, came back +heavy with leprosy, but light with gold. On his return from Tunis, our +Lord, King Philippe, made him a Count, and appointed him his seneschal +in our country and that of Poitou. There he was greatly beloved and +properly thought well of, since over and above his good qualities he +founded the Church of the Carmes-Deschaulx, in the parish of +Egrignolles, as the peace-offering to Heaven for the follies of his +youth. Thus was he cardinally consigned to the good graces of the +Church and of God. From a wicked youth and reckless man, he became a +good, wise man, and discreet in his dissipations and pleasures; rarely +was in anger, unless someone blasphemed God before him, the which he +would not tolerate because he had blasphemed enough for every one in +his wild youth. In short, he never quarrelled, because, being +seneschal, people gave up to him instantly. It is true that he at that +time beheld all his desires accomplished, the which would render even +an imp of Satan calm and tranquil from his horns to his heels. And +besides this he possessed a castle all jagged at the corners, and +shaped and pointed like a Spanish doublet, situated upon a bank from +which it was reflected in the Loire. In the rooms were royal +tapestries, furniture, Saracen pomps, vanities, and inventions which +were much admired by people of Tours, and even by the archbishop and +clerks of St. Martin, to whom he sent as a free gift a banner fringed +with fine gold. In the neighbourhood of the said castle abounded fair +domains, wind-mills, and forests, yielding a harvest of rents of all +kinds, so that he was one of the strongest knights-banneret of the +province, and could easily have led to battle for our lord the king a +thousand men. In his old days, if by chance his bailiff, a diligent +man at hanging, brought before him a poor peasant suspected of some +offence, he would say, smiling-- + +“Let this one go, Brediff, he will count against those I +inconsiderately slaughtered across the seas”; oftentimes, however, he +would let them bravely hang on a chestnut tree or swing on his +gallows, but this was solely that justice might be done, and that the +custom should not lapse in his domain. Thus the people on his lands +were good and orderly, like fresh veiled nuns, and peaceful since he +protected them from the robbers and vagabonds whom he never spared, +knowing by experience how much mischief is caused by these cursed +beasts of prey. For the rest, most devout, finishing everything +quickly, his prayers as well as good wine, he managed the processes +after the Turkish fashion, having a thousand little jokes ready for +the losers, and dining with them to console them. He had all the +people who had been hanged buried in consecrated ground like godly +ones, some people thinking they had been sufficiently punished by +having their breath stopped. He only persecuted the Jews now and then, +and when they were glutted with usury and wealth. He let them gather +their spoil as the bees do honey, saying that they were the best of +tax-gatherers. And never did he despoil them save for the profit and +use of the churchmen, the king, the province, or himself. + +This jovial way gained for him the affection and esteem of every one, +great and small. If he came back smiling from his judicial throne, the +Abbot of Marmoustiers, an old man like himself, would say, “Ho, ha! +messire, there is some hanging on since you laugh thus!” And when +coming from Roche-Corbon to Tours he passed on horseback along the +Fauborg St. Symphorien, the little girls would say, “Ah! this is the +justice day, there is the good man Bruyn,” and without being afraid +they would look at him astride on a big white hack, that he had +brought back with him from the Levant. On the bridge the little boys +would stop playing with the ball, and would call out, “Good day, Mr. +Seneschal” and he would reply, jokingly, “Enjoy yourselves, my +children, until you get whipped.” “Yes, Mr. Seneschal.” + +Also he made the country so contented and so free from robbers that +during the year of the great over-flowing of the Loire there were only +twenty-two malefactors hanged that winter, not counting a Jew burned +in the Commune of Chateau-Neuf for having stolen a consecrated wafer, +or bought it, some said, for he was very rich. + +One day, in the following year about harvest time, or mowing time, as +we say in Touraine, there came Egyptians, Bohemians, and other +wandering troupes who stole the holy things from the Church of St. +Martin, and in the place and exact situation of Madam the Virgin, left +by way of insult and mockery to our Holy Faith, an abandoned pretty +little girl, about the age of an old dog, stark naked, an acrobat, and +of Moorish descent like themselves. For this almost nameless crime it +was equally decided by the king, people, and the churchmen that the +Mooress, to pay for all, should be burned and cooked alive in the +square near the fountain where the herb market is. Then the good man +Bruyn clearly and dextrously demonstrated to the others that it would +be a thing most profitable and pleasant to God to gain over this +African soul to the true religion, and if the devil were lodged in +this feminine body the faggots would be useless to burn him, as said +the said order. To which the archbishop sagely thought most canonical +and conformable to Christian charity and the gospel. The ladies of the +town and other persons of authority said loudly that they were cheated +of a fine ceremony, since the Mooress was crying her eyes out in the +jail and would certainly be converted to God in order to live as long +as a crow, if she were allowed to do so, to which the seneschal +replied that if the foreigner would wholly commit herself to the +Christian religion there would be a gallant ceremony of another kind, +and that he would undertake that it should be royally magnificent, +because he would be her sponsor at the baptismal font, and that a +virgin should be his partner in the affair in order the better to +please the Almighty, while himself was reputed never to have lost the +bloom or innocence, in fact to be a coquebin. In our country of +Touraine thus are called the young virgin men, unmarried or so +esteemed to distinguish them from the husbands and the widowers, but +the girls always pick them without the name, because they are more +light-hearted and merry than those seasoned in marriage. + +The young Mooress did not hesitate between the flaming faggots and the +baptismal water. She much preferred to be a Christian and live than be +Egyptian and be burned; thus to escape a moment’s baking, her heart +would burn unquenched through all her life, since for the greater +surety of her religion she was placed in the convent of nuns near +Chardonneret, where she took the vow of sanctity. The said ceremony +was concluded at the residence of the archbishop, where on this +occasion, in honour of the Saviour or men, the lords and ladies of +Touraine hopped, skipped and danced, for in this country the people +dance, skip, eat, flirt, have more feasts and make merrier than any in +the whole world. The good old seneschal had taken for his associate +the daughter of the lord of Azay-le-Ridel, which afterwards became +Azay-le-Brusle, the which lord being a Crusader was left before Acre, +a far distant town, in the hands of a Saracen who demanded a royal +ransom for him because the said lord was of high position. + +The lady of Azay having given his estate as security to the Lombards +and extortioners in order to raise the sum, remained, without a penny +in the world, awaiting her lord in a poor lodging in the town, +without a carpet to sit upon, but proud as the Queen of Sheba and +brave as a mastiff who defends the property of his master. Seeing this +great distress the seneschal went delicately to request this lady’s +daughter to be the godmother of the said Egyptian, in order that he +might have the right of assisting the Lady of Azay. And, in fact, he +kept a heavy chain of gold which he had preserved since the +commencement of the taking of Cyprus, and the which he determined to +clasp about the neck of his pretty associate, but he hung there at the +same time his domain, and his white hairs, his money and his horses; +in short, he placed there everything he possessed, directly he had +seen Blanche of Azay dancing a pavan among the ladies of Tours. +Although the Moorish girl, making the most of her last day, had +astonished the assembly by her twists, jumps, steps, springs, and +elevations and artistic efforts, Blanche had the advantage of her, as +everyone agreed, so virginally and delicately did she dance. + +Now Bruyn, admiring this gentle maiden whose toes seemed to fear the +boards, and who amused herself so innocently for her seventeen years +--like a grasshopper trying her first note--was seized with an old +man’s desire; a desire apoplectic and vigorous from weakness, which +heated him from the sole of foot to the nape of his neck--for his head +had too much snow on the top of it to let love lodge there. Then the +good man perceived that he needed a wife in his manor, and it appeared +more lonely to him than it was. And what then was a castle without a +chatelaine? As well have a clapper without its bell. In short, a wife +was the only thing that he had to desire, so he wished to have one +promptly, seeing that if the Lady of Azay made him wait, he had just +time to pass out of this world into the other. But during the +baptismal entertainment, he thought little of his severe wounds, and +still less of the eighty years that had stripped his head; he found +his eyes clear enough to see distinctly his young companion, who, +following the injunctions of the Lady of Azay, regaled him well with +glance and gesture, believing there could be no danger near so old a +fellow, in such wise that Blanche--naive and nice as she was in +contradistinction to the girls of Touraine, who are as wide-awake as a +spring morning--permitted the good man first to kiss her hand, and +afterwards her neck, rather low-down; at least so said the archbishop +who married them the week after; and that was a beautiful bridal, and +a still more beautiful bride. + +The said Blanche was slender and graceful as no other girl, and still +better than that, more maidenly than ever maiden was; a maiden all +ignorant of love, who knew not why or what it was; a maiden who +wondered why certain people lingered in their beds; a maiden who +believed that children were found in parsley beds. Her mother had thus +reared her in innocence, without even allowing her to consider, trifle +as it was, how she sucked in her soup between her teeth. Thus she was +a sweet flower, and intact, joyous and innocent; an angel, who needed +but the wings to fly away to Paradise. When she left the poor lodging +of her weeping mother to consummate her betrothal at the cathedral of +St. Gatien and St. Maurice, the country people came to a feast their +eyes upon the bride, and on the carpets which were laid down all along +the Rue de la Scellerie, and all said that never had tinier feet +pressed the ground of Touraine, prettier eyes gazed up to heaven, or a +more splendid festival adorned the streets with carpets and with +flowers. The young girls of St. Martin and of the boroughs of +Chateau-Neuf, all envied the long brown tresses with which doubtless +Blanche had fished for a count, but much more did they desire the gold +embroidered dress, the foreign stones, the white diamonds, and the +chains with which the little darling played, and which bound her for +ever to the said seneschal. The old soldier was so merry by her side, +that his happiness showed itself in his wrinkles, his looks, and his +movements. Although he was hardly as straight as a billhook, he held +himself so by the side of Blanche, that one would have taken him for a +soldier on parade receiving his officer, and he placed his hand on his +diaphragm like a man whose pleasure stifles and troubles him. +Delighted with the sound of the swinging bells, the procession, the +pomps, and the vanities of the said marriage, which was talked of long +after the episcopal rejoicings, the women desired a harvest of Moorish +girls, a deluge of old seneschals, and baskets full of Egyptian +baptisms. But this was the only one that ever happened in Touraine, +seeing that the country is far from Egypt and from Bohemia. The Lady +of Azay received a large sum of money after the ceremony, which +enabled her to start immediately for Acre to go to her spouse, +accompanied by the lieutenant and soldiers of the Count of +Roche-Corbon, who furnished them with everything necessary. She set out +on the day of the wedding, after having placed her daughter in the hands +of the seneschal, enjoining him to treat her well; and later on she +returned with the Sire d’Azay, who was leprous, and she cured him, +tending him herself, running the risk of being contaminated, the which +was greatly admired. + +The marriage ceremony finished and at an end--for it lasted three +days, to the great contentment of the people--Messire Bruyn with great +pomp led the little one to his castle, and, according to the custom of +husbands, had her put solemnly to bed in his couch, which was blessed +by the Abbot of Marmoustiers; then came and placed himself beside her +in the great feudal chamber of Roche-Corbon, which had been hung with +green blockade and ribbon of golden wire. When old Bruyn, perfumed all +over, found himself side by side with his pretty wife, he kissed her +first upon the forehead, and then upon the little round, white breast, +on the same spot where she had allowed him to clasp the fastenings of +the chain, but that was all. The old fellow had too great confidence +in himself in fancying himself able to accomplish more; so then he +abstained from love in spite of the merry nuptial songs, the +epithalamiums and jokes which were going on in the rooms beneath where +the dancing was still kept up. He refreshed himself with a drink of +the marriage beverage, which according to custom, had been blessed and +placed near them in a golden cup. The spices warned his stomach well +enough, but not the heart of his dead ardour. Blanche was not at all +astonished at the demeanour of her spouse, because she was a virgin in +mind, and in marriage she saw only that which is visible to the eyes +of young girls--namely dresses, banquets, horses, to be a lady and +mistress, to have a country seat, to amuse oneself and give orders; +so, like the child that she was, she played with the gold tassels on +the bed, and marvelled at the richness of the shrine in which her +innocence should be interred. Feeling, a little later in the day, his +culpability, and relying on the future, which, however, would spoil a +little every day that with which he pretended to regale his wife, the +seneschal tried to substitute the word for the deed. So he entertained +his wife in various ways, promised her the keys of his sideboards, his +granaries and chests, the perfect government of his houses and domains +without any control, hanging round her neck “the other half of the +loaf,” which is the popular saying in Touraine. She became like a +young charger full of hay, found her good man the most gallant fellow +in the world, and raising herself upon her pillow began to smile, and +beheld with greater joy this beautiful green brocaded bed, where +henceforward she would be permitted, without any sin, to sleep every +night. Seeing she was getting playful, the cunning lord, who had not +been used to maidens, but knew from experience the little tricks that +women will practice, seeing that he had much associated with ladies of +the town, feared those handy tricks, little kisses, and minor +amusements of love which formerly he did not object to, but which at +the present time would have found him cold as the obit of a pope. Then +he drew back towards the end of the bed, afraid of his happiness, and +said to his too delectable spouse, “Well, darling, you are a +seneschal’s wife now, and very well seneschaled as well.” + +“Oh no!” said she. + +“How no!” replied he in great fear; “are you not a wife?” + +“No!” said she. “Nor shall I be till I have had a child.” + +“Did you while coming here see the meadows?” began again the old +fellow. + +“Yes,” said she. + +“Well, they are yours.” + +“Oh! Oh!” replied she laughing, “I shall amuse myself much there +catching butterflies.” + +“That’s a good girl,” says her lord. “And the woods?” + +“Ah! I should not like to be there alone, you will take me there. +But,” said she, “give me a little of that liquor which La Ponneuse has +taken such pains to prepare for us.” + +“And why, my darling? It would put fire in your body.” + +“Oh! That’s what I should like,” said she, biting her lip with +vexation, “because I desire to give you a child as soon as possible; +and I’m sure that liquor is good for the purpose.” + +“Ah! my little one,” said the seneschal, knowing by this that Blanche +was a virgin from head to foot, “the goodwill of God is necessary for +this business, and women must be in a state of harvest.” + +“And when should I be in a state of harvest?” asked she, smiling. + +“When nature so wills it,” said he, trying to laugh. + +“What is it necessary to do for this?” replied she. + +“Ah! A cabalistical and alchemical operation which is very dangerous.” + +“Ah!” said she, with a dreamy look, “that’s the reason why my mother +cried when thinking of the said metamorphosis; but Bertha de Breuilly, +who is so thankful for being made a wife, told me it was the easiest +thing in the world.” + +“That’s according to the age,” replied the old lord. “But did you see +at the stable the beautiful white mare so much spoken of in Touraine?” + +“Yes, she is very gentle and nice.” + +“Well, I give her to you, and you can ride her as often as the fancy +takes you.” + +“Oh, you are very kind, and they did not lie when they told me so.” + +“Here,” continued he, “sweetheart; the butler, the chaplain, the +treasurer, the equerry, the farrier, the bailiff, even the Sire de +Montsoreau, the young varlet whose name is Gauttier and bears my +banner, with his men at arms, captains, followers, and beasts--all are +yours, and will instantly obey your orders under pain of being +incommoded with a hempen collar.” + +“But,” replied she, “this mysterious operation--cannot it be performed +immediately?” + +“Oh no!” replied the seneschal. “Because it is necessary above all +things that both the one and the other of us should be in a state of +grace before God; otherwise we should have a bad child, full of sin; +which is forbidden by the canons of the church. This is the reason +that there are so many incorrigible scapegraces in the world. Their +parents have not wisely waited to have their souls pure, and have +given wicked souls to their children. The beautiful and the virtuous +come of immaculate fathers; that is why we cause our beds to be +blessed, as the Abbot of Marmoustiers has done this one. Have you not +transgressed the ordinances of the Church?” + +“Oh no,” said she, quickly, “I received before Mass absolution for all +my faults and have remained since without committing the slightest +sin.” + +“You are very perfect,” said the cunning lord, “and I am delighted to +have you for a wife; but I have sworn like an infidel.” + +“Oh! and why?” + +“Because the dancing did not finish, and I could not have you to +myself to bring you here and kiss you.” + +Thereupon he gallantly took her hands and covered them with kisses, +whispering to her little endearments and superficial words of +affection which made her quite pleased and contented. + +Then, fatigued with the dance and all the ceremonies, she settled down +to her slumbers, saying to the seneschal-- + +“I will take care tomorrow that you shall not sin,” and she left the +old man quite smitten with her white beauty, amorous of her delicate +nature, and as embarrassed to know how he should be able to keep her +in her innocence as to explain why oxen chew their food twice over. +Although he did not augur to himself any good therefrom, it inflamed +him so much to see the exquisite perfections of Blanche during her +innocent and gentle sleep, that he resolved to preserve and defend +this pretty jewel of love. With tears in his eyes he kissed her sweet +golden tresses, the beautiful eyelids, and her ripe red mouth, and he +did it softly for fear of waking her. There was all his fruition, the +dumb delight which still inflamed his heart without in the least +affecting Blanche. Then he deplored the snows of his leafless old age, +the poor old man, that he saw clearly that God had amused himself by +giving him nuts when his teeth were gone. + + +HOW THE SENESCHAL STRUGGLED WITH HIS WIFE’S MODESTY. + +During the first days of his marriage the seneschal imprinted many +fibs to tell his wife, whose so estimable innocence he abused. +Firstly, he found in his judicial functions good excuses for leaving +her at times alone; then he occupied himself with the peasants of the +neighbourhood, and took them to dress the vines on his lands at +Vouvray, and at length pampered her up with a thousand absurd tales. + +At one time he would say that lords did not behave like common people, +that the children were only planted at certain celestial conjunctions +ascertained by learned astrologers; at another that one should abstain +from begetting children on feast days, because it was a great +undertaking; and he observed the feasts like a man who wished to enter +into Paradise without consent. Sometimes he would pretend that if by +chance the parents were not in a state of grace, the children +commenced on the date of St. Claire would be blind, of St. Gatien had +the gout, of St. Agnes were scaldheaded, of St. Roch had the plague; +sometimes that those begotten in February were chilly; in March, too +turbulent; in April, were worth nothing at all; and that handsome boys +were conceived in May. In short, he wished his child to be perfect, to +have his hair of two colours; and for this it was necessary that all +the required conditions should be observed. At other times he would +say to Blanche that the right of a man was to bestow a child upon his +wife according to his sole and unique will, and that if she pretended +to be a virtuous woman she should conform to the wishes of her +husband; in fact it was necessary to await the return of the Lady of +Azay in order that she should assist at the confinement; from all of +which Blanche concluded that the seneschal was annoyed by her +requests, and was perhaps right, since he was old and full of +experience; so she submitted herself and thought no more, except to +herself, of this so much-desired child, that is to say, she was always +thinking of it, like a woman who has a desire in her head, without +suspecting that she was behaving like a gay lady or a town-walker +running after her enjoyment. One evening, by accident, Bruyn spoke of +children, a discourse that he avoided as cats avoid water, but he was +complaining of a boy condemned by him that morning for great misdeeds, +saying for certain he was the offspring of people laden with mortal +sins. + +“Alas!” said Blanche, “if you will give me one, although you have not +got absolution, I will correct so well that you will be pleased with +him.” + +Then the count saw that his wife was bitten by a warm desire, and that +it was time to dissipate her innocence in order to make himself master +of it, to conquer it, to beat it, or to appease and extinguish it. + +“What, my dear, you wish to be a mother?” said he; “you do not yet +know the business of a wife, you are not accustomed to being mistress +of the house.” + +“Oh! Oh!” said she, “to be a perfect countess, and have in my loins a +little count, must I play the great lady? I will do it, and +thoroughly.” + +Then Blanche, in order to obtain issue, began to hunt the fawns and +stags, leaping the ditches, galloping upon her mare over valleys and +mountain, through the woods and the fields, taking great delight in +watching the falcons fly, in unhooding them and while hunting always +carried them gracefully upon her little wrist, which was what the +seneschal had desired. But in this pursuit, Blanche gained an appetite +of nun and prelate, that is to say, wished to procreate, had her +desires whetted, and could scarcely restrain her hunger, when on her +return she gave play to her teeth. Now by reason of reading the +legends written by the way, and of separating by death the embraces of +birds and wild beasts, she discovered a mystery of natural alchemy, +while colouring her complexion, and superagitating her feeble +imagination, which did little to pacify her warlike nature, and +strongly tickled her desire which laughed, played, and frisked +unmistakably. The seneschal thought to disarm the rebellious virtue of +his wife by making her scour the country; but his fraud turned out +badly, for the unknown lust that circulated in the veins of Blanche +emerged from these assaults more hardy than before, inviting jousts +and tourneys as the herald the armed knight. + +The good lord saw then that he had grossly erred and that he was now +upon the horns of a dilemma; also he no longer knew what course to +adopt; the longer he left it the more it would resist. From this +combat, there must result one conquered and one contused--a diabolical +contusion which he wished to keep distant from his physiognomy by +God’s help until after his death. The poor seneschal had already great +trouble to follow his lady to the chase, without being dismounted; he +sweated under the weight of his trappings, and almost expired in that +pursuit wherein his frisky wife cheered her life and took great +pleasure. Many times in the evening she wished to dance. Now the good +man, swathed in his heavy clothing, found himself quite worn out with +these exercises, in which he was constrained to participate either in +giving her his hand, when she performed the vaults of the Moorish +girl, or in holding the lighted fagot for her, when she had a fancy to +do the torchlight dance; and in spite of his sciaticas, accretions, +and rheumatisms, he was obliged to smile and say to her some gentle +words and gallantries after all the evolutions, mummeries, and comic +pantomimes, which she indulged in to divert herself; for he loved her +so madly that if she had asked him for an impossibility he would have +sought one for her immediately. + +Nevertheless, one fine day he recognised the fact that his frame was +in a state of too great debility to struggle with the vigorous nature +of his wife, and humiliating himself before his wife’s virtue he +resolved to let things take their course, relying a little upon the +modesty, religion, and bashfulness of Blanche, but he always slept +with one eye open, for he suspected that God had perhaps made +virginities to be taken like partridges, to be spitted and roasted. +One wet morning, when the weather was that in which the snails make +their tracks, a melancholy time, and suitable to reverie, Blanche was +in the house sitting in her chair in deep thought, because nothing +produces more lively concoctions of the substantive essences, and no +receipt, specific or philter is more penetrating, transpiercing or +doubly transpiercing and titillating than the subtle warmth which +simmers between the nap of the chair and a maiden sitting during +certain weather. + +Now without knowing it the Countess was incommoded by her innocence, +which gave more trouble than it was worth to her brain, and gnawed her +all over. Then the good man, seriously grieved to see her languishing, +wished to drive away the thoughts which were ultra-conjugal principles +of love. + +“Whence comes your sadness, sweetheart?” said he. + +“From shame.” + +“What then affronts you?” + +“The not being a good woman; because I am without a child, and you +without lineage! Is one a lady without progeny? Nay! Look! . . . All +my neighbours have it, and I was married to have it, as you to give it +to me; the nobles of Touraine are all amply furnished with children, +and their wives give them lapfuls, you alone have none, they laugh at +you there. What will become of your name and your fiefs and your +seigniories? A child is our natural company; it is a delight to us to +make a fright of it, to fondle it, to swaddle it, to dress and undress +it, to cuddle it, to sing it lullabies, to cradle it, to get it up, to +put it to bed, and to nourish it, and I feel that if I had only the +half of one, I would kiss it, swaddle it, and unharness it, and I +would make it jump and crow all day long, as the other ladies do.” + +“Were it not that in giving them birth women die, and that for this +you are still too delicate and too close in the bud, you would already +be a mother,” replied the seneschal, made giddy with the flow of +words. “But will you buy one ready-made?--that will cost you neither +pain nor labour.” + +“But,” said she, “I want the pain and labour, without which it will +not be ours. I know very well it should be the fruit of my body, +because at church they say that Jesus was the fruit of the Virgin’s +womb.” + +“Very well, then pray God that it may be so,” cried the seneschal, +“and intercede with the Virgin of Egrignolles. Many a lady has +conceived after the neuvaine; you must not fail to do one.” + +Then the same day Blanche set out towards Notre-Dame de l’Egrignolles, +decked out like a queen riding her beautiful mare, having on her a +robe of green velvet, laced down with fine gold lace, open at the +breast, having sleeves of scarlet, little shoes and a high hat +ornamented with precious stones, and a gold waistband that showed off +her little waist, as slim as a pole. She wished to give her dress to +Madame the Virgin, and in fact promised it to her, for the day of her +churching. The Sire de Montsoreau galloped before her, his eye bright +as that of a hawk, keeping the people back and guarding with his +knights the security of the journey. Near Marmoustiers the seneschal, +rendered sleepy by the heat, seeing it was the month of August, +waggled about in his saddle, like a diadem upon the head of a cow, and +seeing so frolicsome and so pretty a lady by the side of so old a +fellow, a peasant girl, who was squatting near the trunk of a tree and +drinking water out of her stone jug inquired of a toothless old hag, +who picked up a trifle by gleaning, if this princess was going to bury +her dead. + +“Nay,” said the old woman, “it is our lady of Roche-Corbon, wife of +the seneschal of Poitou and Touraine, in quest of a child.” + +“Ah! Ah!” said the young girl, laughing like a fly just satisfied; +then pointing to the handsome knight who was at the head of the +procession--“he who marches at the head would manage that; she would +save the wax-candles and the vow.” + +“Ha! my little one,” replied the hag, “I am rather surprised that she +should go to Notre-Dame de l’Egrignolles seeing that there are no +handsome priests there. She might very well stop for a short time +beneath the shadow the belfry of Marmoustiers; she would soon be +fertile, those good fathers are so lively.” + +“By a nun’s oath!” said a tramp walking up, “look; the Sire de +Montsoreau is lively and delicate enough to open the lady’s heart, the +more so as he is well formed to do so.” + +And all commenced a laugh. The Sire de Montsoreau wished to go to them +and hang them in lime-tree by the road as a punishment for their bad +words, but Blanche cried out quickly-- + +“Oh, sir, do not hang them yet. They have not said all they mean; and +we shall see them on our return.” + +She blushed, and the Sire de Montsoreau looked at her eagerly, as +though to shoot into her the mystic comprehensions of love, but the +clearing out of her intelligence had already been commenced by the +sayings of the peasants which were fructifying in her understanding +--her innocence was like touchwood, there was only need for a word +to inflame it. + +Thus Blanche perceived now the notable and physical differences +between the qualities of her old husband and perfections of the said +Gauttier, a gentleman who was not over affected with his twenty-three +years, but held himself upright as a ninepin in the saddle, and as +wide-awake as the matin chimes, while in contrast to him, slept the +seneschal; he had courage and dexterity there where his master failed. +He was one of those smart fellows whom the jades would sooner wear at +night than a leathern garment, because they then no longer fear the +fleas; there are some who vituperate them, but no one should be +blamed, because every one should sleep as he likes. + +So much did the seneschal’s lady think, and so imperially well, that +by the time she arrived at the bridge of Tours, she loved Gauttier +secretly, as a maiden loves, without suspecting that it is love. From +that she became a proper woman, that is to say, she desired the good +of others, the best that men have, she fell into a fit of +love-sickness, going at the first jump to the depth of her misery, +seeing that all is flame between the first coveting and the last desire, +and she knew not how she then learned that by the eyes can flow in a +subtle essence, causing such powerful corrosions in all the veins of +the body, recesses of the heart, nerves of the members, roots of the +hair, perspiration of the substance, limbo of the brain, orifices of +the epidermis, windings of the pluck, tubes of the hypochondriac and +other channels which in her was suddenly dilated, heated, tickled, +envenomed, clawed, harrowed, and disturbed, as if she had a basketful +of needles in her inside. This was a maiden’s desire, a +well-conditioned desire, which troubled her sight to such a degree that +she no longer saw her old spouse, but clearly the young Gauttier, whose +nature was as ample as the glorious chin of an abbot. When the good +man entered Tours the Ah! Ah! of the crowd woke him up, and he came +with great pomp with his suite to the Church of Notre-Dame de +l’Egrignolles, formerly called la greigneur, as if you said that which +has the most merit. Blanche went into the chapel where children are +asked to God and of the Virgin, and went there alone, as was the +custom, always however in the presence of the seneschal, of his +varlets and the loiterers who remained outside the grill. When the +countess saw the priest come who had charge of the masses said for +children, and who received the said vows, she asked him if there were +many barren women. To which the good priest replied, that he must not +complain, and that the children were good revenue to the Church. + +“And do you often see,” said Blanche, “young women with such old +husbands as my lord?” + +“Rarely,” said he. + +“But have those obtained offspring?” + +“Always,” replied the priest smiling. + +“And the others whose companions are not so old?” + +“Sometimes.” + +“Oh! Oh!” said she, “there is more certainty then with one like the +seneschal?” + +“To be sure,” said the priest. + +“Why?” said she. + +“Madame,” gravely replied priest, “before that age God alone +interferes with the affair, after, it is the men.” + +At this time it was a true thing that all the wisdom had gone to the +clergy. Blanch made her vow, which was a very profitable one, seeing +that her decorations were worth quite two thousand gold crowns. + +“You are very joyful!” said the old seneschal to her when on the home +journey she made her mare prance, jump, and frisk. + +“Yes, yes!” said she. “There is no longer any doubt about my having a +child, because any one can help me, the priest said: I shall take +Gauttier.” + +The seneschal wished to go and slay the monk, but he thought that was +a crime which would cost him too much, and he resolved cunningly to +arrange his vengeance with the help of the archbishop; and before the +housetops of Roche-Corbon came in sight he had ordered the Sire de +Montsoreau to seek a little retirement in his own country, which the +young Gauttier did, knowing the ways of the lord. The seneschal put in +the place of the said Gauttier the son of the Sire de Jallanges, whose +fief was held from Roche-Corbon. He was a young boy named Rene, +approaching fourteen years, and he made him a page, awaiting the time +when he should be old enough to be an equerry, and gave the command of +his men to an old cripple, with whom he had knocked about a great deal +in Palestine and other places. Thus the good man believed he would +avoid the horned trappings of cuckoldom, and would still be able to +girth, bridle, and curb the factious innocence of his wife, which +struggled like a mule held by a rope. + + +THAT WHICH IS ONLY A VENIAL SIN. + +The Sunday following the arrival of Rene at the manor of Roche-Corbon, +Blanche went out hunting without her goodman, and when she was in the +forest near Les Carneaux, saw a monk who appeared to be pushing a girl +about more than was necessary, and spurred on her horse, saying to her +people, “Ho there! Don’t let him kill her.” But when the seneschal’s +lady arrived close to them, she turned her horse’s head quickly and +the sight she beheld prevented her from hunting. She came back +pensive, and then the lantern of her intelligence opened, and received +a bright light, which made a thousand things clear, such as church and +other pictures, fables, and lays of the troubadours, or the domestic +arrangements of birds; suddenly she discovered the sweet mystery of +love written in all languages, even in that of the Carps’. Is it not +silly thus to seal this science from maidens? Soon Blanche went to +bed, and soon said she to the seneschal-- + +“Bruyn, you have deceived me, you ought to behave as the monk of the +Carneaux behaved to the girl.” + +Old Bruyn suspected the adventure, and saw well that his evil hour was +at hand. He regarded Blanche with too much fire in his eyes for the +same ardour to be lower down, and answered her softly-- + +“Alas! sweetheart, in taking you for my wife I had more love than +strength, and I have taken advantage of your clemency and virtue. The +great sorrow of my life is to feel all my capability in my heart only. +This sorrow hastens my death little by little, so that you will soon +be free. Wait for my departure from this world. That is the sole +request that he makes of you, he who is your master, and who could +command you, but who wishes only to be your prime minister and slave. +Do not betray the honour of my white hairs! Under these circumstances +there have been lords who have slain their wives. + +“Alas! you will not kill me?” said she. + +“No,” replied the old man, “I love thee too much, little one; why, +thou art the flower of my old age, the joy of my soul. Thou art my +well-beloved daughter; the sight of thee does good to mine eyes, and +from thee I could endure anything, be it a sorrow or a joy, provided +that thou does not curse too much the poor Bruyn who has made thee a +great lady, rich and honoured. Wilt thou not be a lovely widow? And +thy happiness will soften the pangs of death.” + +And he found in his dried-up eyes still one tear which trickled quite +warm down his fir-cone coloured face, and fell upon the hand of +Blanche, who, grieved to behold this great love of her old spouse who +would put himself under the ground to please her, said laughingly-- + +“There! there! don’t cry, I will wait.” + +Thereupon the seneschal kissed her hands and regaled her with little +endearments, saying with a voice quivering with emotion-- + +“If you knew, Blanche my darling, how I devour thee in thy sleep with +caresses, now here, now there!” And the old ape patted her with his +two hands, which were nothing but bones. And he continued, “I dared +not waken the cat that would have strangled my happiness, since at +this occupation of love I only embraced with my heart.” + +“Ah!” replied she, “you can fondle me thus even when my eyes are open; +that has not the least effect upon me.” + +At these words the poor seneschal, taking the little dagger which was +on the table by the bed, gave it to her, saying with passion-- + +“My darling, kill me, or let me believe that you love me a little!” + +“Yes, yes,” said she, quite frightened, “I will try to love you much.” + +Behold how this young maidenhood made itself master of this old man +and subdued him, for in the name of the sweet face of Venus, Blanche, +endowed with the natural artfulness of women, made her old Bruyn come +and go like a miller’s mule. + +“My good Bruyn, I want this! Bruyn, I want that--go on Bruyn!” Bruyn! +Bruyn! And always Bruyn in such a way that Bruyn was more worn-out by +the clemency of his wife than he would have been by her unkindness. +She turned his brain wishing that everything should be in scarlet, +making him turn everything topsy-turvy at the least movement of her +eyebrow, and when she was sad the seneschal distracted, would say to +everything from his judicial seat, “Hang him!” Another would have died +like a fly at this conflict with the maid’s innocence, but Bruyn was +of such an iron nature that it was difficult to finish him off. One +evening that Blanche had turned the house upside-down, upset the men +and the beasts, and would by her aggravating humour have made the +eternal father desperate--he who has such an infinite treasure of +patience since he endures us--she said to the seneschal while getting +into bed, “My good Bruyn, I have low down fancies, that bite and prick +me; thence they rise into my heart, inflame my brain, incite me +therein to evil deeds, and in the night I dream of the monk of the +Carneaux.” + +“My dear,” replied the seneschal, “these are devilries and temptations +against which the monks and nuns know how to defend themselves. If you +will gain salvation, go and confess to the worthy Abbot of +Marmoustiers, our neighbour; he will advise you well and will holily +direct you in the good way.” + +“Tomorrow I will go,” said she. + +And indeed directly it was day, she trotted off to the monastery of +the good brethren, who marvelled to see among them so pretty a lady; +committed more than one sin through her in the evening; and for the +present led her with great ceremony to their reverend abbot. + +Blanche found the said good man in a private garden near the high rock +under a flower arcade, and remained stricken with respect at the +countenance of the holy man, although she was accustomed not to think +much of grey hairs. + +“God preserve you, Madame; what can you have to seek of one so near +death, you so young?” + +“Your precious advice,” said she, saluting him with a courtesy; “and +if it will please you to guide so undutiful a sheep, I shall be well +content to have so wise a confessor.” + +“My daughter,” answered the monk, with whom old Bruyn had arranged +this hypocrisy and the part to play, “if I had not the chills of a +hundred winters upon this unthatched head, I should not dare to listen +to your sins, but say on; if you enter paradise, it will be through +me.” + +Then the seneschal’s wife set forth the small fry of her stock in +hand, and when she was purged of her little iniquities, she came to +the postscript of her confession. + +“Ah! my father!” said she, “I must confess to you that I am daily +exercised by the desire to have a child. Is it wrong?” + +“No,” said the abbot. + +But she went on, “It is by nature commanded to my husband not to draw +from his wealth to bring about his poverty, as the old women say by +the way.” + +“Then,” replied the priest, “you must live virtuously and abstain from +all thoughts of this kind.” + +“But I have heard it professed by the Lady of Jallanges, that it was +not a sin when from it one derived neither profit nor pleasure.” + +“There always is pleasure,” said the abbot, “but don’t count upon the +child as a profit. Now fix this in your understanding, that it will +always be a mortal sin before God and a crime before men to bring +forth a child through the embraces of a man to whom one is not +ecclesiastically married. Thus those women who offend against the holy +laws of marriage, suffer great penalties in the other world, are in +the power of horrible monsters with sharp and tearing claws, who +thrust them into flaming furnaces in remembrance of the fact that here +below they have warmed their hearts a little more than was lawful.” + +Thereupon Blanche scratched her ear, and having thought to herself for +a little while, she said to the priest, “How then did the Virgin +Mary?” + +“Ah!” replied abbot, “that it is a mystery.” + +“And what is a mystery?” + +“A thing that cannot be explained, and which one ought to believe +without enquiring into it.” + +“Well then,” said she, “cannot I perform a mystery?” + +“This one,” said the Abbot, “only happened once, because it was the +Son of God.” + +“Alas! my father, is it then the will of God that I should die, or +that from wise and sound comprehension my brain should be turned? Of +this there is a great danger. Now in me something moves and excites +me, and I am no longer in my senses. I care for nothing, and to find a +man I would leap the walls, dash over the fields without shame and +tear my things into tatters, only to see that which so much excited +the monk of the Carneaux; and during these passions which work and +prick my mind and body, there is neither God, devil, nor husband. I +spring, I run, I smash up the wash-tubs, the pots, the farm +implements, a fowl-house, the household things, and everything, in a +way that I cannot describe. But I dare not confess to you all my +misdeeds, because speaking of them makes my mouth water, and the thing +with which God curses me makes me itch dreadfully. If this folly bites +and pricks me, and slays my virtue, will God, who has placed this +great love in my body, condemn me to perdition?” + +At this question it was the priest who scratched his ear, quite +dumbfounded by the lamentations, profound wisdom, controversies and +intelligence that this virginity secreted. + +“My daughter,” said he, “God has distinguished us from the beasts and +made us a paradise to gain, and for this given us reason, which is a +rudder to steer us against tempests and our ambitious desires, and +there is a means of easing the imaginations of one’s brain by fasting, +excessive labours, and other virtues; and instead of frisking and +fretting like a child let loose from school, you should pray to the +virgin, sleep on a hard board, attend to your household duties, and +never be idle.” + +“Ah! my father, when I am at church in my seat, I see neither the +priest nor the altar, only the infant Jesus, who brings the thing into +my head. But to finish, if my head is turned and my mind wanders, I am +in the lime-twigs of love.” + +“If thus you were,” said the abbot, imprudently, “you would be in the +position of Saint Lidoire, who in a deep sleep one day, one leg here +and one leg there, through the great heat and scantily attired, was +approached by a young man full of mischief, who dexterously seduced +her, and as of this trick the saint was thoroughly ignorant, and much +surprised at being brought to bed, thinking that her unusual size was +a serious malady, she did penance for it as a venial sin, as she had +no pleasure in this wicked business, according to the statement of the +wicked man, who said upon the scaffold where he was executed, that the +saint had in nowise stirred.” + +“Oh, my father,” said she, “be sure that I should not stir more than +she did!” + +With this statement she went away prettily and gracefully, smiling and +thinking how she could commit a venial sin. On her return from the +great monastery, she saw in the courtyard of her castle the little +Jallanges, who under the superintendence of an old groom was turning +and wheeling about on a fine horse, bending with the movements of the +animal, dismounting and mounting again with vaults and leaps most +gracefully, and with lissome thighs, so pretty, so dextrous, so +upright as to be indescribable, so much so, that he would have made +the Queen Lucrece long for him, she who killed herself from having +been contaminated against her will. + +“Ah!” said Blanche, “if only this page were fifteen, I would go to +sleep comfortably very near to him.” + +Then, in spite of the too great youth of this charming servitor, +during the collation and supper, she eyed frequently the black hair, +the white skin, the grace of Rene, above all his eyes, where was an +abundance of limpid warmth and a great fire of life, which he was +afraid to shoot out--child that he was. + +Now in the evening, as the seneschal’s wife sat thoughtfully in her +chair in the corner of the fireplace, old Bruyn interrogated her as to +her trouble. + +“I am thinking.” said she, “that you must have fought the battles of +love very early, to be thus completely broken up.” + +“Oh!” smiled he, smiling like all old men questioned upon their +amorous remembrances, “at the age of thirteen and a half I had +overcome the scruples of my mother’s waiting woman.” + +Blanche wished to hear nothing more, but believed the page Rene should +be equally advanced, and she was quite joyous and practised little +allurements on the good man, and wallowed silently in her desire, like +a cake which is being floured. + + +HOW AND BY WHOM THE SAID CHILD WAS PROCURED. + +The seneschal’s wife did not think long over the best way quickly to +awaken the love of the page, and had soon discovered the natural +ambuscade in the which the most wary are taken. This is how: at the +warmest hour of the day the good man took his siesta after the Saracen +fashion, a habit in which he had never failed, since his return from +the Holy Land. During this time Blanche was alone in the grounds, +where the women work at their minor occupations, such as broidering +and stitching, and often remained in the rooms looking after the +washing, putting the clothes tidy, or running about at will. Then she +appointed this quiet hour to complete the education of the page, +making him read books and say his prayers. Now on the morrow, when at +the mid-day hour the seneschal slept, succumbing to the sun which +warms with its most luminous rays the slopes of Roche-Corbon, so much +so that one is obliged to sleep, unless annoyed, upset, and +continually roused by a devil of a young woman. Blanche then +gracefully perched herself in the great seignorial chair of her good +man, which she did not find any too high, since she counted upon the +chances of perspective. The cunning jade settled herself dextrously +therein, like a swallow in its nest, and leaned her head maliciously +upon her arm like a child that sleeps; but in making her preparations +she opened fond eyes, that smiled and winked in advance of the little +secret thrills, sneezes, squints, and trances of the page who was +about to lie at her feet, separated from her by the jump of an old +flea; and in fact she advanced so much and so near the square of +velvet where the poor child should kneel, whose life and soul she +trifled with, that had he been a saint of stone, his glance would have +been constrained to follow the flexousities of the dress in order to +admire and re-admire the perfections and beauties of the shapely leg, +which moulded the white stocking of the seneschal’s lady. Thus it was +certain that a weak varlet would be taken in the snare, wherein the +most vigorous knight would willingly have succumbed. When she had +turned, returned, placed and displaced her body, and found the +situation in which the page would be most comfortable, she cried, +gently. “Rene!” Rene, whom she knew well was in the guard-room, did +not fail to run in and quickly thrust his brown head between the +tapestries of the door. + +“What do you please to wish?” said the page. And he held with great +respect in his hand his shaggy scarlet cap, less red than his fresh +dimpled cheeks. + +“Come hither,” replied she, under her breath, for the child attracted +her so strongly that she was quite overcome. + +And forsooth there were no jewels so sparkling as the eyes of Rene, no +vellum whiter than his skin, no woman more exquisite in shape--and so +near to her desire, she found him still more sweetly formed--and was +certain that the merry frolics of love would radiate well from this +youth, the warm sun, the silence, et cetera. + +“Read me the litanies of Madame the Virgin,” said she to him, pushing +an open book him on her prieu-dieu. “Let me see if you are well taught +by your master.” + +“Do you not think the Virgin beautiful?” asked she of him, smiling +when he held the illuminated prayer-book in which glowed the silver +and gold. + +“It is a painting,” replied he, timidly, and casting a little glance +upon his so gracious mistress. + +“Read! read!” + +Then Rene began to recite the so sweet and so mystic litanies; but you +may imagine that the “Ora pro nobis” of Blanche became still fainter +and fainter, like the sound of the horn in the woodlands, and when the +page went on, “Oh, Rose of mystery,” the lady, who certainly heard +distinctly, replied by a gentle sigh. Thereupon Rene suspected that +his mistress slept. Then he commenced to cover her with his regard, +admiring her at his leisure, and had then no wish to utter any anthem +save the anthem of love. His happiness made his heart leap and bound +into his throat; thus, as was but natural, these two innocents burned +one against the other, but if they could have foreseen never would +have intermingled. Rene feasted his eyes, planning in his mind a +thousand fruitions of love that brought the water into his mouth. In +his ecstasy he let his book fall, which made him feel as sheepish as a +monk surprised at a child’s tricks; but also from that he knew that +Blanche was sound asleep, for she did not stir, and the wily jade +would not have opened her eyes even at the greatest dangers, and +reckoned on something else falling as well as the book of prayer. + +There is no worse longing than the longing of a woman in certain +condition. Now, the page noticed his lady’s foot, which was delicately +slippered in a little shoe of a delicate blue colour. She had +angularly placed it on a footstool, since she was too high in the +seneschal’s chair. This foot was of narrow proportions, delicately +curved, as broad as two fingers, and as long as a sparrow, tail +included, small at the top--a true foot of delight, a virginal foot +that merited a kiss as a robber does the gallows; a roguish foot; a +foot wanton enough to damn an archangel; an ominous foot; a devilishly +enticing foot, which gave one a desire to make two new ones just like +it to perpetuate in this lower world the glorious works of God. The +page was tempted to take the shoe from this persuasive foot. To +accomplish this his eyes glowing with the fire of his age, went +swiftly, like the clapper of a bell, from this said foot of +delectation to the sleeping countenance of his lady and mistress, +listening to her slumber, drinking in her respiration again and again, +it did not know where it would be sweetest to plant a kiss--whether on +the ripe red lips of the seneschal’s wife or on this speaking foot. At +length, from respect or fear, or perhaps from great love, he chose the +foot, and kissed it hastily, like a maiden who dares not. Then +immediately he took up his book, feeling his red cheeks redder still, +and exercised with his pleasure, he cried like a blind man--“_Janua +coeli,: gate of Heaven_.” But Blanche did not move, making sure that +the page would go from foot to knee, and thence to “_Janua coeli,: gate +of Heaven_.” She was greatly disappointed when the litanies finished +without any other mischief, and Rene, believing he had had enough +happiness for one day, ran out of the room quite lively, richer from +this hardy kiss than a robber who has robbed the poor-box. + +When the seneschal’s lady was alone, she thought to herself that this +page would be rather a long time at his task if he amused himself with +the singing of the Magnificat at matins. Then she determined on the +morrow to raise her foot a little, and then to bring to light those +hidden beauties that are called perfect in Touraine, because they take +no hurt in the open air, and are always fresh. You can imagine that +the page, burned by his desire and his imagination, heated by the day +before, awaited impatiently the hour to read in this breviary of +gallantry, and was called; and the conspiracy of the litanies +commenced again, and Blanche did not fail to fall asleep. This time +the said Rene fondled with his hand the pretty limb, and even ventured +so far as to verify if the polished knee and its surroundings were +satin. At this sight the poor child, armed against his desire, so +great was his fear, dared only to make brief devotion and curt +caresses, and although he kissed softly this fair surface, he remained +bashful, the which, feeling by the senses of her soul and the +intelligence of her body, the seneschal’s lady who took great care not +to move, called out to him--“Ah, Rene, I am asleep.” + +Hearing what he believed to be a stern reproach, the page frightened +ran away, leaving the books, the task, and all. Thereupon, the +seneschal’s better half added this prayer to the litany--“Holy Virgin, +how difficult children are to make.” + +At dinner her page perspired all down his back while waiting on his +lady and her lord; but he was very much surprised when he received +from Blanche the most shameless of all glances that ever woman cast, +and very pleasant and powerful it was, seeing that it changed this +child into a man of courage. Now, the same evening Bruyn staying a +little longer than was his custom in his own apartment, the page went +in search of Blanche, and found her asleep, and made her dream a +beautiful dream. + +He knocked off the chains that weighed so heavily upon her, and so +plentifully bestowed upon her the sweets of love, that the surplus +would have sufficed to render to others blessed with the joys of +maternity. So then the minx, seizing the page by the head and +squeezing him to her, cried out--“Oh, Rene! Thou hast awakened me!” + +And in fact there was no sleep could stand against it, and it is +certain that saints must sleep very soundly. From this business, +without any other mystery, and by a benign faculty which is the +assisting principle of spouses, the sweet and graceful plumage, +suitable to cuckolds, was placed upon the head of the good husband +without his experiencing the slightest shock. + +After this sweet repast, the seneschal’s lady took kindly to her +siesta after the French fashion, while Bruyn took his according to the +Saracen. But by the said siesta she learned how the good youth of the +page had a better taste than that of the old seneschal, and at night +she buried herself in the sheets far away from her husband, whom she +found strong and stale. And from sleeping and waking up in the day, +from taking siestas and saying litanies, the seneschal’s wife felt +growing within her that treasure for which she had so often and so +ardently sighed; but now she liked more the commencement than the +fructifying of it. + +You may be sure that Rene knew how to read, not only in books, but in +the eyes of his sweet lady, for whom he would have leaped into a +flaming pile, had it been her wish he should do so. When well and +amply, more than a hundred times, the train had been laid by them, the +little lady became anxious about her soul and the future of her friend +the page. Now one rainy day, as they were playing at touch-tag, like +two children, innocent from head to foot, Blanche, who was always +caught, said to him-- + +“Come here, Rene; do you know that while I have only committed venial +sins because I was asleep, you have committed mortal ones?” + +“Ah, Madame!” said he, “where then will God stow away all the damned +if that is to sin!” + +Blanche burst out laughing, and kissed his forehead. + +“Be quiet, you naughty boy; it is a question of paradise, and we must +live there together if you wish always to be with me.” + +“Oh, my paradise is here.” + +“Leave off,” said she. “You are a little wretch--a scapegrace who does +not think of that which I love--yourself! You do not know that I am +with child, and that in a little while I shall be no more able to +conceal it than my nose. Now, what will the abbot say? What will my +lord say? He will kill you if he puts himself in a passion. My advice +is little one, that you go to the abbot of Marmoustiers, confess your +sins to him, asking him to see what had better be done concerning my +seneschal. + +“Alas,” said the artful page, “if I tell the secret of our joys, he +will put his interdict upon our love.” + +“Very likely,” said she; “but thy happiness in the other world is a +thing so precious to me.” + +“Do you wish it my darling?” + +“Yes,” replied she rather faintly. + +“Well, I will go, but sleep again that I may bid you adieu.” + +And the couple recited the litany of Farewells as if they had both +foreseen that their love must finish in its April. And on the morrow, +more to save his dear lady than to save himself, and also to obey her, +Rene de Jallanges set out towards the great monastery. + + +HOW THE SAID LOVE-SIN WAS REPENTED OF AND LED TO GREAT MOURNING. + +“Good God!” cried the abbot, when the page had chanted the Kyrie +eleison of his sweet sins, “thou art the accomplice of a great felony, +and thou has betrayed thy lord. Dost thou know page of darkness, that +for this thou wilt burn through all eternity? and dost thou know what +it is to lose forever the heaven above for a perishable and changeful +moment here below? Unhappy wretch! I see thee precipitated for ever in +the gulfs of hell unless thou payest to God in this world that which +thou owest him for such offence.” + +Thereupon the good old abbot, who was of that flesh of which saints +are made, and who had great authority in the country of Touraine, +terrified the young man by a heap of representations, Christian +discourses, remembrances of the commandments of the Church, and a +thousand eloquent things--as many as a devil could say in six weeks to +seduce a maiden--but so many that Rene, who was in the loyal fervour +of innocence, made his submission to the good abbot. The said abbot, +wishing to make forever a good and virtuous man of this child, now in +a fair way to be a wicked one, commanded him first to go and prostrate +himself before his lord, to confess his conduct to him, and then if he +escaped from this confession, to depart instantly for the Crusades, +and go straight to the Holy Land, where he should remain fifteen years +of the time appointed to give battle to the Infidels. + +“Alas, my reverend father,” said he, quite unmoved, “will fifteen +years be enough to acquit me of so much pleasure? Ah! If you knew, I +have had joy enough for a thousand years.” + +“God will be generous. Go,” replied the old abbot, “and sin no more. +On this account, _ego te absolvo_.” + +Poor Rene returned thereupon with great contrition to the castle of +Roche-Corbon and the first person he met was the seneschal, who was +polishing up his arms, helmets, gauntlets, and other things. He was +sitting on a great marble bench in the open air, and was amusing +himself by making shine again the splendid trappings which brought +back to him the merry pranks in the Holy Land, the good jokes, and the +wenches, et cetera. When Rene fell upon his knees before him, the good +lord was much astonished. + +“What is it?” said he. + +“My lord,” replied Rene, “order these people to retire.” + +Which the servants having done, the page confessed his fault, +recounting how he had assailed his lady in her sleep, and that for +certain he had made her a mother in imitation of the man and the +saint, and came by order of the confessor to put himself at the +disposition of the offended person. Having said which, Rene de +Jallanges cast down his lovely eyes, which had produced all the +mischief, and remained abashed, prostrate without fear, his arms +hanging down, his head bare, awaiting his punishment, and humbling +himself to God. The seneschal was not so white that he could not +become whiter, and now he blanched like linen newly dried, remaining +dumb with passion. And this old man who had not in his veins the vital +force to procreate a child, found in this moment of fury more vigour +than was necessary to undo a man. He seized with his hairy right hand +his heavy club, lifted it, brandished it and adjusted it so easily you +could have thought it a bowl at a game of skittles, to bring it down +upon the pale forehead of the said Rene, who knowing that he was +greatly in fault towards his lord, remained placid, and stretching his +neck, thought that he was about to expiate his sin for his sweetheart +in this world and in the other. + +But his fair youth, and all the natural seductions of this sweet +crime, found grace before the tribunal of the heart of this old man, +although Bruyn was still severe, and throwing his club away on to a +dog who was catching beetles, he cried out, “May a thousand million +claws, tear during all eternity, all the entrails of him, who made +him, who planted the oak, that made the chair, on which thou hast +antlered me--and the same to those who engendered thee, cursed page of +misfortune! Get thee to the devil, whence thou camest--go out from +before me, from the castle, from the country, and stay not here one +moment more than is necessary, otherwise I will surely prepare for +thee a death by slow fire that shall make thee curse twenty times an +hour thy villainous and ribald partner!” + +Hearing the commencement of these little speeches of the seneschal, +whose youth came back in his oaths, the page ran away, escaping the +rest: and he did well. Bruyn, burning with a fierce rage, gained the +gardens speedily, reviling everything by the way, striking and +swearing; he even knocked over three large pans held by one of his +servants, was carrying the mess to the dogs, and he was so beside +himself that he would have killed a labourer for a “thank you.” He +soon perceived his unmaidenly maiden, who was looking towards the road +to the monastery, waiting for the page, and unaware that she would +never see him again. + +“Ah, my lady! By the devil’s red three-pronged fork, am I a swallower +of tarradiddles and a child, to believe that you are so fashioned that +a page can behave in this manner and you not know it? By the death! By +the head! By the blood!” + +“Hold!” she replied, seeing that the mine was sprung, “I knew it well +enough, but as you had not instructed me in these matters I thought +that I was dreaming!” + +The great ire of the seneschal melted like snow in the sun, for the +direst anger of God himself would have vanished at a smile from +Blanche. + +“May a thousand millions of devils carry off this alien child! I swear +that--” + +“There! there! do not swear,” said she. “If it is not yours, it is +mine; and the other night did you not tell me you loved everything +that came from me?” + +Thereupon she ran on with such a lot of arguments, hard words, +complaints, quarrels, tears, and other paternosters of women; such as +--firstly the estates would not have to be returned to the king; that +never had a child been brought more innocently into the world, that +this, that that, a thousand things; until the good cuckold relented, +and Blanche, seizing a propitious interruption said-- + +“And where it is the page?” + +“Gone to the devil!” + +“What, have you killed him?” said she. She turned pale and tottered. + +Bruyn did not know what would become of him when he saw thus fall all +the happiness of his old age, and he would to save her have shown her +this page. He ordered him to be sought, but Rene had run off at full +speed, fearing he should be killed; and departed for the lands beyond +the seas, in order to accomplish his vow of religion. When Blanche had +learned from the above-mentioned abbot the penitence imposed upon her +well beloved, she fell into a state of great melancholy, saying at +times, “Where is he, the poor unfortunate, who is in the middle of +great dangers for love of me?” + +And always kept on asking, like a child who gives its mother no rest +until its request be granted it. At these lamentations the poor +seneschal, feeling himself to blame, endeavoured to do a thousand +things, putting one out of the question, in order to make Blanche +happy; but nothing was equal to the sweet caresses of the page. +However, she had one day the child so much desired. You may be sure +that was a fine festival for the good cuckold, for the resemblance to +the father was distinctly engraved upon the face of this sweet fruit +of love. Blanche consoled herself greatly, and picked up again a +little of her old gaiety and flower of innocence, which rejoiced the +aged hours of the seneschal. From constantly seeing the little one run +about, watching its laughs answer those of the countess, he finished +by loving it, and would have been in a great rage with anyone who had +not believed him its father. + +Now as the adventure of Blanche and her page had not been carried +beyond the castle, it was related throughout Touraine that Messire +Bruyn had still found himself sufficiently in funds to afford a child. +Intact remained the virtue of Blanche, and by the quintessence of +instruction drawn by her from the natural reservoir of women, she +recognised how necessary it was to be silent concerning the venial sin +with which her child was covered. So she became modest and good, and +was cited as a virtuous person. And then to make use of him she +experimented on the goodness of her good man, and without giving him +leave to go further than her chin, since she looked upon herself as +belonging to Rene, Blanche, in return for the flowers of age which +Bruyn offered her, coddled him, smiled upon him, kept him merry, and +fondled him with pretty ways and tricks, which good wives bestow upon +the husbands they deceive; and all so well, that the seneschal did not +wish to die, squatted comfortably in his chair, and the more he lived +the more he became partial to life. But to be brief, one night he died +without knowing where he was going, for he said to Blanche, “Ho! ho! +My dear, I see thee no longer! Is it night?” + +It was the death of the just, and he had well merited it as a reward +for his labours in the Holy Land. + +Blanche held for his death a great and true mourning, weeping for him +as one weeps for one’s father. She remained melancholy, without +wishing to lend her ear to the music of a second wedding, for which +she was praised by all good people, who knew not that she had a +husband in her heart, a life in hope; but she was the greater part of +her time a widow in fact and widow in heart, because hearing no news +of her lover at the Crusades, the poor Countess reputed him dead, and +during certain nights seeing him wounded and lying at full length, she +would wake up in tears. She lived thus for fourteen years in the +remembrance of one day of happiness. Finally, one day when she had +with her certain ladies of Touraine, and they were talking together +after dinner, behold her little boy, who was at that time about +thirteen and a half, and resembled Rene more than it is allowable for +a child to resemble his father, and had nothing of the Sire Bruyn +about him but his name--behold the little one, a madcap and pretty +like his mother, who came in from the garden, running, perspiring, +panting, jumping, scattering all things in his way, after the uses and +customs of infancy, and who ran straight to his well-beloved mother, +jumping into her lap, and interrupting the conversation, cried out-- + +“Oh, mother I want to speak to you, I have seen in the courtyard a +pilgrim, who squeezed me very tight.” + +“Ah!” cried the chatelaine, hurrying towards one of the servants who +had charge of the young count and watched over his precious days, “I +have forbidden you ever to leave my son in the hands of strangers, not +even in those of the holiest man in the world. You quit my service.” + +“Alas! my lady,” replied the old equerry, quite overcome, “this one +wished him no harm for he wept while kissing him passionately.” + +“He wept?” said she; “ah! it’s the father.” + +Having said which, she leaned her head of upon the chair in which she +was sitting, and which you may be sure was the chair in which she has +sinned. + +Hearing these strange words the ladies was so surprised that at first +they did not perceive that the seneschal’s widow was dead, without its +ever been known if her sudden death was caused by her sorrow at the +departure of her lover, who, faithful to his vow, did not wish to see +her, or from great joy at his return and the hope of getting the +interdict removed which the Abbot of Marmoustiers had placed upon +their loves. And there was a great mourning for her, for the Sire de +Jallanges lost his spirits when he saw his lady laid in the ground, +and became a monk of Marmoustiers, which at that time was called by +some Maimoustier, as much as to say Maius Monasterium, the largest +monastery, and it was indeed the finest in all France. + + + +THE KING’S SWEETHEART + +There lived at this time at the forges of the Pont-aux-Change, a +goldsmith whose daughter was talked about in Paris on account of her +great beauty, and renowned above all things for her exceeding +gracefulness. There were those who sought her favours by the usual +tricks of love and, but others offered large sums of money to the +father to give them his daughter in lawful wedlock, the which pleased +him not a little. + +One of his neighbours, a parliamentary advocate, who by selling his +cunning devices to the public had acquired as many lands as a dog has +fleas, took it into his head to offer the said father a domain in +consideration of his consent to this marriage, which he ardently +desired to undertake. To this arrangement our goldsmith was nothing +loth. He bargained away his daughter, without taking into +consideration the fact that her patched-up old suitor had the features +of an ape and had scarcely a tooth in his jaws. The smell which +emanated from his mouth did not however disturb his own nostrils, +although he was filthy and high flavoured, as are all those who pass +their lives amid the smoke of chimneys, yellow parchment, and other +black proceedings. Immediately this sweet girl saw him she exclaimed, +“Great Heaven! I would rather not have him.” + +“That concerns me not,” said the father, who had taken a violent fancy +to the proffered domain. “I give him to you for a husband. You must +get on as well as you can together. That is his business now, and his +duty is to make himself agreeable to you.” + +“Is it so?” said she. “Well then, before I obey your orders I’ll let +him know what he may expect.” + +And the same evening, after supper, when the love-sick man of law was +pleading his cause, telling her he was mad for her, and promising her +a life of ease and luxury, she taking him up, quickly remarked-- + +“My father had sold me to you, but if you take me, you will make a bad +bargain, seeing that I would rather offer myself to the passers-by +than to you. I promise you a disloyalty that will only finish with +death--yours or mine.” + +Then she began to weep, like all young maidens will before they become +experienced, for afterwards they never cry with their eyes. The good +advocate took this strange behaviour for one of those artifices by +which the women seek to fan the flames of love and turn the devotion +of their admirers into the more tender caress and more daring +osculation that speaks a husband’s right. So that the knave took +little notice of it, but laughing at the complaints of the charming +creature, asked her to fix the day. + +“To-morrow,” replied she, “for the sooner this odious marriage takes +place, the sooner I shall be free to have gallants and to lead the gay +life of those who love where it pleases them.” + +Thereupon the foolish fellow--as firmly fixed as a fly in a glue pot +--went away, made his preparations, spoke at the Palace, ran to the +High Court, bought dispensations, and conducted his purchase more +quickly than he ever done one before, thinking only of the lovely girl. +Meanwhile the king, who had just returned from a journey, heard +nothing spoken of at court but the marvellous beauty of the jeweller’s +daughter who had refused a thousand crowns from this one, snubbed that +one; in fact, would yield to no one, but turned up her nose at the +finest young men of the city, gentlemen who would have forfeited their +seat in paradise only to possess one day, this little dragon of +virtue. + +The good king, was a judge of such game, strolled into the town, past +the forges, and entered the goldsmith’s shop, for the purpose of +buying jewels for the lady of his heart, but at the same time to +bargain for the most precious jewel in the shop. The king not taking a +fancy to the jewels, or they not being to his taste, the good man +looked in a secret drawer for a big white diamond. + +“Sweetheart,” said he, to the daughter, while her father’s nose was +buried in the drawer, “sweetheart, you were not made to sell precious +stones, but to receive them, and if you were to give me all the little +rings in the place to choose from, I know one that many here are mad +for; that pleases me; to which I should ever be subject and servant; +and whose price the whole kingdom of France could never pay.” + +“Ah! sire!” replied the maid, “I shall be married to-morrow, but if +you will lend me the dagger that is in your belt, I will defend my +honour, and you shall take it, that the gospel made be observed +wherein it says, ‘_Render unto Caesar the things which be +Caesar’s’ . . ._” + +Immediately the king gave her the little dagger, and her brave reply +rendered him so amorous that he lost his appetite. He had an apartment +prepared, intending to lodge his new lady-love in the Rue a +l’Hirundelle, in one of his palaces. + +And now behold my advocate, in a great hurry to get married, to the +disgust of his rivals, the leading his bride to the altar to the clang +of bells and the sound of music, so timed as to provoke the qualms of +diarrhoea. In the evening, after the ball, comes he into the nuptial +chamber, where should be reposing his lovely bride. No longer is she a +lovely bride--but a fury--a wild she-devil, who, seated in an +armchair, refuses her share of her lord’s couch, and sits defiantly +before the fire warming at the same time her ire and her calves. The +good husband, quite astonished, kneels down gently before her, +inviting her to the first passage of arms in that charming battle +which heralds a first night of love; but she utters not a word, and +when he tries to raise her garment, only just to glance at the charms +that have cost him so dear, she gives him a slap that makes his bones +rattle, and refuses to utter a syllable. + +This amusement, however, by no means displeased our friend the +advocate, who saw at the end of his troubles that which you can as +well imagine as he did; so played he his share of the game manfully, +taking cheerfully the punishment bestowed upon him. By so much +hustling about, scuffling, and struggling he managed at last to tear +away a sleeve, to slit a petticoat, until he was able to place his +hand upon his own property. This bold endeavour brought Madame to her +feet and drawing the king’s dagger, “What would you with me?” she +cried. + +“Everything,” answered he. + +“Ha! I should be a great fool to give myself against my inclination! +If you fancied you would find my virtue unarmed you made a great +error. Behold the poniard of the king, with which I will kill you if +you make the semblance of a step towards me.” + +So saying, she took a cinder, and having still her eyes upon her lord +she drew a circle on the floor, adding, “These are the confines of the +king’s domain. Beware how you pass them.” + +The advocate, with whose ideas of love-making the dagger sadly +interfered, stood quite discomfited, but at the same time he heard the +cruel speech of his tormentor he caught sight through the slits and +tears in her robe of a sweet sample of a plump white thigh, and such +voluptuous specimens of hidden mysteries, et cetera, that death seemed +sweet to him if he could only taste of them a little. So that he +rushed within the domain of the king, saying, “I mind not death.” In +fact he came with such force that his charmer fell backwards onto the +bed, but keeping her presence of mind she defended herself so +gallantly that the advocate enjoyed no further advantage than a knock +at the door that would not admit him, and he gained as well a little +stab from the poniard which did not wound him deeply, so that it did +not cost him very dearly, his attack upon the realm of his sovereign. +But maddened with this slight advantage, he cried, “I cannot live +without the possession of that lovely body, and those marvels of love. +Kill me then!” And again he attacked the royal preserves. The young +beauty, whose head was full of the king, was not even touched by this +great love, said gravely, “If you menace me further, it is not you but +myself I will kill.” She glared at him so savagely that the poor man +was quite terrified, and commenced to deplore the evil hour in which +he had taken her to wife, and thus the night which should have been so +joyous, was passed in tears, lamentations, prayers, and ejaculations. +In vain he tempted her with promises; she should eat out of gold, she +should be a great lady, he would buy houses and lands for her. Oh! if +she would only let him break one lance with her in the sweet conflict +of love, he would leave her for ever and pass the remainder of his +life according to her fantasy. But she, still unyielding, said she +would permit him to die, and that was the only thing he could do to +please her. + +“I have not deceived you,” said she. “Agreeable to my promise, I shall +give myself to the king, making you a present of the peddler, chance +passers, and street loungers with whom I threatened you.” + +When the day broke she put on her wedding garments and waited +patiently till the poor husband had to depart to his office client’s +business, and then ran out into the town to seek the king. But she had +not gone a bow-shot from the house before one of the king’s servants +who had watched the house from dawn, stopped her with the question-- + +“Do you seek the king?” + +“Yes,” said she. + +“Good; then allow me to be your good friend,” said the subtle +courtier. “I ask your aid and protection, as now I give you mine.” + +With that he told her what sort of a man the king was, which was his +weak side, that he was passionate one day and silent the next, that +she would luxuriously lodged and well kept, but that she must keep the +king well in hand; in short, he chatted so pleasantly that the time +passed quickly until she found herself in the Hotel de l’Hirundelle +where afterwards lived Madame d’Estampes. The poor husband shed +scalding tears, when he found his little bird had flown, and became +melancholy and pensive. His friends and neighbours edified his ears +with as many taunts and jeers as Saint Jacques had the honour of +receiving in Compostella, but the poor fellow took it so to heart, +that at last they tried rather to assuage his grief. These artful +compeers by a species of legal chicanery, decreed that the good man +was not a cuckold, seeing that his wife had refused a consummation, +and if the planter of horns had been anyone but the king, the said +marriage might have been dissolved; but the amorous spouse was +wretched unto death at my lady’s trick. However, he left her to the +king, determining one day to have her to himself, and thinking that a +life-long shame would not be too dear a payment for a night with her. +One must love well to love like that, eh? and there are many worldly +ones, who mock at such affection. But he, still thinking of her, +neglected his cases and his clients, his robberies and everything. He +went to the palace like a miser searching for a lost sixpence, bowed +down, melancholy, and absent-minded, so much so, that one day he +relieved himself against the robe of a counsellor, believing all the +while he stood against a wall. Meanwhile the beautiful girl was loved +night and day by the king, who could not tear himself from her +embraces, because in amorous play she was so excellent, knowing as +well how to fan the flame of love as to extinguish it--to-day snubbing +him, to-morrow petting him, never the same, and with it a thousand +little tricks to charm the ardent lover. + +A lord of Bridore killed himself through her, because she would not +receive his embraces, although he offered her his land, Bridore in +Touraine. Of these gallants of Touraine, who gave an estate for one +tilt with love’s lance, there are none left. This death made the fair +one sad, and since her confessor laid the blame of it upon her, she +determined for the future to accept all domains and secretly ease +their owner’s amorous pains for the better saving of their souls from +perdition. ‘Twas thus she commenced to build up that great fortune +which made her a person of consideration in the town. By this means +she prevented many gallant gentlemen from perishing, playing her game +so well, and inventing such fine stories, that his Majesty little +guessed how much she aided him in securing the happiness of his +subjects. The fact is, she has such a hold over him that she could +have made him believe the floor was the ceiling, which was perhaps +easier for him to think than anyone else seeing that at the Rue +d’Hirundelle my lord king passed the greater portion of his time +embracing her always as though he would see if such a lovely article +would wear away: but he wore himself out first, poor man, seeing that +he eventually died from excess of love. Although she took care to +grant her favours only to the best and noblest in the court, and that +such occasions were rare as miracles, there were not wanting those +among her enemies and rivals who declared that for 10,000 crowns a +simple gentleman might taste the pleasures of his sovereign, which was +false above all falseness, for when her lord taxed her with it, did +she not reply, “Abominable wretches! Curse the devils who put this +idea in your head! I never yet did have man who spent less than 30,000 +crowns upon me.” + +The king, although vexed could not repress a smile, and kept her on a +month to silence scandal. And last, la demoiselle de Pisseleu, anxious +to obtain her place, brought about her ruin. Many would have liked to +be ruined in the same way, seeing she was taken by a young lord, was +happy with him, the fires of love in her being still unquenched. But +to take up the thread again. One day that the king’s sweetheart was +passing through the town in her litter to buy laces, furs, velvets, +broideries, and other ammunition, and so charmingly attired, and +looking so lovely, that anyone, especially the clerks, would have +believed the heavens were open above them, behold, her good man, who +comes upon her near the old cross. She, at that time lazily swinging +her charming little foot over the side of the litter, drew in her head +as though she had seen an adder. She was a good wife, for I know some +who would have proudly passed their husbands, to their shame and to +the great disrespect of conjugal rights. + +“What is the matter?” asked one M. de Lannoy, who humbly accompanied +her. + +“Nothing,” she whispered; “but that person is my husband. Poor man, +how changed he looks. Formerly he was the picture of a monkey; today +he is the very image of a Job.” + +The poor advocate stood opened-mouthed. His heart beat rapidly at the +sight of that little foot--of that wife so wildly loved. + +Observing which, the Sire de Lannoy said to him, with courtly +innocence-- + +“If you are her husband, is that any reason you should stop her +passage?” + +At this she burst out laughing, and the good husband instead of +killing her bravely, shed scalding tears at that laugh which pierced +his heart, his soul, his everything, so much that he nearly tumbled +over an old citizen whom the sight of the king’s sweetheart had driven +against the wall. The aspect of this weak flower, which had been his +in the bud, but far from him had spread its lovely leaves; of the +fairy figure, the voluptuous bust--all this made the poor advocate +more wretched and more mad for her than it is possible to express in +words. You must have been madly in love with a woman who refuses your +advances thoroughly to understand the agony of this unhappy man. Rare +indeed is it to be so infatuated as he was. He swore that life, +fortune, honour--all might go, but that for once at least he would be +flesh-to-flesh with her, and make so grand a repast off her dainty +body as would suffice him all his life. He passed the night saying, +“oh yes; ah! I’ll have her!” and “Curses am I not her husband?” and +“Devil take me,” striking himself on the forehead and tossing about. +There are chances and occasions which occur so opportunely in this +world that little-minded men refuse them credence, saying they are +supernatural, but men of high intellect know them to be true because +they could not be invented. One of the chances came to the poor +advocate, even the day after that terrible one which had been so sore +a trial to him. One of his clients, a man of good renown, who had his +audiences with the king, came one morning to the advocate, saying that +he required immediately a large sum of money, about 12,000 crowns. To +which the artful fellow replied, 12,000 crowns were not so often met +at the corner of a street as that which often is seen at the corner of +the street; that besides the sureties and guarantees of interest, it +was necessary to find a man who had about him 12,000 crowns, and that +those gentlemen were not numerous in Paris, big city as it was, and +various other things of a like character the man of cunning remarked. + +“Is it true, my lord, the you have a hungry and relentless creditor?” + said he. + +“Yes, yes,” replied the other, “it concerns the mistress of the king. +Don’t breathe a syllable; but this evening, in consideration of 20,000 +crowns and my domain of Brie, I shall take her measure.” + +Upon this the advocate blanched, and the courtier perceived he touched +a tender point. As he had only lately returned from the wars, he did +not know that the lovely woman adored by the king had a husband. + +“You appear ill,” he said. + +“I have a fever,” replied the knave. “But is it to her that you give +the contract and the money?” + +“Yes.” + +“Who then manages the bargain? Is it she also?” + +“No,” said the noble; “her little arrangements are concluded through a +servant of hers, the cleverest little ladies’-maid that ever was. +She’s sharper than mustard, and these nights stolen from the king have +lined her pockets well.” + +“I know a Lombard who would accommodate you. But nothing can be done; +of the 12,000 crowns you shall not have a brass farthing if this same +ladies’-maid does not come here to take the price of the article that +is so great an alchemist that turns blood into gold, by Heaven!” + +“It will be a good trick to make her sign the receipt,” replied the +lord, laughing. + +The servant came faithfully to the rendezvous with the advocate, who +had begged the lord to bring her. The ducats looked bright and +beautiful. There they lay all in a row, like nuns going to vespers. +Spread out upon the table they would have made a donkey smile, even if +he were being gutted alive; so lovely, so splendid, were those brave +noble young piles. The good advocate, however, had prepared this view +for no ass, for the little handmaiden look longingly at the golden +heap, and muttered a prayer at the sight of them. Seeing which, the +husband whispered in her ear his golden words, “These are for you.” + +“Ah!” said she; “I have never been so well paid.” + +“My dear,” replied the dear man, “you shall have them without being +troubled with me;” and turning her round, “Your client has not told +you who I am, eh? No? Learn then, I am the husband of the lady whom +the king has debauched, and whom you serve. Carry her these crowns, +and come back here. I will hand over yours to you on a condition which +will be to your taste.” + +The servant did as she was bidden, and being very curious to know how +she could get 12,000 crowns without sleeping with the advocate, was +very soon back again. + +“Now, my little one,” said he, “here are 12,000 crowns. With this sum +I could buy lands, men, women, and the conscience of three priests at +least; so that I believe if I give it to you I can have you, body, +soul, and toe nails. And I shall have faith in you like an advocate, I +expect that you will go to the lord who expects to pass the night with +my wife, and you will deceive him, by telling him that the king is +coming to supper with her, and that to-night he must seek his little +amusements elsewhere. By so doing I shall be able to take his place +and the king’s.” + +“But how?” said she. + +“Oh!” replied he; “I have bought you, you and your tricks. You won’t +have to look at these crowns twice without finding me a way to have my +wife. In bringing this conjunction about you commit no sin. It is a +work of piety to bring together two people whose hands only been put +one in to the other, and that by the priest.” + +“By my faith, come,” said she; “after supper the lights will be put +out, and you can enjoy Madame if you remain silent. Luckily, on these +joyful occasions she cries more than she speaks, and asks questions +with her hands alone, for she is very modest, and does not like loose +jokes, like the ladies of the Court.” + +“Oh,” cried the advocate, “look, take the 12,000 crowns, and I promise +you twice as much more if I get by fraud that which belongs to me by +right.” + +Then he arranged the hour, the door, the signal, and all; and the +servant went away, bearing with her on the back of the mules the +golden treasure wrung by fraud and trickery from the widow and the +orphan, and they were all going to that place where everything +goes--save our lives, which come from it. Now behold my advocate, who +shaves himself, scents himself, goes without onions for dinner that +his breath may be sweet, and does everything to make himself as +presentable as a gallant signor. He gives himself the airs of a young +dandy, tries to be lithe and frisky and to disguise his ugly face; he +might try all he knew, he always smelt of the musty lawyer. He was not +so clever as the pretty washerwoman of Portillon who one day wishing +to appear at her best before one of her lovers, got rid of a +disagreeable odour in a manner well known to young women of an +inventive turn of mind. But our crafty fellow fancied himself the +nicest man in the world, although in spite of his drugs and perfumes +he was really the nastiest. He dressed himself in his thinnest clothes +although the cold pinched him like a rope collar and sallied forth, +quickly gaining the Rue d’Hirundelle. There he had to wait some time. +But just as he was beginning to think he had been made a fool of, and +just as it was quite dark, the maid came down and opened alike the +door to him and good husband slipped gleefully into the king’s +apartment. The girl locked him carefully in a cupboard that was close +to his wife’s bed, and through a crack he feasted his eyes upon her +beauty, for she undressed herself before the fire, and put on a thin +nightgown, through which her charms were plainly visible. Believing +herself alone with her maid she made those little jokes that women +will when undressing. “Am I not worth 20,000 crowns to-night? Is that +overpaid with a castle in Brie?” + +And saying this she gently raised two white supports, firm as rocks, +which had well sustained many assaults, seeing they had been furiously +attacked and had not softened. “My shoulders alone are worth a +kingdom; no king could make their equal. But I am tired of this life. +That which is hard work is no pleasure.” The little maid smiled, and +her lovely mistress said to her, “I should like to see you in my +place.” Then the maid laughed, saying-- + +“Be quiet, Madame, he is there.” + +“Who?” + +“Your husband.” + +“Which?” + +“The real one.” + +“Chut!” said Madame. + +And her maid told her the whole story, wishing to keep her favour and +the 12,000 crowns as well. + +“Oh well, he shall have his money’s worth. I’ll give his desires time +to cool. If he tastes me may I lose my beauty and become as ugly as a +monkey’s baby. You get into bed in my place and thus gain the 12,000 +crowns. Go and tell him that he must take himself off early in the +morning in order that I may not find out your trick upon me, and just +before dawn I will get in by his side.” + +The poor husband was freezing and his teeth were chattering, and the +chambermaid coming to the cupboard on pretence of getting some linen, +said to him, “Your hour of bliss approaches. Madame to-night has made +grand preparations and you will be well served. But work without +whistling, otherwise I shall be lost.” + +At last, when the good husband was on the point of perishing with +cold, the lights were put out. The maid cried softly in the curtains +to the king’s sweetheart, that his lordship was there, and jumped into +bed, while her mistress went out as if she had been the chambermaid. +The advocate, released from his cold hiding-place, rolled rapturously +into the warm sheets, thinking to himself, “Oh! this is good!” To tell +the truth, the maid gave him his money’s worth--and the good man +thought of the difference between the profusion of the royal houses +and the niggardly ways of the citizens’ wives. The servant laughing, +played her part marvellously well, regaling the knave with gentle +cries, shiverings, convulsions and tossings about, like a newly-caught +fish on the grass, giving little Ah! Ahs! in default of other words; +and as often as the request was made by her, so often was it complied +with by the advocate, who dropped of to sleep at last, like an empty +pocket. But before finishing, the lover who wished to preserve a +souvenir of this sweet night of love, by a dextrous turn, plucked out +one of his wife’s hairs, where from I know not, seeing I was not +there, and kept in his hand this precious gauge of the warm virtue of +that lovely creature. Towards the morning, when the cock crew, the +wife slipped in beside her husband, and pretended to sleep. Then the +maid tapped gently on the happy man’s forehead, whispering in his ear, +“It is time, get into your clothes and off you go--it’s daylight.” The +good man grieved to lose his treasure, and wished to see the source of +his vanished happiness. + +“Oh! Oh!” said he, proceeding to compare certain things, “I’ve got +light hair, and this is dark.” + +“What have you done?” said the servant; “Madame will see she has been +duped.” + +“But look.” + +“Ah!” said she, with an air of disdain, “do you not know, you who +knows everything, that that which is plucked dies and discolours?” and +thereupon roaring with laughter at the good joke, she pushed him out +of doors. This became known. The poor advocate, named Feron, died of +shame, seeing that he was the only one who had not his own wife while +she, who was from this was called La Belle Feroniere, married, after +leaving the king, a young lord, Count of Buzancois. And in her old +days she would relate the story, laughingly adding, that she had never +scented the knave’s flavour. + +This teaches us not to attach ourselves more than we can help to wives +who refuse to support our yoke. + + + + THE DEVIL’S HEIR + +There once was a good old canon of Notre Dame de Paris, who lived in a +fine house of his own, near St. Pierre-aux-Boeufs, in the Parvis. This +canon had come a simple priest to Paris, naked as a dagger without its +sheath. But since he was found to be a handsome man, well furnished +with everything, and so well constituted, that if necessary he was +able to do the work of many, without doing himself much harm, he gave +himself up earnestly to the confessing of ladies, giving to the +melancholy a gentle absolution, to the sick a drachm of his balm, to +all some little dainty. He was so well known for his discretion, his +benevolence, and other ecclesiastical qualities, that he had customers +at Court. Then in order not to awaken the jealousy of the officials, +that of the husbands and others, in short, to endow with sanctity +these good and profitable practices, the Lady Desquerdes gave him a +bone of St. Victor, by virtue of which all the miracles were +performed. And to the curious it was said, “He has a bone which will +cure everything;” and to this, no one found anything to reply, because +it was not seemly to suspect relics. Beneath the shade of his cassock, +the good priest had the best of reputations, that of a man valiant +under arms. So he lived like a king. He made money with holy water; +sprinkled it and transmitted the holy water into good wine. More than +that, his name lay snugly in all the et ceteras of the notaries, in +wills or in caudicils, which certain people have falsely written +_codicil_, seeing that the word is derived from cauda, as if to say the +tail of the legacy. In fact, the good old Long Skirts would have been +made an archbishop if he had only said in joke, “I should like to put +on a mitre for a handkerchief in order to have my head warmer.” Of all +the benefices offered to him, he chose only a simple canon’s stall to +keep the good profits of the confessional. But one day the courageous +canon found himself weak in the back, seeing that he was all +sixty-eight years old, and had held many confessionals. Then thinking +over all his good works, he thought it about time to cease his +apostolic labours, the more so, as he possessed about one hundred +thousand crowns earned by the sweat of his body. From that day he only +confessed ladies of high lineage, and did it very well. So that it was +said at Court that in spite of the efforts of the best young clerks +there was still no one but the Canon of St. Pierre-aux-Boeufs to +properly bleach the soul of a lady of condition. Then at length the +canon became by force of nature a fine nonagenarian, snowy about the +head, with trembling hands, but square as a tower, having spat so much +without coughing, that he coughed now without being able to spit; no +longer rising from his chair, he who had so often risen for humanity; +but drinking dry, eating heartily, saying nothing, but having all the +appearance of a living Canon of Notre Dame. Seeing the immobility of +the aforesaid canon; seeing the stories of his evil life which for +some time had circulated among the common people, always ignorant; +seeing his dumb seclusion, his flourishing health, his young old age, +and other things too numerous to mention--there were certain people +who to do the marvellous and injure our holy religion, went about +saying that the true canon was long since dead, and that for more than +fifty years the devil had taken possession of the old priest’s body. +In fact, it seemed to his former customers that the devil could only +by his great heat have furnished these hermetic distillations, that +they remembered to have obtained on demand from this good confessor, +who always had le diable au corps. But as this devil had been +undoubtedly cooked and ruined by them, and that for a queen of twenty +years he would not have moved, well-disposed people and those not +wanting in sense, or the citizens who argued about everything, people +who found lice in bald heads, demanded why the devil rested under the +form of a canon, went to the Church of Notre Dame at the hours when +the canons usually go, and ventured so far as to sniff the perfume of +the incense, taste the holy water, and a thousand other things. To +these heretical propositions some said that doubtless the devil wished +to convert himself, and others that he remained in the shape of the +canon to mock at the three nephews and heirs of this said brave +confessor and make them wait until the day of their own death for the +ample succession of this uncle, to whom they paid great attention +every day, going to look if the good man had his eyes open, and in +fact found him always with his eye clear, bright, and piercing as the +eye of a basilisk, which pleased them greatly, since they loved their +uncle very much--in words. On this subject an old woman related that +for certain the canon was the devil, because his two nephews, the +procureur and the captain, conducting their uncle at night, without a +lamp, or lantern, returning from a supper at the penitentiary’s, had +caused him by accident to tumble over a heap of stones gathered +together to raise the statue of St. Christopher. At first the old man +had struck fire in falling, but was, amid the cries of his dear +nephews and by the light of the torches they came to seek at her house +found standing up as straight as a skittle and as gay as a weaving +whirl, exclaiming that the good wine of the penitentiary had given him +the courage to sustain this shock and that his bones were exceedingly +hard and had sustained rude assaults. The good nephews believing him +dead, were much astonished, and perceived that the day that was to +dispatch their uncle was a long way off, seeing that at the business +stones were of no use. So that they did not falsely call him their +good uncle, seeing that he was of good quality. Certain scandalmongers +said that the canon found so many stones in his path that he stayed at +home not to be ill with the stone, and the fear of worse was the cause +of his seclusion. + +Of all these sayings and rumours, it remains that the old canon, devil +or not, kept his house, and refused to die, and had three heirs with +whom he lived as with his sciaticas, lumbagos, and other appendage of +human life. Of the said three heirs, one was the wickedest soldier +ever born of a woman, and he must have considerably hurt her in +breaking his egg, since he was born with teeth and bristles. So that +he ate, two-fold, for the present and the future, keeping wenches +whose cost he paid; inheriting from his uncle the continuance, +strength, and good use of that which is often of service. In great +battles, he endeavoured always to give blows without receiving them, +which is, and always will be, the only problem to solve in war, but he +never spared himself there, and, in fact, as he had no other virtue +except his bravery, he was captain of a company of lancers, and much +esteemed by the Duke of Burgoyne, who never troubled what his soldiers +did elsewhere. This nephew of the devil was named Captain Cochegrue; +and his creditors, the blockheads, citizens, and others, whose pockets +he slit, called him the Mau-cinge, since he was as mischievous as +strong; but he had moreover his back spoilt by the natural infirmity +of a hump, and it would have been unwise to attempt to mount thereon +to get a good view, for he would incontestably have run you through. + +The second had studied the laws, and through the favour of his uncle +had become a procureur, and practised at the palace, where he did the +business of the ladies, whom formerly the canon had the best +confessed. This one was called Pille-grue, to banter him upon his real +name, which was Cochegrue, like that of his brother the captain. +Pille-grue had a lean body, seemed to throw off very cold water, was +pale of face, and possessed a physiognomy like a polecat. + +This notwithstanding, he was worth many a penny more than the captain, +and had for his uncle a little affection, but since about two years +his heart had cracked a little, and drop by drop his gratitude had run +out, in such a way that from time to time, when the air was damp, he +liked to put his feet into his uncle’s hose, and press in advance the +juice of this good inheritance. He and his brother, the soldier found +their share very small, since loyally, in law, in fact, in justice, in +nature, and in reality, it was necessary to give the third part of +everything to a poor cousin, son of another sister of the canon, the +which heir, but little loved by the good man, remained in the country, +where he was a shepherd, near Nanterre. + +The guardian of beasts, an ordinary peasant, came to town by the +advice of his two cousins, who placed him in their uncle’s house, in +the hope that, as much by his silly tricks and his clumsiness, his +want of brain, and his ignorance, he would be displeasing to the +canon, who would kick him out of his will. Now this poor Chiquon, as +the shepherd was named, had lived about a month alone with his old +uncle, and finding more profit or more amusement in minding an abbot +than looking after sheep, made himself the canon’s dog, his servant, +the staff of his old age, saying, “God keep you,” when he passed wind, +“God save you,” when he sneezed, and “God guard you,” when he belched; +going to see if it rained, where the cat was, remaining silent, +listening, speaking, receiving the coughs of the old man in his face, +admiring him as the finest canon there ever was in the world, all +heartily and in good faith, knowing that he was licking him after the +manner of animals who clean their young ones; and the uncle, who stood +in no need of learning which side the bread was buttered, repulsed +poor Chiquon, making him turn about like a die, always calling him +Chiquon, and always saying to his other nephews that this Chiquon was +helping to kill him, such a numskull was he. Thereupon, hearing this, +Chiquon determined to do well by his uncle, and puzzled his +understanding to appear better; but as he had a behind shaped like a +pair of pumpkins, was broad shouldered, large limbed, and far from +sharp, he more resembled old Silenus than a gentle Zephyr. In fact, +the poor shepherd, a simple man, could not reform himself, so he +remained big and fat, awaiting his inheritance to make himself thin. + +One evening the canon began discoursing concerning the devil and +the grave agonies, penances, tortures, etc., which God will get warm +for the accursed, and the good Chiquon hearing it, began to open his +eyes as wide as the door of an oven, at the statement, without +believing a word of it. + +“What,” said the canon, “are you not a Christian?” + +“In that, yes,” answered Chiquon. + +“Well, there is a paradise for the good; is it not necessary to have a +hell for the wicked?” + +“Yes, Mr. Canon; but the devil’s of no use. If you had here a wicked +man who turned everything upside down; would you not kick him out of +doors?” + +“Yes, Chiquon.” + +“Oh, well, mine uncle; God would be very stupid to leave in the this +world, which he has so curiously constructed, an abominable devil +whose special business it is to spoil everything for him. Pish! I +recognise no devil if there be a good God; you may depend upon that. I +should very much like to see the devil. Ha, ha! I am not afraid of his +claws!” + +“And if I were of your opinion I should have no care of my very +youthful years in which I held confessions at least ten times a day.” + +“Confess again, Mr. Canon. I assure you that will be a precious merit +on high.” + +“There, there! Do you mean it?” + +“Yes, Mr. Canon.” + +“Thou dost not tremble, Chiquon, to deny the devil?” + +“I trouble no more about it than a sheaf of corn.” + +“The doctrine will bring misfortune upon you.” + +“By no means. God will defend me from the devil because I believe him +more learned and less stupid than the savans make him out.” + +Thereupon the two other nephews entered, and perceiving from the voice +of the canon that he did not dislike Chiquon very much, and that the +jeremiads which he had made concerning him were simple tricks to +disguise the affection which he bore him, looked at each other in +great astonishment. + +Then, seeing their uncle laughing, they said to him-- + +“If you will make a will, to whom will you leave the house? + +“To Chiquon.” + +“And the quit rent of the Rue St. Denys?” + +“To Chiquon.” + +“And the fief of Ville Parisis?” + +“To Chiquon.” + +“But,” said the captain, with his big voice, “everything then will be +Chiquon’s.” + +“No,” replied the canon, smiling, “because I shall have made my will +in proper form, the inheritance will be to the sharpest of you three; +I am so near to the future, that I can therein see clearly your +destinies.” + +And the wily canon cast upon Chiquon a glance full of malice, like a +decoy bird would have thrown upon a little one to draw him into her +net. The fire of his flaming eye enlightened the shepherd, who from +that moment had his understanding and his ears all unfogged, and his +brain open, like that of a maiden the day after her marriage. The +procureur and the captain, taking these sayings for gospel prophecies, +made their bow and went out from the house, quite perplexed at the +absurd designs of the canon. + +“What do you think of Chiquon?” said Pille-grue to Mau-cinge. + +“I think, I think,” said the soldier, growling, “that I think of +hiding myself in the Rue d’Hierusalem, to put his head below his feet; +he can pick it up again if he likes.” + +“Oh, oh!” said the procureur, “you have a way of wounding that is +easily recognised, and people would say ‘It’s Cochegrue.’ As for me, I +thought to invite him to dinner, after which, we would play at putting +ourselves in a sack in order to see, as they do at Court, who could +walk best thus attired. Then having sewn him up, we could throw him +into the Seine, at the same time begging him to swim.” + +“This must be well matured,” replied the soldier. + +“Oh! it’s quite ripe,” said the advocate. “The cousin gone to the +devil, the heritage would then be between us two.” + +“I’m quite agreeable,” said the fighter, “but we must stick as close +together as the two legs of the same body, for if you are fine as +silk, I as strong as steel, and daggers are always as good as traps +--you hear that, my good brother.” + +“Yes,” said the advocate, “the cause is heard--now shall it be the +thread or the iron?” + +“Eh? ventre de Dieu! is it then a king that we are going to settle? +For a simple numskull of a shepherd are so many words necessary? Come! +20,000 francs out of the Heritage to the one of us who shall first cut +him off: I’ll say to him in good faith, ‘Pick up your head.’” + +“And I, ‘Swim my friend,’” cried the advocate, laughing like the gap +of a pourpoint. + +And then they went to supper, the captain to his wench, and the +advocate to the house of a jeweller’s wife, of whom he was the lover. + +Who was astonished? Chiquon! The poor shepherd heard the planning of +his death, although the two cousins had walked in the parvis, and +talked to each other as every one speaks at church when praying to +God. So that Chiquon was much coupled to know if the words had come up +or if his ears had gone down. + +“Do you hear, Mister Canon?” + +“Yes,” said he, “I hear the wood crackling in the fire.” + +“Ho, ho!” replied Chiquon, “if I don’t believe in the devil, I believe +in St. Michael, my guardian angel; I go there where he calls me.” + +“Go, my child,” said the canon, “and take care not to wet yourself, +nor to get your head knocked off, for I think I hear more rain, and +the beggars in the street are not always the most dangerous beggars.” + +At these words Chiquon was much astonished, and stared at the canon; +found his manner gay, his eye sharp, and his feet crooked; but as he +had to arrange matters concerning the death which menaced him, he +thought to himself that he would always have leisure to admire the +canon, or to cut his nails, and he trotted off quickly through the +town, as a little woman trots towards her pleasure. + +His two cousins having no presumption of the divinatory science, of +which shepherds have had many passing attacks, had often talked before +him of their secret goings on, counting him as nothing. + +Now one evening, to amuse the canon, Pille-grue had recounted to him +how had fallen in love with him a wife of a jeweller on whose head he +had adjusted certain carved, burnished, sculptured, historical horns, +fit for the brow of a prince. The good lady was to hear him, a right +merry wench, quick at opportunities, giving an embrace while her +husband was mounting the stairs, devouring the commodity as if she was +swallowing a a strawberry, only thinking of love-making, always +trifling and frisky, gay as an honest woman who lacks nothing, +contenting her husband, who cherished her so much as he loved his own +gullet; subtle as a perfume, so much so, that for five years she +managed so well with his household affairs, and her own love affairs, +that she had the reputation of a prudent woman, the confidence of her +husband, the keys of the house, the purse, and all. + +“And when do you play upon this gentle flute?” said the canon. + +“Every evening and sometimes I stay all the night.” + +“But how?” said the canon, astonished. + +“This is how. There is a room close to, a chest into which I get. When +the good husband returns from his friend the draper’s, where he goes +to supper every evening, because often he helps the draper’s wife in +her work, my mistress pleads a slight illness, lets him go to bed +alone, and comes to doctor her malady in the room where the chest is. +On the morrow, when my jeweller is at his forge, I depart, and as the +house has one exit on to the bridge, and another into the street, I +always come to the door when the husband is not, on the pretext of +speaking to him of his suits, which commence joyfully and heartily, +and I never let them come to an end. It is an income from cuckoldom, +seeing that in the minor expenses and loyal costs of the proceedings, +he spends as much as on the horses in his stable. He loves me well, as +all good cuckolds should love the man who aids them, to plant, +cultivate, water and dig the natural garden of Venus, and he does +nothing without me.” + +Now these practices came back again to the memory of the shepherd, who +was illuminated by the light issuing from his danger, and counselled +by the intelligence of those measures of self-preservation, of which +every animal possesses a sufficient dose to go to the end of his ball +of life. So Chiquon gained with hasty feet the Rue de la Calandre, +where the jeweller should be supping with his companion, and after +having knocked at the door, replied to question put to him through the +little grill, that he was a messenger on state secrets, and was +admitted to the draper’s house. Now coming straight to the fact, he +made the happy jeweller get up from his table, led him to a corner, +and said to him: “If one of your neighbours had planted a horn on your +forehead and he was delivered to you, bound hand and foot, would you +throw him into the river?” + +“Rather,” said the jeweller, “but if you are mocking me I’ll give you +a good drubbing.” + +“There, there!” replied Chiquon, “I am one of your friends and come to +warn you that as many times as you have conversed with the draper’s +wife here, as often has your own wife been served the same way by the +advocate Pille-grue, and if you will come back to your forge, you will +find a good fire there. On your arrival, he who looks after your +you-know-what, to keep it in good order, gets into the big clothes +chest. Now make a pretence that I have bought the said chest of you, +and I will be upon the bridge with a cart, waiting your orders.” + +The said jeweller took his cloak and his hat, and parted company with +his crony without saying a word, and ran to his hole like a poisoned +rat. He arrives and knocks, the door is opened, he runs hastily up the +stairs, finds two covers laid, sees his wife coming out of the chamber +of love, and then says to her, “My dear, here are two covers laid.” + +“Well, my darling are we not two?” + +“No,” said he, “we are three.” + +“Is your friend coming?” said she, looking towards the stairs with +perfect innocence. + +“No, I speak of the friend who is in the chest.” + +“What chest?” said she. “Are you in your sound senses? Where do you +see a chest? Is the usual to put friends in chests? Am I a woman to +keep chests full of friends? How long have friends been kept in +chests? Are you come home mad to mix up your friends with your chests? +I know no other friend then Master Cornille the draper, and no other +chest than the one with our clothes in.” + +“Oh!” said the jeweller, “my good woman, there is a bad young man, +who has come to warn me that you allow yourself to be embraced by our +advocate, and that he is in the chest.” + +“I!” said she, “I would not put up with his knavery, he does +everything the wrong way.” + +“There, there, my dear,” replied the jeweller, “I know you to be a +good woman, and won’t have a squabble with you about this paltry +chest. The giver of the warning is a box-maker, to whom I am about to +sell this cursed chest that I wish never again to see in my house, and +for this one he will sell me two pretty little ones, in which there +will not be space enough even for a child; thus the scandal and the +babble of those envious of your virtue will be extinguished for want +of nourishment.” + +“You give me great pleasure,” said she; “I don’t attach any value to +my chest, and by chance there is nothing in it. Our linen is at the +wash. It will be easy to have the mischievous chest taken away +tomorrow morning. Will you sup?” + +“Not at all,” said he, “I shall sup with a better appetite without the +chest.” + +“I see,” said she, “that you won’t easily get the chest out of your +head.” + +“Halloa, there!” said the jeweller to his smiths and apprentices; +“come down!” + +In the twinkling of an eye his people were before him. Then he, their +master, having briefly ordered the handling of the said chest, this +piece of furniture dedicated to love was tumbled across the room, but +in passing the advocate, finding his feet in the air to the which he +was not accustomed, tumbled over a little. + +“Go on,” said the wife, “go on, it’s the lid shaking.” + +“No, my dear, it’s the bolt.” + +And without any other opposition the chest slid gently down the +stairs. + +“Ho there, carrier!” said the jeweller, and Chiquon came whistling his +mules, and the good apprentices lifted the litigious chest into the +cart. + +“Hi, hi!” said the advocate. + +“Master, the chest is speaking,” said an apprentice. + +“In what language?” said the jeweller, giving him a good kick between +two features that luckily were not made of glass. The apprentice +tumbled over on to a stair in a way that induced him to discontinue +his studies in the language of chests. The shepherd, accompanied by +the good jeweller, carried all the baggage to the water-side without +listening to the high eloquence of the speaking wood, and having tied +several stones to it, the jeweller threw it into the Seine. + +“Swim, my friend,” cried the shepherd, in a voice sufficiently jeering +at the moment when the chest turned over, giving a pretty little +plunge like a duck. + +Then Chiquon continued to proceed along the quay, as far as the +Rue-du-port, St. Laudry, near the cloisters of Notre Dame. There he +noticed a house, recognised the door, and knocked loudly. + +“Open,” said he, “open by order of the king.” + +Hearing this an old man who was no other than the famous Lombard, +Versoris, ran to the door. + +“What is it?” said he. + +“I am sent by the provost to warn you to keep good watch tonight,” + replied Chiquon, “as for his own part he will keep his archers ready. +The hunchback who has robbed you has come back again. Keep under arms, +for he is quite capable of easing you of the rest.” + +Having said this, the good shepherd took to his heels and ran to the +Rue des Marmouzets, to the house where Captain Cochegrue was feasting +with La Pasquerette, the prettiest of town-girls, and the most +charming in perversity that ever was; according to all the gay ladies, +her glance was sharp and piercing as the stab of a dagger. Her +appearance was so tickling to the sight, that it would have put all +Paradise to rout. Besides which she was as bold as a woman who has no +other virtue than her insolence. Poor Chiquon was greatly embarrassed +while going to the quarter of the Marmouzets. He was greatly afraid +that he would be unable to find the house of La Pasquerette, or find +the two pigeons gone to roost, but a good angel arranged there +speedily to his satisfaction. This is how. On entering the Rue des +Marmouzets he saw several lights at the windows and night-capped heads +thrust out, and good wenches, gay girls, housewives, husbands, and +young ladies, all of them are just out of bed, looking at each other +as if a robber were being led to execution by torchlight. + +“What’s the matter?” said the shepherd to a citizen who in great haste +had rushed to the door with a chamber utensil in his hand. + +“Oh! it’s nothing,” replied the good man. “We thought it was the +Armagnacs descending upon the town, but it’s only Mau-cinge beating La +Pasquerette.” + +“Where?” asked the shepherd. + +“Below there, at that fine house where the pillars have the mouths of +flying frogs delicately carved upon them. Do you hear the varlets and +the serving maids?” + +And in fact there was nothing but cries of “Murder! Help! Come some +one!” and in the house blows raining down and the Mau-cinge said with +his gruff voice: + +“Death to the wench! Ah, you sing out now, do you? Ah, you want your +money now, do you? Take that--” + +And La Pasquerette was groaning, “Oh! oh! I die! Help! Help! Oh! oh!” + Then came the blow of a sword and the heavy fall of a light body of +the fair girl sounded, and was followed by a great silence, after +which the lights were put out, servants, waiting women, roysterers, +and others went in again, and the shepherd who had come opportunely +mounted the stairs in company with them, but on beholding in the room +above broken glasses, slit carpets, and the cloth on the floor with +the dishes, everyone remained at a distance. + +The shepherd, bold as a man with but one end in view, opened the door +of the handsome chamber where slept La Pasquerette, and found her +quite exhausted, her hair dishevelled, and her neck twisted, lying +upon a bloody carpet, and Mau-cinge frightened, with his tone +considerably lower, and not knowing upon what note to sing the +remainder of his anthem. + +“Come, my little Pasquerette, don’t pretend to be dead. Come, let me +put you tidy. Ah! little minx, dead or alive, you look so pretty in +your blood I’m going to kiss you.” Having said which the cunning +soldier took her and threw her upon the bed, but she fell there all of +a heap, and stiff as the body of a man that had been hanged. Seeing +which her companion found it was time for his hump to retire from the +game; however, the artful fellow before slinking away said, “Poor +Pasquerette, how could I murder so good of girl, and one I loved so +much? But, yes, I have killed her, the thing is clear, for in her life +never did her sweet breast hang down like that. Good God, one would +say it was a crown at the bottom of a wallet. Thereupon Pasquerette +opened her eyes and then bent her head slightly to look at her flesh, +which was white and firm, and she brought herself to life by a box on +the ears, administered to the captain. + +“That will teach you to beware of the dead,” said she, smiling. + +“And why did he kill you, my cousin?” asked the shepherd. + +“Why? Tomorrow the bailiffs seize everything that’s here, and he who +has no more money than virtue, reproached me because I wished to be +agreeable to a handsome gentlemen, who would save me from the hands of +justice. + +“Pasquerette, I’ll break every bone in your skin.” + +“There, there!” said Chiquon, whom the Mau-cinge had just recognised, +“is that all? Oh, well, my good friend, I bring you a large sum.” + +“Where from?” asked the captain, astonished. + +“Come here, and let me whisper in your ear--if 30,000 crowns were +walking about at night under the shadow of a pear-tree, would you not +stoop down to pluck them, to prevent them spoiling?” + +“Chiquon, I’ll kill you like a dog if you are making game of me, or I +will kiss you there where you like it, if you will put me opposite +30,000 crowns, even when it shall be necessary to kill three citizens +at the corner of the Quay.” + +“You will not even kill one. This is how the matter stands. I have for +a sweetheart in all loyalty, the servant of the Lombard who is in the +city near the house of our good uncle. Now I have just learned on +sound information that this dear man has departed this morning into +the country after having hidden under a pear-tree in his garden a good +bushel of gold, believing himself to be seen only by the angels. But +the girl who had by chance a bad toothache, and was taking the air at +her garret window, spied the old crookshanks, without wishing to do +so, and chattered of it to me in fondness. If you will swear to give +me a good share I will lend you my shoulders in order that you may +climb on to the top of the wall and from there throw yourself into the +pear-tree, which is against the wall. There, now do you say that I am +a blockhead, an animal?” + +“No, you are a right loyal cousin, an honest man, and if you have ever +to put an enemy out off the way, I am there, ready to kill even one of +my own friends for you. I am no longer your cousin, but your brother. +Ho there! sweetheart,” cried Mau-cinge to La Pasquerette, “put the +tables straight, wipe up your blood, it belongs to me, and I’ll pay +you for it by giving you a hundred times as much of mine as I have +taken of thine. Make the best of it, shake the black dog, off your +back, adjust your petticoats, laugh, I wish it, look to the stew, and +let us recommence our evening prayer where we left it off. Tomorrow +I’ll make thee braver than a queen. This is my cousin whom I wish to +entertain, even when to do so it were necessary to turn the house out +of windows. We shall get back everything tomorrow in the cellars. +Come, fall to!” + +Thus, and in less time than it takes a priest to say his Dominus +vobiscum, the whole rookery passed from tears to laughter as it had +previously from laughter to tears. It is only in these houses of +ill-fame that love is made with the blow of a dagger, and where +tempests of joy rage between four walls. But these are things ladies +of the high-neck dress do not understand. + +The said captain Cochegrue was gay as a hundred schoolboys at the +breaking up of class, and made his good cousin drink deeply, who +spilled everything country fashion, and pretended to be drunk, +spluttering out a hundred stupidities, as, that “tomorrow he would buy +Paris, would lend a hundred thousand crowns to the king, that he would +be able to roll in gold;” in fact, talked so much nonsense that the +captain, fearing some compromising avowal and thinking his brain quite +muddled enough, led him outside with the good intention, instead of +sharing with him, of ripping Chiquon open to see if he had not a +sponge in his stomach, because he had just soaked in a big quart of +the good wine of Suresne. They went along, disputing about a thousand +theological subjects which got very much mixed up, and finished by +rolling quietly up against the garden where were the crowns of the +Lombard. Then Cochegrue, making a ladder of Chiquon’s broad shoulders, +jumped on to the pear-tree like a man expert in attacks upon towns, +but Versoris, who was watching him, made a blow at his neck, and +repeated it so vigorously that with three blows fell the upper portion +of the said Cochegrue, but not until he had heard the clear voice of +the shepherd, who cried to him, “Pick up your head, my friend.” + Thereupon the generous Chiquon, in whom virtue received its +recompense, thought it would be wise to return to the house of the +good canon, whose heritage was by the grace of God considerably +simplified. Thus he gained the Rue St. Pierre-Aux-Boeufs with all +speed, and soon slept like a new-born baby, no longer knowing the +meaning of the word “cousin-german.” Now, on the morrow he rose +according to the habit of shepherds, with the sun, and came into his +uncle’s room to inquire if he spat white, if he coughed, if he had +slept well; but the old servant told him that the canon, hearing the +bells of St Maurice, the first patron of Notre Dame, ring for matins, +he had gone out of reverence to the cathedral, where all the Chapter +were to breakfast with the Bishop of Paris; upon which Chiquon +replied: “Is his reverence the canon out of his senses thus to disport +himself, to catch a cold, to get rheumatism? Does he wish to die? I’ll +light a big fire to warm him when he returns;” and the good shepherd +ran into the room where the canon generally sat, and to his great +astonishment beheld him seated in his chair. + +“Ah, ah! What did she mean, that fool of a Bruyette? I knew you were +too well advised to be shivering at this hour in your stall.” + +The canon said not a word. The shepherd who was like all thinkers, a +man of hidden sense, was quite aware that sometimes old men have +strange crotchets, converse with the essence of occult things, and +mumble to themselves discourses concerning matters not under +consideration; so that, from reverence and great respect for the +secret meditations of the canon, he went and sat down at a distance, +and waited the termination of these dreams; noticing, silently the +length of the good man’s nails, which looked like cobbler’s awls, and +looking attentively at the feet of his uncle, he was astonished to see +the flesh of his legs so crimson, that it reddened his breeches and +seemed all on fire through his hose. + +He is dead, thought Chiquon. At this moment the door of the room +opened, and he still saw the canon, who, his nose frozen, came back +from church. + +“Ho, ho!” said Chiquon, “my dear Uncle, are you out of your senses? +Kindly take notice that you ought not to be at the door, because you +are already seated in your chair in the chimney corner, and that it is +impossible for there to be two canons like you in the world.” + +“Ah! Chiquon, there was a time when I could have wished to be in two +places at once, but such is not the fate of a man, he would be too +happy. Are you getting dim-sighted? I am alone here.” + +Then Chiquon turned his head towards the chair, and found it empty; +and much astonished, as you will easily believe, he approached it, and +found on the seat a little pat of cinders, from which ascended a +strong odour of sulphur. + +“Ah!” said he merrily, “I perceive that the devil has behaved well +towards me--I will pray God for him.” + +And thereupon he related naively to the canon how the devil had amused +himself by playing at providence, and had loyally aided him to get rid +of his wicked cousins, the which the canon admired much, and thought +very good, seeing that he had plenty of good sense left, and often had +observed things which were to the devil’s advantage. So the good old +priest remarked that ‘as much good was always met with in evil as evil +in good, and that therefore one should not trouble too much after the +other world, the which was a grave heresy, which many councils have +put right’. + +And this was how the Chiquons became rich, and were able in these +times, by the fortunes of their ancestors, to help to build the bridge +of St. Michael, where the devil cuts a very good figure under the +angel, in memory of this adventure now consigned to these veracious +histories. + + + + THE MERRIE JESTS OF KING LOUIS THE ELEVENTH + +King Louis The Eleventh was a merry fellow, loving a good joke, and +--the interests of his position as king, and those of the church on +one side--he lived jovially, giving chase to soiled doves as often as +to hares, and other royal game. Therefore, the sorry scribblers who +have made him out a hypocrite, showed plainly that they knew him not, +since he was a good friend, good at repartee, and a jollier fellow +than any of them. + +It was he who said when he was in a merry mood, that four things are +excellent and opportune in life--to keep warm, to drink cool, to stand +up hard, and to swallow soft. Certain persons have accused him of +taking up with a dirty trollops; this is a notorious falsehood, since +all his mistresses, of whom one was legitimised, came of good houses +and had notable establishments. He did not go in for waste and +extravagance, always put his hand upon the solid, and because certain +devourers of the people found no crumbs at his table, they have all +maligned him. But the real collector of facts know that the said king +was a capital fellow in private life, and even very agreeable; and +before cutting off the heads of his friends, or punishing them--for he +did not spare them--it was necessary that they should have greatly +offended him, and his vengeance was always justice; I have only seen +in our friend Verville that this worthy sovereign ever made a mistake; +but one does not make a habit, and even for this his boon companion +Tristan was more to blame than he, the king. This is the circumstance +related by the said Verville, and I suspect he was cracking a joke. I +reproduce it because certain people are not familiar with the +exquisite work of my perfect compatriot. I abridge it and only give +the substance, the details being more ample, of which facts the savans +are not ignorant. + +Louis XI. had given the Abbey of Turpenay (mentioned in ‘Imperia’) to +a gentleman who, enjoying the revenue, had called himself Monsieur de +Turpenay. It happened that the king being at Plessis-les-Tours, the +real abbot, who was a monk, came and presented himself before the +king, and presented also a petition, remonstrating with him that, +canonically and a monastically, he was entitled to the abbey and that +the usurping gentleman wronged of his right, and therefore he called +upon his majesty to have justice done to him. Nodding his peruke, the +king promised to render him contented. This monk, importunate as are +all hooded animals, came often at the end of the king’s meals, who, +bored with the holy water of the convent, called friend Tristan and +said to him: “Old fellow, there is here a Turpenay who angers me, rid +the world of him for me.” Tristan, taking a frock for a monk, or a +monk for a frock, came to this gentleman, whom all the court called +Monsieur de Turpenay, and having accosted him managed to lead him to +one side, and taking him by the button-hole gave him to understand +that the king desired he should die. He tried to resist, supplicating +and supplicating to escape, but in no way could he obtain a hearing. +He was delicately strangled between the head and shoulders, so that he +expired; and, three hours afterwards, Tristan told the king that he +was discharged. It happened five days afterwards, which is the space +in which souls come back again, that the monk came into the room where +the king was, and when he saw him he was much astonished. Tristan was +present: the king called him, and whispered into his ear-- + +“You have not done that which I told you to.” + +“Saving your Grace I have done it. Turpenay is dead.” + +“Eh? I meant this monk.” + +“I understood the gentleman!” + +“What, is it done then?” + +“Yes, sire,” + +“Very well then”--turning towards the monk--“come here, monk.” The +monk approached. The king said to him, “Kneel down!” The poor monk +began to shiver in his shoes. But the king said to him, “Thank God +that he has not willed that you should be killed as I had ordered. He +who took your estates has been instead. God has done you justice. Go +and pray God for me, and don’t stir out of your convent.” + +The proves the good-heartedness of Louis XI. He might very well have +hanged the monk, the cause of the error. As for the said gentleman, he +died in the king’s service. + +In the early days of his sojourn at Plessis-les-Tours king Louis, not +wishing to hold his drinking-bouts and give vent to his rakish +propensities in his chateau, out of respect to her Majesty (a kingly +delicacy which his successors have not possessed) became enamoured of +a lady named Nicole Beaupertuys, who was, to tell the truth, wife of a +citizen of the town. The husband he sent into Ponent, and put the said +Nicole in a house near Chardonneret, in that part which is the Rue +Quincangrogne, because it was a lonely place, far from other +habitations. The husband and the wife were thus both in his service, +and he had by La Beaupertuys a daughter, who died a nun. This Nicole +had a tongue as sharp as a popinjay’s, was of stately proportions, +furnished with large beautiful cushions of nature, firm to the touch, +white as the wings of an angel, and known for the rest to be fertile +in peripatetic ways, which brought it to pass that never with her was +the same thing encountered twice in love, so deeply had she studied +the sweet solutions of the science, the manners of accommodating the +olives of Poissy, the expansions of the nerves, and hidden doctrines +of the breviary, the which much delighted the king. She was as gay as +a lark, always laughing and singing, and never made anyone miserable, +which is the characteristic of women of this open and free nature, who +have always an occupation--an equivocal one if you like. The king +often went with the hail-fellows his friends to the lady’s house, and +in order not to be seen always went at night-time, and without his +suite. But being always distrustful, and fearing some snare, he gave +to Nicole all the most savage dogs he had in his kennels, beggars that +would eat a man without saying “By your leave,” the which royal dogs +knew only Nicole and the king. When the Sire came Nicole let them +loose in the garden, and the door of the house being sufficiently +barred and closely shut, the king put the keys in his pocket, and in +perfect security gave himself up, with his satellites, to every kind +of pleasure, fearing no betrayal, jumping about at will, playing +tricks, and getting up good games. Upon these occasions friend Tristan +watched the neighbourhood, and anyone who had taken a walk on the Mall +of Chardonneret would be rather quickly placed in a position in which +it would have been easy to give the passers-by a benediction with his +feet, unless he had the king’s pass, since often would Louis send out +in search of lasses for his friends, or people to entertain him with +the amusements suggested by Nicole or the guests. People of Tours were +there for these little amusements, to whom he gently recommended +silence, so that no one knew of these pastimes until after his death. +The farce of “_Baisez mon cul_” was, it is said, invented by the said +Sire. I will relate it, although it is not the subject of this tale, +because it shows the natural comicality and humour of this merry +monarch. They were at Tours three well known misers: the first was +Master Cornelius, who is sufficiently well known; the second was +called Peccard, and sold the gilt-work, coloured papers, and jewels +used in churches; the third was hight Marchandeau, and was a very +wealthy vine-grower. These two men of Touraine were the founders of +good families, notwithstanding their sordidness. One evening that the +king was with Beaupertuys, in a good humour, having drunk heartily, +joked heartily, and offered early in the evening his prayer in +Madame’s oratory, he said to Le Daim his crony, to the Cardinal, La +Balue, and to old Dunois, who were still soaking, “Let us have a good +laugh! I think it will be a good joke to see misers before a bag of +gold without being able to touch it. Hi, there!” + +Hearing which, appeared one of his varlets. + +“Go,” said he, “seek my treasurer, and let him bring hither six +thousand gold crowns--and at once! And you will go and seize the +bodies of my friend Cornelius, of the jeweller of the Rue de Cygnes, +and of old Marchandeau, and bring them here, by order of the king.” + +Then he began to drink again, and to judiciously wrangle as to which +was the better, a woman with a gamy odour or a woman who soaped +herself well all over; a thin one or a stout one; and as the company +comprised the flower of wisdom it was decided that the best was the +one a man had all to himself like a plate of warm mussels, at that +precise moment when God sent him a good idea to communicate to her. +The cardinal asked which was the most precious thing to a lady; the +first or the last kiss? To which La Beaupertuys replied: “that it was +the last, seeing that she knew then what she was losing, while at the +first she did not know what she would gain.” During these sayings, and +others which have most unfortunately been lost, came the six thousand +gold crowns, which were worth all three hundred thousand francs of +to-day, so much do we go on decreasing in value every day. The king +ordered the crowns to be arranged upon a table, and well lighted up, +so that they shone like the eyes of the company which lit up +involuntarily, and made them laugh in spite of themselves. They did +not wait long for the three misers, whom the varlet led in, pale and +panting, except Cornelius, who knew the king’s strange freaks. + +“Now then, my friends,” said Louis to them, “have a good look at the +crowns on the table.” + +And the three townsmen nibbled at them with their eyes. You may reckon +that the diamond of La Beaupertuys sparkled less than their little +minnow eyes. + +“These are yours,” added the king. + +Thereupon they ceased to admire the crowns to look at each other; and +the guests knew well that old knaves are more expert in grimaces than +any others, because of their physiognomies becoming tolerably curious, +like those of cats lapping up milk, or girls titillated with marriage. + +“There,” said the king, “all that shall be his who shall say three +times to the two others, ‘_Baisez mon cul_’, thrusting his hand into the +gold; but if he be not as serious as a fly who had violated his +lady-love, if he smile while repeating the jest, he will pay ten crowns +to Madame. Nevertheless he can essay three times.” + +“That will soon be earned,” said Cornelius, who, being a Dutchman, had +his lips as often compressed and serious as Madame’s mouth was often +open and laughing. Then he bravely put his hands on the crowns to see +if they were good, and clutched them bravely, but as he looked at the +others to say civilly to them, “_Baisez mon cul_,” the two misers, +distrustful of his Dutch gravity, replied, “Certainly, sir,” as if he +had sneezed. The which caused all the company to laugh, and even +Cornelius himself. When the vine-grower went to take the crowns he +felt such a commotion in his cheeks that his old scummer face let +little laughs exude from its pores like smoke pouring out of a +chimney, and he could say nothing. Then it was the turn of the +jeweller, who was a little bit of a bantering fellow, and whose lips +were as tightly squeezed as the neck of a hanged man. He seized a +handful of the crowns, looked at the others, even the king, and said, +with a jeering air, “_Baisez mon cul_.” + +“Is it dirty?” asked the vine-dresser. + +“Look and see,” replied the jeweller, gravely. + +Thereupon the king began to tremble for these crowns, since the said +Peccard began again, without laughing, and for the third time was +about to utter the sacramental word, when La Beaupertuys made a sign +of consent to his modest request, which caused him to lose his +countenance, and his mouth broke up into dimples. + +“How did you do it?” asked Dunois, “to keep a grave face before six +thousand crowns?” + +“Oh, my lord, I thought first of one of my cases which is tried +tomorrow, and secondly, of my wife who is a sorry plague.” + +The desire to gain this good round sum made them try again, and the +king amused himself for about an hour at the expression of these +faces, the preparations, jokes, grimaces, and other monkey’s +paternosters that they performed; but they were bailing their boats +with a sieve, and for men who preferred closing their fists to opening +them it was a bitter sorrow to have to count out, each one, a hundred +crown to Madame. + +When they were gone, and Nicole said boldly to the king, “Sire will +you let me try?” + +“Holy Virgin!” replied Louis; “no! I can kiss you for less money.” + +That was said like a thrifty man, which indeed he always was. + +One evening the fat Cardinal La Balue carried on gallantly with words +and actions, a little farther than the canons of the Church permitted +him, with this Beaupertuys, who luckily for herself, was a clever +hussy, not to be asked with impunity how many holes there were in her +mother’s chemise. + +“Look you here, Sir Cardinal!” said she; “the thing which the king +likes is not to receive the holy oils.” + +Then came Oliver le Daim, whom she would not listen to either, and to +whose nonsense she replied, that she would ask the king if he wished +her to be shaved. + +Now as the said shaver did not supplicate her to keep his proposals +secret, she suspected that these little plots were ruses practised by +the king, whose suspicions had perhaps been aroused by her friends. +Now, for being able to revenge herself upon Louis, she at least +determined to pay out the said lords, to make fools of them, and amuse +the king with the tricks she would play upon them. One evening that +they had come to supper, she had a lady of the city with her, who +wished to speak with the king. This lady was a lady of position, who +wished asked the king pardon for her husband, the which, in +consequence of this adventure, she obtained. Nicole Beaupertuys having +led the king aside for a moment into an antechamber, told him to make +their guests drink hard and eat to repletion; that he was to make +merry and joke with them; but when the cloth was removed, he was to +pick quarrels with them about trifles, dispute their words, and be +sharp with them; and that she would then divert him by turning them +inside out before him. But above all things, he was to be friendly to +the said lady, and it was to appear as genuine, as if she enjoyed the +perfume of his favour, because she had gallantly lent herself to this +good joke. + +“Well, gentlemen,” said the king, re-entering the room, “let us fall +to; we have had a good day’s sport.” + +And the surgeon, the cardinal, a fat bishop, the captain of the Scotch +Guard, a parliamentary envoy, and a judge loved of the king, followed +the two ladies into the room where one rubs the rust off one’s jaw +bones. And there they lined the mold of their doublets. What is that? +It is to pave the stomach, to practice the chemistry of nature, to +register the various dishes, to regale your tripes, to dig your grave +with your teeth, play with the sword of Cain, to inter sauces, to +support a cuckold. But more philosophically it is to make ordure with +one’s teeth. Now, do you understand? How many words does it require to +burst open the lid of your understanding? + +The king did not fail to distill into his guests this splendid and +first-class supper. He stuffed them with green peas, returning to the +hotch-potch, praising the plums, commending the fish, saying to one, +“Why do you not eat?” to another, “Drink to Madame”; to all of them, +“Gentlemen, taste these lobsters; put this bottle to death! You do not +know the flavour of this forcemeat. And these lampreys--ah! what do +you say to them? And by the Lord! The finest barbel ever drawn from +the Loire! Just stick your teeth into this pastry. This game is my own +hunting; he who takes it not offends me.” And again, “Drink, the +king’s eyes are the other way. Just give your opinion of these +preserves, they are Madame’s own. Have some of these grapes, they are +my own growing. Have some medlars.” And while inducing them to swell +out their abdominal protuberances, the good monarch laughed with them, +and they joked and disputed, and spat, and blew their noses, and +kicked up just as though the king had not been with them. Then so much +victuals had been taken on board, so many flagons drained and stews +spoiled, that the faces of the guests were the colour of cardinals +gowns, and their doublets appeared ready to burst, since they were +crammed with meat like Troyes sausages from the top to the bottom of +their paunches. Going into the saloon again, they broke into a profuse +sweat, began to blow, and to curse their gluttony. The king sat +quietly apart; each of them was the more willing to be silent because +all their forces were required for the intestinal digestion of the +huge platefuls confined in their stomachs, which began to wabble and +rumble violently. One said to himself, “I was stupid to eat of that +sauce.” Another scolded himself for having indulged in a plate of eels +cooked with capers. Another thought to himself, “Oh! oh! The forcemeat +is serving me out.” The cardinal, who was the biggest bellied man of +the lot, snorted through his nostrils like a frightened horse. It was +he who was first compelled to give vent to a loud sounding belch, and +then he soon wished himself in Germany, where this is a form of +salutation, for the king hearing this gastric language looked at the +cardinal with knitted brows. + +“What does this mean?” said he, “am I a simple clerk?” + +This was heard with terror, because usually the king made much of a +good belch well off the stomach. The other guests determined to get +rid in another way of the vapours which were dodging about in their +pancreatic retorts; and at first they endeavoured to hold them for a +little while in the pleats of their mesenteries. It was then that some +of them puffed and swelled like tax-gatherers. Beaupertuys took the +good king aside and said to him-- + +“Know now that I have had made by the Church jeweller Peccard, two +large dolls, exactly resembling this lady and myself. Now when +hard-pressed by the drugs which I have put in their goblets, they +desire to mount the throne to which we are now about to pretend to go, +they will always find the place taken; by this means you will enjoy +their writhings.” + +Thus having said, La Beaupertuys disappeared with the lady to go and +turn the wheel, after the custom of women, and of which I will tell +you the origin in another place. And after an honest lapse of water, +Beaupertuys came back alone, leaving it to be believed that she had +left the lady at the little laboratory of natural alchemy. Thereupon +the king, singling out the cardinal, made him get up, and talked with +him seriously of his affairs, holding him by the tassel of his amice. +To all that the king said, La Balue replied, “Yes, sir,” to be +delivered from this favour, and slip out of the room, since the water +was in his cellars, and he was about to lose the key of his back-door. +All the guests were in a state of not knowing how to arrest the +progress of the fecal matter to which nature has given, even more than +to water, the property of finding a certain level. Their substances +modified themselves and glided working downward, like those insects +who demand to be let out of their cocoons, raging, tormenting, and +ungrateful to the higher powers; for nothing is so ignorant, so +insolent as those cursed objects, and they are importunate like all +things detained to whom one owes liberty. So they slipped at every +turn like eels out of a net, and each one had need of great efforts +and science not to disgrace himself before the king. Louis took great +pleasure in interrogating his guests, and was much amused with the +vicissitudes of their physiognomies, on which were reflected the dirty +grimaces of their writhings. The counsellor of justice said to Oliver, +“I would give my office to be behind a hedge for half a dozen +seconds.” + +“Oh, there is no enjoyment to equal a good stool; and now I am no +longer astonished at sempiternal droppings of a fly,” replied the +surgeon. + +The cardinal believing that the lady had obtained her receipt from the +bank of deposit, left the tassels of his girdle in the king’s hand, +making a start as if he had forgotten to say his prayers, and made his +way towards the door. + +“What is the matter with you, Monsieur le Cardinal?” said the king. + +“By my halidame, what is the matter with me? It appears that all your +affairs are very extensive, sire!” + +The cardinal had slipped out, leaving the others astonished at his +cunning. He proceeded gloriously towards the lower room, loosening a +little the strings of his purse; but when he opened the blessed little +door he found the lady at her functions upon the throne, like a pope +about to be consecrated. Then restraining his impatience, he descended +the stairs to go into the garden. However, on the last steps the +barking of the dogs put him in great fear of being bitten in one of +his precious hemispheres; and not knowing where to deliver himself of +his chemical produce he came back into the room, shivering like a man +who has been in the open air! The others seeing the cardinal return, +imagined that he had emptied his natural reservoirs, unburdened his +ecclesiastical bowels, and believed him happy. Then the surgeon rose +quickly, as if to take note of the tapestries and count the rafters, +but gained the door before anyone else, and relaxing his sphincter in +advance, he hummed a tune on his way to the retreat; arrived there he +was compelled, like La Balue, to murmur words of excuse to this +student of perpetual motion, shutting the door with as promptitude as +he opened it; and he came back burdened with an accumulation which +seriously impeded his private channels. And in the same way went to +guests one after the other, without being able to unburden themselves +of their sauces, as soon again found themselves all in the presence of +Louis the Eleventh, as much distressed as before, looking at each +other slyly, understanding each other better with their tails than +they ever understood with their mouths, for there is never any +equivoque in the transactions of the parts of nature, and everything +therein is rational and of easy comprehension, seeing that it is a +science which we learn at our birth. + +“I believe,” said the cardinal to the surgeon, “that lady will go on +until to-morrow. What was La Beaupertuys about to ask such a case of +diarrhoea here?” + +“She’s been an hour working at what I could get done in a minute. May +the fever seize her” cried Oliver le Daim. + +All the courtiers seized with colic were walking up and down to make +their importunate matters patient, when the said lady reappeared in +the room. You can believe they found her beautiful and graceful, and +would willingly have kissed her, there where they so longed to go; and +never did they salute the day with more favour than this lady, the +liberator of the poor unfortunate bodies. La Balue rose; the others, +from honour, esteem, and reverence of the church, gave way to the +clergy, and, biding their time, they continued to make grimaces, at +which the king laughed to himself with Nicole, who aided him to stop +the respiration of these loose-bowelled gentlemen. The good Scotch +captain, who more than all the others had eaten of a dish in which the +cook had put an aperient powder, became the victim of misplaced +confidence. He went ashamed into a corner, hoping that before the +king, his mishap might escape detection. At this moment the cardinal +returned horribly upset, because he had found La Beaupertuys on the +episcopal seat. Now, in his torments, not knowing if she were in the +room, he came back and gave vent to a diabolical “Oh!” on beholding +her near his master. + +“What do you mean?” exclaimed the king, looking at the priest in a way +to give him the fever. + +“Sire,” said La Balue, insolently, “the affairs of purgatory are in my +ministry, and I am bound to inform you that there is sorcery going on +in this house.” + +“Ah! little priest, you wish to make game of me!” said the king. + +At these words the company were in a terrible state. + +“So you treat me with disrespect?” said the king, which made them turn +pale. “Ho, there! Tristan, my friend!” cried Louis XI. from the +window, which he threw up suddenly, “come up here!” + +The grand provost of the hotel was not long before he appeared; and as +these gentlemen were all nobodies, raised to their present position by +the favour of the king, Louis, in a moment of anger, could crush them +at will; so that with the exception of the cardinal who relied upon +his cassock, Tristan found them all rigid and aghast. + +“Conduct these gentleman to the Pretorium, on the Mall, my friend, +they have disgraced themselves through over-eating.” + +“Am I not good at jokes?” said Nicole to him. + +“The farce is good, but it is fetid,” replied he, laughing. + +This royal answer showed the courtiers that this time the king did not +intend to play with their heads, for which they thanked heaven. The +monarch was partial to these dirty tricks. He was not at all a bad +fellow, as the guests remarked while relieving themselves against the +side of the Mall with Tristan, who, like a good Frenchman, kept them +company, and escorted them to their homes. This is why since that time +the citizens of Tours had never failed to defile the Mall of +Chardonneret, because the gentlemen of the court had been there. + +I will not leave this great king without committing to writing this +good joke which he played upon La Godegrand, who was an old maid, much +disgusted that she had not, during the forty years she had lived, been +able to find a lid to her saucepan, enraged, in her yellow skin, that +she still was as virgin as a mule. This old maid had her apartments on +the other side of the house which belonged to La Beaupertuys, at the +corner of the Rue de Hierusalem, in such a position that, standing on +the balcony joining the wall, it was easy to see what she was doing, +and hear what she was saying in the lower room where she lived; and +often the king derived much amusement from the antics of the old girl, +who did not know that she was so much within the range of his +majesty’s culverin. Now one market day it happened that the king had +caused to be hanged a young citizen of Tours, who had violated a noble +lady of a certain age, believing that she was a young maiden. There +would have been no harm in this, and it would have been a thing +greatly to the credit of the said lady to have been taken for a +virgin; but on finding out his mistake, he had abominably insulted +her, and suspecting her of trickery, had taken it into his head to rob +her of a splendid silver goblet, in payment of the present he had just +made her. This young man had long hair, and was so handsome that the +whole town wished to see him hanged, both from regret and out of +curiosity. You may be sure that at this hanging there were more caps +than hats. Indeed, the said young man swung very well; and after the +fashion and custom of persons hanged, he died gallantly with his lance +couched, which fact made a great noise in the town. Many ladies said +on this subject that it was a murder not to have preserved so fine a +fellow from the scaffold. + +“Suppose we were to put this handsome corpse in the bed of La +Godegrand,” said La Beaupertuys to the king. + +“We should terrify her,” replied Louis. + +“Not at all, sire. Be sure that she will welcome even a dead man, so +madly does she long for a living one. Yesterday I saw her making love +to a young man’s cap placed on the top of a chair, and you would have +laughed heartily at her words and gestures.” + +Now while this forty-year-old virgin was at vespers, the king sent to +have this young townsman, who had just finished the last scene of his +tragic farce, taken down, and having dressed him in a white shirt, two +officers got over the walls of La Godegrand’s garden, and put the +corpse into her bed, on the side nearest the street. Having done this +they went away, and the king remained in the room with the balcony to +it, playing with Beaupertuys, and awaiting an hour at which the old +maid should go to bed. La Godegrand soon came back with a hop, skip, +and jump, as the Tourainians say, from the church of St Martin, from +which she was not far, since the Rue de Hierusalem touches the walls +of the cloister. She entered her house, laid down her prayer-book, +chaplet, and rosary, and other ammunition which these old girls carry, +then poked the fire, and blew it, warmed herself at it, settled +herself in her chair, and played with her cat for want of something +better; then she went to the larder, supping and sighing, and sighing +and supping, eating alone, with her eyes cast down upon the carpet; +and after having drunk, behaved in a manner forbidden in court +society. + +“Ah!” the corpse said to her, “‘_God bless you_!’” + +At this joke of luck of La Beaupertuys, both laughed heartily in their +sleeves. And with great attention this very Christian king watched the +undressing of the old maid, who admired herself while removing her +things--pulling out a hair, or scratching a pimple which had +maliciously come upon her nose; picking her teeth, and doing a +thousand little things which, alas! all ladies, virgins or not, are +obliged to do, much to their annoyance; but without these little +faults of nature, they would be too proud, and one would not be able +to enjoy their society. Having achieved her aquatic and musical +discourse, the old maid got in between the sheets, and yelled forth a +fine, great, ample, and curious cry, when she saw, when she smelt the +fresh vigour of this hanged man and the sweet perfume of his manly +youth; then sprang away from him out of coquetry. But as she did not +know he was really dead, she came back again, believing he was mocking +her, and counterfeiting death. + +“Go away, you bad young man!” said she. + +But you can imagine that she proffered this requests in a most humble +and gracious tone of voice. Then seeing that he did not move, she +examined him more closely, and was much astonished at this so fine +human nature when she recognised the young fellow, upon whom the fancy +took her to perform some purely scientific experiments in the +interests of hanged persons. + +“What is she doing?” said La Beaupertuys to the king. + +“She is trying to reanimate him. It is a work of Christian humanity.” + +And the old girl rubbed and warmed this fine young man, supplicating +holy Mary the Egyptian to aid her to renew the life of this husband +who had fallen so amorously from heaven, when, suddenly looking at the +dead body she was so charitably rubbing, she thought she saw a slight +movement in the eyes; then she put her hand upon the man’s heart, and +felt it beat feebly. At length, from the warmth of the bed and of +affection, and by the temperature of old maids, which is by far more +burning then the warm blasts of African deserts, she had the delight +of bringing to life that fine handsome young fellow who by lucky +chance had been very badly hanged. + +“See how my executioners serve me!” said Louis, laughing. + +“Ah!” said La Beaupertuys, “you will not have him hanged again? he is +too handsome.” + +“The decree does not say that he shall be hanged twice, but he shall +marry the old woman.” + +Indeed, the good lady went in a great hurry to seek a master leech, a +good bleeder, who lived in the Abbey, and brought him back directly. +He immediately took his lancet, and bled the young man. And as no +blood came out: “Ah!” said he, “it is too late, the transshipment of +blood in the lungs has taken place.” + +But suddenly this good young blood oozed out a little, and then came +out in abundance, and the hempen apoplexy, which had only just begun, +was arrested in its course. The young man moved and came more to life; +then he fell, from natural causes, into a state of great weakness and +profound sadness, prostration of flesh and general flabbiness. Now the +old maid, who was all eyes, and followed the great and notable changes +which were taking place in the person of this badly hanged man, pulled +the surgeon by the sleeve, and pointing out to him, by a curious +glance of the eye, the piteous cause, said to him-- + +“Will he for the future be always like that?” + +“Often,” replied the veracious surgeon. + +“Oh! he was much nicer hanged!” + +At this speech the king burst out laughing. Seeing him at the window, +the woman and the surgeon were much frightened, for this laugh seemed +to them a second sentence of death for their poor victim. But the king +kept his word, and married them. And in order to do justice he gave +the husband the name of the Sieur de Mortsauf in the place of the one +he had lost upon the scaffold. As La Godegrand had a very big basket +of crowns, they founded a good family in Touraine, which still exists +and is much respected, since M. de Mortsauf faithfully served Louis +the Eleventh on different occasions. Only he never liked to come +across gibbets or old women, and never again made amorous assignations +in the night. + +This teaches us to thoroughly verify and recognise women, and not to +deceive ourselves in the local difference which exists between the old +and the young, for if we are not hanged for our errors of love, there +are always great risks to run. + + + + THE HIGH CONSTABLE’S WIFE + +The high constable of Armagnac espoused from the desire of a great +fortune, the Countess Bonne, who was already considerably enamoured of +little Savoisy, son of the chamberlain to his majesty King Charles the +Sixth. + +The constable was a rough warrior, miserable in appearance, tough in +skin, thickly bearded, always uttering angry words, always busy +hanging people, always in the sweat of battles, or thinking of other +stratagems than those of love. Thus the good soldier, caring little to +flavour the marriage stew, used his charming wife after the fashion of +a man with more lofty ideas; of the which the ladies have a great +horror, since they like not the joists of the bed to be the sole +judges of their fondling and vigorous conduct. + +Now the lovely Countess, as soon as she was grafted on the constable, +only nibbled more eagerly at the love with which her heart was laden +for the aforesaid Savoisy, which that gentleman clearly perceived. + +Wishing both to study the same music, they would soon harmonise their +fancies, and decipher the hieroglyphic; and this was a thing clearly +demonstrated to the Queen Isabella, that Savoisy’s horses were oftener +stabled at the house of her cousin of Armagnac than in the Hotel St. +Pol, where the chamberlain lived, since the destruction of his +residence, ordered by the university, as everyone knows. + +This discreet and wise princess, fearing in advance some unfortunate +adventure for Bonne--the more so as the constable was as ready to +brandish his broadsword as a priest to bestow benedictions--the said +queen, as sharp as a dirk, said one day, while coming out from +vespers, to her cousin, who was taking the holy water with Savoisy-- + +“My dear, don’t you see some blood in that water?” + +“Bah!” said Savoisy to the queen. “Love likes blood, Madame.” + +This the Queen considered a good reply, and put it into writing, and +later on, into action, when her lord the king wounded one of her +lovers, whose business you see settled in this narrative. + +You know by constant experience, that in the early time of love each +of two lovers is always in great fear of exposing the mystery of the +heart, and as much from the flower of prudence as from the amusement +yielded by the sweet tricks of gallantry they play at who can best +conceal their thoughts, but one day of forgetfulness suffices to inter +the whole virtuous past. The poor woman is taken in her joy as in a +lasso; her sweetheart proclaims his presence, or sometimes his +departure, by some article of clothing--a scarf, a spur, left by some +fatal chance, and there comes a stroke of the dagger that severs the +web so gallantly woven by their golden delights. But when one is full +of days, he should not make a wry face at death, and the sword of a +husband is a pleasant death for a gallant, if there be pleasant +deaths. So may be will finish the merry amours of the constable’s +wife. + +One morning Monsieur d’Armagnac having lots of leisure time in +consequence of the flight of the Duke of Burgundy, who was quitting +Lagny, thought he would go and wish his lady good day, and attempted +to wake her up in a pleasant enough fashion, so that she should not be +angry; but she sunk in the heavy slumbers of the morning, replied to +the action-- + +“Leave me alone, Charles!” + +“Oh, oh,” said the constable, hearing the name of a saint who was not +one of his patrons, “I have a Charles on my head!” + +Then, without touching his wife, he jumped out of the bed, and ran +upstairs with his face flaming and his sword drawn, to the place where +slept the countess’s maid-servant, convinced that the said servant had +a finger in the pie. + +“Ah, ah, wench of hell!” cried he, to commence the discharge of his +passion, “say thy prayers, for I intend to kill thee instantly, +because of the secret practices of Charles who comes here.” + +“Ah, Monseigneur,” replied the woman, “who told you that?” + +“Stand steady, that I may rip thee at one blow if you do not confess +to me every assignation given, and in what manner they have been +arranged. If thy tongue gets entangled, if thou falterest, I will +pierce thee with my dagger!” + +“Pierce me through!” replied the girl; “you will learn nothing.” + +The constable, having taken this excellent reply amiss, ran her +through on the spot, so mad was he with rage; and came back into his +wife’s chamber and said to his groom, whom, awakened by the shrieks of +the girl, he met upon the stairs, “Go upstairs; I’ve corrected +Billette rather severely.” + +Before he reappeared in the presence of Bonne he went to fetch his +son, who was sleeping like a child, and led him roughly into her room. +The mother opened her eyes pretty widely, you may imagine--at the +cries of her little one; and was greatly terrified at seeing him in +the hands of her husband, who had his right hand all bloody, and cast +a fierce glance on the mother and son. + +“What is the matter?” said she. + +“Madame,” asked the man of quick execution, “this child, is he the +fruit of my loins, or those of Savoisy, your lover?” + +At this question Bonne turned pale, and sprang upon her son like a +frightened frog leaping into the water. + +“Ah, he is really ours,” said she. + +“If you do not wish to see his head roll at your feet confess yourself +to me, and no prevarication. You have given me a lieutenant.” + +“Indeed!” + +“Who is he?” + +“It is not Savoisy, and I will never say the name of a man that I +don’t know.” + +Thereupon the constable rose, took his wife by the arm to cut her +speech with a blow of the sword, but she, casting upon him an imperial +glance, cried-- + +“Kill me if you will, but touch me not.” + +“You shall live,” replied the husband, “because I reserve you for a +chastisement more ample then death.” + +And doubting the inventions, snares, arguments, and artifices familiar +to women in these desperate situations, of which they study night and +day the variations, by themselves, or between themselves, he departed +with this rude and bitter speech. He went instantly to interrogate his +servants, presenting to them a face divinely terrible; so all of them +replied to him as they would to God the Father on the Judgment Day, +when each of us will be called to his account. + +None of them knew the serious mischief which was at the bottom of +these summary interrogations and crafty interlocutions; but from all +that they said, the constable came to the conclusion that no male in +his house was in the business, except one of his dogs, whom he found +dumb, and to whom he had given the post of watching the gardens; so +taking him in his hands, he strangled him with rage. This fact incited +him by induction to suppose that the other constable came into his +house by the garden, of which the only entrance was a postern opening +on to the water side. + +It is necessary to explain to those who are ignorant of it, the +locality of the Hotel d’Armagnac, which had a notable situation near +to the royal houses of St. Pol. On this site has since been built the +hotel of Longueville. Then as at the present time, the residence of +d’Armagnac had a porch of fine stone in Rue St. Antoine, was fortified +at all points, and the high walls by the river side, in face of the +Ile du Vaches, in the part where now stands the port of La Greve, were +furnished with little towers. The design of these has for a long time +been shown at the house of Cardinal Duprat, the king’s Chancellor. The +constable ransacked his brains, and at the bottom, from his finest +stratagems, drew the best, and fitted it so well to the present case, +that the gallant would be certain to be taken like a hare in the trap. +“‘Sdeath,” said he, “my planter of horns is taken, and I have the time +now to think how I shall finish him off.” + +Now this is the order of battle which this grand hairy captain who +waged such glorious war against Duke Jean-sans-Peur commanded for the +assault of his secret enemy. He took a goodly number of his most loyal +and adroit archers, and placed them on the quay tower, ordering them +under the heaviest penalties to draw without distinction of persons, +except his wife, on those of his household who should attempt to leave +the gardens, and to admit therein, either by night or by day, the +favoured gentleman. The same was done on the porch side, in the Rue St +Antoine. + +The retainers, even the chaplain, were ordered not to leave the house +under pain of death. Then the guard of the two sides of the hotel +having been committed to the soldiers of a company of ordnance, who +were ordered to keep a sharp lookout in the side streets, it was +certain that the unknown lover to whom the constable was indebted for +his pair of horns, would be taken warm, when, knowing nothing, he +should come at the accustomed hour of love to insolently plant his +standard in the heart of the legitimate appurtenances of the said lord +count. + +It was a trap into which the most expert man would fall unless he was +seriously protected by the fates, as was the good St. Peter by the +Saviour when he prevented him going to the bottom of the sea the day +when they had a fancy to try if the sea were as solid as terra firma. + +The constable had business with the inhabitants of Poissy, and was +obliged to be in the saddle after dinner, so that, knowing his +intention, the poor Countess Bonne determined at night to invite her +young gallant to that charming duel in which she was always the +stronger. + +While the constable was making round his hotel a girdle of spies and +of death, and hiding his people near the postern to seize the gallant +as he came out, not knowing where he would spring from, his wife was +not amusing herself by threading peas nor seeking black cows in the +embers. First, the maid-servant who had been stuck, unstuck herself +and dragged herself to her mistress; she told her that her outraged +lord knew nothing, and that before giving up the ghost she would +comfort her dear mistress by assuring her that she could have perfect +confidence in her sister, who was laundress in the hotel, and was +willing to let herself be chopped up as small as sausage-meat to +please Madame. That she was the most adroit and roguish woman in the +neighbourhood, and renowned from the council chamber to the Trahoir +cross among the common people, and fertile in invention for the +desperate cases of love. + +Then, while weeping for the decease of her good chamber woman, the +countess sent for the laundress, made her leave her tubs and join her +in rummaging the bag of good tricks, wishing to save Savoisy, even at +the price of her future salvation. + +First of all the two women determined to let him know their lord and +master’s suspicion, and beg him to be careful. + +Now behold the good washerwoman who, carrying her tub like a mule, +attempts to leave the hotel. But at the porch she found a man-at-arms +who turned a deaf ear to all the blandishments of the wash-tub. Then +she resolved, from her great devotion, to take the soldier on his weak +side, and she tickled him so with her fondling that he romped very +well with her, although he was armour-plated ready for battle; but +when the game was over he still refused to let her go into the street +and although she tried to get herself a passport sealed by some of the +handsomest, believing them more gallant: neither the archers, +men-at-arms, nor others, dared open for her the smallest entrance of +the house. “You are wicked and ungrateful wretches,” said she, “not to +render me a like service.” + +Luckily at this employment she learned everything, and came back in +great haste to her mistress, to whom she recounted the strange +machinations of the count. The two women held a fresh council and had +not considered, the time it takes to sing _Alleluia_, twice, these +warlike appearances, watches, defences, and equivocal, specious, and +diabolical orders and dispositions before they recognised by the sixth +sense with which all females are furnished, the special danger which +threatened the poor lover. + +Madame having learned that she alone had leave to quit the house, +ventured quickly to profit by her right, but she did not go the length +of a bow-shot, since the constable had ordered four of his pages to be +always on duty ready to accompany the countess, and two of the ensigns +of his company not to leave her. Then the poor lady returned to her +chamber, weeping as much as all the Magdalens one sees in the church +pictures, could weep together. + +“Alas!” said she, “my lover must then be killed, and I shall never see +him again! . . . he whose words were so sweet, whose manners were so +graceful, that lovely head that had so often rested on my knees, will +now be bruised . . . What! Can I not throw to my husband an empty and +valueless head in place of the one full of charms and worth . . . a +rank head for a sweet-smelling one; a hated head for a head of love.” + +“Ah, Madame!” cried the washerwoman, “suppose we dress up in the +garments of a nobleman, the steward’s son who is mad for me, and +wearies me much, and having thus accoutered him, we push him out +through the postern.” + +Thereupon the two women looked at each other with assassinating eyes. + +“This marplot,” said she, “once slain, all those soldiers will fly +away like geese.” + +“Yes, but will not the count recognise the wretch?” + +And the countess, striking her breast, exclaimed, shaking her head, +“No, no, my dear, here it is noble blood that must be spilt without +stint.” + +Then she thought a little, and jumping with joy, suddenly kissed the +laundress, saying, “Because I have saved my lover’s life by your +counsel, I will pay you for his life until death.” + +Thereupon the countess dried her tears, put on the face of a bride, +took her little bag and a prayer-book, and went towards the Church of +St. Pol whose bells she heard ringing, seeing that the last Mass was +about to be said. In this sweet devotion the countess never failed, +being a showy woman, like all the ladies of the court. Now this was +called the full-dress Mass, because none but fops, fashionables, young +gentlemen and ladies puffed out and highly scented, were to be met +there. In fact no dresses was seen there without armorial bearings, +and no spurs that were not gilt. + +So the Countess of Bonne departed, leaving at the hotel the laundress +much astonished, and charged to keep her eyes about her, and came with +great pomp to the church, accompanied by her pages, the two ensigns +and men-at-arms. It is here necessary to say that among the band of +gallant knights who frisked round the ladies in church, the countess +had more than one whose joy she was, and who had given his heart to +her, after the fashion of youths who put down enough and to spare upon +their tablets, only in order to make a conquest of at least one out of +a great number. + +Among these birds of fine prey who with open beaks looked oftener +between the benches and the paternosters than towards the altar and +the priests, there was one upon whom the countess sometimes bestowed +the charity of a glance, because he was less trifling and more deeply +smitten than all the others. + +This one remained bashful, always stuck against the same pillar, never +moving from it, but readily ravished with the sight alone of this lady +whom he had chosen as his. His pale face was softly melancholy. His +physiognomy gave proof of fine heart, one of those which nourish +ardent passions and plunge delightedly into the despairs of love +without hope. Of these people there are few, because ordinarily one +likes more a certain thing than the unknown felicities lying and +flourishing at the bottommost depths of the soul. + +This said gentleman, although his garments were well made, and clean +and neat, having even a certain amount of taste shown in the +arrangement, seemed to the constable’s wife to be a poor knight +seeking fortune, and come from afar, with his nobility for his +portion. Now partly from a suspicion of his secret poverty, partly +because she was well beloved by him and a little because he had a good +countenance, fine black hair, and a good figure, and remained humble +and submissive in all, the constable’s wife desired for him the favour +of women and of fortune, not to let his gallantry stand idle, and from +a good housewifely idea, she fired his imagination according to her +fantasies, by certain small favours and little looks which serpented +towards him like biting adders, trifling with the happiness of this +young life, like a princess accustomed to play with objects more +precious than a simple knight. In fact, her husband risked the whole +kingdom as you would a penny at piquet. Finally it was only three days +since, at the conclusion of vespers, that the constable’s wife pointed +out to the queen this follower of love, said laughingly-- + +“There’s a man of quality.” + +This sentence remained in the fashionable language. Later it became a +custom so to designate the people of the court. It was to the wife of +the constable d’Armagnac, and to no other source, that the French +language is indebted for this charming expression. + +By a lucky chance the countess had surmised correctly concerning this +gentleman. He was a bannerless knight, named Julien de Boys-Bourredon, +who not having inherited on his estate enough to make a toothpick, and +knowing no other wealth than the rich nature with which his dead +mother had opportunely furnished him, conceived the idea of deriving +therefrom both rent and profit at court, knowing how fond ladies are +of those good revenues, and value them high and dear, when they can +stand being looked at between two suns. There are many like him who +have thus taken the narrow road of women to make their way; but he, +far from arranging his love in measured qualities, spend funds and +all, as soon as he came to the full-dress Mass, he saw the triumphant +beauty of the Countess Bonne. Then he fell really in love, which was a +grand thing for his crowns, because he lost both thirst and appetite. +This love is of the worst kind, because it incites you to the love of +diet, during the diet of love; a double malady, of which one is +sufficient to extinguish a man. + +Such was the young gentlemen of whom the good lady had thought, and +towards whom she came quickly to invite him to his death. + +On entering she saw the poor chevalier, who faithful to his pleasure, +awaited her, his back against a pillar, as a sick man longs for the +sun, the spring-time, and the dawn. Then she turned away her eyes, and +wished to go to the queen and request her assistance in this desperate +case, for she took pity on her lover, but one of the captains said to +her, with great appearance of respect, “Madame, we have orders not to +allow you to speak with man or woman, even though it should be the +queen or your confessor. And remember that the lives of all of us are +at stake.” + +“Is it not your business to die?” said she. + +“And also to obey,” replied the soldier. + +Then the countess knelt down in her accustomed place, and again +regarding her faithful slave, found his face thinner and more deeply +lined than ever it had been. + +“Bah!” said she, “I shall have less remorse for his death; he is half +dead as it is.” + +With this paraphrase of her idea, she cast upon the said gentleman one +of those warm ogles that are only allowable to princesses and harlots, +and the false love which her lovely eyes bore witness to, gave a +pleasant pang to the gallant of the pillar. Who does not love the warm +attack of life when it flows thus round the heart and engulfs +everything? + +Madame recognised with a pleasure, always fresh in the minds of women, +the omnipotence of her magnificent regard by the answer which, without +saying a word, the chevalier made to it. And in fact, the blushes +which empurpled his cheeks spoke better than the best speeches of the +Greek and Latin orators, and were well understood. At this sweet +sight, the countess, to make sure that it was not a freak of nature, +took pleasure in experimentalising how far the virtue of her eyes +would go, and after having heated her slave more than thirty times, +she was confirmed in her belief that he would bravely die for her. +This idea so touched her, that from three repetitions between her +orisons she was tickled with the desire to put into a lump all the +joys of man, and to dissolve them for him in one single glance of +love, in order that she should not one day be reproached with having +not only dissipated the life, but also the happiness of this +gentleman. When the officiating priest turned round to sing the _Off +you go_ to this fine gilded flock, the constable’s wife went out by the +side of the pillar where her courtier was, passed in front of him and +endeavoured to insinuate into his understanding by a speaking glance +that he was to follow her, and to make positive the intelligence and +significant interpretation of this gentle appeal, the artful jade +turned round again a little after passing him to again request his +company. She saw that he had moved a little from his place, and dared +not advance, so modest was he, but upon this last sign, the gentleman, +sure of not being over-credulous, mixed with the crowd with little and +noiseless steps, like an innocent who is afraid of venturing into one +of those good places people call bad ones. And whether he walked +behind or in front, to the right or to the left, my lady bestowed upon +him a glistening glance to allure him the more and the better to draw +him to her, like a fisher who gently jerks the lines in order to hook +the gudgeon. To be brief: the countess practiced so well the +profession of the daughters of pleasure when they work to bring grist +into their mills, that one would have said nothing resembled a harlot +so much as a woman of high birth. And indeed, on arriving at the porch +of her hotel the countess hesitated to enter therein, and again turned +her face towards the poor chevalier to invite him to accompany her, +discharging at him so diabolical a glance, that he ran to the queen of +his heart, believing himself to be called by her. Thereupon, she +offered him her hand, and both boiling and trembling from the contrary +causes found themselves inside the house. At this wretched hour, +Madame d’Armagnac was ashamed of having done all these harlotries to +the profit of death, and of betraying Savoisy the better to save him; +but this slight remorse was lame as the greater, and came tardily. +Seeing everything ready, the countess leaned heavily upon her vassal’s +arm, and said to him-- + +“Come quickly to my room; it is necessary that I should speak with +you.” + +And he, not knowing that his life was in peril, found no voice +wherewith to reply, so much did the hope of approaching happiness +choke him. + +When the laundress saw this handsome gentleman so quickly hooked, +“Ah!” said she, “these ladies of the court are best at such work.” + Then she honoured this courtier with a profound salutation, in which +was depicted the ironical respect due to those who have the great +courage to die for so little. + +“Picard,” said the constable’s lady, drawing the laundress to her by +the skirt, “I have not the courage to confess to him the reward with +which I am about to pay his silent love and his charming belief in the +loyalty of women.” + +“Bah! Madame: why tell him? Send him away well contented by the +postern. So many men die in war for nothing, cannot this one die for +something? I’ll produce another like him if that will console you.” + +“Come along,” cried the countess, “I will confess all to him. That +will be the punishment for my sins.” + +Thinking that this lady was arranging with her servant certain +trifling provisions and secret things in order not to be disturbed in +the interview she had promised him, the unknown lover kept at a +discreet distance, looking at the flies. Nevertheless, he thought that +the countess was very bold, but also, as even a hunchback would have +done, he found a thousand reasons to justify her, and thought himself +quite worthy to inspire such recklessness. He was lost in those good +thoughts when the constable’s wife opened the door of her chamber, and +invited the chevalier to follow her in. There his noble lady cast +aside all the apparel of her lofty fortune, and falling at the feet of +this gentleman, became a simple woman. + +“Alas, sweet sir!” said she, “I have acted vilely towards you. Listen. +On your departure from this house, you will meet your death. The love +which I feel for another has bewildered me, and without being able to +hold his place here, you will have to take it before his murderers. +This is the joy to which I have bidden you.” + +“Ah!” Replied Boys-Bourredon, interring in the depths of his heart a +dark despair, “I am grateful to you for having made use of me as of +something which belonged to you. . . . Yes, I love you so much that +every day you I have dreamed of offering you in imitation of the +ladies, a thing that can be given but once. Take, then, my life!” + +And the poor chevalier, in saying this, gave her one glance to suffice +for all the time he would have been able to look at her through the +long days. Hearing these brave and loving words, Bonne rose suddenly. + +“Ah! were it not for Savoisy, how I would love thee!” said she. + +“Alas! my fate is then accomplished,” replied Boys-Bourredon. “My +horoscope predicted that I should die by the love of a great lady. Ah, +God!” said he, clutching his good sword, “I will sell my life dearly, +but I shall die content in thinking that my decease ensures the +happiness of her I love. I should live better in her memory than in +reality.” At the sight of the gesture and the beaming face of this +courageous man, the constable’s wife was pierced to the heart. But +soon she was wounded to the quick because he seemed to wish to leave +her without even asking of her the smallest favour. + +“Come, that I may arm you,” said she to him, making an attempt to kiss +him. + +“Ha! my lady-love,” replied he, moistening with a gentle tear the fire +of his eyes, “would you render my death impossible by attaching too +great a value to my life?” + +“Come,” cried she, overcome by this intense love, “I do not know what +the end of all this will be, but come--afterwards we will go and +perish together at the postern.” + +The same flame leaped in their hearts, the same harmony had struck for +both, they embraced each other with a rapture in the delicious excess +of that mad fever which you know well I hope; they fell into a +profound forgetfulness of the dangers of Savoisy, of themselves, of +the constable, of death, of life, of everything. + +Meanwhile the watchman at the porch had gone to inform the constable +of the arrival of the gallant, and to tell him how the infatuated +gentleman had taken no notice of the winks which, during Mass and on +the road, the countess had given him in order to prevent his +destruction. They met their master arriving in great haste at the +postern, because on their side the archers of the quay had whistled to +him afar off, saying to him-- + +“The Sire de Savoisy has passed in.” + +And indeed Savoisy had come at the appointed hour, and like all the +lovers, thinking only of his lady, he had not seen the count’s spies +and had slipped in at the postern. This collision of lovers was the +cause of the constable’s cutting short the words of those who came +from the Rue St. Antoine, saying to them with a gesture of authority, +that they did not think wise to disregard-- + +“I know that the animal is taken.” + +Thereupon all rushed with a great noise through this said postern, +crying, “Death to him! death to him!” and men-at-arms, archers, the +constable, and the captains, all rushed full tilt upon Charles +Savoisy, the king’s nephew, who they attacked under the countess’s +window, where by a strange chance, the groans of the poor young man +were dolorously exhaled, mingled with the yells of the soldiers, at +the same time as passionate sighs and cries were given forth by the +two lovers, who hastened up in great fear. + +“Ah!” said the countess, turning pale from terror, “Savoisy is dying +for me!” + +“But I will live for you,” replied Boys-Bourredon, “and shall esteem +it a joy to pay the same price for my happiness as he has done.” + +“Hide yourself in the clothes chest,” cried the countess; “I hear the +constable’s footsteps.” + +And indeed M. d’Armagnac appeared very soon with a head in his hand, +and putting it all bloody on the mantleshelf, “Behold, Madame,” said +he, “a picture which will enlighten you concerning the duties of a +wife towards her husband.” + +“You have killed an innocent man,” replied the countess, without +changing colour. “Savoisy was not my lover.” + +And with the this speech she looked proudly at the constable with a +face marked by so much dissimulation and feminine audacity, that the +husband stood looking as foolish as a girl who has allowed a note to +escape her below, before a numerous company, and he was afraid of +having made a mistake. + +“Of whom were you thinking this morning?” asked he. + +“I was dreaming of the king,” said she. + +“Then, my dear, why not have told me so?” + +“Would you have believed me in the bestial passion you were in?” + +The constable scratched his ear and replied-- + +“But how came Savoisy with the key of the postern?” + +“I don’t know,” she said, curtly, “if you will have the goodness to +believe what I have said to you.” + +And his wife turned lightly on her heel like a weather-cock turned by +the wind, pretending to go and look after the household affairs. You +can imagine that D’Armagnac was greatly embarrassed with the head of +poor Savoisy, and that for his part Boys-Bourredon had no desire to +cough while listening to the count, who was growling to himself all +sorts of words. At length the constable struck two heavy blows over +the table and said, “I’ll go and attack the inhabitants of Poissy.” + Then he departed, and when the night was come Boys-Bourredon escaped +from the house in some disguise or other. + +Poor Savoisy was sorely lamented by his lady, who had done all that a +woman could do to save her lover, and later he was more than wept, he +was regretted; for the countess having related this adventure to Queen +Isabella, her majesty seduced Boys-Bourredon from the service of her +cousin and put him to her own, so much was she touched with the +qualities and firm courage of this gentleman. + +Boys-Bourredon was a man whom danger had well recommended to the +ladies. In fact he comported himself so proudly in everything in the +lofty fortune, which the queen had made for him, that having badly +treated King Charles one day when the poor man was in his proper +senses, the courtiers, jealous of favour, informed the king of his +cuckoldom. Boys-Bourredon was in a moment sewn in a sack and thrown +into the Seine, near the ferry at Charenton, as everyone knows. I have +no need add, that since the day when the constable took it into his +head to play thoughtlessly with knives, his good wife utilised so well +the two deaths he had caused and threw them so often in his face, that +she made him as soft as a cat’s paw and put him in the straight road +of marriage; and he proclaimed her a modest and virtuous constable’s +lady, as indeed she was. As this book should, according to the maxims +of great ancient authors, join certain useful things to the good +laughs which you will find therein and contain precepts of high taste, +I beg to inform you that the quintessence of the story is this: That +women need never lose their heads in serious cases, because the God of +Love never abandons them, especially when they are beautiful, young, +and of good family; and that gallants when going to keep an amorous +assignation should never go there like giddy young men, but carefully, +and keep a sharp look-out near the burrow, to avoid falling into +certain traps and to preserve themselves; for after a good woman the +most precious thing is, certes, a pretty gentleman. + + + + THE MAID OF THILOUSE + +The lord of Valennes, a pleasant place, of which the castle is not far +from the town of Thilouse, had taken a mean wife, who by reason of +taste or antipathy, pleasure or displeasure, health or sickness, +allowed her good husband to abstain from those pleasures stipulated +for in all contracts of marriage. In order to be just, it should be +stated that the above-mentioned lord was a dirty and ill-favoured +person, always hunting wild animals and not the more entertaining than +is a room full of smoke. And what is more, the said sportsman was all +sixty years of age, on which subject, however, he was a silent as a +hempen widow on the subject of rope. But nature, which the crooked, +the bandy-legged, the blind, and the ugly abuse so unmercifully here +below, and have no more esteem for her than the well-favoured,--since, +like workers of tapestry, they know not what they do,--gives the same +appetite to all and to all the same mouth for pudding. So every beast +finds a mate, and from the same fact comes the proverb, “There is no +pot, however ugly, that does not one day find a cover.” Now the lord +of Valennes searched everywhere for nice little pots to cover, and +often in addition to wild, he hunted tame animals; but this kind of +game was scarce in the land, and it was an expensive affair to +discover a maid. At length however by reason of much ferreting about +and much enquiry, it happened that the lord of Valennes was informed +that in Thilouse was the widow of a weaver who had a real treasure in +the person of a little damsel of sixteen years, whom she had never +allowed to leave her apronstrings, and whom, with great maternal +forethought, she always accompanied when the calls of nature demanded +her obedience; she had her to sleep with her in her own bed, watched +over her, got her up in the morning, and put her to such a work that +between the twain they gained about eight pennies a day. On fete days +she took her to the church, scarcely giving her a spare moment to +exchange a merry word with the young people; above all was she strict +in keeping hands off the maiden. + +But the times were just then so hard that the widow and her daughter +had only bread enough to save them from dying of hunger, and as they +lodged with one of their poor relations, they often wanted wood in +winter and clothes in summer, owing enough rent to frighten sergeants +of justice, men who are not easily frightened at the debts of others; +in short, while the daughter was increasing in beauty, the mother was +increasing in poverty, and ran into debt on account of her daughter’s +virginity, as an alchemist will for the crucible in which his all is +cast. As soon as his plans were arranged and perfect, one rainy day +the said lord of Valennes by a mere chance came into the hovel of the +two spinners, and in order to dry himself sent for some fagots to +Plessis, close by. While waiting for them, he sat on a stool between +the two poor women. By means of the grey shadows and half light of the +cabin, he saw the sweet countenance of the maid of Thilouse; her arms +were red and firm, her breasts hard as bastions, which kept the cold +from her heart, her waist round as a young oak and all fresh and clean +and pretty, like the first frost, green and tender as an April bud; in +fact, she resembled all that is prettiest in the world. She had eyes +of a modest and virtuous blue, with a look more coy than that of the +Virgin, for she was less forward, never having had a child. + +Had any one said to her, “Come, let us make love,” she would have +said, “Love! What is that?” she was so innocent and so little open to +the comprehensions of the thing. + +The good old lord twisted about upon his stool, eyeing the maid and +stretching his neck like a monkey trying to catch nuts, which the +mother noticed, but said not a word, being in fear of the lord to whom +the whole of the country belonged. When the fagot was put into the +grate and flared up, the good hunter said to the old woman, “Ah, ah! +that warms one almost as much as your daughter’s eyes.” + +“But alas, my lord,” said she, “we have nothing to cook on that fire.” + +“Oh yes,” replied he. + +“What?” + +“Ah, my good woman, lend your daughter to my wife, who has need of a +good handmaiden: we will give you two fagots every day.” + +“Oh, my lord, what could I cook at such a good fire?” + +“Why,” replied the old rascal, “good broth, for I will give you a +measure of corn in season.” + +“Then,” replied the old hag, “where shall I put it?” + +“In your dish,” answered the purchaser of innocence. + +“But I have neither dish nor flower-bin, nor anything.” + +“Well I will give you dishes and flower-bins, saucepans, flagons, a +good bed with curtains, and everything.” + +“Yes,” replied the good widow, “but the rain would spoil them, I have +no house.” + +“You can see from here,” replied the lord, “the house of La +Tourbelliere, where lived my poor huntsmen Pillegrain, who was ripped +up by a boar?” + +“Yes,” said the old woman. + +“Well, you can make yourself at home there for the rest of your days.” + +“By my faith;” cried the mother, letting fall her distaff, “do you +mean what you say?” + +“Yes.” + +“Well, then, what will you give my daughter?” + +“All that she is willing to gain in my service.” + +“Oh! my lord, you are a joking.” + +“No,” said he. + +“Yes,” said she. + +“By St. Gatien, St. Eleuther, and by the thousand million saints who +are in heaven, I swear that--” + +“Ah! Well; if you are not jesting I should like those fagots to pass +through the hands of the notary.” + +“By the blood of Christ and the charms of your daughter am I not a +gentleman? Is not my word good enough?” + +“Ah! well I don’t say that it is not; but as true as I am a poor +spinner I love my child too much to leave her; she is too young and +weak at present, she will break down in service. Yesterday, in his +sermon, the vicar said that we should have to answer to God for our +children.” + +“There! There!” said the lord, “go and find the notary.” + +An old woodcutter ran to the scrivener, who came and drew up a +contract, to which the lord of Valennes then put his cross, not +knowing how to write, and when all was signed and sealed-- + +“Well, old lady,” said he, “now you are no longer answerable to God +for the virtue of your child.” + +“Ah! my lord, the vicar said until the age of reason, and my child is +quite reasonable.” Then turning towards her, she added, “Marie Fiquet, +that which is dearest to you is your honour, and there where you are +going everyone, without counting my lord, will try to rob you of it, +but you see well what it is worth; for that reason do not lose it save +willingly and in proper manner. Now in order not to contaminate your +virtue before God and before man, except for a legitimate motive, take +heed that your chance of marriage be not damaged beforehand, otherwise +you will go to the bad.” + +“Yes, dear mother,” replied the maid. + +And thereupon she left the poor abode of her relation, and came to the +chateau of Valennes, there to serve my lady, who found her both pretty +and to her taste. + +When the people of Valennes, Sache, Villaines, and other places, +learned the high price given for the maid of Thilouse, the good +housewives recognising the fact that nothing is more profitable than +virtue, endeavoured to nourish and bring up their daughters virtuous, +but the business was as risky as that of rearing silkworms, which are +liable to perish, since innocence is like a medlar, and ripens quickly +on the straw. There were, however, some girls noted for it in +Touraine, who passed for virgins in the convents of the religious, but +I cannot vouch for these, not having proceeded to verify them in the +manner laid down by Verville, in order to make sure of the perfect +virtue of women. However, Marie Fiquet followed the wise counsel of +her mother, and would take no notice of the soft requests, honied +words, or apish tricks of her master, unless they were flavoured with +a promise of marriage. + +When the old lord tried to kiss her, she would put her back up like a +cat at the approach of a dog, crying out “I will tell Madame!” In +short at the end of six months he had not even recovered the price of +a single fagot. From her labour Marie Fiquet became harder and firmer. +Sometimes she would reply to the gentle request of her master, “When +you have taken it from me will you give it me back again?” + +Another time she would say, “If I were as full of holes as a sieve not +one should be for you, so ugly do I think you.” + +The good old man took these village sayings for flowers of innocence, +and ceased not make little signs to her, long harangues and a hundred +vows and sermons, for by reason of seeing the fine breasts of the +maid, her plump hips, which at certain movements came into prominent +relief, and by reason of admiring other things capable of inflaming +the mind of a saint, this dear men became enamoured of her with an old +man’s passion, which augments in geometrical proportions as opposed to +the passions of young men, because the old men love with their +weakness which grows greater, and the young with their strength which +grows less. In order to leave this headstrong girl no loophole for +refusal, the old lord took into his confidence the steward, whose age +was seventy odd years, and made him understand that he ought to marry +in order to keep his body warm, and that Marie Fiquet was the very +girl to suit him. The old steward, who had gained three hundred pounds +by different services about the house, desired to live quietly without +opening the front door again; but his good master begged him to marry +to please him, assuring him that he need not trouble about his wife. +So the good steward wandered out of sheer good nature into this +marriage. The day of the wedding, bereft of all her reasons, and not +able to find objections to her pursuer, she made him give her a fat +settlement and dowry as the price of her conquest, and then gave the +old knave leave to wink at her as often as he could, promising him as +many embraces as he had given grains of wheat to her mother. But at +his age a bushel was sufficient. + +The festivities over, the lord did not fail, as soon as his wife had +retired, to wend his way towards the well-glazed, well-carpeted, and +pretty room where he had lodged his lass, his money, his fagots, his +house, his wheat, and his steward. To be brief, know that he found the +maid of Thilouse the sweetest girl in the world, as pretty as +anything, by the soft light of the fire which was gleaming in the +chimney, snug between the sheets, and with a sweet odour about her, as +a young maiden should have, and in fact he had no regret for the great +price of this jewel. Not being able to restrain himself from hurrying +over the first mouthfuls of this royal morsel, the lord treated her +more as a past master than a young beginner. So the happy man by too +much gluttony, managed badly, and in fact knew nothing of the sweet +business of love. Finding which, the good wench said, after a minute +or two, to her old cavalier, “My lord, if you are there, as I think +you are, give a little more swing to your bells.” + +From this saying, which became spread about, I know not how, Marie +Fiquet became famous, and it is still said in our country, “She is a +maid of Thilouse,” in mockery of a bride, and to signify a +“fricquenelle.” + +“Fricquenelle” is said of a girl I do not wish you to find in your +arms on your wedding night, unless you have been brought up in the +philosophy of Zeno, which puts up with anything, and there are many +people obliged to be Stoics in this funny situation, which is often +met with, for Nature turns, but changes not, and there are always good +maids of Thilouse to be found in Touraine, and elsewhere. Now if you +asked me in what consists, or where comes in, the moral of this tale? +I am at liberty to reply to the ladies; that the Cent Contes +Drolatiques are made more to teach the moral of pleasure than to +procure the pleasure of pointing a moral. But if it were a used up old +rascal who asked me, I should say to him with all the respect due to +his yellow or grey locks; that God wishes to punish the lord of +Valennes, for trying to purchase a jewel made to be given. + + + + THE BROTHERS-IN-ARMS + +At the commencement of the reign of King Henry, second of the name, +who loved so well the fair Diana, there existed still a ceremony of +which the usage has since become much weakened, and which has +altogether disappeared, like an infinity of the good things of the +olden times. This fine and noble custom was the choice which all +knights made of a brother-in-arms. After having recognised each other +as two loyal and brave men, each one of this pretty couple was married +for life to the other; both became brothers, the one had to defend the +other in battling against the enemies who threatened him, and at Court +against the friends who slandered him. In the absence of his companion +the other was expected to say to one who should have accused his good +brother of any disloyalty, wickedness or dark felony, “You have lied +by your throat,” and so go into the field instantly, so sure was the +one of the honour of the other. There is no need to add, that the one +was always the second of the other in all affairs, good or evil, and +that they shared all good or evil fortune. They were better than the +brothers who are only united by the hazard of nature, since they were +fraternised by the bonds of an especial sentiment, involuntary and +mutual, and thus the fraternity of arms has produced splendid +characters, as brave as those of the ancient Greeks, Romans, or +others. . . . But this is not my subject; the history of these things +has been written by the historians of our country, and everyone knows +them. + +Now at this time two young gentlemen of Touraine, of whom one was the +Cadet of Maille, and the other Sieur de Lavalliere, became +brothers-in-arms on the day they gained their spurs. They were leaving +the house of Monsieur de Montmorency, where they had been nourished with +the good doctrines of this great Captain, and had shown how contagious +is valour in such good company, for at the battle of Ravenna they +merited the praises of the oldest knights. It was in the thick of this +fierce fight that Maille, saved by the said Lavalliere, with whom he +had had a quarrel or two, perceived that this gentleman had a noble +heart. As they had each received slashes in the doublets, they +baptised their fraternity with their blood, and were ministered to +together in one and the same bed under the tent of Monsieur de +Montmorency their master. It is necessary to inform you that, contrary +to the custom of his family, which was always to have a pretty face, +the Cadet of Maille was not of a pleasing physiognomy, and had +scarcely any beauty but that of the devil. For the rest he was lithe +as a greyhound, broad shouldered and strongly built as King Pepin, who +was a terrible antagonist. On the other hand, the Sieur de Lavalliere +was a dainty fellow, for whom seemed to have been invented rich laces, +silken hose, and cancellated shoes. His long dark locks were pretty as +a lady’s ringlets, and he was, to be brief, a child with whom all the +women would be glad to play. One day the Dauphine, niece of the Pope, +said laughingly to the Queen of Navarre, who did not dislike these +little jokes, “that this page was a plaster to cure every ache,” which +caused the pretty little Tourainian to blush, because, being only +sixteen, he took this gallantry as a reproach. + +Now on his return from Italy the Cadet of Maille found the slipper of +marriage ready for his foot, which his mother had obtained for him in +the person of Mademoiselle d’Annebaut, who was a graceful maiden of +good appearance, and well furnished with everything, having a splendid +hotel in the Rue Barbette, with handsome furniture and Italian +paintings and many considerable lands to inherit. Some days after the +death of King Francis--a circumstance which planted terror in the +heart of everyone, because his said Majesty had died in consequence of +an attack of the Neapolitan sickness, and that for the future there +would be no security even with princesses of the highest birth--the +above-named Maille was compelled to quit the Court in order to go and +arrange certain affairs of great importance in Piedmont. You may be +sure that he was very loath to leave his good wife, so young, so +delicate, so sprightly, in the midst of the dangers, temptations, +snares and pitfalls of this gallant assemblage, which comprised so +many handsome fellows, bold as eagles, proud of mein, and as fond of +women as the people are partial to Paschal hams. In this state of +intense jealousy everything made him ill at ease; but by dint of much +thinking, it occurred to him to make sure of his wife in the manner +about to be related. He invited his good brother-in-arms to come at +daybreak on the morning of his departure. Now directly he heard +Lavalliere’s horse in the courtyard, he leaped out of bed, leaving his +sweet and fair better-half sleeping that gentle, dreamy, dozing sleep +so beloved by dainty ladies and lazy people. Lavalliere came to him, +and the two companions, hidden in the embrasure of the window, greeted +each other with a loyal clasp of the hand, and immediately Lavalliere +said to Maille-- + +“I should have been here last night in answer to thy summons, but I +had a love suit on with my lady, who had given me an assignation; I +could in no way fail to keep it, but I quitted her at dawn. Shall I +accompany thee? I have told her of thy departure, she has promised me +to remain without any amour; we have made a compact. If she deceives +me--well a friend is worth more than a mistress!” + +“Oh! my good brother” replied the Maille, quite overcome with these +words, “I wish to demand of thee a still higher proof of thy brave +heart. Wilt thou take charge of my wife, defend her against all, be +her guide, keep her in check and answer to me for the integrity of my +head? Thou canst stay here during my absence, in the green-room, and +be my wife’s cavalier.” + +Lavalliere knitted his brow and said-- + +“It is neither thee nor thy wife that I fear, but evil-minded people, +who will take advantage of this to entangle us like skeins of silk.” + +“Do not be afraid of me,” replied Maille, clasping Lavalliere to his +breast. “If it be the divine will of the Almighty that I should have +the misfortune to be a cuckold, I should be less grieved if it were to +your advantage. But by my faith I should die of grief, for my life is +bound up in my good, young, virtuous wife.” + +Saying which, he turned away his head, in order that Lavalliere should +not perceive the tears in his eyes; but the fine courtier saw this +flow of water, and taking the hand of Maille-- + +“Brother,” said he to him, “I swear to thee on my honour as a man, +that before anyone lays a finger on thy wife, he shall have felt my +dagger in the depth of his veins! And unless I should die, thou shalt +find her on thy return, intact in body if not in heart, because +thought is beyond the control of gentlemen.” + +“It is then decreed above,” exclaimed Maille, “that I shall always be +thy servant and thy debtor!” + +Thereupon the comrade departed, in order not to be inundated with the +tears, exclamations, and other expressions of grief which ladies make +use of when saying “Farewell.” Lavalliere having conducted him to the +gate of the town, came back to the hotel, waited until Marie +d’Annebaut was out of bed, informed her of the departure of her good +husband, and offered to place himself at her orders, in such a +graceful manner, that the most virtuous woman would have been tickled +with a desire to keep such a knight to herself. But there was no need +of this fine paternoster to indoctrinate the lady, seeing that she had +listened to the discourse of the two friends, and was greatly offended +at her husband’s doubt. Alas! God alone is perfect! In all the ideas +of men there is always a bad side, and it is therefore a great science +in life, but an impossible science, to take hold of everything, even a +stick by the right end. The cause of the great difficulty there is in +pleasing the ladies is, that there is it in them a thing which is more +woman than they are, and but for the respect which is due to them, I +would use another word. Now we should never awaken the phantasy of +this malevolent thing. The perfect government of woman is a task to +rend a man’s heart, and we are compelled to remain in perfect +submission to them; that is, I imagine, the best manner in which to +solve the most agonising enigma of marriage. + +Now Marie d’Annebaut was delighted with the bearing and offers of this +gallant; but there was something in her smile which indicated a +malicious idea, and, to speak plainly, the intention of putting her +young guardian between honour and pleasure; to regale him so with +love, to surround him with so many little attentions, to pursue him +with such warm glances, that he would be faithless to friendship, to +the advantage of gallantry. + +Everything was in perfect trim for the carrying out of her design, +because of the companionship which the Sire de Lavalliere would be +obliged to have with her during his stay in the hotel, and as there is +nothing in the world can turn a woman from her whim, at every turn the +artful jade was ready to catch him in a trap. + +At times she would make him remain seated near her by the fire, until +twelve o’clock at night, singing soft refrains, and at every +opportunity showed her fair shoulders, and the white temptations of +which her corset was full, and casting upon him a thousand piercing +glances, all without showing in her face the thoughts that surged in +her brain. + +At times she would walk with him in the morning, in the gardens of the +hotel, leaning heavily upon his arm, pressing it, sighing, and making +him tie the laces of her little shoes, which were always coming undone +in that particular place. Then it would be those soft words and things +which the ladies understand so well, little attentions paid to a +guest, such as coming in to see if he were comfortable, if his bed +were well made, the room clean, if the ventilation were good, if he +felt any draughts in the night, if the sun came in during the day, and +asking him to forgo none of his usual fancies and habits, saying-- + +“Are you accustomed to take anything in the morning in bed, such as +honey, milk, or spice? Do the meal times suit you? I will conform mine +to yours: tell me. You are afraid to ask me. Come--” + +She accompanied these coddling little attentions with a hundred +affected speeches; for instance, on coming into the room she would +say-- + +“I am intruding, send me away. You want to be left alone--I will go.” + And always was she graciously invited to remain. + +And the cunning Madame always came lightly attired, showing samples of +her beauty, which would have made a patriarch neigh, even were he as +much battered by time as must have been Mr. Methusaleh, with his nine +hundred and sixty years. + +That good knight being as sharp as a needle, let the lady go on with +her tricks, much pleased to see her occupy herself with him, since it +was so much gained; but like a loyal brother, he always called her +absent husband to the lady’s mind. + +Now one evening--the day had been very warm--Lavalliere suspecting the +lady’s games, told her that Maille loved her dearly, that she had in +him a man of honour, a gentleman who doted on her, and was ticklish on +the score of his crown. + +“Why then, if he is so ticklish in this manner, has he placed you +here?” + +“Was it not a most prudent thing?” replied he. “Was it not necessary +to confide you to some defender of your virtue? Not that it needs one +save to protect you from wicked men.” + +“Then you are my guardian?” said she. + +“I am proud of it!” exclaimed Lavalliere. + +“Ah!” said she, “he has made a very bad choice.” + +This remark was accompanied by a little look, so lewdly lascivious +that the good brother-in-arms put on, by way of reproach, a severe +countenance, and left the fair lady alone, much piqued at this refusal +to commence love’s conflict. + +She remained in deep meditation, and began to search for the real +obstacle that she had encountered, for it was impossible that it +should enter the mind of any lady, that a gentleman could despise that +bagatelle which is of such great price and so high value. Now these +thoughts knitted and joined together so well, one fitting into the +other, that out of little pieces she constructed a perfect whole, and +found herself desperately in love; which should teach the ladies never +to play with a man’s weapons, seeing that like glue, they always stick +to the fingers. + +By this means Marie d’Annebaut came to a conclusion which she should +have known at the commencement--viz., that to keep clear of her +snares, the good knight must be smitten with some other lady, and +looking round her, to see where her young guest could have found a +needle-case to his taste, she thought of the fair Limeuil, one of +Queen Catherine’s maids, of Mesdames de Nevers, d’Estree, and de Giac, +all of whom were declared friends of Lavalliere, and of the lot he +must love one to distraction. + +From this belief, she added the motive of jealousy to the others which +tempted her to seduce her Argus, whom she did not wish to wound, but +to perfume, kiss his head, and treat kindly. + +She was certainly more beautiful, young, and more appetising and +gentle than her rivals; at least, that was the melodious decree of her +imaginations. So, urged on by the chords and springs of conscience, +and physical causes which affect women, she returned to the charge, to +commence a fresh assault upon the heart of the chevalier, for the +ladies like that which is well fortified. + +Then she played the pussy-cat, and nestled up close to him, became so +sweetly sociable, and wheedled so gently, that one evening when she +was in a desponding state, although merry enough in her inmost soul, +the guardian-brother asked her-- + +“What is the matter with you?” + +To which she replied to him dreamily, being listened to by him as the +sweetest music-- + +That she had married Maille against her heart’s will, and that she was +very unhappy; that she knew not the sweets of love; that her husband +did not understand her, and that her life was full of tears. In fact, +that she was a maiden in heart and all, since she confessed in +marriage she had experienced nothing but the reverse of pleasure. And +she added, that surely this holy state should be full of sweetmeats +and dainties of love, because all the ladies hurried into it, and +hated and were jealous of those who out-bid them, for it cost certain +people pretty dear; that she was so curious about it that for one good +day or night of love, she would give her life, and always be obedient +to her lover without a murmur; but that he with whom she would sooner +than all others try the experiment would not listen to her; that, +nevertheless, the secret of their love might be kept eternally, so +great was her husband’s confidence in him, and that finally if he +still refused it would kill her. + +And all these paraphrases of the common canticle known to the ladies +at their birth were ejaculated between a thousand pauses, interrupted +with sighs torn from the heart, ornamented with quiverings, appeals to +heaven, upturned eyes, sudden blushings and clutchings at her hair. In +fact, no ingredient of temptation was lacking in the dish, and at the +bottom of all these words there was a nipping desire which embellished +even its blemishes. The good knight fell at the lady’s feet, and +weeping took them and kissed them, and you may be sure the good woman +was quite delighted to let him kiss them, and even without looking too +carefully to see what she was going to do, she abandoned her dress to +him, knowing well that to keep it from sweeping the ground it must be +taken at the bottom to raise it; but it was written that for that +evening she should be good, for the handsome Lavalliere said to her +with despair-- + +“Ah, madame, I am an unfortunate man and a wretch.” + +“Not at all,” said she. + +“Alas, the joy of loving you is denied to me.” + +“How?” said she. + +“I dare not confess my situation to you!” + +“Is it then very bad?” + +“Ah, you will be ashamed of me!” + +“Speak, I will hide my face in my hands,” and the cunning madame hid +her face is such a way that she could look at her well-beloved between +her fingers. + +“Alas!” said he, “the other evening when you addressed me in such +gracious words, I was so treacherously inflamed, that not knowing my +happiness to be so near, and not daring to confess my flame to you, I +ran to a Bordel where all the gentleman go, and there for love of you, +and to save the honour of my brother whose head I should blush to +dishonour, I was so badly infected that I am in great danger of dying +of the Italian sickness.” + +The lady, seized with terror, gave vent to the cry of a woman in +labour, and with great emotion, repulsed him with a gentle little +gesture. Poor Lavalliere, finding himself in so pitiable state, went +out of the room, but he had not even reached the tapestries of the +door, when Marie d’Annebaut again contemplated him, saying to herself, +“Ah! what a pity!” Then she fell into a state of great melancholy, +pitying in herself the gentleman, and became the more in love with him +because he was fruit three times forbidden. + +“But for Maille,” said she to him, one evening that she thought him +handsomer than unusual, “I would willingly take your disease. Together +we should then have the same terrors.” + +“I love you too well,” said the brother, “not to be good.” + +And he left her to go to his beautiful Limeuil. You can imagine that +being unable to refuse to receive the burning glances of the lady, +during meal times, and the evenings, there was a fire nourished that +warmed them both, but she was compelled to live without touching her +cavalier, otherwise than with her eyes. Thus occupied, Marie +d’Annebaut was fortified at every point against the gallants of the +Court, for there are no bounds so impassable as those of love, and no +better guardian; it is like the devil, he whom it has in its clutches +it surrounds with flames. One evening, Lavalliere having escorted his +friend’s wife to a dance given by Queen Catherine, he danced with the +fair Limeuil, with whom he was madly in love. At that time the knights +carried on their amours bravely two by two, and even in troops. Now +all the ladies were jealous of La Limeuil, who at that time was +thinking of yielding to the handsome Lavalliere. Before taking their +places in the quadrille, she had given him the sweetest of +assignations for the morrow, during the hunt. Our great Queen +Catherine, who from political motives fermented these loves and +stirred them up, like pastrycooks make the oven fires burn by poking, +glanced at all the pretty couples interwoven in the quadrille, and +said to her husband-- + +“When they combat here, can they conspire against you, eh?” + +“Ah! but the Protestants?” + +“Bah! have them here as well,” said she, laughing. “Why, look at +Lavalliere, who is suspected to be a Huguenot; he is converted by my +dear little Limeuil, who does not play her cards badly for a young +lady of sixteen. He will soon have her name down in his list.” + +“Ah, Madame! do not believe it,” said Marie d’Annebaut, “he is ruined +through that same sickness of Naples which made you queen.” + +At this artless confession, Catherine, the fair Diana, and the king, +who were sitting together, burst out laughing, and the thing ran round +the room. This brought endless shame and mockery upon Lavalliere. The +poor gentleman, pointed at by everyone, soon wished somebody else in +his shoes, for La Limeuil, who his rivals had not been slow laughingly +to warn of her danger, appeared to shrink from her lover, so rapid was +the spread, and so violent the apprehensions of this nasty disease. +Thus Lavalliere found himself abandoned by everyone like a leper. The +king made an offensive remark, and the good knight quitted the +ball-room, followed by poor Marie in despair at the speech. She had in +every way ruined the man she loved: she had destroyed his honour, and +marred his life, since the physicians and master surgeons advance as a +fact, incapable of contradiction, that persons Italianised by this +love sickness, lost through it their greatest attractions, as well as +their generative powers, and their bones went black. + +Thus no woman would bind herself in legitimate marriage with the +finest gentlemen in the kingdom if he were only suspected of being one +of those whom Master Frances Rabelais named “his very precious scabby +ones. . . . .” + +As the handsome knight was very silent and melancholy, his companion +said to him on the road home from Hercules House, where the fete had +been held-- + +“My dear lord, I have done you a great mischief.” + +“Ah, madame!” replied Lavalliere, “my hurt is curable; but into what a +predicament have you fallen? You should not have been aware of the +danger of my love.” + +“Ah!” said she, “I am sure now always to have you to myself; in +exchange for this great obloquy and dishonour, I will be forever your +friend, your hostess, and your lady-love--more than that, your +servant. My determination is to devote myself to you and efface the +traces of this shame; to cure you by a watch and ward; and if the +learned in these matters declare that the disease has such a hold of +you that it will kill you like our defunct sovereign, I must still +have your company in order to die gloriously in dying of your +complaint. Even then,” said she, weeping, “that will not be penance +enough to atone for the wrong I have done you.” + +These words were accompanied with big tears; her virtuous heart waxed +faint, she fell to the ground exhausted. Lavalliere, terrified, caught +her and placed his hand upon her heart, below a breast of matchless +beauty. The lady revived at the warmth of this beloved hand, +experiencing such exquisite delights as nearly to make her again +unconscious. + +“Alas!” said she, “this sly and superficial caress will be for the +future the only pleasure of our love. It will still be a hundred times +better than the joys which poor Maille fancies he is bestowing on me. +. . . Leave your hand there,” said she; “verily it is upon my soul, +and touches it.” + +At these words the knight was in a pitiful plight, and innocently +confessed to the Lady that he experienced so much pleasure at this +touch that the pains of his malady increased, and that death was +preferable to this martyrdom. + +“Let us die then,” said she. + +But the litter was in the courtyard of the hotel, and as the means of +death was not handy, each one slept far from the other, heavily +weighed down with love, Lavalliere having lost his fair Limeuil, and +Marie d’Annebaut having gained pleasures without parallel. + +From this affair, which was quite unforeseen, Lavalliere found himself +under the ban of love and marriage and dared no longer appear in +public, and he found how much it costs to guard the virtue of a woman; +but the more honour and virtue he displayed the more pleasure did he +experience in these great sacrifices offered at the shrine of +brotherhood. Nevertheless, his duty was very bitter, very ticklish, +and intolerable to perform, towards the last days of his guard. And in +this way. + +The confession of her love, which she believed was returned, the wrong +done by her to her cavalier, and the experience of an unknown +pleasure, emboldened the fair Marie, who fell into a platonic love, +gently tempered with those little indulgences in which there is no +danger. From this cause sprang the diabolical pleasures of the game +invented by the ladies, who since the death of Francis the First +feared the contagion, but wished to gratify their lovers. To these +cruel delights, in order to properly play his part, Lavalliere could +not refuse his sanction. Thus every evening the mournful Marie would +attach her guest to her petticoats, holding his hand, kissing him with +burning glances, her cheek placed gently against his, and during this +virtuous embrace, in which the knight was held like the devil by a +holy water brush, she told him of her great love, which was boundless +since it stretched through the infinite spaces of unsatisfied desire. +All the fire with which the ladies endow their substantial amours, +when the night has no other lights than their eyes, she transferred +into the mystic motions of her head, the exultations of her soul, and +the ecstasies of her heart. Then, naturally, and with the delicious +joy of two angels united by thought alone, they intoned together those +sweet litanies repeated by the lovers of the period in honour of +love--anthems which the abbot of Theleme has paragraphically saved +from oblivion by engraving them on the walls of his Abbey, situated, +according to master Alcofribas, in our land of Chinon, where I have +seen them in Latin, and have translated them for the benefit of +Christians. + +“Alas!” said Marie d’Annebaut, “thou art my strength and my life, my +joy and my treasure.” + +“And you,” replied he “you are a pearl, an angel.” + +“Thou art my seraphim.” + +“You my soul.” + +“Thou my God.” + +“You my evening star and morning star, my honour, my beauty, my +universe.” + +“Thou my great my divine master.” + +“You my glory, my faith, my religion.” + +“Thou my gentle one, my handsome one, my courageous one, my dear one, +my cavalier, my defender, my king, my love.” + +“You my fairy, the flower of my days, the dream of my nights.” + +“Thou my thought at every moment.” + +“You the delights of my eyes.” + +“Thou the voice of my soul.” + +“You my light by day.” + +“Thou my glimmer in the night.” + +“You the best beloved among women.” + +“Thou the most adored of men.” + +“You my blood, a myself better than myself.” + +“Thou art my heart, my lustre.” + +“You my saint, my only joy.” + +“I yield thee the palm of love, and how great so’er mine be, I believe +thou lovest me still more, for thou art the lord.” + +“No; the palm is yours, my goddess, my Virgin Marie.” + +“No; I am thy servant, thine handmaiden, a nothing thou canst crush to +atoms.” + +“No, no! it is I who am your slave, your faithful page, whom you see +as a breath of air, upon whom you can walk as on a carpet. My heart is +your throne.” + +“No, dearest, for thy voice transfigures me.” + +“Your regard burns me.” + +“I see but thee.” + +“I love but you.” + +“Oh! put thine hand upon my heart--only thine hand--and thou will see +me pale, when my blood shall have taken the heat of thine.” + +Then during these struggles their eyes, already ardent, flamed still +more brightly, and the good knight was a little the accomplice of the +pleasure which Marie d’Annebaut took in feeling his hand upon her +heart. Now, as in this light embrace all their strength was put forth, +all their desires strained, all their ideas of the thing concentrated, +it happened that the knight’s transport reached a climax. Their eyes +wept warm tears, they seized each other hard and fast as fire seizes +houses; but that was all. Lavalliere had promised to return safe and +sound to his friend the body only, not the heart. + +When Maille announced his return, it was quite time, since no virtue +could avoid melting upon this gridiron; and the less licence the +lovers had, the more pleasure they had in their fantasies. + +Leaving Marie d’Annebaut, the good companion in arms went as far as +Bondy to meet his friend, to help him to pass through the forest +without accident, and the two brothers slept together, according to +the ancient custom, in the village of Bondy. + +There, in their bed, they recounted to each other, one of the +adventures of his journey, the other the gossip of the camp, stories +of gallantry, and the rest. But Maille’s first question was touching +Marie d’Annebaut, whom Lavalliere swore to be intact in that precious +place where the honour of husbands is lodged; at which the amorous +Maille was highly delighted. + +On the morrow, they were all three re-united, to the great disgust of +Marie, who, with the high jurisprudence of women, made a great fuss +with her good husband, but with her finger she indicated her heart in +an artless manner to Lavalliere, as one who said, “This is thine!” + +At supper Lavalliere announced his departure for the wars. Maille was +much grieved at this resolution, and wished to accompany his brother; +that Lavalliere refused him point blank. + +“Madame,” said he to Marie d’Annebaut, “I love you more than life, but +not more than honour.” + +He turned pale saying this, and Madame de Maille blanched hearing him, +because never in their amorous dalliance had there been so much true +love as in this speech. Maille insisted on keeping his friend company +as far as Meaux. When he came back he was talking over with his wife +the unknown reasons and secret causes of this departure, when Marie, +who suspected the grief of poor Lavalliere said, “I know: he is +ashamed to stop here because he has the Neapolitan sickness.” + +“He!” said Maille, quite astonished. “I saw him when we were in bed +together at Bondy the other evening, and yesterday at Meaux. There’s +nothing the matter with him; he is as sound as a bell.” + +The lady burst into tears, admiring this great loyalty, the sublime +resignation to his oath, and the extreme sufferings of this internal +passion. But as she still kept her love in the recesses of her heart, +she died when Lavalliere fell before Metz, as has been elsewhere +related by Messire Bourdeilles de Brantome in his tittle-tattle. + + + + THE VICAR OF AZAY-LE-RIDEAU + +In those days the priests no longer took any woman in legitimate +marriage, but kept good mistresses as pretty as they could get; which +custom has since been interdicted by the council, as everyone knows, +because, indeed, it was not pleasant that the private confessions of +people should be retold to a wench who would laugh at them, besides +the other secret doctrines, ecclesiastical arrangements, and +speculations which are part and parcel of the politics of the Church +of Rome. The last priest in our country who theologically kept a woman +in his parsonage, regaling her with his scholastic love, was a certain +vicar of Azay-le-Ridel, a place later on most aptly named as +Azay-le-Brule, and now Azay-le-Rideau, whose castle is one of the +marvels of Touraine. Now this said period, when the women were not +averse to the odour of the priesthood, is not so far distant as some +may think, Monsieur D’Orgemont, son of the preceding bishop, still +held the see of Paris, and the great quarrels of the Armagnacs had not +finished. To tell the truth, this vicar did well to have his vicarage +in that age, since he was well shapen, of a high colour, stout, big, +strong, eating and drinking like a convalescent, and indeed, was +always rising from a little malady that attacked him at certain times; +and, later on, he would have been his own executioner, had he +determined to observe his canonical continence. Add to this that he +was a Tourainian, id est, dark, and had in his eyes flame to light, +and water to quench all the domestic furnaces that required lighting +or quenching; and never since at Azay has been such vicar seen! A +handsome vicar was he, square-shouldered, fresh coloured, always +blessing and chuckling, preferred weddings and christenings to +funerals, a good joker, pious in Church, and a man in everything. +There have been many vicars who have drunk well and eaten well; others +who have blessed abundantly and chuckled consumedly; but all of them +together would hardly make up the sterling worth of this aforesaid +vicar; and he alone has worthily filled his post with benedictions, +has held it with joy, and in it has consoled the afflicted, all so +well, that no one saw him come out of his house without wishing to be +in his heart, so much was he beloved. It was he who first said in a +sermon that the devil was not so black as he was painted, and who for +Madame de Cande transformed partridges into fish saying that the perch +of the Indre were partridges of the river, and, on the other hand, +partridges perch in the air. He never played artful tricks under the +cloak of morality, and often said, jokingly, he would rather be in a +good bed then in anybody’s will, that he had plenty of everything, and +wanted nothing. As for the poor and suffering, never did those who +came to ask for wool at the vicarage go away shorn, for his hand was +always in his pocket, and he melted (he who in all else was so firm) +at the sight of all this misery and infirmity, and he endeavoured to +heal all their wounds. There have been many good stories told +concerning this king of vicars. It was he who caused such hearty +laughter at the wedding of the lord of Valennes, near Sacche. The +mother of the said lord had a good deal to do with the victuals, roast +meats and other delicacies, of which there was sufficient quantity to +feed a small town at least, and it is true, at the same time, that +people came to the wedding from Montbazon, from Tours, from Chinon, +from Langeais, and from everywhere, and stopped eight days. + +Now the good vicar, as he was going into the room where the company +were enjoying themselves, met the little kitchen boy, who wished to +inform Madame that all the elementary substances and fat rudiments, +syrups, and sauces, were in readiness for a pudding of great delicacy, +the secret compilation, mixing, and manipulation of which she wished +herself to superintend, intending it as a special treat for her +daughter-in-law’s relations. Our vicar gave the boy a tap on the +cheek, telling him that he was too greasy and dirty to show himself to +people of high rank, and that he himself would deliver the said +message. The merry fellow pushes open the door, shapes the fingers of +his left hand into the form of a sheath, and moves gently therein the +middle finger of his right, at the same time looking at the lady of +Valennes, and saying to her, “Come, all is ready.” Those who did not +understand the affair burst out laughing to see Madame get up and go +to the vicar, because she knew he referred to the pudding, and not to +that which the others imagined. + +But a true story is that concerning the manner in which this worthy +pastor lost his mistress, to whom the ecclesiastical authorities +allowed no successor; but, as for that, the vicar did not want for +domestic utensils. In the parish everyone thought it an honour to lend +him theirs, the more readily because he was not the man to spoil +anything, and was careful to clean them out thoroughly, the dear man. +But here are the facts. One evening the good man came home to supper +with a melancholy face, because he had just put into the ground a good +farmer, whose death came about in a strange manner, and is still +frequently talked about in Azay. Seeing that he only ate with the end +of his teeth, and turned up his nose at a dish of tripe, which had +been cooked in his own special manner, his good woman said to him-- + +“Have you passed before the Lombard (see _Master Cornelius, passim_), met +two black crows, or seen the dead man turn in his grave, that you are +so upset?” + +“Oh! Oh!” + +“Has anyone deceived you?” + +“Ha! Ha!” + +“Come, tell me!” + +“My dear, I am still quite overcome at the death of poor Cochegrue, +and there is not at the present moment a good housewife’s tongue or a +virtuous cuckold’s lips that are not talking about it.” + +“And what was it?” + +“Listen! This poor Cochegrue was returning from market, having sold +his corn and two fat pigs. He was riding his pretty mare, who, near +Azay, commenced to caper about without the slightest cause, and poor +Cochegrue trotted and ambled along counting his profits. At the corner +of the old road of the Landes de Charlemagne, they came upon a +stallion kept by the Sieur de la Carte, in a field, in order to have a +good breed of horses, because the said animal was fleet of foot, as +handsome as an abbot, and so high and mighty that the admiral who came +to see it, said it was a beast of the first quality. This cursed horse +scented the pretty mare; like a cunning beast, neither neighed nor +gave vent to any equine ejaculation, but when she was close to the +road, leaped over forty rows of vines and galloped after her, pawing +the ground with his iron shoes, discharging the artillery of a lover +who longs for an embrace, giving forth sounds to set the strongest +teeth on edge, and so loudly, that the people of Champy heard it and +were much terrified thereat. + +“Cochegrue, suspecting the affair, makes for the moors, spurs his +amorous mare, relying upon her rapid pace, and indeed, the good mare +understands, obeys, and flies--flies like a bird, but a bowshot off +follows the blessed horse, thundering along the road like a blacksmith +beating iron, and at full speed, his mane flying in the wind, replying +to the sound of the mare’s swift gallop with his terrible pat-a-pan! +pat-a-pan! Then the good farmer, feeling death following him in the +love of the beast, spurs anew his mare, and harder still she gallops, +until at last, pale and half dead with fear, he reaches the outer yard +of his farmhouse, but finding the door of the stable shut he cries, +‘Help here! Wife!’ Then he turned round on his mare, thinking to avoid +the cursed beast whose love was burning, who was wild with passion, +and growing more amorous every moment, to the great danger of the +mare. His family, horrified at the danger, did not go to open the +stable door, fearing the strange embrace and the kicks of the +iron-shod lover. At last, Cochegrue’s wife went, but just as the good +mare was half way through the door, the cursed stallion seized her, +squeezed her, gave her a wild greeting, with his two legs gripped her, +pinched her and held her tight, and at the same time so kneaded and +knocked about Cochegrue that there was only found of him a shapeless +mass, crushed like a nut after the oil has been distilled from it. It +was shocking to see him squashed alive and mingling his cries with the +loud love-sighs of the horse.” + +“Oh! the mare!” exclaimed the vicar’s good wench. + +“What!” said the priest astonished. + +“Certainly. You men wouldn’t have cracked a plumstone for us.” + +“There,” answered the vicar, “you wrong me.” The good man threw her so +angrily upon the bed, attacked and treated her so violently that she +split into pieces, and died immediately without either surgeons or +physicians being able to determine the manner in which the solution of +continuity was arrived at, so violently disjointed were the hinges and +mesial partitions. You can imagine that he was a proud man, and a +splendid vicar as has been previously stated. + +The good people of the country, even the women, agreed that he was not +to blame, but that his conduct was warranted by the circumstances. + +From this, perhaps, came the proverb so much in use at that time, Que +l’aze le saille! The which proverb is really so much coarser in its +actual wording, that out of respect for the ladies I will not mention +it. But this was not the only clever thing that this great and noble +vicar achieved, for before this misfortune he did such a stroke of +business that no robbers dare ask him how many angels he had in his +pocket, even had they been twenty strong and over to attack him. One +evening when his good woman was still with him, after supper, during +which he had enjoyed his goose, his wench, his wine, and everything, +and was reclining in his chair thinking where he could build a new +barn for the tithes, a message came for him from the lord of Sacche, +who was giving up the ghost and wished to reconcile himself with God, +receive the sacrament, and go through the usual ceremonies. “He is a +good man and loyal lord. I will go.” said he. Thereupon he passed into +the church, took the silver box where the blessed bread is, rang the +little bell himself in order not to wake the clerk, and went lightly +and willingly along the roads. Near the Gue-droit, which is a valley +leading to the Indre across the moors, our good vicar perceived a high +toby. And what is a high toby? It is a clerk of St. Nicholas. Well, +what is that? That means a person who sees clearly on a dark night, +instructs himself by examining and turning over purses, and takes his +degrees on the high road. Do you understand now? Well then, the high +toby waited for the silver box, which he knew to be of great value. + +“Oh! oh!” said the priest, putting down the sacred vase on a stone at +the corner of the bridge, “stop thou there without moving.” + +Then he walked up to the robber, tipped him up, seized his loaded +stick, and when the rascal got up to struggle with him, he gutted him +with a blow well planted in the middle of his stomach. Then he picked +up the viaticum again, saying bravely to it: “Ah! If I had relied upon +thy providence, we should have been lost.” Now to utter these impious +words on the road to Sacche was mere waste of breath, seeing that he +addressed them not to God, but to the Archbishop of Tours, who have +once severely rebuked him, threatened him with suspension, and +admonished him before the Chapter for having publicly told certain +lazy people that a good harvest was not due to the grace of God, but +to skilled labour and hard work--a doctrine which smelt of the fagot. +And indeed he was wrong, because the fruits of the earth have need +both of one and the other; but he died in this heresy, for he could +never understand how crops could come without digging, if God so +willed it--a doctrine that learned men have since proved to be true, +by showing that formerly wheat grew very well without the aid of man. +I cannot leave this splendid model of a pastor without giving here one +of the acts of his life, which proves with what fervour he imitated +the saints in the division of their goods and mantles, which they gave +formerly to the poor and the passers-by. One day, returning from +Tours, where he had been paying his respects to the official, mounted +on his mule, he was nearing Azay. On the way, just out side Ballan, he +met a pretty girl on foot, and was grieved to see a woman travelling +like a dog; the more so as she was visibly fatigued, and could +scarcely raise one foot before the other. He whistled to her softly, +and the pretty wench turned round and stopped. The good priest, who +was too good a sportsman to frighten the birds, especially the hooded +ones, begged her so gently to ride behind him on his mule, and in so +polite a fashion, that the lass got up; not without making those +little excuses and grimaces that they all make when one invites them +to eat, or to take what they like. The sheep paired off with the +shepherd, the mule jogged along after the fashion of mules, while the +girl slipped now this way now that, riding so uncomfortably that the +priest pointed out to her, after leaving Ballan, that she had better +hold on to him; and immediately my lady put her plump arms around the +waist of her cavalier, in a modest and timorous manner. + +“There, you don’t slip about now. Are you comfortable?” said the +vicar. + +“Yes, I am comfortable. Are you?” + +“I?” said the priest, “I am better than that.” + +And, in fact, he was quite at his ease, and was soon gently warmed in +the back by two projections which rubbed against it, and at last +seemed as though they wished to imprint themselves between his +shoulder blades, which would have been a pity, as that was not the +place for this white merchandise. By degrees the movement of mule +brought into conjunction the internal warmth of these two good riders, +and their blood coursed more quickly through their veins, seeing that +it felt the motion of the mule as well as their own; and thus the good +wench and the vicar finished by knowing each other’s thoughts, but not +those of the mule. When they were both acclimatised, he with her and +she with him, they felt an internal disturbance which resolved itself +into secret desires. + +“Ah!” said the vicar, turning round to his companion, “here is a fine +cluster of trees which has grown very thick.” + +“It is too near the road,” replied the girl. “Bad boys have cut the +branches, and the cows have eaten the young leaves.” + +“Are you not married?” asked the vicar, trotting his animal again. + +“No,” said she. + +“Not at all?” + +“I’faith! No!” + +“What a shame, at your age!” + +“You are right, sir; but you see, a poor girl who has had a child is a +bad bargain.” + +Then the good vicar taking pity on such ignorance, and knowing that +the canons say among other things that pastors should indoctrinate +their flock and show them the duties and responsibilities of this +life, he thought he would only be discharging the functions of his +office by showing her the burden she would have one day to bear. Then +he begged her gently not be afraid, for if she would have faith in his +loyalty no one should ever know of the marital experiment which he +proposed then and there to perform with her; and as, since passing +Ballan the girl had thought of nothing else; as her desire had been +carefully sustained, and augmented by the warm movements of the +animal, she replied harshly to the vicar, “if you talk thus I will get +down.” Then the good vicar continued his gentle requests so well that +on reaching the wood of Azay the girl wished to get down, and the +priest got down there too, for it was not across a horse that this +discussion could be finished. Then the virtuous maiden ran into the +thickest part of the wood to get away from the vicar, calling out, +“Oh, you wicked man, you shan’t know where I am.” + +The mule arrived in a glade where the grass was good, the girl tumbled +down over a root and blushed. The good vicar came to her, and there as +he had rung the bell for mass he went through the service for her, and +both freely discounted the joys of paradise. The good priest had it in +his heart to thoroughly instruct her, and found his pupil very docile, +as gentle in mind as soft in the flesh, a perfect jewel. Therefore was +he much aggrieved at having so much abridged the lessons by giving it +at Azay, seeing that he would have been quite willing to recommence +it, like all of precentors who say the same thing over and over again +to their pupils. + +“Ah! little one,” cried the good man, “why did you make so much fuss +that we only came to an understanding close to Azay?” + +“Ah!” said she, “I belong to Bellan.” + +To be brief, I must tell you that when this good man died in his +vicarage there was a great number of people, children and others, who +came, sorrowful, afflicted, weeping, and grieved, and all exclaimed, +“Ah! we have lost our father.” And the girls, the widows, the wives +and little girls looked at each other, regretting him more than a +friend, and said, “He was more than a priest, he was a man!” Of these +vicars the seed is cast to the winds, and they will never be +reproduced in spite of the seminaries. + +Why, even the poor, to whom his savings were left, found themselves +still the losers, and an old cripple whom he had succoured hobbled +into the churchyard, crying “I don’t die! I don’t!” meaning to say, +“Why did not death take me in his place?” This made some of the people +laugh, at which the shade of the good vicar would certainly not have +been displeased. + + + + THE REPROACH + +The fair laundress of Portillon-les-Tours, of whom a droll saying has +already been given in this book, was a girl blessed with as much +cunning as if she had stolen that of six priests and three women at +least. She did not want for sweethearts, and had so many that one +would have compared them, seeing them around her, to bees swarming of +an evening towards their hive. An old silk dyer, who lived in the Rue +St. Montfumier, and there possessed a house of scandalous +magnificence, coming from his place at La Grenadiere, situated on the +fair borders of St. Cyr, passed on horseback through Portillon in +order to gain the Bridge of Tours. By reason of the warmth of the +evening, he was seized with a wild desire on seeing the pretty +washerwoman sitting upon her door-step. Now as for a very long time he +had dreamed of this pretty maid, his resolution was taken to make her +his wife, and in a short time she was transformed from a washerwoman +into a dyer’s wife, a good townswoman, with laces, fine linen, and +furniture to spare, and was happy in spite of the dyer, seeing that +she knew very well how to manage him. The good dyer had for a crony a +silk machinery manufacturer who was small in stature, deformed for +life, and full of wickedness. So on the wedding-day he said to the +dyer, “You have done well to marry, my friend, we shall have a pretty +wife!”; and a thousand sly jokes, such as it is usual to address to a +bridegroom. + +In fact, this hunchback courted the dyer’s wife, who from her nature, +caring little for badly built people, laughed to scorn the request of +the mechanician, and joked him about the springs, engines, and spools +of which his shop was full. However, this great love of the hunchback +was rebuffed by nothing, and became so irksome to the dyer’s wife that +she resolved to cure it by a thousand practical jokes. One evening, +after the sempiternal pursuit, she told her lover to come to the back +door and towards midnight she would open everything to him. Now note, +this was on a winter’s night; the Rue St. Montfumier is close to the +Loire, and in this corner there continually blow in winter, winds +sharp as a hundred needle-points. The good hunchback, well muffled up +in his mantle, failed not to come, and trotted up and down to keep +himself warm while waiting for the appointed hour. Towards midnight he +was half frozen, as fidgety as thirty-two devils caught in a stole, +and was about to give up his happiness, when a feeble light passed by +the cracks of the window and came down towards the little door. + +“Ah, it is she!” said he. + +And this hope warned him once more. Then he got close to the door, and +heard a little voice-- + +“Are you there?” said the dyer’s wife to him. + +“Yes.” + +“Cough, that I may see.” + +The hunchback began to cough. + +“It is not you.” + +Then the hunchback said aloud-- + +“How do you mean, it is not I? Do you not recognise my voice? Open the +door!” + +“Who’s there?” said the dyer, opening the window. + +“There, you have awakened my husband, who returned from Amboise +unexpectedly this evening.” + +Thereupon the dyer, seeing by the light of the moon a man at the door, +threw a big pot of cold water over him, and cried out, “Thieves! +thieves!” in such a manner that the hunchback was forced to run away; +but in his fear he failed to clear the chain stretched across the +bottom of the road and fell into the common sewer, which the sheriff +had not then replaced by a sluice to discharge the mud into the Loire. +In this bath the mechanician expected every moment to breathe his +last, and cursed the fair Tascherette, for her husband’s name being +Taschereau, she was so called by way of a little joke by the people of +Tours. + +Carandas--for so was named the manufacturer of machines to weave, to +spin, to spool, and to wind the silk--was not sufficiently smitten to +believe in the innocence of the dyer’s wife, and swore a devilish hate +against her. But some days afterwards, when he had recovered from his +wetting in the dyer’s drain he came up to sup with his old comrade. +Then the dyer’s wife reasoned with him so well, flavoured her words +with so much honey, and wheedled him with so many fair promises, that +he dismissed his suspicions. + +He asked for a fresh assignation, and the fair Tascherette with the +face of a woman whose mind is dwelling on a subject, said to him, +“Come tomorrow evening; my husband will be staying some days at +Chinonceaux. The queen wishes to have some of her old dresses dyed and +would settle the colours with him. It will take some time.” + +Carandas put on his best clothes, failed not to keep the appointment, +appeared at the time fixed, and found a good supper prepared, +lampreys, wine of Vouvray, fine white napkins--for it was not +necessary to remonstrate with the dyer’s wife on the colour of her +linen--and everything so well prepared that it was quite pleasant to +him to see the dishes of fresh eels, to smell the good odour of the +meats, and to admire a thousand little nameless things about the room, +and La Tascherette fresh and appetising as an apple on a hot day. Now, +the mechanician, excited to excess by these warm preparations, was on +the point of attacking the charms of the dyer’s wife, when Master +Taschereau gave a loud knock at the street door. + +“Ha!” said madame, “what has happened? Put yourself in the clothes +chest, for I have been much abused respecting you; and if my husband +finds you, he may undo you; he is so violent in his temper.” + +And immediately she thrust the hunchback into the chest, and went +quickly to her good husband, whom she knew well would be back from +Chinonceaux to supper. Then the dyer was kissed warmly on both his +eyes and on both his ears and he caught his good wife to him and +bestowed upon her two hearty smacks with his lips that sounded all +over the room. Then the pair sat down to supper, talked together and +finished by going to bed; and the mechanician heard all, though +obliged to remain crumpled up, and not to cough or to make a single +movement. He was in with the linen, crushed up as close as a sardine +in a box, and had about as much air as he would have had at the bottom +of a river; but he had, to divert him, the music of love, the sighs of +the dyer, and the little jokes of La Tascherette. At last, when he +fancied his old comrade was asleep, he made an attempt to get out of +the chest. + +“Who is there?” said the dyer. + +“What is the matter my little one?” said his wife, lifting her nose +above the counterpane. + +“I heard a scratching,” said the good man. + +“We shall have rain to-morrow; it’s the cat,” replied his wife. + +The good husband put his head back upon the pillow after having been +gently embraced by his spouse. “There, my dear, you are a light +sleeper. It’s no good trying to make a proper husband of you. There, +be good. Oh! oh! my little papa, your nightcap is on one side. There, +put it on the other way, for you must look pretty even when you are +asleep. There! are you all right?” + +“Yes.” + +“Are you sleep?” said she, giving him a kiss. + +“Yes.” + +In the morning the dyer’s wife came softly and let out the +mechanician, who was whiter than a ghost. + +“Give me air, give me air!” said he. + +And away he ran cured of his love, but with as much hate in his heart +as a pocket could hold of black wheat. The said hunchback left Tours +and went to live in the town of Bruges, where certain merchants had +sent for him to arrange the machinery for making hauberks. + +During his long absence, Carandas, who had Moorish blood in his veins, +since he was descended from an ancient Saracen left half dead after +the great battle which took place between the Moors and the French in +the commune of Bellan (which is mentioned in the preceding tale), in +which place are the Landes of Charlemagne, where nothing grows because +of the cursed wretches and infidels there interred, and where the +grass disagrees even with the cows--this Carandas never rose up or lay +down in a foreign land without thinking of how he could give strength +to his desires of vengeance; and he was dreaming always of it, and +wishing nothing less than the death of the fair washerwoman of +Portillon and often would cry out “I will eat her flesh! I will cook +one of her breasts, and swallow it without sauce!” It was a tremendous +hate of good constitution--a cardinal hate--a hate of a wasp or an old +maid. It was all known hates moulded into one single hate, which +boiled itself, concocted itself, and resolved self into an elixir of +wicked and diabolical sentiments, warmed at the fire of the most +flaming furnaces of hell--it was, in fact, a master hate. + +Now one fine day, the said Carandas came back into Touraine with much +wealth, that he brought from the country of Flanders, where he had +sold his mechanical secrets. He bought a splendid house in Rue St. +Montfumier, which is still to be seen, and is the astonishment of the +passers-by, because it has certain very queer round humps fashioned +upon the stones of the wall. Carandas, the hater, found many notable +changes at the house of his friend, the dyer, for the good man had two +sweet children, who, by a curious chance, presented no resemblance +either to the mother or to the father. But as it is necessary that +children bear a resemblance to someone, there are certain people who +look for the features of their ancestors, when they are +good-looking--the flatters. So it was found by the good husband that +his two boys were like one of his uncles, formerly a priest at Notre +Dame de l’Egrignolles, but according to certain jokers, these two +children were the living portraits of a good-looking shaven crown +officiating in the Church of Notre Dame la Riche, a celebrated parish +situated between Tours and Plessis. Now, believe one thing, and +inculcate it upon your minds, and when in this book you shall only +have gleaned, gathered, extracted, and learned this one principle of +truth, look upon yourself as a lucky man--namely, that a man can never +dispense with his nose, id est, that a man will always be snotty--that +is to say, he will remain a man, and thus will continue throughout all +future centuries to laugh and drink, to find himself in his shirt +without feeling either better or worse there, and will have the same +occupations. But these preparatory ideas are to better to fix in the +understanding that this two-footed soul will always accept as true +those things which flatter his passions, caress his hates, or serve +his amours: from this comes logic. So it was that, the first day the +above-mentioned Carandas saw his old comrade’s children, saw the +handsome priest, saw the beautiful wife of the dyer, saw La +Taschereau, all seated at the table, and saw to his detriment the best +piece of lamprey given with a certain air by La Tascherette to her +friend the priest, the mechanician said to himself, “My old friend is +a cuckold, his wife intrigues with the little confessor, and the +children have been begotten with his holy water. I’ll show them that +the hunchbacks have something more than other men.” + +And this was true--true as it is that Tours has always had its feet in +the Loire, like a pretty girl who bathes herself and plays with the +water, making a flick-flack, by beating the waves with her fair white +hands; for the town is more smiling, merry, loving, fresh, flowery, +and fragrant than all the other towns of the world, which are not +worthy to comb her locks or to buckle her waistband. And be sure if +you go there you will find, in the centre of it, a sweet place, in +which is a delicious street where everyone promenades, where there is +always a breeze, shade, sun, rain, and love. Ha! ha! laugh away, but +go there. It is a street always new, always royal, always imperial--a +patriotic street, a street with two paths, a street open at both ends, +a wide street, a street so large that no one has ever cried, “Out of +the way!” there. A street which does not wear out, a street which +leads to the abbey of Grand-mont, and to a trench, which works very +well with the bridge, and at the end of which is a finer fair ground. +A street well paved, well built, well washed, as clean as a glass, +populous, silent at certain times, a coquette with a sweet nightcap on +its pretty blue tiles--to be short, it is the street where I was born; +it is the queen of streets, always between the earth and sky; a street +with a fountain; a street which lacks nothing to be celebrated among +streets; and, in fact, it is the real street, the only street of +Tours. If there are others, they are dark, muddy, narrow, and damp, +and all come respectfully to salute this noble street, which commands +them. Where am I? For once in this street no one cares to come out of +it, so pleasant it is. But I owed this filial homage, this descriptive +hymn sung from the heart to my natal street, at the corners of which +there are wanting only the brave figures of my good master Rabelais, +and of Monsieur Descartes, both unknown to the people of the country. +To resume: the said Carandas was, on his return from Flanders, +entertained by his comrade, and by all those by whom he was liked for +his jokes, his drollery, and quaint remarks. The good hunchback +appeared cured of his old love, embraced the children, and when he was +alone with the dyer’s wife, recalled the night in the clothes-chest, +and the night in the sewer, to her memory, saying to her, “Ha, ha! +what games you used to have with me.” + +“It was your own fault,” said she, laughing. “If you had allowed +yourself by reason of your great love to be ridiculed, made a fool of, +and bantered a few more times, you might have made an impression on +me, like the others.” Thereupon Carandas commenced to laugh, though +inwardly raging all the time. Seeing the chest where he had nearly +been suffocated, his anger increased the more violently because the +sweet creature had become still more beautiful, like all those who are +permanently youthful from bathing in the water of youth, which waters +are naught less than the sources of love. The mechanician studied the +proceedings in the way of cuckoldom at his neighbour’s house, in order +to revenge himself, for as many houses as there are so many varieties +of manner are there in this business; and although all amours resemble +each other in the same manner that all men resemble each other, it is +proved to the abstractors of true things, that for the happiness of +women, each love has its especial physiognomy, and if there is nothing +that resembles a man so much as a man, there is also nothing differs +from a man so much as a man. That it is, which confuses all things, or +explains the thousand fancies of women, who seek the best men with a +thousand pains and a thousand pleasures, perhaps more the one than the +other. But how can I blame them for their essays, changes, and +contradictory aims? Why, Nature frisks and wriggles, twists and turns +about, and you expect a woman to remain still! Do you know if ice is +really cold? No. Well then, neither do you know that cuckoldom is not +a lucky chance, the produce of brains well furnished and better made +than all the others. Seek something better than ventosity beneath the +sky. This will help to spread the philosophic reputation of this +eccentric book. Oh yes; go on. He who cries “vermin powder,” is more +advanced than those who occupy themselves with Nature, seeing that she +is a proud jade and a capricious one, and only allows herself to be +seen at certain times. Do you understand? So in all languages does she +belong to the feminine gender, being a thing essentially changeable +and fruitful and fertile in tricks. + +Now Carandas soon recognised the fact that among cuckoldoms the best +understood and the most discreet is ecclesiastical cuckoldom. This is +how the good dyer’s wife had laid her plans. She went always towards +her cottage at Grenadiere-les-St.-Cyr on the eve of the Sabbath, +leaving her good husband to finish his work, to count up and check his +books, and to pay his workmen; then Taschereau would join her there on +the morrow, and always found a good breakfast ready and his good wife +gay, and always brought the priest with him. The fact is, this +damnable priest crossed the Loire the night before in a small boat, in +order to keep the dyer’s wife warm, and to calm her fancies, in order +that she might sleep well during the night, a duty which young men +understand very well. Then this fine curber of phantasies got back to +his house in the morning by the time Taschereau came to invite him to +spend the day at La Grenadiere, and the cuckold always found the +priest asleep in his bed. The boatman being well paid, no one knew +anything of these goings on, for the lover journeyed the night before +after night fall, and on the Sunday in the early morning. As soon as +Carandas had verified the arrangement and constant practice of these +gallant diversions, he determined to wait for a day when the lovers +would meet, hungry one for the other, after some accidental +abstinence. This meeting took place very soon, and the curious +hunchback saw the boatman waiting below the square, at the Canal St. +Antoine, for the young priest, who was handsome, blonde, slender, and +well-shaped, like the gallant and cowardly hero of love, so celebrated +by Monsieur Ariosto. Then the mechanician went to find the old dyer, +who always loved his wife and always believed himself the only man who +had a finger in her pie. + +“Ah! good evening, old friend,” said Carandas to Taschereau; and +Taschereau made him a bow. + +Then the mechanician relates to him all the secret festivals of love, +vomits words of peculiar import, and pricks the dyer on all sides. + +At length, seeing he was ready to kill both his wife and the priest, +Carandas said to him, “My good neighbour, I had brought back from +Flanders a poisoned sword, which will instantly kill anyone, if it +only make a scratch upon him. Now, directly you shall have merely +touched your wench and her paramour, they will die.” + +“Let us go and fetch it,” said the dyer. + +Then the two merchants went in great haste to the house of the +hunchback, to get the sword and rush off to the country. + +“But shall we find them in flagrante delicto?” asked Taschereau. + +“You will see,” said the hunchback, jeering his friend. In fact, the +cuckold had not long to wait to behold the joy of the two lovers. + +The sweet wench and her well-beloved were busy trying to catch, in a +certain lake that you probably know, that little bird that sometimes +makes his nest there, and they were laughing and trying, and still +laughing. + +“Ah, my darling!” said she, clasping him, as though she wished to make +an outline of him on her chest, “I love thee so much I should like to +eat thee! Nay, more than that, to have you in my skin, so that you +might never quit me.” + +“I should like it too,” replied the priest, “but as you can’t have me +altogether, you must try a little bit at a time.” + +It was at this moment that the husband entered, he sword unsheathed +and flourished above him. The beautiful Tascherette, who knew her +lord’s face well, saw what would be the fate of her well-beloved the +priest. But suddenly she sprang towards the good man, half naked, her +hair streaming over her, beautiful with shame, but more beautiful with +love, and cried to him, “Stay, unhappy man! Wouldst thou kill the +father of thy children?” + +Thereupon the good dyer staggered by the paternal majesty of +cuckoldom, and perhaps also by the fire of his wife’s eyes, let the +sword fall upon the foot of the hunchback, who had followed him, and +thus killed him. + +This teaches us not to be spiteful. + + + + EPILOGUE + +Here endeth the first series of these Tales, a roguish sample of the +works of that merry Muse, born ages ago, in our fair land of Touraine, +the which Muse is a good wench, and knows by heart that fine saying of +her friend Verville, written in _Le Moyen de Parvenir_: It is only +necessary to be bold to obtain favours. Alas! mad little one, get thee +to bed again, sleep; thou art panting from thy journey; perhaps thou +hast been further than the present time. Now dry thy fair naked feet, +stop thine ears, and return to love. If thou dreamest other poesy +interwoven with laughter to conclude these merry inventions, heed not +the foolish clamour and insults of those who, hearing the carol of a +joyous lark of other days, exclaim: Ah, the horrid bird! + + + + + VOLUME II + THE SECOND TEN TALES + + + + CONTENTS + +PROLOGUE +THE THREE CLERKS OF SAINT NICHOLAS +THE CONTINENCE OF KING FRANCIS THE FIRST +THE MERRY TATTLE OF THE NUNS OF POISSY +HOW THE CHATEAU D’AZAY CAME TO BE BUILT +THE FALSE COURTESAN +THE DANGER OF BEING TOO INNOCENT +THE DEAR NIGHT OF LOVE +THE SERMON OF THE MERRY VICAR OF MEUDON +THE SUCCUBUS +DESPAIR IN LOVE +EPILOGUE + + + + PROLOGUE + +Certain persons have reproached the Author for knowing no more about +the language of the olden times than hares do of telling stories. +Formerly these people would have been vilified, called cannibals, +churls, and sycophants, and Gomorrah would have been hinted at as +their natal place. But the Author consents to spare them the flowery +epithets of ancient criticism; he contents himself with wishing not to +be in their skin, for he would be disgusted with himself, and esteem +himself the vilest of scribblers thus to calumniate a poor little book +which is not in the style of any spoil-paper of these times. Ah! +ill-natured wretches! you should save your breath to cool your own +porridge! The Author consoles himself for his want of success in not +pleasing everyone by remembering that an old Tourainian, of eternal +memory, had put up with such contumely, that losing all patience, he +declared in one of his prologues, that he would never more put pen to +paper. Another age, but the same manners. Nothing changes, neither God +above nor men below. Thereupon of the Author continues his task with a +light heart, relying upon the future to reward his heavy labours. + +And certes, it is a hard task to invent _A Hundred Droll Tales_, since +not only have ruffians and envious men opened fire upon him, but his +friends have imitated their example, and come to him saying “Are you +mad? Do you think it is possible? No man ever had in the depths of his +imagination a hundred such tales. Change the hyperbolic title of your +budget. You will never finish it.” These people are neither +misanthropes nor cannibals; whether they are ruffians I know not; but +for certain they are kind, good-natured friends; friends who have the +courage to tell you disagreeable things all your life along, who are +rough and sharp as currycombs, under the pretence that they are yours +to command, in all the mishaps of life, and in the hour of extreme +unction, all their worth will be known. If such people would only keep +these sad kindnesses; but they will not. When their terrors are proved +to have been idle, they exclaimed triumphantly, “Ha! ha! I knew it. I +always said so.” + +In order not to discourage fine sentiments, intolerable though they +be, the Author leaves to his friends his old shoes, and in order to +make their minds easy, assures them that he has, legally protected and +exempt from seizure, seventy droll stories, in that reservoir of +nature, his brain. By the gods! they are precious yarns, well rigged +out with phrases, carefully furnished with catastrophes, amply clothed +with original humour, rich in diurnal and nocturnal effects, nor +lacking that plot which the human race has woven each minute, each +hour, each week, month, and year of the great ecclesiastical +computation, commenced at a time when the sun could scarcely see, and +the moon waited to be shown her way. These seventy subjects, which he +gives you leave to call bad subjects, full of tricks and impudence, +lust, lies, jokes, jests, and ribaldry, joined to the two portions +here given, are, by the prophet! a small instalment on the aforesaid +hundred. + +Were it not a bad time for a bibliopolists, bibliomaniacs, +bibliographers, and bibliotheques which hinder bibliolatry, he would +have given them in a bumper, and not drop by drop as if he were +afflicted with dysury of the brain. He cannot possibly be suspected of +this infirmity, since he often gives good weight, putting several +stories into one, as is clearly demonstrated by several in this +volume. You may rely on it, that he has chosen for the finish, the +best and most ribald of the lot, in order that he may not be accused +of a senile discourse. Put then more likes with your dislikes, and +dislikes with your likes. Forgetting the niggardly behaviour of nature +to story-tellers, of whom there are not more than seven perfect in the +great ocean of human writers, others, although friendly, have been of +opinion that, at a time when everyone went about dressed in black, as +if in mourning for something, it was necessary to concoct works either +wearisomely serious or seriously wearisome; that a writer could only +live henceforward by enshrining his ideas in some vast edifice, and +that those who were unable to construct cathedrals and castles of +which neither stone nor cement could be moved, would die unknown, like +the Pope’s slippers. The friends were requested to declare which they +liked best, a pint of good wine, or a tun of cheap rubbish; a diamond +of twenty-two carats, or a flintstone weighing a hundred pounds; the +ring of Hans Carvel, as told by Rabelais, or a modern narrative +pitifully expectorated by a schoolboy. Seeing them dumbfounded and +abashed, it was calmly said to them, “Do you thoroughly understand, +good people? Then go your ways and mind your own businesses.” + +The following, however, must be added, for the benefit of all of whom +it may concern:--The good man to whom we owe fables and stories of +sempiternal authority only used his tool on them, having taken his +material from others; but the workmanship expended on these little +figures has given them a high value; and although he was, like M. +Louis Ariosto, vituperated for thinking of idle pranks and trifles, +there is a certain insect engraved by him which has since become a +monument of perennity more assured than that of the most solidly built +works. In the especial jurisprudence of wit and wisdom the custom is +to steal more dearly a leaf wrested from the book of Nature and Truth, +than all the indifferent volumes from which, however fine they be, it +is impossible to extract either a laugh or a tear. The author has +licence to say this without any impropriety, since it is not his +intention to stand upon tiptoe in order to obtain an unnatural height, +but because it is a question of the majesty of his art, and not of +himself--a poor clerk of the court, whose business it is to have ink +in his pen, to listen to the gentleman on the bench, and take down the +sayings of each witness in this case. He is responsible for +workmanship, Nature for the rest, since from the Venus of Phidias the +Athenian, down to the little old fellow, Godenot, commonly called the +Sieur Breloque, a character carefully elaborated by one of the most +celebrated authors of the present day, everything is studied from the +eternal model of human imitations which belongs to all. At this honest +business, happy are the robbers that they are not hanged, but esteemed +and beloved. But he is a triple fool, a fool with ten horns on his +head, who struts, boasts, and is puffed up at an advantage due to the +hazard of dispositions, because glory lies only in the cultivation of +the faculties, in patience and courage. + +As for the soft-voiced and pretty-mouthed ones, who have whispered +delicately in the author’s ear, complaining to him that they have +disarranged their tresses and spoiled their petticoats in certain +places, he would say to them, “Why did you go there?” To these remarks +he is compelled, through the notable slanders of certain people, to +add a notice to the well-disposed, in order that they may use it, and +end the calumnies of the aforesaid scribblers concerning him. + +These droll tales are written--according to all authorities--at that +period when Queen Catherine, of the house of Medici, was hard at work; +for, during a great portion of the reign, she was always interfering +with public affairs to the advantage of our holy religion. The which +time has seized many people by the throat, from our defunct Master +Francis, first of that name, to the Assembly at Blois, where fell M. +de Guise. Now, even schoolboys who play at chuck-farthing, know that +at this period of insurrection, pacifications and disturbances, the +language of France was a little disturbed also, on account of the +inventions of the poets, who at that time, as at this, used each to +make a language for himself, besides the strange Greek, Latin, +Italian, German, and Swiss words, foreign phrases, and Spanish jargon, +introduced by foreigners, so that a poor writer has plenty of elbow +room in this Babelish language, which has since been taken in hand by +Messieurs de Balzac, Blaise Pascal, Furetiere, Menage, St. Evremonde, +de Malherbe, and others, who first cleaned out the French language, +sent foreign words to the rightabout, and gave the right of +citizenship to legitimate words used and known by everyone, but of +which the Sieur Ronsard was ashamed. + +Having finished, the author returns to his lady-love, wishing every +happiness to those by whom he is beloved; to the others misfortune +according to their deserts. When the swallows fly homeward, he will +come again, not without the third and fourth volume, which he here +promises to the Pantagruelists, merry knaves, and honest wags of all +degrees, who have a wholesome horror of the sadness, sombre meditation +and melancholy of literary croakers. + + + + THE THREE CLERKS OF ST. NICHOLAS + +The _Inn of the Three Barbels_ was formerly at Tours, the best place +in the town for sumptuous fare; and the landlord, reputed the best of +cooks, went to prepare wedding breakfasts as far as Chatelherault, +Loches, Vendome, and Blois. This said man, an old fox, perfect in his +business, never lighted lamps in the day time, knew how to skin a +flint, charged for wool, leather, and feathers, had an eye to +everything, did not easily let anyone pay with chaff instead of coin, +and for a penny less than his account would have affronted even a +prince. For the rest, he was a good banterer, drinking and laughing +with his regular customers, hat in hand always before the persons +furnished with plenary indulgences entitled _Sit nomen Domini +benedictum_, running them into expense, and proving to them, if need +were, by sound argument, that wines were dear, and that whatever they +might think, nothing was given away in Touraine, everything had to be +bought, and, at the same time, paid for. In short, if he could without +disgrace have done so, he would have reckoned so much for the good +air, and so much for the view of the country. Thus he built up a tidy +fortune with other people’s money, became as round as a butt, larded +with fat, and was called Monsieur. At the time of the last fair three +young fellows, who were apprentices in knavery, in whom there was more +of the material that makes thieves than saints, and who knew just how +far it was possible to go without catching their necks in the branches +of trees, made up their minds to amuse themselves, and live well, +condemning certain hawkers or others in all the expenses. Now these +limbs of Satan gave the slip to their masters, under whom they had +been studying the art of parchment scrawling, and came to stay at the +hotel of the Three Barbels, where they demanded the best rooms, turned +the place inside out, turned up their noses at everything, bespoke all +the lampreys in the market, and announced themselves as first-class +merchants, who never carried their goods with them, and travelled only +with their persons. The host bustled about, turned the spits, and +prepared a glorious repast, for these three dodgers, who had already +made noise enough for a hundred crowns, and who most certainly would +not even have given up the copper coins which one of them was jingling +in his pocket. But if they were hard up for money they did not want +for ingenuity, and all three arranged to play their parts like thieves +at a fair. Theirs was a farce in which there was plenty of eating and +drinking, since for five days they so heartily attacked every kind of +provision that a party of German soldiers would have spoiled less than +they obtained by fraud. These three cunning fellows made their way to +the fair after breakfast, well primed, gorged, and big in the belly, +and did as they liked with the greenhorns and others, robbing, +filching, playing, and losing, taking down the writings and signs and +changing them, putting that of the toyman over the jeweller’s, and +that of the jeweller’s outside the shoe maker’s, turning the shops +inside out, making the dogs fight, cutting the ropes of tethered +horses, throwing cats among the crowd, crying, “Stop thief!” And +saying to every one they met, “Are you not Monsieur D’Enterfesse of +Angiers?” Then they hustled everyone, making holes in the sacks of +flour, looking for their handkerchiefs in ladies’ pockets, raising +their skirts, crying, looking for a lost jewel and saying to them-- + +“Ladies, it has fallen into a hole!” + +They directed the little children wrongly, slapped the stomachs of +those who were gaping in the air, and prowled about, fleecing and +annoying every one. In short, the devil would have been a gentleman in +comparison with these blackguard students, who would have been hanged +rather than do an honest action; as well have expected charity from +two angry litigants. They left the fair, not fatigued, but tired of +ill-doing, and spent the remainder of their time over dinner until the +evening when they recommenced their pranks by torchlight. After the +peddlers, they commenced operations on the ladies of the town, to +whom, by a thousand dodges, they gave only that which they received, +according to the axiom of Justinian: _Cuiqum jus tribuere_. “To every +one his own juice;” and afterwards jokingly said to the poor wenches-- + +“We are in the right and you are in the wrong.” + +At last, at supper-time, having nothing else to do, they began to +knock each other about, and to keep the game alive, complained of the +flies to the landlord, remonstrating with him that elsewhere the +innkeepers had them caught in order that gentleman of position might +not be annoyed by them. However, towards the fifth day, which is the +critical day of fevers, the host not having seen, although he kept his +eyes wide open, the royal surface of a crown, and knowing that if all +that glittered were gold it would be cheaper, began to knit his brows +and go more slowly about that which his high-class merchants required +of him. Fearing that he had made a bad bargain with them, he tried to +sound the depth of their pockets; perceiving which the three clerks +ordered him with the assurance of a Provost hanging his man, to serve +them quickly with a good supper as they had to depart immediately. +Their merry countenances dismissed the host’s suspicions. Thinking +that rogues without money would certainly look grave, he prepared a +supper worthy of a canon, wishing even to see them drunk, in order the +more easily to clap them in jail in the event of an accident. Not +knowing how to make their escape from the room, in which they were +about as much at their ease as are fish upon straw, the three +companions ate and drank immoderately, looking at the situation of the +windows, waiting the moment to decamp, but not getting the +opportunity. Cursing their luck, one of them wished to go and undo his +waistcoat, on account of a colic, the other to fetch a doctor to the +third, who did his best to faint. The cursed landlord kept dodging +about from the kitchen into the room, and from the room into the +kitchen, watching the nameless ones, and going a step forward to save +his crowns, and going a step back to save his crown, in case they +should be real gentlemen; and he acted like a brave and prudent host +who likes halfpence and objects to kicks; but under pretence of +properly attending to them, he always had an ear in the room, and a +foot in the court; fancied he was always being called by them, came +every time they laughed, showing them a face with an unsettled look +upon it, and always said, “Gentlemen, what is your pleasure?” This was +an interrogatory in reply to which they would willingly have given him +ten inches of his own spit in his stomach, because he appeared as if +he knew very well what would please them at this juncture, seeing that +to have twenty crowns, full weight, they would each of them have sold +a third of his eternity. You can imagine they sat on their seats as if +they were gridirons, that their feet itched and their posteriors were +rather warm. Already the host had put the pears, the cheese, and the +preserves near their noses, but they, sipping their liquor, and +picking at the dishes, looked at each other to see if either of them +had found a good piece of roguery in his sack, and they all began to +enjoy themselves rather woefully. The most cunning of the three +clerks, who was a Burgundian, smiled and said, seeing the hour of +payment arrived, “This must stand over for a week,” as if they had +been at the Palais de Justice. The two others, in spite of the danger, +began to laugh. + +“What do we owe?” asked he who had in his belt the heretofore +mentioned twelve sols and he turned them about as though he would make +them breed little ones by this excited movement. He was a native of +Picardy, and very passionate; a man to take offence at anything in +order that he might throw the landlord out the window in all security +of conscience. Now he said these words with the air of a man of +immense wealth. + +“Six crowns, gentlemen,” replied the host, holding out his hand. + +“I cannot permit myself to be entertained by you alone, Viscount,” + said the third student, who was from Anjou, and as artful as a woman +in love. + +“Neither can I,” said the Burgundian. + +“Gentlemen! Gentlemen!” replied the Picardian “you are jesting. I am +yours to command.” + +“Sambreguoy!” cried he of Anjou. “You will not let us pay three times; +our host would not suffer it.” + +“Well then,” said the Burgundian, “whichever of us shall tell the +worst tale shall justify the landlord.” + +“Who will be the judge?” asked the Picardian, dropping his twelve sols +to the bottom of his pocket. + +“Pardieu! our host. He should be capable, seeing that he is a man of +taste,” said he of Anjou. “Come along, great chef, sit you down, +drink, and lend us both your ears. The audience is open.” + +Thereupon the host sat down, but not until he had poured out a +gobletful of wine. + +“My turn first,” said the Anjou man. “I commence.” + +“In our Duchy of Anjou, the country people are very faithful servants +to our Holy of Catholic religion, and none of them will lose his +portion of paradise for lack of doing penance or killing a heretic. If +a professor of heresy passed that way, he quickly found himself under +the grass, without knowing whence his death had proceeded. A good man +of Larze, returning one night from his evening prayer to the wine +flasks of Pomme-de-Pin, where he had left his understanding and +memory, fell into a ditch full of water near his house, and found he +was up to his neck. One of the neighbours finding him shortly +afterwards nearly frozen, for it was winter time, said jokingly to +him-- + +“‘Hulloa! What are you waiting for there?’ + +“‘A thaw’, said the tipsy fellow, finding himself held by the ice. + +“Then Godenot, like a good Christian, released him from his dilemma, +and opened the door of the house to him, out of respect to the wine, +which is lord of this country. The good man then went and got into the +bed of the maid-servant, who was a young and pretty wench. The old +bungler, bemuddled with wine, went ploughing in the wrong land, +fancying all the time it was his wife by his side, and thanking her +for the youth and freshness she still retained. On hearing her +husband, the wife began to cry out, and by her terrible shrieks the +man was awakened to the fact that he was not in the road to salvation, +which made the poor labourer sorrowful beyond expression. + +“‘Ah! said he; ‘God has punished me for not going to vespers at +Church.’ + +“And he began to excuse himself as best he could, saying, that the +wine had muddled his understanding, and getting into his own bed he +kept repeating to his good wife, that for his best cow he would not +have had this sin upon his conscience. + +“‘My dear’, said she, ‘go and confess the first thing tomorrow +morning, and let us say no more about it.’ + +“The good man trotted to confessional, and related his case with all +humility to the rector of the parish, who was a good old priest, +capable of being up above, the slipper of the holy foot. + +“‘An error is not a sin,’ said he to the penitent. ‘You will fast +tomorrow, and be absolved.’ + +“‘Fast!--with pleasure,’ said the good man. ‘That does not mean go +without drink.’ + +“‘Oh!’ replied the rector, ‘you must drink water, and eat nothing but +a quarter of a loaf and an apple.’ + +“Then the good man, who had no confidence in his memory, went home, +repeating to himself the penance ordered. But having loyally commenced +with a quarter of a loaf and an apple, he arrived at home, saying, a +quarter of apples, and a loaf. + +“Then, to purify his soul, he set about accomplishing his fast, and +his good woman having given him a loaf from the safe, and unhooked a +string of apples from the beam, he set sorrowfully to work. As he +heaved a sigh on taking the last mouthful of bread hardly knowing +where to put it, for he was full to the chin, his wife remonstrated +with him, that God did not desire the death of a sinner, and that for +lack of putting a crust of bread in his belly, he would not be +reproached for having put things in their wrong places. + +“‘Hold your tongue, wife!’ said he. ‘If it chokes me, I must fast.’” + +“I’ve payed my share, it’s your turn, Viscount,” added he of Anjou, +giving the Picardian a knowing wink. + +“The goblets are empty. Hi, there! More wine.” + +“Let us drink,” cried the Picardian. “Moist stories slip out easier.” + +At the same time he tossed off a glassful without leaving a drop at +the bottom, and after a preliminary little cough, he related the +following:-- + +“You must know that the maids of Picardy, before setting up +housekeeping, are accustomed honestly to gain their linen, vessels, +and chests; in short, all the needed household utensils. To accomplish +this, they go into service in Peronne, Abbeville, Amiens, and other +towns, where they are tire-women, wash up glasses, clean plates, fold +linen, and carry up the dinner, or anything that there is to be +carried. They are all married as soon as they possess something else +besides that which they naturally bring to their husbands. These women +are the best housewives, because they understand the business and +everything else thoroughly. One belonging to Azonville, which is the +land of which I am lord by inheritance, having heard speak of Paris, +where the people did not put themselves out of the way for anyone, and +where one could subsist for a whole day by passing the cook’s shops, +and smelling the steam, so fattening was it, took it into her head to +go there. She trudged bravely along the road, and arrived with a +pocket full of emptiness. There she fell in, at the Porte St. Denise, +with a company of soldiers, placed there for a time as a vidette, for +the Protestants had assumed a dangerous attitude. The sergeant seeing +this hooded linnet coming, stuck his headpiece on one side, +straightened his feather, twisted his moustache, cleared his throat, +rolled his eyes, put his hand on his hips, and stopped the Picardian +to see if her ears were properly pierced, since it was forbidden to +girls to enter otherwise into Paris. Then he asked her, by way of a +joke, but with a serious face, what brought her there, he pretending +to believe she had come to take the keys of Paris by assault. To which +the poor innocent replied, that she was in search of a good situation, +and had no evil intentions, only desiring to gain something. + +“‘Very well; I will employ you,’ said the wag. ‘I am from Picardy, and +will get you taken in here, where you will be treated as a queen would +often like to be, and you will be able to make a good thing of it.’ + +“Then he led her to the guard-house, where he told her to sweep the +floor, polish the saucepans, stir the fire, and keep a watch on +everything, adding that she should have thirty sols a head from the +men if their service pleased her. Now seeing that the squad was there +for a month, she would be able to gain ten crowns, and at their +departure would find fresh arrivals who would make good arrangements +with her, and by this means she would be able to take back money and +presents to her people. The girl cleaned the room and prepared the +meals so well, singing and humming, that this day the soldiers found +in their den the look of a monk’s refectory. Then all being well +content, each of them gave a sol to their handmaiden. Well satisfied, +they put her into the bed of their commandant, who was in town with +his lady, and they petted and caressed her after the manner of +philosophical soldiers, that is, soldiers partial to that which is +good. She was soon comfortably ensconced between the sheets. But to +avoid quarrels and strife, my noble warriors drew lots for their turn, +arranged themselves in single file, playing well at Pique hardie, +saying not a word, but each one taking at least twenty-six sols worth +of the girl’s society. Although not accustomed to work for so many, +the poor girl did her best, and by this means never closed her eyes +the whole night. In the morning, seeing the soldiers were fast asleep, +she rose happy at bearing no marks of the sharp skirmish, and although +slightly fatigued, managed to get across the fields into the open +country with her thirty sols. On the route to Picardy, she met one of +her friends, who, like herself, wished to try service in Paris, and +was hurrying thither, and seeing her, asked her what sort of places +they were. + +“‘Ah! Perrine; do not go. You want to be made of iron, and even if you +were it would soon be worn away,’ was the answer. + +“Now, big-belly of Burgundy,” said he, giving his neighbour a hearty +slap, “spit out your story or pay!” + +“By the queen of Antlers!” replied the Burgundian, “by my faith, by +the saints, by God! and by the devil, I know only stories of the Court +of Burgundy, which are only current coin in our own land.” + +“Eh, ventre Dieu! are we not in the land of Beauffremont?” cried the +other, pointing to the empty goblets. + +“I will tell you, then, an adventure well known at Dijon, which +happened at the time I was in command there, and was worth being +written down. There was a sergeant of justice named Franc-Taupin, who +was an old lump of mischief, always grumbling, always fighting; stiff +and starchy, and never comforting those he was leading to the hulks, +with little jokes by the way; and in short, he was just the man to +find lice in bald heads, and bad behaviour in the Almighty. This said +Taupin, spurned by every one, took unto himself a wife, and by chance +he was blessed with one as mild as the peel of an onion, who, noticing +the peculiar humour of her husband, took more pains to bring joy to +his house than would another to bestow horns upon him. But although +she was careful to obey him in all things, and to live at peace would +have tried to excrete gold for him, had God permitted it, this man was +always surly and crabbed, and no more spared his wife blows, than does +a debtor promises to the bailiff’s man. This unpleasant treatment +continuing in spite of the carefulness and angelic behaviour of the +poor woman, she being unable to accustom herself to it, was compelled +to inform her relations, who thereupon came to the house. When they +arrived, the husband declared to them that his wife was an idiot, that +she displeased him in every possible way, and made his life almost +unbearable; that she would wake him out of his first sleep, never came +to the door when he knocked, but would leave him out in the rain and +the cold, and that the house was always untidy. His garments were +buttonless, his laces wanted tags. The linen was spoiling, the wine +turning sour, the wood damp, and the bed was always creaking at +unreasonable moments. In short, everything was going wrong. To this +tissue of falsehoods, the wife replied by pointing to the clothes and +things, all in a state of thorough repair. Then the sergeant said that +he was very badly treated, that his dinner was never ready for him, or +if it was, the broth was thin or the soup cold, either the wine or the +glasses were forgotten, the meat was without gravy or parsley, the +mustard had turned, he either found hairs in the dish or the cloth was +dirty and took away his appetite, indeed nothing did she ever get for +him that was to his liking. The wife, astonished, contented herself +with stoutly denying the fault imputed to her. ‘Ah,’ said he, ‘you +dirty hussy! You deny it, do you! Very well then, my friends, you come +and dine here to-day, you shall be witnesses of her misconduct. And if +she can for once serve me properly, I will confess myself wrong in all +I have stated, and will never lift my hand against her again, but will +resign to her my halberd and my breeches, and give her full authority +here.’ + +“‘Oh, well,’ said she, joyfully, ‘I shall then henceforth be both wife +and mistress!’ + +“Then the husband, confident of the nature and imperfections of his +wife, desired that the dinner should be served under the vine arbor, +thinking that he would be able to shout at her if she did not hurry +quickly enough from the table to the pantry. The good housewife set to +work with a will. The plates were clean enough to see one’s face in, +the mustard was fresh and well made, the dinner beautifully cooked, as +appetising as stolen fruit; the glasses were clear, the wine was cool, +and everything so nice, so clean and white, that the repast would have +done honour to a bishop’s chatterbox. Just as she was standing before +the table, casting that last glance which all good housewives like to +give everything, her husband knocked at the door. At that very moment +a cursed hen, who had taken it into her head to get on top of the +arbor to gorge herself with grapes, let fall a large lump of dirt +right in the middle of the cloth. The poor woman was half dead with +fright; so great was her despair, she could think of no other way of +remedying the thoughtlessness of the fowl then by covering the +unseemly patch with a plate in which she put the fine fruits taken at +random from her pocket, losing sight altogether of the symmetry of the +table. Then, in order that no one should notice it, she instantly +fetched the soup, seated every one in his place, and begged them to +enjoy themselves. + +“Now, all of them seeing everything so well arranged, uttered +exclamations of pleasure, except the diabolical husband, who remained +moody and sullen, knitting his brows and looking for a straw on which +to hang a quarrel with his wife. Thinking it safe to give him one for +himself, her relations being present, she said to him, ‘Here’s your +dinner, nice and hot, well served, the cloth is clean, the +salt-cellars full, the plates clean, the wine fresh, the bread well +baked. What is there lacking? What do you require? What do you desire? +What else do you want?’ + +“‘Oh, filth!’ said he, in a great rage. + +“The good woman instantly lifted the plate, and replied-- + +“‘There you are, my dear!’ + +“Seeing which, the husband was dumbfounded, thinking that the devil +was in league with his wife. He was immediately gravely reproached by +the relations, who declared him to be in the wrong, abused him, and +made more jokes at his expense than a recorder writes words in a +month. From that time forward the sergeant lived comfortably and +peaceably with his wife, who at the least appearance of temper on his +part, would say to him-- + +“‘Do you want some filth?’” + +“Who has told the worst now?” cried the Anjou man, giving the host a +tap on the shoulder. + +“He has! He has!” said the two others. Then they began to dispute +among themselves, like the holy fathers in council; seeking, by +creating a confusion, throwing the glasses at each other, and jumping +about, a lucky chance, to make a run of it. + +“I’ll settle the question,” cried the host, seeing that whereas they +had all three been ready with their own accounts, not one of them was +thinking of his. + +They stopped terrified. + +“I will tell you a better one than all, then you will have to give ten +sols a head.” + +“Silence for the landlord,” said the one from Anjou. + +“In our fauborg of Notre-dame la Riche, in which this inn is situated, +there lived a beautiful girl, who besides her natural advantages, had +a good round sum in her keeping. Therefore, as soon as she was old +enough, and strong enough to bear the matrimonial yoke, she had as +many lovers as there are sols in St. Gatien’s money-box on the +Paschal-day. The girl chose one who, saving your presence, was as good +a worker, night and day, as any two monks together. They were soon +betrothed, and the marriage was arranged; but the joy of the first +night did not draw nearer without occasioning some slight +apprehensions to the lady, as she was liable, through an infirmity, to +expel vapours, which came out like bombshells. Now, fearing that when +thinking of something else, during the first night, she might give the +reins to her eccentricities, she stated the case to her mother, whose +assistance she invoked. That good lady informed her that this faculty +of engineering wind was inherent in the family; that in her time she +had been greatly embarrassed by it, but only in the earlier period of +her life. God had been kind to her, and since the age of seven, she +had evaporated nothing except on the last occasion when she had +bestowed upon her dead husband a farewell blow. ‘But,’ said she to her +daughter, ‘I have ever a sure specific, left to me by my mother, which +brings these surplus explosions to nothing, and exhales them +noiselessly. By this means these sighs become odourless, and scandal +is avoided.’ + +“The girl, much pleased, learned how to sail close to the wind, +thanked her mother, and danced away merrily, storing up her flatulence +like an organ-blower waiting for the first note of mass. Entering the +nuptial chamber, she determined to expel it when getting into bed, but +the fantastic element was beyond control. The husband came; I leave +you to imagine how love’s conflict sped. In the middle of the night, +the bride arose under a false pretext, and quickly returned again; but +when climbing into her place, the pent up force went off with such a +loud discharge, that you would have thought with me that the curtains +were split. + +“‘Ha! I’ve missed my aim!’ said she. + +“‘’Sdeath, my dear!’ I replied, ‘then spare your powder. You would +earn a good living in the army with that artillery.’ + +“It was my wife.” + +“Ha! ha! ha!” went the clerks. + +And they roared with laughter, holding their sides and complimenting +their host. + +“Did you ever hear a better story, Viscount?” + +“Ah, what a story!” + +“That is a story!” + +“A master story!” + +“The king of stories!” + +“Ha, ha! It beats all the other stories hollow. After that I say there +are no stories like the stories of our host.” + +“By the faith of a Christian, I never heard a better story in my +life.” + +“Why, I can hear the report.” + +“I should like to kiss the orchestra.” + +“Ah! gentlemen,” said the Burgundian, gravely, “we cannot leave +without seeing the hostess, and if we do not ask to kiss this famous +wind-instrument, it is a out of respect for so good a story-teller.” + +Thereupon they all exalted the host, his story, and his wife’s trumpet +so well that the old fellow, believing in these knaves’ laughter and +pompous eulogies, called to his wife. But as she did not come, the +clerks said, not without frustrative intention, “Let us go to her.” + +Thereupon they all went out of the room. The host took the candle and +went upstairs first, to light them and show them the way; but seeing +the street door ajar, the rascals took to their heels, and were off +like shadows, leaving the host to take in settlement of his account +another of his wife’s offerings. + + + + THE CONTINENCE OF KING FRANCIS THE FIRST + +Every one knows through what adventure King Francis, the first of that +name, was taken like a silly bird and led into the town of Madrid, in +Spain. There the Emperor Charles V. kept him carefully locked up, like +an article of great value, in one of his castles, in the which our +defunct sire, of immortal memory, soon became listless and weary, +seeing that he loved the open air, and his little comforts, and no +more understood being shut up in a cage than a cat would folding up +lace. He fell into moods of such strange melancholy that his letters +having been read in full council, Madame d’Angouleme, his mother; +Madame Catherine, the Dauphine, Monsieur de Montmorency, and those who +were at the head of affairs in France knowing the great lechery of the +king, determined after mature deliberation, to send Queen Marguerite +to him, from whom he would doubtless receive alleviation of his +sufferings, that good lady being much loved by him, and merry, and +learned in all necessary wisdom. But she, alleging that it would be +dangerous for her soul, because it was impossible for her, without +great danger to be alone with the king in his cell, a sharp secretary, +the Sieur de Fizes, was sent to the Court of Rome, with orders to beg +of the pontiff a papal brief of special indulgences, containing proper +absolutions for the petty sins which, looking at their consanguinity, +the said queen might commit with a view to cure the king’s melancholy. + +At this time, Adrian VI., the Dutchman, still wore the tiara, who, a +good fellow, for the rest did not forget, in spite of the scholastic +ties which united him to the emperor, that the eldest son of the +Catholic Church was concerned in the affair, and was good enough to +send to Spain an express legate, furnished with full powers, to +attempt the salvation of the queen’s soul, and the king’s body, +without prejudice to God. This most urgent affair made the gentleman +very uneasy, and caused an itching in the feet of the ladies, who, +from great devotion to the crown, would all have offered to go to +Madrid, but for the dark mistrust of Charles the Fifth, who would not +grant the king’s permission to any of his subjects, nor even the +members of his family. It was therefore necessary to negotiate the +departure of the Queen of Navarre. Then, nothing else was spoken about +but this deplorable abstinence, and the lack of amorous exercise so +vexatious to a prince, who was much accustomed to it. In short, from +one thing to another, the women finished by thinking more of the +king’s condition, than of the king himself. The queen was the first to +say that she wished she had wings. To this Monseigneur Odet de +Chatillon replied, that she had no need of them to be an angel. One +that was Madame l’Amirale, blamed God that it was not possible to send +by a messenger that which the poor king so much required; and every +one of the ladies would have lent it in her turn. + +“God has done very well to fix it,” said the Dauphine, quietly; “for +our husbands would leave us rather badly off during their absence.” + +So much was said and so much thought upon the subject, that at her +departure the Queen of all Marguerites was charged, by these good +Christians, to kiss the captive heartily for all the ladies of the +realm; and if it had been permissible to prepare pleasure like +mustard, the queen would have been laden with enough to sell to the +two Castiles. + +While Madame Marguerite was, in spite of the snow, crossing the +mountains, by relays of mule, hurrying on to these consolations as to +a fire, the king found himself harder pressed by unsatisfied desire +than he had ever been before, or would be again. In this reverberation +of nature, he opened his heart to the Emperor Charles, in order that +he might be provided with a merciful specific, urging upon him that it +would be an everlasting disgrace to one king to let another die for +lack of gallantry. The Castilian showed himself to be a generous man. +Thinking that he would be able to recuperate himself for the favour +granted out of his guest’s ransom, he hinted quietly to the people +commissioned to guard the prisoner, that they might gratify him in +this respect. Thereupon a certain Don Hiios de Lara y Lopez Barra di +Pinto, a poor captain, whose pockets were empty in spite of his +genealogy, and who had been for some time thinking of seeking his +fortune at the Court of France, fancied that by procuring his majesty +a soft cataplasm of warm flesh, he would open for himself an honestly +fertile door; and indeed, those who know the character of the good +king and his court, can decide if he deceived himself. + +When the above mentioned captain came in his turn into the chamber of +the French king, he asked him respectfully if it was his good pleasure +to permit him an interrogation on a subject concerning which he was as +curious as about papal indulgences? To which the Prince, casting aside +his hypochondriacal demeanour, and twisting round on the chair in +which he was seated, gave a sign of consent. The captain begged him +not to be offended at the licence of his language, and confessed to +him, that he the king was said to be one of the most amorous men in +France, and he would be glad to learn from him if the ladies of the +court were expert in the adventures of love. The poor king, calling to +mind his many adventures, gave vent to a deep-drawn sigh, and +exclaimed, that no woman of any country, including those of the moon, +knew better than the ladies of France the secrets of this alchemy and +at the remembrance of the savoury, gracious, and vigorous fondling of +one alone, he felt himself the man, were she then within his reach, to +clasp her to his heart, even on a rotten plank a hundred feet above a +precipice. + +Say which, this good king, a ribald fellow, if ever there was one, +shot forth so fiercely life and light from his eyes, that the captain, +though a brave man, felt a quaking in his inside so fiercely flamed +the sacred majesty of royal love. But recovering his courage he began +to defend the Spanish ladies, declaring that in Castile alone was love +properly understood, because it was the most religious place in +Christendom, and the more fear the women had of damning themselves by +yielding to a lover, the more their souls were in the affair, because +they knew they must take their pleasure then against eternity. He +further added, that if the Lord King would wager one of the best and +most profitable manors in the kingdom of France, he would give him a +Spanish night of love, in which a casual queen should, unless he took +care, draw his soul from his body. + +“Done,” said the king, jumping from his chair. “I’ll give thee, by +God, the manor of Ville-aux-Dames in my province of Touraine, with +full privilege of chase, of high and low jurisdiction.” + +Then, the captain, who was acquainted with the Donna of the Cardinal +Archbishop of Toledo requested her to smother the King of France with +kindness, and demonstrate to him the great advantage of the Castilian +imagination over the simple movement of the French. To which the +Marchesa of Amaesguy consented for the honour of Spain, and also for +the pleasure of knowing of what paste God made Kings, a matter in +which she was ignorant, having experience only of the princes of the +Church. Then she became passionate as a lion that has broken out of +his cage, and made the bones of the king crack in a manner that would +have killed any other man. But the above-named lord was so well +furnished, so greedy, and so will bitten, he no longer felt a bite; +and from this terrible duel the Marchesa emerged abashed, believing +she had the devil to confess. + +The captain, confident in his agent, came to salute his lord, thinking +to do honour for his fief. Thereupon the king said to him, in a +jocular manner, that the Spanish ladies were of a passable +temperature, and their system a fair one, but that when gentleness was +required they substituted frenzy; that he kept fancying each thrill +was a sneeze, or a case of violence; in short, that the embrace of a +French woman brought back the drinker more thirsty than ever, tiring +him never; and that with the ladies of his court, love was a gentle +pleasure without parallel, and not the labour of a master baker in his +kneading trough. + +The poor captain was strongly piqued at his language. In spite of the +nice sense of honour which the king pretended to possess, he fancied +that his majesty wished to bilk him like a student, stealing a slice +of love at a brothel in Paris. Nevertheless, not knowing for the +matter of that, if the Marchesa had not over-spanished the king, he +demanded his revenge from the captive, pledging him his word, that he +should have for certain a veritable fay, and that he would yet gain +the fief. The king was too courteous and gallant a knight to refuse +this request, and even made a pretty and right royal speech, +intimating his desire to lose the wager. Then, after vespers, the +guard passed fresh and warm into the king’s chamber, a lady most +dazzlingly white--most delicately wanton, with long tresses and velvet +hands, filling out her dress at the least movement, for she was +gracefully plump, with a laughing mouth, and eyes moist in advance, a +woman to beautify hell, and whose first word had such cordial power +that the king’s garment was cracked by it. On the morrow, after the +fair one had slipped out after the king’s breakfast, the good captain +came radiant and triumphant into the chamber. + +At sight of him the prisoner then exclaimed-- + +“Baron de la Ville-aux-Dames! God grant you joys like to mine! I like +my jail! By’r lady, I will not judge between the love of our lands, +but pay the wager.” + +“I was sure of it,” said the captain. + +“How so?” said the King. + +“Sire, it was my wife.” + +This was the origin of Larray de la Ville-aux-Dames in our country, +since from corruption of the names, that of Lara-y-Lopez, finished by +becoming Larray. It was a good family, delighting in serving the kings +of France, and it multiplied exceedingly. Soon after, the Queen of +Navarre came in due course to the king, who, weary of Spanish customs, +wished to disport himself after the fashion of France; but remainder +is not the subject of this narrative. I reserve to myself the right to +relate elsewhere how the legate managed to sponge the sin of the thing +off the great slate, and the delicate remark of our Queen of +Marguerites, who merits a saint’s niche in this collection; she who +first concocted such good stories. The morality of this one is easy to +understand. + +In the first place, kings should never let themselves be taken in +battle any more than their archetype in the game of the Grecian chief +Palamedes. But from this, it appears the captivity of its king is a +most calamitous and horrible evil to fall on the populace. If it had +been a queen, or even a princess, what worse fate? But I believe the +thing could not happen again, except with cannibals. Can there ever be +a reason for imprisoning the flower of a realm? I think too well of +Ashtaroth, Lucifer, and others, to imagine that did they reign, they +would hide the joy of all the beneficent light, at which poor +sufferers warm themselves. And it was necessary that the worst of +devils, _id est_, a wicked old heretic woman, should find herself upon +a throne, to keep a prisoner sweet Mary of Scotland, to the shame of +all the knights of Christendom, who should have come without previous +assignation to the foot of Fotheringay, and have left thereof no +single stone. + + + + THE MERRY TATTLE OF THE NUNS OF POISSY + +The Abbey of Poissy has been rendered famous by old authors as a place +of pleasure, where the misconduct of the nuns first began, and whence +proceeded so many good stories calculated to make laymen laugh at the +expense of our holy religion. The said abbey by this means became +fertile in proverbs, which none of the clever folks of our day +understand, although they sift and chew them in order to digest them. + +If you ask one of them what the _olives of Poissy_ are, they will +answer you gravely that it is a periphrase relating to truffles, and +that the _way to serve them_, of which one formerly spoke, when joking +with these virtuous maidens, meant a peculiar kind of sauce. That’s +the way the scribblers hit on truth once in a hundred times. To return +to these good recluses, it was said--by way of a joke, of course--that +they preferred finding a harlot in their chemises to a good woman. +Certain other jokers reproached them with imitating the lives of the +saints, in their own fashion, and said that all they admired in Mary +of Egypt was her fashion of paying the boatmen. From whence the +raillery: To honour the saints after the fashion of Poissy. There is +still the crucifix of Poissy, which kept the stomachs warm; and the +matins of Poissy, which concluded with a little chorister. Finally, of +a hearty jade well acquainted with the ways of love, it was said--She +is a nun of Poissy. That property of a man which he can only lend, was +The key of the Abbey of Poissy. What the gate of the said abbey was +can easily be guessed. This gate, door, wicket, opening, or road was +always half open, was easier to open than to shut, and cost much in +repairs. In short, at that period, there was no fresh device in love +invented, that had not its origin in the good convent of Poissy. You +may be sure there is a good deal of untruth and hyperbolical emphasis, +in these proverbs, jests, jokes, and idle tales. The nuns of the said +Poissy were good young ladies, who now this way, now that, cheated God +to the profit of the devil, as many others did, which was but natural, +because our nature is weak; and although they were nuns, they had +their little imperfections. They found themselves barren in a certain +particular, hence the evil. But the truth of the matter is, all these +wickednesses were the deeds of an abbess who had fourteen children, +all born alive, since they had been perfected at leisure. The +fantastic amours and the wild conduct of this woman, who was of royal +blood, caused the convent of Poissy to become fashionable; and +thereafter no pleasant adventure happened in the abbeys of France +which was not credited to these poor girls, who would have been well +satisfied with a tenth of them. Then the abbey was reformed, and these +holy sisters were deprived of the little happiness and liberty which +they had enjoyed. In an old cartulary of the abbey of Turpenay, near +Chinon, which in those later troublous times had found a resting place +in the library of Azay, where the custodian was only too glad to +receive it, I met with a fragment under the head of The Hours of +Poissy, which had evidently been put together by a merry abbot of +Turpenay for the diversion of his neighbours of Usee, Azay, Mongaugar, +Sacchez, and other places of this province. I give them under the +authority of the clerical garb, but altered to my own style, because I +have been compelled to turn them from Latin into French. I commence: +--At Poissy the nuns were accustomed to, when Mademoiselle, the king’s +daughter, their abbess, had gone to bed..... It was she who first +called it _faire la petite oie_, to stick to the preliminaries of +love, the prologues, prefaces, protocols, warnings, notices, +introductions, summaries, prospectuses, arguments, notices, epigraphs, +titles, false-titles, current titles, scholia, marginal remarks, +frontispieces, observations, gilt edges, bookmarks, reglets, +vignettes, tail pieces, and engravings, without once opening the merry +book to read, re-read, and study to apprehend and comprehend the +contents. And she gathered together in a body all those extra-judicial +little pleasures of that sweet language, which come indeed from the +lips, yet make no noise, and practised them so well, that she died a +virgin and perfect in shape. The gay science was after deeply studied +by the ladies of the court, who took lovers for _la petite oie_, +others for honour, and at times also certain ones who had over them +the right of high and low jurisdiction, and were masters of everything +--a state of things much preferred. But to continue: When this +virtuous princess was naked and shameless between the sheets, the said +girls (those whose cheeks were unwrinkled and their hearts gay) would +steal noiselessly out of their cells, and hide themselves in that of +one of the sisters who was much liked by all of them. There they would +have cosy little chats, enlivened with sweetmeats, pasties, liqueurs, +and girlish quarrels, worry their elders, imitating them grotesquely, +innocently mocking them, telling stories that made them laugh till the +tears came and playing a thousand pranks. At times they would measure +their feet, to see whose were the smallest, compare the white +plumpness of their arms, see whose nose had the infirmity of blushing +after supper, count their freckles, tell each other where their skin +marks were situated, dispute whose complexion was the clearest, whose +hair the prettiest colour, and whose figure the best. You can imagine +that among these figures sanctified to God there were fine ones, stout +ones, lank ones, thin ones, plump ones, supple ones, shrunken ones, +and figures of all kinds. Then they would quarrel amongst themselves +as to who took the least to make a girdle, and she who spanned the +least was pleased without knowing why. At times they would relate +their dreams and what they had seen in them. Often one or two, at +times all of them, had dreamed they had tight hold of the keys of the +abbey. Then they would consult each other about their little ailments. +One had scratched her finger, another had a whitlow; this one had +risen in the morning with the white of her eye bloodshot; that one had +put her finger out, telling her beads. All had some little thing the +matter with them. + +“Ah! you have lied to our mother; your nails are marked with white,” + said one to her neighbour. + +“You stopped a long time at confession this morning, sister,” said +another. “You must have a good many little sins to confess.” + +As there is nothing resembles a pussy-cat so much as a tom-cat, they +would swear eternal friendship, quarrel, sulk, dispute and make it up +again; would be jealous, laugh and pinch, pinch and laugh, and play +tricks upon the novices. + +At times they would say, “Suppose a gendarme came here one rainy day, +where should we put him?” + +“With Sister Ovide; her cell is so big he could get into it with his +helmet on.” + +“What do you mean?” cried Sister Ovide, “are not all our cells alike?” + +Thereupon the girls burst out laughing like ripe figs. One evening +they increased their council by a little novice, about seventeen years +of age, who appeared innocent as a new-born babe, and would have had +the host without confession. This maiden’s mouth had long watered for +their secret confabulations, little feasts and rejoicings by which the +nuns softened the holy captivity of their bodies, and had wept at not +being admitted to them. + +“Well,” said Sister Ovide to her, “have you had a good night’s rest, +little one?” + +“Oh no!” said she, “I have been bitten by fleas.” + +“Ha! you have fleas in your cell? But you must get rid of them at +once. Do you know how the rules of our order enjoin them to be driven +out, so that never again during her conventional life shall a sister +see so much as the tail of one?” + +“No,” replied the novice. + +“Well then, I will teach you. Do you see any fleas here? Do you notice +any trace of fleas? Do you smell an odour of fleas? Is there any +appearance of fleas in my cell? Look!” + +“I can’t find any,” said the little novice, who was Mademoiselle de +Fiennes, “and smell no odour other than our own.” + +“Do as I am about to tell you, and be no more bitten. Directly you +feel yourself pricked, you must strip yourself, lift your chemise, and +be careful not to sin while looking all over your body; think only of +the cursed flea, looking for it, in good faith, without paying +attention to other things; trying only to catch the flea, which is a +difficult job, as you may easily be deceived by the little black spots +on your skin, which you were born with. Have you any, little one?” + +“Yes,” cried she. “I have two dark freckles, one on my shoulder and +one on my back, rather low down, but it is hidden in a fold of the +flesh.” + +“How did you see it?” asked Sister Perpetue. + +“I did not know it. It was Monsieur de Montresor who found it out.” + +“Ha, ha!” said the sister, “is that all he saw?” + +“He saw everything,” said she, “I was quite little; he was about nine +years old, and we were playing together....” + +The nuns hardly being able to restrain their laughter, Sister Ovide +went on-- + +“The above-mentioned flea will jump from your legs to your eyes, will +try and hide himself in apertures and crevices, will leap from valley +to mountain, endeavouring to escape you; but the rules of the house +order you courageously to pursue, repeating aves. Ordinarily at the +third ave the beast is taken.” + +“The flea?” asked the novice. + +“Certainly the flea,” replied Sister Ovide; “but in order to avoid the +dangers of this chase, you must be careful in whatever spot you put +your finger on the beast, to touch nothing else.... Then without +regarding its cries, plaints, groans, efforts, and writhings, and the +rebellion which frequently it attempts, you will press it under your +thumb or other finger of the hand engaged in holding it, and with the +other hand you will search for a veil to bind the flea’s eyes and +prevent it from leaping, as the beast seeing no longer clearly will +not know where to go. Nevertheless, as it will still be able to bite +you, and will be getting terribly enraged, you must gently open its +mouth and delicately insert therein a twig of the blessed brush that +hangs over your pillow. Thus the beast will be compelled to behave +properly. But remember that the discipline of our order allows you to +retain no property, and the beast cannot belong to you. You must take +into consideration that it is one of God’s creatures, and strive to +render it more agreeable. Therefore, before all things, it is +necessary to verify three serious things--viz.: If the flea be a male, +if it be female, or if it be a virgin; supposing it to be a virgin, +which is extremely rare, since these beasts have no morals, are all +wild hussies, and yield to the first seducer who comes, you will seize +her hinder feet, and drawing them under her little caparison, you must +bind them with one of your hairs, and carry it to your superior, who +will decide upon its fate after having consulted the chapter. If it be +a male--” + +“How can one tell that a flea is a virgin? asked the curious novice. + +“First of all,” replied Sister Ovide, “she is sad and melancholy, does +not laugh like the others, does not bite so sharp, has her mouth less +wide open, blushes when touched--you know where.” + +“In that case,” replied the novice, “I have been bitten by a male.” + +At this the sisters burst out laughing so heartily that one of them +sounded a bass note and voided a little water and Sister Ovide +pointing to it on the floor, said-- + +“You see there’s never wind without rain.” + +The novice laughed herself, thinking that these chuckles were caused +by the sister’s exclamation. + +“Now,” went on Sister Ovide, “if it be a male flea, you take your +scissors, or your lover’s dagger, if by chance he has given you one as +a souvenir, previous to your entry into the convent. In short, +furnished with a cutting instrument, you carefully slit open the +flanks of the flea. Expect to hear him howl, cough, spit, beg your +pardon; to see him twist about, sweat, make sheep’s eyes, and anything +that may come into his head to put off this operation. But be not +astonished; pluck up your courage when thinking that you are acting +thus to bring a perverted creature into the ways of salvation. Then +you will dextrously take the reins, the liver, the heart, the gizzard, +and noble parts, and dip them all several times into the holy water, +washing and purifying them there, at the same time imploring the Holy +Ghost to sanctify the interior of the beast. Afterwards you will +replace all these intestinal things in the body of the flea, who will +be anxious to get them back again. Being by this means baptised, the +soul of the creature has become Catholic. Immediately you will get a +needle and thread and sew up the belly of the flea with great care, +with such regard and attention as is due to a fellow Christian; you +will even pray for it--a kindness to which you will see it is sensible +by its genuflections and the attentive glances which it will bestow +upon you. In short, it will cry no more, and have no further desire to +kill you; and fleas are often encountered who die from pleasure at +being thus converted to our holy religion. You will do the same to all +you catch; and the others perceiving it, after staring at the convert, +will go away, so perverse are they, and so terrified at the idea of +becoming Christians.” + +“And they are therefore wicked,” said the novice. “Is there any +greater happiness than to be in the bosom of the Church?” + +“Certainly!” answered sister Ursula, “here we are sheltered from the +dangers of the world and of love, in which there are so many.” + +“Is there any other danger than that of having a child at an +unseasonable time?” asked a young sister. + +“During the present reign,” replied Ursula, raising her head, “love +has inherited leprosy, St Anthony’s fire, the Ardennes’ sickness, and +the red rash, and has heaped up all the fevers, agonies, drugs and +sufferings of the lot in his pretty mortar, to draw out therefrom a +terrible compound, of which the devil has given the receipt, luckily +for convents, because there are a great number of frightened ladies, +who become virtuous for fear of this love.” + +Thereupon they huddled up close together, alarmed at these words, but +wishing to know more. + +“And is it enough to love, to suffer?” asked a sister. + +“Oh, yes!” cried Sister Ovide. + +“You love just for one little once a pretty gentleman,” replied +Ursula, “and you have the chance of seeing your teeth go one by one, +your hair fall off, your cheeks grow pallid, and your eyebrows drop, +and the disappearance of your prized charms will cost you many a sigh. +There are poor women who have scabs come upon their noses, and others +who have a horrid animal with a hundred claws, which gnaws their +tenderest parts. The Pope has at last been compelled to excommunicate +this kind of love.” + +“Ah! how lucky I am to have had nothing of that sort,” cried the +novice. + +Hearing this souvenir of love, the sisters suspected that the little +one had gone astray through the heat of a crucifix of Poissy, and had +been joking with the Sister Ovide, and drawing her out. All +congratulated themselves on having so merry a jade in their company, +and asked her to what adventure they were indebted for that pleasure. + +“Ah!” said she, “I let myself be bitten by a big flea, who had already +been baptised.” + +At this speech, the sister of the bass note could not restrain a +second sign. + +“Ah!” said Sister Ovide, “you are bound to give us the third. If you +spoke that language in the choir, the abbess would diet you like +Sister Petronille; so put a sordine in your trumpet.” + +“Is it true that you knew in her lifetime that Sister Petronille on +whom God bestowed the gift of only going twice a year to the bank of +deposit?” asked Sister Ursula. + +“Yes,” replied Ovide. “And one evening it happened she had to remain +enthroned until matins, saying, ‘I am here by the will of God.’ But at +the first verse, she was delivered, in order that she should not miss +the office. Nevertheless, the late abbess would not allow that this +was an especial favour, granted from on high, and said that God did +not look so low. Here are the facts of the case. Our defunct sister, +whose canonisation the order are now endeavouring to obtain at the +court of the Pope, and would have had it if they could have paid the +proper costs of the papal brief; this Petronille, then, had an +ambition to have her name included in the Calendar of Saints, which +was in no way prejudicial to our order. She lived in prayer alone, +would remain in ecstasy before the altar of the virgin, which is on +the side of the fields, and pretend so distinctly to hear the angels +flying in Paradise, that she was able to hum the tunes they were +singing. You all know that she took from them the chant Adoremus, of +which no man could have invented a note. She remained for days with +her eyes fixed like the star, fasting, and putting no more nourishment +into her body that I could into my eye. She had made a vow never to +taste meat, either cooked or raw, and ate only a crust of bread a day; +but on great feast days she would add thereto a morsel of salt fish, +without any sauce. On this diet she became dreadfully thin, yellow and +saffron, and dry as an old bone in a cemetery; for she was of an +ardent disposition, and anyone who had had the happiness of knocking +up against her, would have drawn fire as from a flint. However, little +as she ate, she could not escape an infirmity to which, luckily or +unluckily, we are all more or less subject. If it were otherwise, we +should be very much embarrassed. The affair in question, is the +obligation of expelling after eating, like all the other animals, +matter more or less agreeable, according to constitution. Now Sister +Petronille differed from all others, because she expelled matter such +as is left by a deer, and these are the hardest substances that any +gizzard produces, as you must know, if you have ever put your foot +upon them in the forest glade, and from their hardness they are called +bullets in the language of forestry. This peculiarity of Sister +Petronille’s was not unnatural, since long fasts kept her temperament +at a permanent heat. According to the old sisters, her nature was so +burning, that when water touched her, she went frist! like a hot coal. +There are sisters who have accused her of secretly cooking eggs, in +the night, between her toes, in order to support her austerities. But +these were scandals, invented to tarnish this great sanctity of which +all the other nunneries were jealous. Our sister was piloted in the +way of salvation and divine perfection by the Abbot of St. +Germaine-des-Pres de Paris--a holy man, who always finished his +Injunctions with a last one, which was to offer to God all our +troubles, and submit ourselves to His will, since nothing happened +without His express commandment. This doctrine, which appears wise at +first sight, has furnished matter for great controversies, and has +been finally condemned on the statement of the Cardinal of Chatillon, +who declared that then there would be no such thing as sin, which +would considerably diminish the revenues of the Church. But Sister +Petronille lived imbued with this feeling, without knowing the danger +of it. After Lent, and the fasts of the great jubilee, for the first +time for eight months she had need to go to the little room, and to it +she went. There, bravely lifting her dress, she put herself into a +position to do that which we poor sinners do rather oftener. But +Sister Petronille could only manage to expectorate the commencement of +the thing, which kept her puffing without the remainder making up its +mind to follow. In spite of every effort, pursing of the lips and +squeezing of body, her guest preferred to remain in her blessed body, +merely putting his head out of the window, like a frog taking the air, +and felt no inclination to fall into the vale of misery among the +others, alleging that he would not be there in the odour of sanctity. +And his idea was a good one for a simple lump of dirt like himself. +The good saint having used all methods of coercion, having +overstretched her muscles, and tried the nerves of her thin face till +they bulged out, recognised the fact that no suffering in the world +was so great, and her anguish attaining the apogee of sphincterial +terrors, she exclaimed, ‘Oh! my God, to Thee I offer it!’ At this +orison, the stoney matter broke off short, and fell like a flint +against the wall of the privy, making a croc, croc, crooc, paf! You +can easily understand, my sisters, that she had no need of a +torch-cul, and drew back the remainder.” + +“Then did she see angels?” asked one. + +“Have they a behind?” asked another. + +“Certainly not,” said Ursula. “Do you not know that one general +meeting day, God having ordered them to be seated, they answered Him +that they had not the wherewithal.” + +Thereupon they went off to bed, some alone, others nearly alone. They +were good girls, who harmed only themselves. + +I cannot leave them without relating an adventure which took place in +their house, when Reform was passing a sponge over it, and making them +all saints, as before stated. At that time, there was in the episcopal +chair of Paris a veritable saint, who did not brag about what he did, +and cared for naught but the poor and suffering, whom the dear old +Bishop lodged in his heart, neglecting his own interests for theirs, +and seeking out misery in order that he might heal it with words, with +help, with attentions, and with money, according to the case: as ready +to solace the rich in their misfortunes as the poor, patching up their +souls and bringing them back to God; and tearing about hither and +thither, watching his troop, the dear shepherd! Now the good man went +about careless of the state of his cassocks, mantles, and breeches, so +that the naked members of the church were covered. He was so +charitable that he would have pawned himself to save an infidel from +distress. His servants were obliged to look after him carefully. +Ofttimes he would scold them when they changed unasked his tattered +vestments for new; and he used to have them darned and patched, as +long as they would hold together. Now this good archbishop knew that +the late Sieur de Poissy had left a daughter, without a sou or a rag, +after having eaten, drunk, and gambled away her inheritance. This poor +young lady lived in a hovel, without fire in winter or cherries in +spring; and did needlework, not wishing either to marry beneath her or +sell her virtue. Awaiting the time when he should be able to find a +young husband for her, the prelate took it into his head to send her +the outside case of one to mend, in the person of his old breeches, a +task which the young lady, in her present position, would be glad to +undertake. One day that the archbishop was thinking to himself that he +must go to the convent of Poissy, to see after the reformed inmates, +he gave to one of his servants, the oldest of his nether garments, +which was sorely in need of stitches, saying, “Take this, Saintot, to +the young ladies of Poissy,” meaning to say, “the young lady of +Poissy.” Thinking of affairs connected with the cloister, he did not +inform his varlet of the situation of the lady’s house; her desperate +condition having been by him discreetly kept a secret. Saintot took +the breeches and went his way towards Poissy, gay as a grasshopper, +stopping to chat with friends he met on the way, slaking his thirst at +the wayside inns, and showing many things to the breeches during the +journey that might hereafter be useful to them. At last he arrived at +the convent, and informed the abbess that his master had sent him to +give her these articles. When the varlet departed, leaving with the +reverend mother, the garment accustomed to model in relief the +archiepiscopal proportions of the continent nature of the good man, +according to the fashion of the period, beside the image of those +things of which the Eternal Father had deprived His angels, and which +in the good prelate did not want for amplitude. Madame the abbess +having informed the sisters of the precious message of the good +archbishop they came in haste, curious and hustling, as ants into +whose republic a chestnut husk has fallen. When they undid the +breeches, which gaped horribly, they shrieked out, covering their eyes +with one hand, in great fear of seeing the devil come out, the abbess +exclaiming, “Hide yourselves my daughters! This is the abode of mortal +sin!” + +The mother of the novices, giving a little look between her fingers, +revived the courage of the holy troop, swearing by an Ave that no +living head was domiciled in the breeches. Then they all blushed at +their ease, while examining this habitavit, thinking that perhaps the +desire of the prelate was that they should discover therein some sage +admonition or evangelical parable. Although this sight caused certain +ravages in the hearts of those most virtuous maidens, they paid little +attention to the flutterings of their reins, but sprinkling a little +holy water in the bottom of the abyss, one touched it, another passed +her finger through a hole, and grew bolder looking at it. It has even +been pretended that, their first stir over, the abbess found a voice +sufficiently firm to say, “What is there at the bottom of this? With +what idea has our father sent us that which consummates the ruin of +women?” + +“It’s fifteen years, dear mother, since I have been permitted to gaze +upon the demon’s den.” + +“Silence, my daughter. You prevent me thinking what is best to be +done.” + +Then so much were these archiepiscopal breeches turned and twisted +about, admired and re-admired, pulled here, pulled there, and turned +inside out--so much were they talked about, fought about, thought +about, dreamed about, night and day, that on the morrow a little +sister said, after having sung the matins, to which the convent had a +verse and two responses--“Sisters, I have found out the parable of the +archbishop. He has sent us as a mortification his garment to mend, as +a holy warning to avoid idleness, the mother abbess of all the vices.” + +Thereupon there was a scramble to get hold of the breeches; but the +abbess, using her high authority, reserved to herself the meditation +over this patchwork. She was occupied during ten days, praying, and +sewing the said breeches, lining them with silk, and making double +hems, well sewn, and in all humility. Then the chapter being +assembled, it was arranged that the convent should testify by a pretty +souvenir to the said archbishop their delight that he thought of his +daughters in God. Then all of them, to the very youngest, had to do +some work on these blessed breeches, in order to do honour to the +virtue of the good man. + +Meanwhile the prelate had had so much to attend to, that he had +forgotten all about his garment. This is how it came about. He made +the acquaintance of a noble of the court, who, having lost his wife--a +she-fiend and sterile--said to the good priest, that he had a great +ambition to meet with a virtuous woman, confiding in God, with whom he +was not likely to quarrel, and was likely to have pretty children. +Such a one he desired to hold by the hand, and have confidence in. +Then the holy man drew such a picture of Mademoiselle de Poissy, that +this fair one soon became Madame de Genoilhac. The wedding was +celebrated at the archiepiscopal palace, where was a feast of the +first quality and a table bordered with ladies of the highest lineage, +and the fashionable world of the court, among whom the bride appeared +the most beautiful, since it has certain that she was a virgin, the +archbishop guaranteeing her virtue. + +When the fruit, conserves, and pastry were with many ornaments +arranged on the cloth, Saintot said to the archbishop, “Monseigneur, +your well-beloved daughters of Poissy send you a fine dish for the +centre.” + +“Put it there,” said the good man, gazing with admiration at an +edifice of velvet and satin, embroidered with fine ribbon, in the +shape of an ancient vase, the lid of which exhaled a thousand +superfine odours. + +Immediately the bride, uncovering it, found therein sweetmeats, cakes, +and those delicious confections to which the ladies are so partial. +But of one of them--some curious devotee--seeing a little piece of +silk, pulled it towards her, and exposed to view the habitation of the +human compass, to the great confusion of the prelate, for laughter +rang round the table like a discharge of artillery. + +“Well have they made the centre dish,” said the bridegroom. “These +young ladies are of good understanding. Therein are all the sweets of +matrimony.” + +Can there be any better moral than that deduced by Monsieur de +Genoilhac? Then no other is needed. + + + + HOW THE CHATEAU D’AZAY CAME TO BE BUILT + +Jehan, son of Simon Fourniez, called Simonnin, a citizen of Tours +--originally of the village of Moulinot, near to Beaune, whence, in +imitation of certain persons, he took the name when he became steward +to Louis the Eleventh--had to fly one day into Languedoc with his +wife, having fallen into great disgrace, and left his son Jacques +penniless in Touraine. This youth, who possessed nothing in the world +except his good looks, his sword, and spurs, but whom worn-out old men +would have considered very well off, had in his head a firm intention +to save his father, and make his fortune at the court, then holden in +Touraine. At early dawn this good Tourainian left his lodging, and, +enveloped in his mantle, all except his nose, which he left open to +the air, and his stomach empty, walked about the town without any +trouble of digestion. He entered the churches, thought them beautiful, +looked into the chapels, flicked the flies from the pictures, and +counted the columns all after the manner of a man who knew not what to +do with his time or his money. At other times he feigned to recite his +paternosters, but really made mute prayers to the ladies, offered them +holy water when leaving, followed them afar off, and endeavoured by +these little services to encounter some adventure, in which at the +peril of his life he would find for himself a protector or a gracious +mistress. He had in his girdle two doubloons which he spared far more +than his skin, because that would be replaced, but the doubloons +never. Each day he took from his little hoard the price of a roll and +a few apples, with which he sustained life, and drank at his will and +his discretion of the water of the Loire. This wholesome and prudent +diet, besides being good for his doubloons, kept him frisky and light +as a greyhound, gave him a clear understanding and a warm heart for +the water of the Loire is of all syrups the most strengthening, +because having its course afar off it is invigorated by its long run, +through many strands, before it reaches Tours. So you may be sure that +the poor fellow imagined a thousand and one good fortunes and lucky +adventures, and what is more, almost believed them true. Oh! The good +times! One evening Jacques de Beaune (he kept the name although he was +not lord of Beaune) was walking along the embankment, occupied in +cursing his star and everything, for his last doubloon was with scant +respect upon the point of quitting him; when at the corner of a little +street, he nearly ran against a veiled lady, whose sweet odour +gratified his amorous senses. This fair pedestrian was bravely mounted +on pretty pattens, wore a beautiful dress of Italian velvet, with wide +slashed satin sleeves; while as a sign of her great fortune, through +her veil a white diamond of reasonable size shone upon her forehead +like the rays of the setting sun, among her tresses, which were +delicately rolled, built up, and so neat, that they must have taken +her maids quite three hours to arrange. She walked like a lady who was +only accustomed to a litter. One of her pages followed her, well +armed. She was evidently some light o’love belonging to a noble of +high rank or a lady of the court, since she held her dress high off +the ground, and bent her back like a woman of quality. Lady or +courtesan she pleased Jacques de Beaune, who, far from turning up his +nose at her, conceived the wild idea of attaching himself to her for +life. With this in view he determined to follow her in order to +ascertain whither she would lead him--to Paradise or to the limbo of +hell--to a gibbet or to an abode of love. Anything was a glean of hope +to him in the depth of his misery. The lady strolled along the bank of +the Loire towards Plessis inhaling like a fish the fine freshness of +the water, toying, sauntering like a little mouse who wishes to see +and taste everything. When the page perceived that Jacques de Beaune +persistently followed his mistress in all her movements, stopped when +she stopped, and watched her trifling in a bare-faced fashion, as if +he had a right so to do, he turned briskly round with a savage and +threatening face, like that of a dog whose says, “Stand back, sir!” + But the good Tourainian had his wits about him. Believing that if a +cat may look at king, he, a baptised Christian, might certainly look +at a pretty woman, he stepped forward, and feigning to grin at the +page, he strutted now behind and now before the lady. She said +nothing, but looked at the sky, which was putting on its nightcap, the +stars, and everything which could give her pleasure. So things went +on. At last, arrived outside Portillon, she stood still, and in order +to see better, cast her veil back over her shoulder, and in so doing +cast upon the youth the glance of a clever woman who looks round to +see if there is any danger of being robbed. I may tell you that +Jacques de Beaune was a thorough ladies’ man, could walk by the side +of a princess without disgracing her, had a brave and resolute air +which please the sex, and if he was a little browned by the sun from +being so much in the open air, his skin would look white enough under +the canopy of a bed. The glance, keen as a needle, which the lady +threw him, appeared to him more animated than that with which she +would have honoured her prayer-book. Upon it he built the hope of a +windfall of love, and resolved to push the adventure to the very edge +of the petticoat, risking to go still further, not only his lips, +which he held of little count, but his two ears and something else +besides. He followed into the town the lady, who returned by the Rue +des Trois-Pucelles, and led the gallant through a labyrinth of little +streets, to the square in which is at the present time situated the +Hotel de la Crouzille. There she stopped at the door of a splendid +mansion, at which the page knocked. A servant opened it, and the lady +went in and closed the door, leaving the Sieur de Beaune open-mouthed, +stupefied, and as foolish as Monseigneur St. Denis when he was trying +to pick up his head. He raised his nose in the air to see if some +token of favour would be thrown to him, and saw nothing except a light +which went up the stairs, through the rooms, and rested before a fine +window, where probably the lady was also. You can believe that the +poor lover remained melancholy and dreaming, and not knowing what to +do. The window gave a sudden creak and broke his reverie. Fancying +that his lady was about to call him, he looked up again, and but for +the friendly shelter of the balcony, which was a helmet to him, he +would have received a stream of water and the utensil which contained +it, since the handle only remained in the grasp of the person who +delivered the deluge. Jacques de Beaune, delighted at this, did not +lose the opportunity, but flung himself against the wall, crying “I am +killed,” with a feeble voice. Then stretching himself upon the +fragments of broken china, he lay as if dead, awaiting the issue. The +servants rushed out in a state of alarm, fearing their mistress, to +whom they had confessed their fault, and picked up the wounded man, +who could hardly restrain his laughter at being then carried up the +stairs. + +“He is cold,” said the page. + +“He is covered with blood,” said the butler, who while feeling his +pulse had wetted his hand. + +“If he revives,” said the guilty one, “I will pay for a mass to St. +Gatien.” + +“Madame takes after her late father, and if she does not have thee +hanged, the least mitigation of thy penalty will be that thou wilt be +kicked out of her house and service,” said another. “Certes, he’s dead +enough, he is so heavy.” + +“Ah! I am in the house of a very great lady,” thought Jacques. + +“Alas! is he really dead?” demanded the author of the calamity. While +with great labour the Tourainian was being carried up the stairs, his +doublet caught on a projection, and the dead man cried, “Ah, my +doublet!” + +“He groans,” said the culprit, with a sigh of relief. The Regent’s +servants (for this was the house of the Regent, the daughter of King +Louis XI. of virtuous memory) brought Jacques de Beaune into a room, +and laid him stiff and stark upon a table, not thinking for a moment +that he could be saved. + +“Run and fetch a surgeon,” cried Madame de Beaujeu. “Run here, run +there!” + +The servants were down the stairs in a trice. The good lady Regent +dispatched her attendants for ointment, for linen to bind the wounds, +for goulard-water, for so many things, that she remained alone. Gazing +upon this splendid and senseless man, she cried aloud, admiring his +presence and his features, handsome even in death. “Ah! God wishes to +punish me. Just for one little time in my life has there been born in +me, and taken possession of me, a naughty idea, and my patron saint is +angry, and deprives me of the sweetest gentleman I have ever seen. By +the rood, and by the soul of my father, I will hang every man who has +had a hand in this!” + +“Madame,” cried Jacques de Beaune, springing from the table, and +falling at the feet of the Regent, “I will live to serve you, and am +so little bruised that that I promise you this night as many joys as +there are months in the year, in imitation of the Sieur Hercules, a +pagan baron. For the last twenty days,” he went on (thinking that +matters would be smoothed by a little lying), “I have met you again +and again. I fell madly in love with you, yet dared not, by reason of +my great respect for your person, make an advance. You can imagine how +intoxicated I must have been with your royal beauties, to have +invented the trick to which I owe the happiness of being at your +feet.” + +Thereupon he kissed her amorously, and gave her a look that would have +overcome any scruples. The Regent, by means of time, which respects +not queens, was, as everyone knows, in her middle age. In this +critical and autumnal season, women formally virtuous and loveless +desire now here, now there, to enjoy, unknown to the world, certain +hours of love, in order that they may not arrive in the other world +with hands and heart alike empty, through having left the fruit of the +tree of knowledge untasted. The lady of Beaujeu, without appearing to +be astonished while listening to the promises of this young man, since +royal personages ought to be accustomed to having them by dozens, kept +this ambitious speech in the depths of her memory or of her registry +of love, which caught fire at his words. Then she raised the +Tourainian, who still found in his misery the courage to smile at his +mistress, who had the majesty of a full-blown rose, ears like shoes, +and the complexion of a sick cat, but was so well-dressed, so fine in +figure, so royal of foot, and so queenly in carriage, that he might +still find in this affair means to gain his original object. + +“Who are you?” said the Regent, putting on the stern look of her +father. + +“I am your very faithful subject, Jacques de Beaune, son of your +steward, who has fallen into disgrace in spite of his faithful +services.” + +“Ah, well!” replied the lady, “lay yourself on the table again. I hear +someone coming; and it is not fit that my people should think me your +accomplice in this farce and mummery.” + +The good fellow perceived, by the soft sound of her voice, that he was +pardoned the enormity of his love. He lay down upon the table again, +and remembered how certain lords had ridden to court in an old stirrup +--a thought which perfectly reconciled him to his present position. + +“Good,” said the Regent to her maid-servants, “nothing is needed. This +gentleman is better; thanks to heaven and the Holy Virgin, there will +have been no murder in my house.” + +Thus saying, she passed her hand through the locks of the lover who +had fallen to her from the skies, and taking a little reviving water +she bathed his temples, undid his doublet, and under pretence of +aiding his recovery, verified better than an expert how soft and young +was the skin on this young fellow and bold promiser of bliss, and all +the bystanders, men and women, were amazed to see the Regent act thus. +But humanity never misbecomes those of royal blood. Jacques stood up, +and appeared to come to his senses, thanked the Regent most humbly, +and dismissed the physicians, master surgeons, and other imps in +black, saying that he had thoroughly recovered. Then he gave his name, +and saluting Madame de Beaujeu, wished to depart, as though afraid of +her on account of his father’s disgrace, but no doubt horrified at his +terrible vow. + +“I cannot permit it,” said she. “Persons who come to my house should +not meet with such treatment as you have encountered. The Sieur de +Beaune will sup here,” she added to her major domo. “He who has so +unduly insulted him will be at his mercy if he makes himself known +immediately; otherwise, I will have him found out and hanged by the +provost.” + +Hearing this, the page who had attended the lady during her promenade +stepped forward. + +“Madame,” said Jacques, “at my request pray both pardon and reward +him, since to him I owe the felicity of seeing you, the favour of +supping in your company, and perhaps that of getting my father +re-established in the office to which it pleased your glorious +father to appoint him.” + +“Well said,” replied the Regent. “D’Estouteville,” said she, turning +towards the page, “I give thee command of a company of archers. But +for the future do not throw things out of the window.” + +Then she, delighted with de Beaune, offered him her hand, and led him +most gallantly into her room, where they conversed freely together +while supper was being prepared. There the Sieur Jacques did not fail +to exhibit his talents, justify his father, and raise himself in the +estimation of the lady, who, as is well known, was like a father in +disposition, and did everything at random. Jacques de Beaune thought +to himself that it would be rather difficult for him to remain all +night with the Regent. Such matters are not so easily arranged as the +amours of cats, who have always a convenient refuge upon the housetops +for their moments of dalliance. So he rejoiced that he was known to +the Regent without being compelled to fulfil his rash promise, since +for this to be carried out it was necessary that the servants and +others should be out of the way, and her reputation safe. +Nevertheless, suspecting the powers of intrigue of the good lady, at +times he would ask himself if he were equal to the task. But beneath +the surface of conversation, the same thing was in the mind of the +Regent, who had already managed affairs quite as difficult, and she +began most cleverly to arrange the means. She sent for one of her +secretaries, an adept in all arts necessary for the perfect government +of a kingdom, and ordered him to give her secretly a false message +during the supper. Then came the repast, which the lady did not touch, +since her heart had swollen like a sponge, and so diminished her +stomach, for she kept thinking of this handsome and desirable man, +having no appetite save for him. Jacques did not fail to make a good +meal for many reasons. The messenger came, madame began to storm, and +to knit her brows after the manner of the late king, and to say, “Is +there never to be peace in this land? Pasques Dieu! can we not have +one quiet evening?” Then she rose and strode about the room. “Ho +there! My horse! Where is Monsieur de Vieilleville, my squire? Ah, he +is in Picardy. D’Estouteville, you will rejoin me with my household at +the Chateau d’Amboise....” And looking at Jacques, she said, “You +shall be my squire, Sieur de Beaune. You wish to serve the state. The +occasion is a good one. Pasques Dieu! come! There are rebels to +subdue, and faithful knights are needed.” + +In less time than an old beggar would have taken to say thank you, the +horses were bridled, saddled, and ready. Madame was on her mare, and +the Tourainian at her side, galloping at full speed to her castle at +Amboise, followed by the men-at-arms. To be brief and come to the +facts without further commentary, the De Beaune was lodged not twenty +yards from Madame, far from prying eyes. The courtiers and the +household, much astonished, ran about inquiring from what quarter the +danger might be expected; but our hero, taken at his word, knew well +enough where to find it. The virtue of the Regent, well known in the +kingdom, saved her from suspicion, since she was supposed to be as +impregnable as the Chateau de Peronne. At curfew, when everything was +shut, both ears and eyes, and the castle silent, Madame de Beaujeu +sent away her handmaid, and called for her squire. The squire came. +Then the lady and the adventurer sat side by side upon a velvet couch, +in the shadow of a lofty fireplace, and the curious Regent, with a +tender voice, asked of Jacques “Are you bruised? It was very wrong of +me to make a knight, wounded by one on my servants, ride twelve miles. +I was so anxious about it that I would not go to bed without having +seen you. Do you suffer?” + +“I suffer with impatience,” said he of the dozen, thinking it would +not do to appear reluctant. “I see well,” continued he, “my noble and +beautiful mistress, that your servant has found favour in your sight.” + +“There, there!” replied she; “did you not tell a story when you +said--” + +“What?” said he. + +“Why, that you had followed me dozens of times to churches, and other +places to which I went.” + +“Certainly,” said he. + +“I am astonished,” replied the Regent, “never to have seen until today +a noble youth whose courage is so apparent in his countenance. I am +not ashamed of that which you heard me say when I believed you dead. +You are agreeable to me, you please me, and you wish to do well.” + +Then the hour of the dreaded sacrifice having struck, Jacques fell at +the knees of the Regent, kissed her feet, her hands, and everything, +it is said; and while kissing her, previous to retirement, proved by +many arguments to the aged virtue of his sovereign, that a lady +bearing the burden of the state had a perfect right to enjoy herself +--a theory which was not directly admitted by the Regent, who +determined to be forced, in order to throw the burden of this sin upon +her lover. This notwithstanding, you may be sure that she had highly +perfumed and elegantly attired herself for the night, and shone with +desire for embraces, for desire lent her a high colour which greatly +improved her complexion; and in spite of her feeble resistance she was, +like a young girl, carried by assault in her royal couch, where the +good lady and her young dozener, embraced each other. Then from play to +quarrel, quarrel to riot, from riot to ribaldry, from thread to needle, +the Regent declared that she believed more in the virginity of the Holy +Mary than in the promised dozen. Now, by chance, Jacques de Beaune did +not find this great lady so very old between the sheets, since +everything is metamorphosed by the light of the lamps of the night. +Many women of fifty by day are twenty at midnight, as others are +twenty at mid-day and a hundred after vespers. Jacques, happier at +this sight than at that of the King on a hanging day, renewed his +undertaking. Madame, herself astonished, promised every assistance on +her part. The manor of Azay-le-Brule, with a good title thereto, she +undertook to confer upon her cavalier, as well as the pardon of his +father, if from this encounter she came forth vanquished, then the +clever fellows said to himself, “This is to save my father from +punishment! this for the fief! this for the letting and selling! this +for the forest of Azay! item for the right of fishing! another for the +Isles of the Indre! this for the meadows! I may as well release from +confiscation our land of La Carte, so dearly bought by my father! Once +more for a place at court!” Arriving without hindrance at this point, +he believed his dignity involved, and fancied that having France under +him, it was a question of the honour of the crown. In short, at the +cost of a vow which he made to his patron, Monsieur St. Jacques, to +build him a chapel at Azay, he presented his liege homage to the +Regent eleven clear, clean, limpid, and genuine periphrases. +Concerning the epilogue of this slow conversation, the Tourainian had +the great self-confidence to wish excellently to regale the Regent, +keeping for her on her waking the salute of an honest man, as it was +necessary for the lord of Azay to thank his sovereign, which was +wisely thought. But when nature is oppressed, she acts like a spirited +horse, lays down, and will die under the whip sooner than move until +it pleases her to rise reinvigorated. Thus, when in the morning the +seignior of the castle of Azay desired to salute the daughter of King +Louis XI., he was constrained, in spite of his courtesy, to make the +salute as royal salutes should be made--with blank cartridge only. +Therefore the Regent, after getting up, and while she was breakfasting +with Jacques, who called himself the legitimate Lord of Azay, seized +the occasion of this insufficiency to contradict her esquire, and +pretend, that as he had not gained his wager, he had not earned the +manor. + +“Ventre-Saint-Paterne! I have been near enough,” said Jacques. “But my +dear lady and noble sovereign it is not proper for either you or me to +judge in this cause. The case being an allodial case, must be brought +before your council, since the fief of Azay is held from the crown.” + +“Pasques dieu!” replied the Regent with a forced laugh. “I give you +the place of the Sieur de Vieilleville in my house. Don’t trouble +about your father. I will give you Azay, and will place you in a royal +office if you can, without injury to my honour, state the case in full +council; but if one word falls to the damage of my reputation as a +virtuous women, I--” + +“May I be hanged,” said Jacques, turning the thing into a joke, +because there was a shade of anger in the face of Madame de Beaujeu. + +In fact, the daughter of King Louis thought more of her royalty than +of the roguish dozen, which she considered as nothing, since fancying +she had had her night’s amusement without loosening her purse-strings, +she preferred the difficult recital of his claim to another dozen +offered her by the Tourainian. + +“Then, my lady,” replied her good companion, “I shall certainly be +your squire.” + +The captains, secretaries, and other persons holding office under the +regency, astonished at the sudden departure of Madame de Beaujeu, +learned the cause of her anxiety, and came in haste to the castle of +Amboise to discover whence preceded the rebellion, and were in +readiness to hold a council when her Majesty had arisen. She called +them together, not to be suspected of having deceived them, and gave +them certain falsehoods to consider, which they considered most +wisely. At the close of the sitting, came the new squire to accompany +his mistress. Seeing the councillors rising, the bold Tourainian +begged them to decide a point of law which concerned both himself and +the property of the Crown. + +“Listen to him,” said the Regent. “He speaks truly.” + +Then Jacques de Beaune, without being nervous at the sight of this +august court, spoke as follows, or thereabouts:--“Noble Lords, I beg +you, although I am about to speak to you of walnut shells, to give +your attention to this case, and pardon me the trifling nature of my +language. One lord was walking with another in a fruit garden, and +noticed a fine walnut tree, well planted, well grown, worth looking +at, worth keeping, although a little empty; a nut tree always fresh, +sweet-smelling, the tree which you would not leave if you once saw it, +a tree of love which seemed the tree of good and evil, forbidden by +the Lord, through which were banished our mother Eve and the gentleman +her husband. Now, my lords, this said walnut tree was the subject of a +slight dispute between the two, and one of those many wagers which are +occasionally made between friends. The younger boasted that he could +throw twelve times through it a stick which he had in his hand at the +time--as many people have who walk in a garden--and with each flight +of the stick he would send a nut to the ground--” + +“That is, I believe the knotty point of the case,” said Jacques +turning towards the Regent. + +“Yes, gentlemen,” replied she, surprised at the craft of her squire. + +“The other wagered to the contrary,” went on the pleader. “Now the +first named throws his stick with such precision of aim, so gently, +and so well that both derived pleasure therefrom, and by the joyous +protection of the saints, who no doubt were amused spectators, with +each throw there fell a nut; in fact, there fell twelve. But by chance +the last of the fallen nuts was empty, and had no nourishing pulp from +which could have come another nut tree, had the gardener planted it. +Has the man with the stick gained his wager? Judge.” + +“The thing is clear enough,” said Messire Adam Fumee, a Tourainian, +who at that time was the keeper of the seals. “There is only one thing +for the other to do.” + +“What is that?” said the Regent. + +“To pay the wager, Madame.” + +“He is rather too clever,” said she, tapping her squire on the cheek. +“He will be hanged one of these days.” + +She meant it as a joke, but these words were the real horoscope of the +steward, who mounted the gallows by the ladder of royal favour, +through the vengeance of another old woman, and the notorious treason +of a man of Ballan, his secretary, whose fortune he had made, and +whose name was Prevost, and not Rene Gentil, as certain persons have +wrongly called him. The Ganelon and bad servant gave, it is said, to +Madame d’Angouleme, the receipt for the money which had been given him +by Jacques de Beaune, then become Baron of Samblancay, lord of La +Carte and Azay, and one of the foremost men in the state. Of his two +sons, one was Archbishop of Tours the other Minister of Finance and +Governor of Touraine. But this is not the subject of the present +history. + +Now that which concerns the present narrative, is that Madame de +Beaujeu, to whom the pleasure of love had come rather late in the day, +well pleased with the great wisdom and knowledge of public affairs +which her chance lover possessed, made him Lord of the Privy Purse, in +which office he behaved so well, and added so much to the contents of +it, that his great renown procured for him one day the handling of the +revenues which he superintended and controlled most admirably, and +with great profit to himself, which was but fair. The good Regent paid +the bet, and handed over to her squire the manor of Azay-le-Brule, of +which the castle had long before been demolished by the first +bombardiers who came from Touraine, as everyone knows. For this +powdery miracle, but for the intervention of the king, the said +engineers would have been condemned as heretics and abettors of Satan, +by the ecclesiastical tribune of the chapter. + +At this time there was being built with great care by Messire Bohier, +Minister of Finance, the Castle of Chenonceaux, which as a curiosity +and novel design, was placed right across the river Cher. + +Now the Baron de Samblancay, wishing to oppose the said Bohier, +determined to lay the foundation of this at the bottom of the Indre, +where it still stands, the gem of this fair green valley, so solidly +was it placed upon the piles. It cost Jacques de Beaune thirty +thousand crowns, not counting the work done by his vassals. You may +take it for granted this castle was one of the finest, prettiest, most +exquisite and most elaborate castles of our sweet Touraine, and laves +itself in the Indre like a princely creature, gayly decked with +pavilions and lace curtained windows, with fine weather-beaten +soldiers on her vanes, turning whichever way the wind blows, as all +soldiers do. But Samblancay was hanged before it was finished, and +since that time no one has been found with sufficient money to +complete it. Nevertheless, his master, King Francis the First, was +once his guest, and the royal chamber is still shown there. When the +king was going to bed, Samblancay, whom the king called “old fellow,” + in honour of his white hairs, hearing his royal master, to whom he was +devotedly attached, remark, “Your clock has just struck twelve, old +fellow!” replied, “Ah! sire, to twelve strokes of a hammer, an old one +now, but years ago a good one, at this hour of the clock do I owe my +lands, the money spent on this place, and honour of being in your +service.” + +The king wished to know what his minister meant by these strange +words; and when his majesty was getting into bed, Jacques de Beaune +narrated to him the history with which you are acquainted. Now Francis +the First, who was partial to these spicy stories, thought the +adventure a very droll one, and was the more amused thereat because at +that time his mother, the Duchess d’Angouleme, in the decline of life, +was pursuing the Constable of Bourbon, in order to obtain of him one +of these dozens. Wicked love of a wicked woman, for therefrom +proceeded the peril of the kingdom, the capture of the king, and the +death--as has been before mentioned--of poor Samblancay. + +I have here endeavoured to relate how the Chateau d’Azay came to be +built, because it is certain that thus was commenced the great fortune +of that Samblancay who did so much for his natal town, which he +adorned; and also spent such immense sums upon the completion of the +towers of the cathedral. This lucky adventure has been handed down +from father to son, and lord to lord, in the said place of +Azay-les-Ridel, where the story frisks still under the curtains of the +king, which have been curiously respected down to the present day. It is +therefore the falsest of falsities which attributes the dozen of the +Tourainian to a German knight, who by this deed would have secured the +domains of Austria to the House of Hapsburgh. The author of our days, +who brought this history to light, although a learned man, has allowed +himself to be deceived by certain chroniclers, since the archives of +the Roman Empire make no mention of an acquisition of this kind. I am +angry with him for having believed that a “braguette” nourished with +beer, could have been equal to the alchemical operations of the +Chinonian “braguettes,” so much esteemed by Rabelais. And I have for +the advantage of the country, the glory of Azay, the conscience of the +castle, and renown of the House of Beaune, from which sprang the +Sauves and the Noirmoutiers, re-established the facts in all their +veritable, historical, and admirable beauty. Should any ladies pay a +visit to the castle, there are still dozens to be found in the +neighbourhood, but they can only be procured retail. + + + + THE FALSE COURTESAN + +That which certain people do not know, is a the truth concerning the +decease of the Duke of Orleans, brother of King Charles VI., a death +which proceeded from a great number of causes, one of which will be +the subject of this narrative. This prince was for certain the most +lecherous of all the royal race of Monseigneur St. Louis (who was in +his life time King of France), without even putting on one side some +of the most debauched of this fine family, which was so concordant +with the vices and especial qualities of our brave and +pleasure-seeking nation, that you could more easily imagine Hell +without Satan than France without her valorous, glorious, and jovial +kings. So you can laugh as loudly at those muckworms of philosophy who +go about saying, “Our fathers were better,” as at the good, +philanthropical old bunglers who pretend that mankind is on the right +road to perfection. These are old blind bats, who observe neither the +plumage of oysters nor the shells of birds, which change no more than +our ways. Hip, hip, huzzah! then, make merry while you’re young. Keep +your throats wet and your eyes dry, since a hundredweight of melancholy +is worth less than an ounce of jollity. The wrong doings of this lord, +lover of Queen Isabella, whom he doted upon, brought about pleasant +adventures, since he was a great wit, of Alcibaidescal nature, and a +chip off the old block. It was he who first conceived the idea of a +relay of sweethearts, so that when he went from Paris to Bordeaux, +every time he unsettled his nag he found ready for him a good meal and +a bed with as much lace inside as out. Happy Prince! who died on +horseback, for he was always across something in-doors and out. Of his +comical jokes our most excellent King Louis the Eleventh has given a +splendid sample in the book of “Cent Nouvelles Nouvelles,” written under +his superintendence during his exile, at the Court of Burgundy, where, +during the long evenings, in order to amuse themselves, he and his +cousin Charolois would relate to each other the good tricks and jokes +of the period; and when they were hard up for true stories, each of +the courtiers tried who could invent the best one. But out of respect +for the royal blood, the Dauphin has credited a townsman with that +which happened to the Lady of Cany. It is given under the title of “La +Medaille a revers”, in the collection of which it is one of the +brightest jewels, and commences the hundred. But now for mine. + +The Duc d’Orleans had in his suite a lord of the province of Picardy, +named Raoul d’Hocquetonville, who had taken for a wife, to the future +trouble of the prince, a young lady related to the house of Burgundy, +and rich in domains. But, an exception to the general run of +heiresses, she was of so dazzling a beauty, that all the ladies of the +court, even the Queen and Madame Valentine, were thrown into the +shade; nevertheless, this was as nothing in the lady of +Hocquetonville, compared with her Burgundian consanguinity, her +inheritances, her prettiness, and gentle nature, because these rare +advantages received a religious lustre from her supreme innocence, +sweet modesty, and chaste education. The Duke had not long gazed upon +this heaven-sent flower before he was seized with the fever of love. +He fell into a state of melancholy, frequented no bad places, and only +with regret now and then did he take a bite at his royal and dainty +German morsel Isabella. He became passionate, and swore either by +sorcery, by force, by trickery, or with her consent, to enjoy the +flavours of this gentle lady, who, by the sight of her sweet body, +forced him to the last extremity, during his now long and weary +nights. At first, he pursued her with honied words, but he soon knew +by her untroubled air that she was determined to remain virtuous, for +without appearing astonished at his proceedings, or getting angry like +certain other ladies, she replied to him, “My lord, I must inform you +that I do not desire to trouble myself with the love of other persons, +not that I despise the joys which are therein to be experienced (as +supreme they must be, since so many ladies cast into the abyss of love +their homes, their honour, their future, and everything), but from the +love I bear my children. Never would I be the cause of a blush upon +their cheeks, for in this idea will I bring up my daughters--that in +virtue alone is happiness to be found. For, my lord, if the days of +our old age are more numerous than those of our youth, of them must we +think. From those who brought me up I learned to properly estimate +this life, and I know that everything therein is transitory, except +the security of the natural affections. Thus I wish for the esteem of +everyone, and above all that of my husband, who is all the world to +me. Therefore do I desire to appear honest in his sight. I have +finished, and I entreat you to allow me unmolested to attend to my +household affairs, otherwise I will unhesitatingly refer the matter to +my lord and master, who will quit your service.” + +This brave reply rendered the king’s brother more amorous than ever, +and he endeavoured to ensnare this noble woman in order to possess +her, dead or alive, and he never doubted a bit that he would have her +in his clutches, relying upon his dexterity at this kind of sport, the +most joyous of all, in which it is necessary to employ the weapons of +all other kinds of sport, seeing that this sweet game is taken +running, by taking aim, by torchlight, by night, by day, in the town, +in the country, in the woods, by the waterside, in nets, with falcons, +with the lance, with the horn, with the gun, with the decoy bird, in +snares, in the toils, with a bird call, by the scent, on the wing, +with the cornet, in slime, with a bait, with the lime-twig--indeed, by +means of all the snares invented since the banishment of Adam. And +gets killed in various different ways, but generally is overridden. + +The artful fellow ceased to mention his desires, but had a post of +honour given to the Lady of Hocquetonville, in the queen’s household. +Now, one day that the said Isabella went to Vincennes, to visit the +sick King, and left him master of the Hotel St. Paul, he commanded the +chef to have a delicate and royal supper prepared, and to serve it in +the queen’s apartments. Then he sent for his obstinate lady by express +command, and by one of the pages of the household. The Countess +d’Hocquetonville, believing that she was desired by Madame Isabella +for some service appertaining to her post, or invited to some sudden +amusement, hastened to the room. In consequence of the precautions +taken by the disloyal lover, no one had been able to inform the noble +dame of the princess’s departure, so she hastened to the splendid +chamber, which, in the Hotel St. Paul, led into the queen’s +bedchamber; there she found the Duc d’Orleans alone. Suspecting some +treacherous plot, she went quickly into the other room, found no +queen, but heard the Prince give vent to a hearty laugh. + +“I am undone!” said she. Then she endeavoured to run away. + +But the good lady-killer had posted about devoted attendants, who, +without knowing what was going on, closed the hotel, barricaded the +doors, and in this mansion, so large that it equalled a fourth of +Paris, the Lady d’Hocquetonville was as in a desert, with no other aid +than that of her patron saint and God. Then, suspecting the truth, the +poor lady trembled from head to foot and fell into a chair; and then +the working of this snare, so cleverly conceived, was, with many a +hearty laugh, revealed to her by her lover. Directly the duke made a +movement to approach her this woman rose and exclaimed, arming herself +first with her tongue, and flashing one thousand maledictions from her +eyes-- + +“You will possess me--but dead! Ha! my lord, do not force me to a +struggle which must become known to certain people. I may yet retire, +and the Sire d’Hocquetonville shall be ignorant of the sorrow with +which you have forever tinged my life. Duke, you look too often in the +ladies’ faces to find time to study men’s, and you do not therefore +know your man. The Sire d’Hocquetonville would let himself be hacked +to pieces in your service, so devoted is he to you, in memory of your +kindness to him, and also because he is partial to you. But as he +loves so does he hate; and I believe him to be the man to bring his +mace down upon your head, to take his revenge, if you but compel me to +utter one cry. Do you desire both my death and your own? But be +assured that, as an honest woman, whatever happens to me, good or +evil, I shall keep no secret. Now, will you let me go?” + +The bad fellow began to whistle. Hearing his whistling, the good woman +went suddenly into the queen’s chamber, and took from a place known to +her therein, a sharp stiletto. Then, when the duke followed her to +ascertain what this flight meant, “When you pass that line,” cried +she, pointing to a board, “I will kill myself.” + +My lord, without being in the least terrified, took a chair, placed it +at the very edge of the plank in question, and commenced a glowing +description of certain things, hoping to influence the mind of this +brave woman, and work her to that point that her brain, her heart, and +everything should be at his mercy. Then he commenced to say to her, in +that delicate manner to which princes are accustomed, that, in the +first place, virtuous women pay dearly for their virtue, since in +order to gain the uncertain blessings of the future, they lose all the +sweetest joys of the present, because husbands were compelled, from +motives of conjugal policy, not show them all the jewels in the shrine +of love, since the said jewels would so affect their hearts, was so +rapturously delicious, so titillatingly voluptuous, that a woman would +no longer consent to dwell in the cold regions of domestic life; and +he declared this marital abomination to be a great felony, because the +least thing a man could do in recognition of the virtuous life of a +good woman and her great merits, was to overwork himself, to exert, to +exterminate himself, to please her in every way, with fondlings and +kissings and wrestlings, and all the delicacies and sweet +confectionery of love; and that, if she would taste a little of the +seraphic joys of these little ways to her unknown, she would believe +all the other things of life as not worth a straw; and that, if such +were her wish, he would forever be as silent as the grave, and last no +scandal would besmear her virtue. And the lewd fellow, perceiving that +the lady did not stop her ears, commenced to describe to her, after +the fashion of arabesque pictures, which at that time were much +esteemed, the wanton inventions of debauchery. Then did his eyes shoot +flame, his words burn, and his voice ring, and he himself took great +pleasure in calling to mind the various ways of his ladies, naming +them to Madame d’Hocquetonville, and even revealing to her the tricks, +caresses, and amorous ways of Queen Isabella, and he made use of +expression so gracious and so ardently inciting, that, fancying it +caused the lady to relax her hold upon the stiletto a little, he made +as if to approach her. But she, ashamed to be found buried in thought, +gazed proudly at the diabolical leviathan who tempted her, and said to +him, “Fine sir, I thank you. You have caused me to love my husband all +the more, for from your discourse I learn how much he esteems me by +holding me in such respect that he does not dishonour his couch with +the tricks of street-walkers and bad women. I should think myself +forever disgraced, and should be contaminated to all eternity if I put +my foot in these sloughs where go these shameless hussies. A man’s +wife is one thing, and his mistress another.” + +“I will wager,” said the duke, smiling, “that, nevertheless, for the +future you spur the Sire d’Hocquetonville to a little sharper pace.” + +At this the good woman trembled, and cried, “You are a wicked man. Now +I both despise and abominate you! What! unable to rob me of my honour, +you attempt to poison my mind! Ah, my lord, this night’s work will +cost you dear-- + + “If I forget it, a yet, + God will not forget. + +“Are not those of verse is yours?” + +“Madame,” said the duke, turning pale with anger, “I can have you +bound--” + +“Oh no! I can free myself,” replied she, brandishing the stiletto. + +The rapscallion began to laugh. + +“Never mind,” said he. “I have a means of plunging you into the +sloughs of three brazen hussies, as you call them.” + +“Never, while I live.” + +“Head and heels you shall go in--with your two feet, two hands, two +ivory breasts, and two other things, white as snow--your teeth, your +hair, and everything. You will go of your own accord; you shall enter +into it lasciviously, and in a way to crush your cavalier, as a wild +horse does its rider--stamping, leaping, and snorting. I swear it by +Saint Castud!” + +Instantly he whistled for one of his pages. And when the page came, he +secretly ordered him to go and seek the Sire d’Hocquetonville, +Savoisy, Tanneguy, Cypierre, and other members of his band, asking +them to these rooms to supper, not without at the same time inviting +to meet his guests a pretty petticoat or two. + +Then he came and sat down in his chair again, ten paces from the lady, +off whom he had not taken his eye while giving his commands to the +page in a whisper. + +“Raoul is jealous,” said he. “Now let me give you a word of advice. In +this place,” he added, pointing to a secret door, “are the oils and +superfine perfumes of the queen; in this other little closet she +performs her ablutions and little feminine offices. I know by much +experience that each one of you gentle creatures has her own special +perfume, by which she is smelt and recognised. So if, as you say, +Raoul is overwhelmingly jealous with the worst of all jealousies, you +will use these fast hussies’ scents, because your danger approaches +fast.” + +“Ah, my lord, what do you intend to do?” + +“You will know when it is necessary that you should know. I wish you +no harm, and pledge you my honour, as a loyal knight, that I will +almost thoroughly respect you, and be forever silent concerning my +discomfiture. In short, you will know that the Duc d’Orleans has a +good heart, and revenges himself nobly on ladies who treat him with +disdain, by placing in their hands the key of Paradise. Only keep your +ears open to the joyous words that will be handed from mouth to mouth +in the next room, and cough not if you love your children.” + +Since there was no egress from the royal chamber, and the bars +crossing hardly left room to put one’s head through, the good prince +closed the door of the room, certain of keeping the lady a safe +prisoner there, and again impressed upon her the necessity of silence. +Then came the merry blades in great haste, and found a good and +substantial supper smiling at them from the silver plates upon the +table, and the table well arranged and well lighted, loaded with fine +silver cups, and cups full of royal wine. Then said their master to +them-- + +“Come! Come! to your places my good friends. I was becoming very +weary. Thinking of you, I wished to arrange with you a merry feast +after the ancient method, when the Greeks and Romans said their Pater +noster to Master Priapus, and the learned god called in all countries +Bacchus. The feast will be proper and a right hearty one, since at our +libation there will be present some pretty crows with three beaks, of +which I know from great experience the best one to kiss.” + +Then all of them recognising their master in all things, took pleasure +in this discourse, except Raoul d’Hocquetonville, who advanced and +said to the prince-- + +“My lord, I will aid you willingly in any battle but that of the +petticoats, in that of spear and axe, but not of the wine flasks. My +good companions here present have not wives at home, it is otherwise +with me. I have a sweet wife, to whom I owe my company, and an account +of all my deeds and actions.” + +“Then, since I am a married man I am to blame?” said the duke. + +“Ah! my dear master, you are a prince, and can do as you please.” + +These brave speeches made, as you can imagine, the heart of the lady +prisoner hot and cold. + +“Ah! my Raoul,” thought she, “thou art a noble man!” + +“You are,” said the duke, “a man whom I love, and consider more +faithful and praiseworthy than any of my people. The others,” said he, +looking at the three lords, “are wicked men. But, Raoul,” he +continued, “sit thee down. When the linnets come--they are linnets of +high degree--you can make your way home. S’death! I had treated thee +as a virtuous man, ignorant of the extra-conjugal joys of love, and +had carefully put for thee in that room the queen of raptures--a fair +demon, in whom is concentrated all feminine inventions. I wished that +once in thy life thou, who has never tasted the essence of love, and +dreamed but of war, should know the secret marvels of the gallant +amusement, since it is shameful that one of my followers should serve +a fair lady badly.” + +Thereupon the Sire d’Hocquetonville sat down to a table in order to +please his prince as far as he could lawfully do so. Then they all +commenced to laugh, joke, and talk about the ladies; and according to +their custom, they related to each other their good fortunes and their +love adventures, sparing no woman except the queen of the house, and +betraying the little habits of each one, to which followed horrible +little confidences, which increased in treachery and lechery as the +contents of the goblets grew less. The duke, gay as a universal +legatee, drew the guests out, telling lies himself to learn the truth +from them; and his companions ate at a trot, drank at a full gallop, +and their tongues rattled away faster than either. + +Now, listening to them, and heating his brain with wine, the Sire +d’Hocquetonville unharnessed himself little by little from the +reluctance. In spite of his virtues, he indulged certain desires, and +became soaked in these impurities like a saint who defiles himself +while saying his prayers. Perceiving which, the prince, on the alert +to satisfy his ire and his bile, began to say to him, joking him-- + +“By Saint Castud, Raoul, we are all tarred with the same brush, all +discreet away from here. Go; we will say nothing to Madame. By heaven! +man, I wish thee to taste of the joys of paradise. There,” said he, +tapping the door of the room in which was Madame d’Hocquetonville, “in +there is a lady of the court and a friend of the queen, but the +greatest priestess of Venus that ever was, and her equal is not to be +found in any courtesan, harlot, dancer, doxy, or hussy. She was +engendered at a moment when paradise was radiant with joy, when nature +was procreating, when the planets were whispering vows of love, when +the beasts were frisking and capering, and everything was aglow with +desire. Although the women make an altar of her bed, she is +nevertheless too great a lady to allow herself to be seen, and too +well known to utter any words but the sounds of love. No light will +you need, for her eyes flash fire, and attempt no conversation, since +she speaks only with movements and twistings more rapid than those of +a deer surprised in the forest. Only, my dear Raoul, but so merry a +nag look to your stirrups, sit light in the saddle, since with one +plunge she would hurl thee to the ceiling, if you are not careful. She +burns always, and is always longing for male society. Our poor dead +friend, the young Sire de Giac, met his death through her; she drained +his marrow in one springtime. God’s truth! to know such bliss as that +of which she rings the bells and lights the fires, what man would not +forfeit a third of his future happiness? and he who has known her once +would for a second night forfeit without regret eternity.” + +“But,” said Raoul, “in things which should be so much alike, how is it +that there is so great a difference?” + +“Ha! Ha! Ha!” + +Thereupon the company burst out laughing, and animated by the wine and +a wink from their master, they all commenced relating droll and quaint +conceits, laughing, shouting, and making a great noise. Now, knowing +not that an innocent scholar was there, these jokers, who had drowned +their sense of shame in the wine-cups, said things to make the figures +on the mantel shake, the walls and the ceilings blush; and the duke +surpassed them all, saying, that the lady who was in bed in the next +room awaiting a gallant should be the empress of these warm +imaginations, because she practised them every night. Upon this the +flagons being empty, the duke pushed Raoul, who let himself be pushed +willingly, into the room, and by this means the prince compelled the +lady to deliberate by which dagger she would live or die. At midnight +the Sire d’Hocquetonville came out gleefully, not without remorse at +having been false to his good wife. Then the Duc d’Orleans led Madame +d’Hocquetonville out by a garden door, so that she gained her +residence before her husband arrived here. + +“This,” said she, in the prince’s ear, as she passed the postern, +“will cost us all dear.” + +One year afterwards, in the old Rue du Temple, Raoul d’Hocquetonville, +who had quitted the service of the Duke for that of Jehan of Burgundy, +gave the king’s brother a blow on the head with a club, and killed +him, as everyone knows. In the same year died the Lady +d’Hocquetonville, having faded like a flower deprived of air and eaten +by a worm. Her good husband had engraved upon her marble tomb, which +is in one of the cloisters of Peronne, the following inscription-- + + + HERE LIES + BERTHA DE BOURGONGE + THE NOBLE AND COMELY WIFE + OF + RAOUL, SIRE DE HOCQUETONVILLE. + + ALAS! PRAY NOT FOR HER SOUL + SHE + BLOSSOMED AGAIN IN PARADISE + THE ELEVENTH DAY OF JANUARY + IN THE YEAR OF OUR LORD MCCCCVIII., + IN THE TWENTY-THIRD YEAR OF HER AGE, + LEAVING TWO SONS AND HER LORD SPOUSE + INCONSOLABLE. + + +This epitaph was written in elegant Latin, but for the convenience of +all it was necessary to translate it, although the word comely is +feeble beside that of formosa, which signifies beautiful in shape. The +Duke of Burgundy, called the Fearless, in whom previous to his death +the Sire d’Hocquetonville confided the troubles cemented with lime and +sand in his heart, used to say, in spite of his hardheartedness in +these matters, that this epitaph plunged him into a state of +melancholy for a month, and that among all the abominations of his +cousin of Orleans, there was one for which he would kill him over +again if the deed had not already been done, because this wicked man +had villianously defaced with vice the most divine virtue in the world +and had prostituted two noble hearts, the one by the other. When +saying this he would think of the lady of Hocquetonville and of his +own, which portrait had been unwarrantably placed in the cabinet where +his cousin placed the likeness of his wenches. + +The adventure was so extremely shocking, that when it was related by +the Count de Charolois to the Dauphin, afterwards Louis XI., the +latter would not allow his secretaries to publish it in his +collection, out of respect for his great uncle the Duke d’Orleans, and +for Dunois his old comrade, the son of the same. But the person of the +lady of Hocquetonville is so sublimely virtuous, so exquisitely +melancholy, that in her favour the present publication of this +narrative will be forgiven, in spite of the diabolical invention and +vengeance of Monseigneur d’Orleans. The just death of this rascal +nevertheless caused many serious rebellions, which finally Louis XI., +losing all patience, put down with fire and sword. + +This shows us that there is a woman at the bottom of everything, in +France as elsewhere, and that sooner or later we must pay for our +follies. + + + + THE DANGER OF BEING TOO INNOCENT + +The Lord of Montcontour was a brave soldier of Tours, who in honour of +the battle gained by the Duke of Anjou, afterwards our right glorious +king, caused to be built at Vouvray the castle thus named, for he had +borne himself most bravely in that affair, where he overcame the +greatest of heretics, and from that was authorised to take the name. +Now this said captain had two sons, good Catholics, of whom the eldest +was in favour at court. After the peace, which was concluded before +the stratagem arranged for St Bartholomew’s Day, the good man returned +to his manor, which was not ornamented as it is at the present day. +There he received the sad announcement of the death of his son, slain +in a duel by the lord of Villequier. The poor father was the more cut +up at this, as he had arranged a capital marriage for the said son +with a young lady of the male branch of Amboise. Now, by this death +most piteously inopportune, vanished all the future and advantages of +his family, of which he wished to make a great and noble house. With +this idea, he had put his other son in a monastery, under the guidance +and government of a man renowned for his holiness, who brought him up +in a Christian manner, according to the desire of his father, who +wished from high ambition to make him a cardinal of renown. For this +the good abbot kept the young man in a private house, and had to sleep +by his side in his cell, allowed no evil weeds to grow in his mind, +brought him up in purity of soul and true condition, as all priests +should be. This said clerk, when turned nineteen years, knew no other +love than the love of God, no other nature than that of the angels who +had not our carnal properties, in order that they may live in purity, +seeing that otherwise they would make good use of them. The which the +King on high, who wished to have His pages always proper, was afraid +of. He has done well, because His good little people cannot drink in +dram shops or riot in brothels as ours do. He is divinely served; but +then remember, He is Lord of all. Now in this plight the lord of +Montcontour determined to withdraw his second son from the cloister, +and invest him with the purple of the soldier and courtier, in the +place of the ecclesiastical purple; and determined to give him in +marriage to the maiden, affianced to the dead man, which was wisely +determined because wrapped round with continence and sobriety in all +ways as was the little monk, the bride would be as well used and +happier than she would have been with the elder, already well hauled +over, upset, and spoiled by the ladies of the court. The befrocked, +unfrocked, and very sheepish in his ways, followed the sacred wishes +of his father, and consented to the said marriage without knowing what +a wife, and--what is more curious--what a girl was. By chance, his +journey having been hindered by the troubles and marches of +conflicting parties, this innocent--more innocent than it is lawful +for a man to be innocent--only came to the castle of Montcontour the +evening before the wedding, which was performed with dispensations +bought in by the archbishopric of Tours. It is necessary here to +describe the bride. Her mother, long time a widow, lived in the House +of M. de Braguelongne, civil lieutenant of the Chatelet de Paris, +whose wife lived with lord of Lignieres, to the great scandal of the +period. But everyone then had so many joists in his own eye that he +had no right to notice the rafters in the eyes of others. Now, in all +families people go to perdition, without noticing their neighbours, +some at an amble, others at a gentle trot, many at a gallop, and a +small number walking, seeing that the road is all downhill. Thus in +these times the devil had many a good orgy in all things, since that +misconduct was fashionable. The poor old lady Virtue had retired +trembling, no one knew whither, but now here, now there, lived +miserably in company with honest women. + +In the most noble house Amboise there still lived the Dowager of +Chaumont, an old woman of well proved virtue, in whom had retired all +the religion and good conduct of this fine family. The said lady had +taken to her bosom, from the age of ten years, the little maiden who +is concerned in this adventure, and who had never caused Madame +Amboise the least anxiety, but left her free in her movements, and she +came to see her daughter once a year, when the court passed that way. +In spite of this high maternal reserve, Madame Amboise was invited to +her daughter’s wedding, and also the lord of Braguelongne, by the good +old soldier, who knew his people. But the dear dowager came not to +Montcontour, because she could not obtain relief from her sciatica, +her cold, nor the state of her legs, which gamboled no longer. Over +this the good woman cried copiously. It hurt her much to let go into +the dangers of the court and of life this gentle maiden, as pretty as +it was possible for a pretty girl to be, but she was obliged to give +her her wings. But it was not without promising her many masses and +orisons every evening for her happiness. And comforted a little, the +good old lady began to think that the staff of her old age was passing +into the hands of a quasi-saint, brought up to do good by the +above-mentioned abbot, with whom she was acquainted, the which had +aided considerably in the prompt exchange of spouses. At length, +embracing her with tears, the virtuous dowager made those last +recommendations to her that ladies make to young brides, as that she +ought to be respectful to his mother, and obey her husband in +everything. + +Then the maid arrived with a great noise, conducted by servants, +chamberlains, grooms, gentlemen, and people of the house of Chaumont, +so that you would have imagined her suite to be that of a cardinal +legate. So arrived the two spouses the evening before marriage. Then, +the feasting over, they were married with great pomp on the Lord’s +Day, a mass being said at the castle by the Bishop of Blois, who was a +great friend of the lord of Montcontour; in short, the feasting, the +dancing, and the festivities of all sorts lasted till the morning. But +on the stroke of midnight the bridesmaids went to put the bride to +bed, according to the custom of Touraine; and during this time they +kept quarrelling with the innocent husband, to prevent him going to +this innocent wife, who sided with them from ignorance. However, the +good lord of Montcontour interrupted the jokers and the wits, because +it was necessary that his son should occupy himself in well-doing. +Then went the innocent into the chamber of his wife, whom he thought +more beautiful than the Virgin Mary painted in Italian, Flemish, and +other pictures, at whose feet he had said his prayers. But you may be +sure he felt very much embarrassed at having so soon become a husband, +because he knew nothing of his business, and saw that certain forms +had to be gone through concerning which from great and modest reserve, +he had no time to question even his father, who had said sharply to +him-- + +“You know what you have to do; be valiant therein.” + +Then he saw the gentle girl who was given him, comfortably tucked up +in the bedclothes, terribly curious, her head buried under, but +hazarding a glance as at the point of a halberd, and saying to +herself-- + +“I must obey him.” + +And knowing nothing, she awaited the will of this slightly +ecclesiastical gentleman, to whom, in fact, she belonged. Seeing +which, the Chevalier de Montcontour came close to the bed, scratched +his ear, and knelt down, a thing in which he was expert. + +“Have you said your prayers?” said he. + +“No,” said she; “I have forgotten them. Do wish me to say them?” + +Then the young couple commenced the business of a housekeeping by +imploring God, which was not at all out of place. But unfortunately +the devil heard, and at once replied to their requests, God being much +occupied at that time with the new and abominable reformed religion. + +“What did they tell you to do?” said the husband. + +“To love you,” said she, in perfect innocence. + +“This has not been told to me; but I love you, I am ashamed to say, +better than I love God.” + +This speech did not alarm the bride. + +“I should like,” said the husband, “to repose myself in your bed, if +it will not disturb you.” + +“I will make room for you willingly because I am to submit myself to +you.” + +“Well,” said he, “don’t look at me again. I’m going to take my clothes +off, and come.” + +At this virtuous speech, the young damsel turned herself towards the +wall in great expectation, seeing that it was for the very first time +that she was about to find herself separated from a man by the +confines of a shirt only. Then came the innocent, gliding into bed, +and thus they found themselves, so to speak, united, but far from what +you can imagine what. Did you ever see a monkey brought from across +the seas, who for the first time is given a nut to crack? This ape, +knowing by high apish imagination how delicious is the food hidden +under the shell, sniffs and twists himself about in a thousand apish +ways, saying, I know not what, between his chattering jaws. Ah! with +what affection he studies it, with what study he examines it, in what +examination he holds it, then throws it, rolls and tosses it about +with passion, and often, when it is an ape of low extraction and +intelligence, leaves the nut. As much did the poor innocent who, +towards the dawn, was obliged to confess to his dear wife that, not +knowing how to perform his office, or what that office was, or where +to obtain the said office, it would be necessary for him to inquire +concerning it, and have help and aid. + +“Yes,” said she; “since, unhappily, I cannot instruct you.” + +In fact, in spite of their efforts, essay of all kinds--in spite of a +thousand things which the innocents invent, and which the wise in +matters of love know nothing about--the pair dropped off to sleep, +wretched at having been unable to discover the secret of marriage. But +they wisely agreed to say that they had done so. When the wife got up, +still a maiden, seeing that she had not been crowned, she boasted of +her night, and said she had the king of husbands, and went on with her +chattering and repartee as briskly as those who know nothing of these +things. Then everyone found the maiden a little too sharp, since for a +two-edged joke a lady of Roche-Corbon having incited a young maiden, +de la Bourdaisiere, who knew nothing of such things, to ask the +bride-- + +“How many loaves did your husband put in the oven?” + +“Twenty-four,” she replied. + +Now, as the bridegroom was roaming sadly about, thereby distressing +his wife, who followed him with her eyes, hoping to see his state of +innocence come to an end, the ladies believed that the joy of that +night had cost him dear, and that the said bride was already +regretting having so quickly ruined him. And at breakfast came the bad +jokes, which at that time were relished as excellent, one said that +the bride had an open expression; another, that there had been some +good strokes of business done that night in the castle; this one, that +the oven had been burned; that one that the two families have lost +something that night that they would never find again. And a thousand +other jokes, stupidities, and double meanings that, unfortunately the +husband did not understand. But on account of the great affluence of +the relations, neighbours, and others, no one had been to bed; all had +danced, rollicked, and frolicked, as is the custom at noble weddings. + +At this was quite contented my said Sieur de Braguelongne, upon whom +my lady of Amboise, excited by the thought of the good things which +were happening to her daughter, cast the glances of a falcon in +matters of gallant assignation. The poor Lieutenant civil, learned in +bailiffs’ men and sergeants, and who nabbed all the pickpockets and +scamps of Paris, pretended not to see his good fortune, although his +good lady required him to do. You may be sure this great lady’s love +weighed heavily upon him, so he only kept to her from a spirit of +justice, because it was not seeming in a lieutenant judiciary to +change his mistresses as often as a man at court, because he had under +his charge morals, the police and religion. This not withstanding his +rebellion must come to an end. On the day after the wedding a great +number of the guests departed; then Madame d’Amboise and Monsieur de +Braguelongne could go to bed, their guests having decamped. Sitting +down to supper, the lieutenant received a half-verbal summons to which +it was not becoming, as in legal matters, to oppose any reasons for +delay. + +During supper the said lady d’Amboise made more than a hundred little +signs in order to draw the good Braguelongne from the room where he +was with the bride, but out came instead of the lieutenant the +husband, to walk about in company with the mother of his sweet wife. +Now, in the mind of this innocent there had sprung up like a mushroom +an expedient--namely, to interrogate this good lady, whom he +considered discreet, for remembering the religious precepts of his +abbot, who had told him to inquire concerning all things of old people +expert in the ways of life, he thought of confiding his case to the +said lady d’Amboise. But he made first awkwardly and shyly certain +twists and turns, finding no terms in which to unfold his case. And +the lady was also perfectly silent, since she was outrageously struck +with the blindness, deafness and voluntary paralysis of the lord of +Braguelongne; and said to herself, walking by the side of this +delicate morsel, a young innocent of whom she did not think, little +imagining that this cat so well provided with young bacon could think +of old-- + +“This Ho, Ho, with a beard of flies’ legs, a flimsy, old, grey, +ruined, shaggy beard--beard without comprehension, beard without +shame, without any feminine respect--beard which pretends neither to +feel nor to hear, nor to see, a pared away beard, a beaten down, +disordered, gutted beard. May the Italian sickness deliver me from +this vile joker with a squashed nose, fiery nose, frozen nose, nose +without religion, nose dry as a lute table, pale nose, nose without a +soul, nose which is nothing but a shadow; nose which sees not, nose +wrinkled like the leaf of a vine; nose that I hate, old nose, nose +full of mud--dead nose. Where had my eyes been to attach myself to +truffle nose, to this old hulk that no longer knows his way? I give my +share to the devil of this juiceless beard, of this grey beard, of +this monkey face, of these old tatters, of this old rag of a man, of +this--I know not what; and I’ll take a young husband who’ll marry me +properly, and . . . and often--every day--and well--” + +In this wise train of thought was she when the innocent began his +anthem to this woman, so warmly excited, who at the first paraphrase +took fire in her understanding, like a piece of old touchwood from the +carbine of a soldier; and finding it wise to try her son-in-law, said +to herself-- + +“Ah! young beard, sweet scented! Ah! pretty new nose--fresh beard +--innocent nose--virgin appeared--nose full of joy it--beard of +springtime, small key of love!” + +She kept on talking the round of the garden, which was long, and then +arranged with the Innocent that, night come, he should sally forth +from his room and get into hers, where she engaged to render him more +learned than ever was his father. And the husband was well content, +and thanked Madame d’Amboise, begging her to say nothing of this +arrangement. + +During this time the good old Braguelongne had been growling and +saying to himself, “Old ha, ha! old ho, ho! May the plague take thee! +may a cancer eat thee!--worthless old currycomb! old slipper, too big +for the foot! old arquebus! ten year old codfish! old spider that +spins no more! old death with open eyes! old devil’s cradle! vile +lantern of an old town-crier too! Old wretch whose look kills! old +moustache of an old theriacler! old wretch to make dead men weep! old +organ-pedal! old sheath with a hundred knives! old church porch, worn +out by the knees! old poor-box in which everyone has dropped. I’ll +give all my future to be quit of thee!” As he finished these gentle +thoughts the pretty bride, who was thinking of her young husband’s +great sorrow at not knowing the particulars of that essential item of +marriage, and not having the slightest idea what it was, thought to +save him much tribulation, shame, and labour by instructing herself. +And she counted upon much astonishing and rejoicing him the next night +when she should say to him, teaching him his duty, “That’s the thing +my love!” Brought up in great respect of old people by her dear +dowager, she thought of inquiring of this good man in her sweetest +manner to distil for her the sweet mysteries of the commerce. Now, the +lord of Braguelongne, ashamed of being lost in sad contemplation of +this evening’s work, and of saying nothing to his gay companion, put +this summary interrogation to the fair bride--“If she was not happy +with so good a young husband--” + +“He is very good,” said she. + +“Too good, perhaps,” said the lieutenant smiling. + +To be brief, matters were so well arranged between them that the Lord +engaged to spare no pains to enlighten the understanding of Madame +d’Amboise’s daughter-in-law, who promised to come and study her lesson +in his room. The said lady d’Amboise pretended after supper to play +terrible music in a high key to Monsieur Braguelongne saying that he +had no gratitude for the blessings she had brought him--her position, +her wealth, her fidelity, etc. In fact, she talked for half an hour +without having exhausted a quarter of her ire. From this a hundred +knives were drawn between them, but they kept the sheaths. Meanwhile +the spouses in bed were arranging to themselves how to get away, in +order to please each other. Then the innocent began to say he fell +quite giddy, he knew not from what, and wanted to go into the open +air. And his maiden wife told him to take a stroll in the moonlight. +And then the good fellow began to pity his wife in being left alone a +moment. At her desire, both of them at different times left their +conjugal couch and came to their preceptors, both very impatient, as +you can well believe; and good instruction was given to them. How? I +cannot say, because everyone has his own method and practice, and of +all sciences this is the most variable in principle. You may be sure +that never did scholars receive more gayly the precepts of any +language, grammar, or lessons whatsoever. And the two spouses returned +to their nest, delighted at being able to communicate to each other +the discoveries of their scientific peregrinations. + +“Ah, my dear,” said the bride, “you already know more than my master.” + +From these curious tests came their domestic joy and perfect fidelity; +because immediately after their entry into the married state they +found out how much better each of them was adapted for love than +anyone else, their masters included. Thus for the remainder of their +days they kept to the legitimate substance of their own persons; and +the lord of Montcontour said in old age to his friends-- + +“Do like me, be cuckolds in the blade, and not in the sheath.” + +Which is the true morality of the conjugal condition. + + + + THE DEAR NIGHT OF LOVE + +In that winter when commenced that first taking up of arms by those of +the religion, which was called the Riot of Amboise, an advocate, named +Avenelles, lent his house, situated in the Rue des Marmousets for the +interviews and conventions of the Huguenots, being one of them, +without knowing, however, that the Prince of Conde, La Regnaudie, and +others, intended to carry off the king. + +The said Avenelles wore a nasty red beard, as shiny as a stick of +liquorice, and was devilishly pale, as are all the rogues who take +refuge in the darkness of the law; in short, the most evil-minded +advocate that has ever lived, laughing at the gallows, selling +everybody, and a true Judas. According to certain authors of a great +experience in subtle rogues he was in this affair, half knave, half +fool, as it is abundantly proved by this narrative. This procureur had +married a very lovely lady of Paris, of whom he was jealous enough to +kill her for a pleat in the sheets, for which she could not account, +which would have been wrong, because honest creases are often met +with. But she folded her clothes very well, so there’s the end of the +matter. Be assured that, knowing the murderous and evil nature of this +man, his wife was faithful enough to him, always ready, like a +candlestick, arranged for her duty like a chest which never moves, and +opens to order. Nevertheless, the advocate had placed her under the +guardianship and pursuing eye of an old servant, a duenna as ugly as a +pot without a handle, who had brought up the Sieur Avenelles, and was +very fond of him. His poor wife, for all pleasure in her cold domestic +life, used to go to the Church of St. Jehan, on the Place de Greve, +where, as everyone knows, the fashionable world was accustomed to +meet; and while saying her paternosters to God she feasted her eyes +upon all these gallants, curled, adorned, and starched, young, comely, +and flitting about like true butterflies, and finished by picking out +from among the lot a good gentleman, lover of the queen-mother, and a +handsome Italian, with whom she was smitten because he was in the May +of his age, nobly dressed, a graceful mover, brave in mien, and was +all that a lover should be to bestow a heart full of love upon an +honest married woman too tightly squeezed by the bonds of matrimony, +which torment her, and always excite her to unharness herself from the +conjugal yoke. And you can imagine that the young gentleman grew to +admire Madame, whose silent love spoke secretly to him, without either +the devil or themselves knowing how. Both one and the other had their +correspondence of love. At first, the advocate’s wife adorned herself +only to come to church, and always came in some new sumptuosity; and +instead of thinking of God, she made God angry by thinking of her +handsome gentleman, and leaving her prayers, she gave herself up to +the fire which consumed her heart, and moistened her eyes, her lips, +and everything, seeing that this fire always dissolves itself in +water; and often said to herself: “Ha! I would give my life for a +single embrace with this pretty lover who loves me.” Often, too, in +place of saying her litanies to Madame the Virgin, she thought in her +heart: “To feel the glorious youth of this gentle lover, to have the +full joys of love, to taste all in one moment, little should I mind +the flames into which the heretics are thrown.” Then the gentleman +gazing at the charms of this good wife, and her burning blushes when +he glanced at her, came always close to her stool, and addressed to +her those requests which the ladies understand so well. Then he said +aside to himself: “By the double horn on my father, I swear to have +the woman, though it cost me my life.” + +And when the duenna turned her head, the two lovers squeezed, pressed, +breathed, ate, devoured, and kissed each other by a look which would +have set light to the match of a musketeer, if the musketeer had been +there. It was certain that a love so far advanced in the heart should +have an end. The gentleman dressed as a scholar of Montaign, began to +regale the clerks of the said Avenelles, and to joke in the company, +in order to learn the habits of the husband, his hours of absence, his +journeys, and everything, watching for an opportunity to stick his +horns on. And this was how, to his injury, the opportunity occurred. +The advocate, obliged to follow the course of this conspiracy, and, in +case of failure, intending to revenge himself upon the Guises, +determined to go to Blois, where the court then was in great danger of +being carried off. Knowing this, the gentleman came first to the town +of Blois, and there arranged a master-trap, into which the Sieur +Avenelles should fall, in spite of his cunning, and not come out until +steeped in a crimson cuckoldom. The said Italian, intoxicated with +love, called together all his pages and vassals, and posted them in +such a manner that on the arrival of the advocate, his wife, and her +duenna, it was stated to them at all the hostelries at which they +wished to put up that the hostelry being full, in consequence of the +sojourn of the court, they must go elsewhere. Then the gentleman made +such an arrangement with the landlord of the Soleil Royal, that he had +the whole of the house, and occupied, without any of the usual +servants of the place remaining there. For greater security, my lord +sent the said master and his people into the country, and put his own +in their places, so that the advocate should know nothing of this +arrangement. Behold my good gentleman who lodges his friends to come +to the court in the hostelry, and for himself keeps a room situated +above those in which he intends to put his lovely mistress, her +advocate, and the duenna, not without first having cut a trap in the +boards. And his steward being charged to play the part of the +innkeeper, his pages dressed like guests, and his female servants like +servants of the inn, he waited for spies to convey to him the dramatis +personae of this farce--viz., wife, husband, and duenna, none of whom +failed to come. Seeing the immense wealth of the great lords, +merchants, warriors, members of the service, and others, brought by +the sojourn of the young king, of two queens, the Guises, and all the +court, no one had a right to be astonished or to talk of the roguish +trap, or of the confusion come to the Soleil Royal. Behold now the +Sieur Avenelles, on his arrival, bundled about, he, his wife and the +duenna from inn to inn, and thinking themselves very fortunate in +being received at the Soleil Royal, where the gallant was getting +warm, and love was burning. The advocate, being lodged, the lover +walked about the courtyard, watching and waiting for a glance from the +lady; and he did not have to wait very long, since the fair Avenelles, +looking soon into the court, after the custom of the ladies, there +recognised not without great throbbing of the heart, her gallant and +well-beloved gentleman. At that she was very happy; and if by a lucky +chance both had been alone together for an ounce of time, that good +gentleman would not have had to wait for his good fortune, so burning +was she from head to foot. + +“How warm it is in the rays of this lord,” said she, meaning to say +sun, since it was then shining fiercely. + +Hearing this, the advocate sprang to the window, and beheld my +gentleman. + +“Ha! you want lords, my dear, do you?” said the advocate, dragging her +by the arm, and throwing her like one of his bags on to the bed. +“Remember that if I have a pencase at my side instead of a sword, I +have a penknife in this pencase, and that penknife will go into your +heart on the least suspicion of conjugal impropriety. I believe I have +seen that gentleman somewhere.” + +The advocate was so terribly spiteful that the lady rose, and said to +him-- + +“Well, kill me. I am not afraid of deceiving you. Never touch me +again, after having thus menaced me. And from to-day I shall never +think of sleeping save with a lover more gentle than you are.” + +“There, there, my little one!” said the advocate, surprised. “We have +gone a little too far. Kiss me, chick-a-biddy, and forgive me.” + +“I will neither kiss nor pardon you,” said she “You are a wretch!” + +Avenelles, enraged, wished to take by force that which his wife denied +him, and from this resulted a combat, from which the husband emerged +clawed all over. But the worst of it was, that the advocate, covered +with scratches, being expected by the conspirators, who were holding a +council, was obliged to quit his good wife, leaving her to the care of +the old woman. + +The knave having departed, the gentleman putting one of his servants +to keep watch at the corner of the street, mounts to his blessed trap, +lifts it noiselessly, and calls the lady by a gentle psit! psit! which +was understood by the heart, which generally understands everything. +The lady lifts her head, and sees her pretty lover four flea jumps +above her. Upon a sign, she takes hold of two cords of black silk, to +which were attached loops, through which she passes her arms, and in +the twinkling of an eye is translated by two pulleys from her bed +through the ceiling into the room above, and the trap closing as it +has opened, left the old duenna in a state of great flabbergastation, +when, turning her head, she neither saw robe nor woman, and perceived +that the women had been robbed. How? by whom? in what way? where? +--Presto! Foro! Magico! As much knew the alchemists at their furnaces +reading Herr Trippa. Only the old woman knew well the crucible, and +the great work--the one was cuckoldom, and the other the private +property of Madame Advocate. She remained dumbfounded, watching for +the Sieur Avenelles--as well say death, for in his rage he would +attack everything, and the poor duenna could not run away, because +with great prudence the jealous man had taken the keys with him. At +first sight, Madame Avenelles found a dainty supper, a good fire in +the grate, but a better in the heart of her lover, who seized her, and +kissed her, with tears of joy, on the eyes first of all, to thank them +for their sweet glances during devotion at the church of St Jehan en +Greve. Nor did the glowing better half of the lawyer refuse her little +mouth to his love, but allowed herself to be properly pressed, adored, +caressed, delighting to be properly pressed, admirably adored, and +calorously caressed after the manner of eager lovers. And both agreed +to be all in all to each other the whole night long, no matter what +the result might be, she counting the future as a fig in comparison +with the joys of this night, he relying upon his cunning and his sword +to obtain many another. In short, both of them caring little for life, +because at one stroke they consummated a thousand lives, enjoyed with +each other a thousand delights, giving to each other the double of +their own--believing, he and she, that they were falling into an +abyss, and wishing to roll there closely clasped, hurling all the love +of their souls with rage in one throw. Therein they loved each other +well. Thus they knew not love, the poor citizens, who live +mechanically with their good wives, since they know not the fierce +beating of the heart, the hot gush of life, and the vigorous clasp as +of two young lovers, closely united and glowing with passion, who +embrace in face of the danger of death. Now the youthful lady and the +gentleman ate little supper, but retired early to rest. Let us leave +them there, since no words, except those of paradise unknown to us, +would describe their delightful agonies, and agonising delights. +Meanwhile, the husband, so well cuckolded that all memory of marriage +had been swept away by love,--the said Avenelles found himself in a +great fix. To the council of the Huguenots came the Prince of Conde, +accompanied by all the chiefs and bigwigs, and there it was resolved +to carry off the queen-mother, the Guises, the young king, the young +queen, and to change the government. This becoming serious, the +advocate seeing his head at stake, did not feel the ornaments being +planted there, and ran to divulge the conspiracy to the cardinal of +Lorraine, who took the rogue to the duke, his brother, and all three +held a consultation, making fine promises to the Sieur Avenelles, whom +with the greatest difficulty they allowed, towards midnight, to +depart, at which hour he issued secretly from the castle. At this +moment the pages of the gentleman and all his people were having a +right jovial supper in honour of the fortuitous wedding of their +master. Now, arriving at the height of the festivities, in the middle +of the intoxication and joyous huzzahs, he was assailed with jeers, +jokes, and laughter that turned him sick when he came into his room. +The poor servant wished to speak, but the advocate promptly planted a +blow in her stomach, and by a gesture commanded her to be silent. Then +he felt in his valise, and took therefrom a good poniard. While he was +opening and shutting it, a frank, naive, joyous, amorous, pretty, +celestial roar of laughter, followed by certain words of easy +comprehension, came down through the trap. The cunning advocate, +blowing out his candle, saw through the cracks in the boards caused by +the shrinking of the door a light, which vaguely explained the mystery +to him, for he recognised the voice of his wife, and that of the +combatant. The husband took the duenna by the arm, and went softly at +the stairs searching for the door of the chamber in which were the +lovers, and did not fail to find it. Fancy! that like a horrid, rude +advocate, he burst open the door, and with one spring was on the bed, +in which he surprised his wife, half dressed, in the arms of the +gentleman. + +“Ah!” said she. + +The lover having avoided the blow, tried to snatch the poniard from +the hands of the knave, who held it firmly. + +Now, in this struggle of life and death, the husband finding himself +hindered by his lieutenant, who clutched him tightly with his fingers +of iron, and bitten by his wife, who tore away at him with a will, +gnawing him as a dog gnaws a bone, he thought instantly of a better +way to gratify his rage. Then the devil, newly horned, maliciously +ordered, in his patois, the servants to tie the lovers with the silken +cords of the trap, and throwing the poniard away, he helped the duenna +to make them fast. And the thing thus done in a moment, he rammed some +linen into their mouths to stop their cries, and ran to his good +poniard without saying a word. At this moment there entered several +officers of the Duke of Guise, whom during the struggle no one had +heard turning the house upside down, looking for the Sieur Avenelles. +These soldiers, suddenly warned by the cries of the pages of the lord, +bound, gagged and half killed, threw themselves between the man with +the poniard and the lovers, disarmed him, and accomplished their +mission by arresting him, and marching him off to the castle prison, +he, his wife, and the duenna. At the same time the people of the +Guises, recognising one of their master’s friends, with whom at this +moment the queen was most anxious to consult, and whom they were +enjoined to summon to the council, invited him to come with them. Then +the gentleman soon untied, dressing himself, said aside to the chief +of the escort, that on his account, for the love for him, he should be +careful to keep the husband away from his wife, promising him his +favour, good advancement, and even a few deniers, if he were careful +to obey him on this point. And for greater surety he explained to him +the why and the wherefore of the affair, adding that if the husband +found himself within reach of this fair lady he would give her for +certain a blow in the belly from which she would never recover. +Finally he ordered him to place the lady in the jail of the castle, in +a pleasant place level with gardens, and the advocate in a safe +dungeon, not without chaining him hand and foot. The which the said +office promised, and arranged matters according to the wish of the +gentleman, who accompanied the lady as far as the courtyard of the +castle, assuring her that this business would make her a widow, and +that he would perhaps espouse her in legitimate marriage. In fact, the +Sieur Avenelles was thrown into a damp dungeon, without air, and his +pretty wife placed in a room above him, out of consideration for her +lover, who was the Sieur Scipion Sardini, a noble of Lucca, +exceedingly rich, and, as has been before stated, a friend of Queen +Catherine de Medici, who at that time did everything in concert with +the Guises. Then he went up quickly to the queen’s apartments, where a +great secret council was then being held, and there the Italian +learned what was going on, and the danger of the court. Monseigneur +Sardini found the privy counsellors much embarrassed and surprised at +this dilemma, but he made them all agree, telling them to turn it to +their own advantage; and to his advice was due the clever idea of +lodging the king in the castle of Amboise, in order to catch the +heretics there like foxes in a bag, and there to slay them all. +Indeed, everyone knows how the queen-mother and Guises dissimulated, +and how the Riot of Amboise terminated. This is not, however, the +subject of the present narrative. When in the morning everyone had +quitted the chamber of the queen-mother, where everything had been +arranged, Monseigneur Sardini, in no way oblivious of his love for the +fair Avenelles, although he was at the time deeply smitten with the +lovely Limeuil, a girl belonging to the queen-mother, and her relation +by the house of La Tour de Turenne, asked why the good Judas had been +caged. Then the Cardinal of Lorraine told him his intention was not in +any way to harm the rogue, but that fearing his repentance, and for +greater security of his silence until the end of the affair, he put +him out of the way, and would liberate him at the proper time. + +“Liberate him!” said the Luccanese. “Never! Put him in a sack, and +throw the old black gown into the Loire. In the first place I know +him; he is not the man to forgive you his imprisonment, and will +return to the Protestant Church. Thus this will be a work pleasant to +God, to rid him of a heretic. Then no one will know your secrets, and +not one of his adherents will think of asking you what has become of +him, because he is a traitor. Let me procure the escape of his wife +and arrange the rest; I will take it off your hands.” + +“Ha, ha!” said the cardinal; “you give good council. Now I will, +before distilling your advice, have them both more securely guarded. +Hi, there!” + +Came an officer of police, who was ordered to let no person whoever he +might be, communicate with the two prisoners. Then the cardinal begged +Sardini to say at his hotel that the said advocate had departed from +Blois to return to his causes in Paris. The men charged with the +arrest of the advocate had received a verbal order to treat him as a +man of importance, so they neither stripped nor robbed him. Now the +advocate had kept thirty gold crowns in his purse, and resolved to +lose them all to assure his vengeance, and proved by good arguments to +the jailers that it was allowable for him to see his wife, on whom he +doted, and whose legitimate embrace he desired. Monseigneur Sardini, +fearing for his mistress the danger of the proximity of this red +learned rogue, and for her having great fear of certain evils, +determined to carry her off in the night, and put her in a place of +safety. Then he hired some boatmen and also their boat, placing them +near the bridge, and ordered three of his most active servants to file +the bars of the cell, seize the lady, and conduct her to the wall of +the gardens where he would await her. + +These preparations being made, and good files bought, he obtained an +interview in the morning with the queen-mother, whose apartments were +situated above the stronghold in which lay the said advocate and his +wife, believing that the queen would willingly lend herself to this +flight. Presently he was received by her, and begged her not to think +it wrong that, at the instigation of the cardinal and of the Duke of +Guise, he should deliver this lady; and besides this, urged her very +strongly to tell the cardinal to throw the man into the water. To +which the queen said “Amen.” Then the lover sent quickly to his lady a +letter in a plate of cucumbers, to advise her of her approaching +widowhood, and the hour of flight, with all of which was the fair +citizen well content. Then at dusk the soldiers of the watch being got +out of the way by the queen, who sent them to look at a ray of the +moon, which frightened her, behold the servants raised the grating, +and caught the lady, who came quickly enough, and was led through the +house to Monseigneur Sardini. + +But the postern closed, and the Italian outside with the lady, behold +the lady throw aside her mantle, see the lady change into an advocate, +and see my said advocate seize his cuckolder by the collar, and half +strangle him, dragging him towards the water to throw him to the +bottom of the Loire; and Sardini began to defend himself, to shout, +and to struggle, without being able, in spite of his dagger, to shake +off this devil in long robes. Then he was quiet, falling into a slough +under the feet of the advocate, whom he recognised through the mists +of this diabolical combat, and by the light of the moon, his face +splashed with the blood of his wife. The enraged advocate quitted the +Italian, believing him to be dead, and also because servants armed +with torches, came running up. But he had to jump into the boat and +push off in great haste. + +Thus poor Madame Avenelles died alone, since Monseigneur Sardini, +badly strangled, was found, and revived from this murder; and later, +as everyone knows, married the fair Limeuil after this sweet girl had +been brought to bed in the queen’s cabinet--a great scandal, which +from friendship the queen-mother wished to conceal, and which from +great love Sardini, to whom Catherine gave the splendid estate of +Chaumont-sur-Loire, and also the castle, covered with marriage. + +But he had been so brutally used by the husband, that he did not make +old bones, and the fair Limeuil was left a widow in her springtime. In +spite of his misdeeds the advocate was not searched after. He was +cunning enough eventually to get included in the number of those +conspirators who were not prosecuted, and returned to the Huguenots, +for whom he worked hard in Germany. + +Poor Madame Avenelles, pray for her soul! for she was hurled no one +knew where, and had neither the prayers of the Church nor Christian +burial. Alas! shed a tear for her, ye ladies lucky in your loves. + + + + THE SERMON OF THE MERRY VICAR OF MEUDON + +When, for the last time, came Master Francis Rabelais, to the court of +King Henry the Second of the name, it was in that winter when the will +of nature compelled him to quit for ever his fleshly garb, and live +forever in his writings resplendent with that good philosophy to which +we shall always be obliged to return. The good man had, at that time, +counted as nearly as possible seventy flights of the swallow. His +Homeric head was but scantily ornamented with hair, but his beard was +still perfect in its flowing majesty; there was still an air of +spring-time in his quiet smile, and wisdom on his ample brow. He was a +fine old man according to the statement of those who had the happiness +to gaze upon his face, to which Socrates and Aristophanes, formerly +enemies, but then become friends, contributed their features. Hearing +his last hours tinkling in his ears he determined to go and pay his +respects to the king of France, because he was having just at that +time arrived in his castle of Tournelles, the good man’s house being +situated in the gardens of St Paul, was not a stone’s throw distant +from the court. He soon found himself in the presence of Queen +Catherine, Madame Diana, whom she received from motives of policy, the +king, the constable, the cardinals of Lorraine and Bellay, Messieurs +de Guise, the Sieur de Birague, and other Italians, who at that time +stood well at court in consequence of the king’s protection; the +admiral, Montgomery, the officers of the household, and certain poets, +such as Melin de St. Gelays, Philibert de l’Orme, and the Sieur +Brantome. + +Perceiving the good man, the king, who knew his wit, said to him, with +a smile, after a short conversation-- + +“Hast thou ever delivered a sermon to thy parishioners of Meudon?” + +Master Rabelais, thinking that the king was joking, since he had never +troubled himself further about his post than to collect the revenues +accruing from it, replied-- + +“Sire, my listeners are in every place, and my sermon heard throughout +Christendom.” + +Then glancing at all the courtiers, who, with the exception of +Messieurs du Bellay and Chatillon, considered him to be nothing but a +learned merry-andrew, while he was really the king of all wits, and a +far better king than he whose crown only the courtiers venerate, there +came into the good man’s head the malicious idea to philosophically +pump over their heads, just as it pleased Gargantua to give the +Parisians a bath from the turrets of Notre Dame, so he added-- + +“If you are in a good humour, sire, I can regale you with a capital +little sermon, always appropriate, and which I have kept under the +tympanum of my left ear in order to deliver it in a fit place, by way +of an aulic parable.” + +“Gentlemen,” said the king, “Master Francis Rabelais has the floor of +the court, and our salvation is concerned in his speech. Be silent, I +pray you, and give heed; he is fruitful in evangelical drolleries.” + +“Sire,” said the good vicar, “I commence.” + +All the courtiers became silent, and arranged themselves into a +circle, pliant as osiers before the father of Pantagruel who unfolded +to them the following tale, in words the illustrious eloquence of +which it is impossible to equal. But since this tale has only been +verbally handed down to us, the author will be pardoned if he write +after his own fashion. + +“In his old age Gargantua took to strange habits, which greatly +astonished his household, but the which he was forgiven since he was +seven hundred and four years old, in spite of the statement of St. +Clement of Alexandra in his Stromates, which makes out that at this +time he was a quarter of a day less, which matters little to us. Now +this paternal master, seeing that everything was going wrong in his +house, and that every one was fleecing him, conceived a great fear +that he would in his last moments be stripped of everything, and +resolved to invent a more perfect system of management in his domains, +and he did well. In a cellar of Gargantuan abode he hid away a fine +heap of red wheat, beside twenty jars of mustard and several +delicacies, such as plums and Tourainian rolls, articles of a dessert, +Olivet cheese, goat cheese, and others, well known between Langeais +and Loches, pots of butter, hare pasties, preserved ducks, pigs’ +trotters in bran, boatloads and pots full of crushed peas, pretty +little pots of Orleans quince preserve, hogsheads of lampreys, +measures of green sauce, river game, such as francolins, teal, +sheldrake, heron, and flamingo, all preserved in sea-salt, dried +raisins, tongues smoked in the manner invented by Happe-Mousche, his +celebrated ancestor, and sweetstuff for Garga-melle on feast days; and +a thousand other things which are detailed in the records of the +Ripuary laws and in certain folios of the Capitularies, Pragmatics, +royal establishments, ordinances and institutions of the period. To be +brief, the good man, putting his spectacles on his nose or his nose in +his spectacles, looked about for a fine flying dragon or unicorn to +whom the guard of this precious treasure could be committed. With this +thought in his head he strolled about the gardens. He did not desire a +Coquecigrue, because the Egyptians were afraid of them, as it appeared +in the Hieroglyphics. He dismissed the idea of engaging the legions of +Caucquemarres, because emperors disliked them and also the Romans +according to that sulky fellow Tacitus. He rejected the Pechrocholiers +in council assembled, the Magi, the Druids, the legion or Papimania, +and the Massorets, who grew like quelch-grass and over-ran all the +land, as he had been told by his son, Pantagruel, on his return from +his journey. The good man calling to mind old stories, had no +confidence in any race, and if it had been permissible would have +implored the Creator for a new one, but not daring to trouble Him +about such trifles, did not know whom to choose, and was thinking that +his wealth would be a great trouble to him, when he met in his path a +pretty little shrew-mouse of the noble race of shrew-mice, who bear +all gules on an azure ground. By the gods! be sure that it was a +splendid animal, with the finest tail of the whole family, and was +strutting about in the sun like a brave shrew-mouse. It was proud of +having been in this world since the Deluge, according to +letters-patent of indisputable nobility, registered by the parliament +of the universe, since it appears from the Ecumenical Inquiry a +shrew-mouse was in Noah’s Ark.” Here Master Alcofribas raised his cap +slightly, and said, reverently, “It was Noah, my lords, who planted +the vine, and first had the honour of getting drunk upon the juice of +its fruit.” + +“For it is certain,” he continued, “that a shrew-mouse was in the +vessel from which we all came; but the men have made bad marriages; +not so the mice, because they are more jealous of their coat of arms +than any other animals, and would not receive a field-mouse among +them, even though he had the especial gift of being able to convert +grains of sand to fine fresh hazelnuts. This fine gentlemanly +character so pleased the good Gargantua, that he decided to give the +post of watching his granaries to the shrew-mouse, with the most ample +of powers--of justice, comittimus, missi dominici, clergy, +men-at-arms, and all. The shrew-mouse promised faithfully to +accomplish his task, and to do his duty as a loyal beast, on condition +that he lived on a heap of grain, which Gargantua thought perfectly +fair. The shrew-mouse began to caper about in his domain as happy as a +prince who is happy, reconnoitering his immense empire of mustard, +countries of sugar, provinces of ham, duchies of raisins, counties of +chitterlings, and baronies of all sorts, scrambling on to the heap of +grain and frisking his tail against everything. To be brief, everywhere +was the shrew-mouse received with honour by the pots, which kept a +respectful silence, except two golden tankards, which knocked against +each other like the bells of a church ringing a tocsin, at which he was +much pleased, and thanked them, right and left, by a nod of the head, +while promenading in the rays of the sun, which were illuminating his +domain. Therein so splendidly did the brown colour of his hair shine +forth, that one would have thought him a northern king in his sable +furs. After his twists, turns, jumps and capers, he munched two grains +of corn, sat upon the heap like a king in full court, and fancied +himself the most illustrious of shrew-mice. At this moment they came +from their accustomed holes the gentlemen of the night-prowling court, +who scamper with their little feet across the floors; these gentlemen +being the rats, mice, and other gnawing, thieving, and crafty animals, +of whom the citizens and housewives complain. When they saw the +shrew-mouse they took fright, and all remained shyly at the threshold +of their dens. Among these common people, in spite of the danger, one +old infidel of the trotting, nibbling race of mice, advanced a little, +and putting his nose in the air, had the courage to stare my lord +shrew-mouse full in the face, although the latter was proudly squatted +upon his rump, with his tail in the air; and he came to the conclusion +that he was a devil, from whom nothing but scratches were to be gained. +And from these facts, Gargantua, in order that the high authority of +his lieutenant might be universally known by all of the shrew-mice, +cats, weasels, martins, field-mice, mice, rats, and other bad characters +of the same kidney, had lightly dipped his muzzle, pointed as a larding +pin, in oil of musk, which all shrew-mice have since inherited, +because this one, is spite of the sage advice of Gargantua, rubbed +himself against others of his breed. From this sprang the troubles in +the Muzaraignia of which I will give you a good account in an +historical book when I get an opportunity. + +“Then an old mouse, or rat--the rabbis of Talmud have not yet agreed +concerning the species--perceiving by this perfume that this +shrew-mouse was appointed to guard the grain of Gargantua, and had +been sprinkled with virtues, invested with full powers, and armed at +all points, was alarmed lest he should no longer be able to live, +according to the custom of mice, upon the meats, morsels, crusts, +crumbs, leavings, bits, atoms, and fragments of this Canaan of rats. +In this dilemma the good mouse, artful as an old courtier who had +lived under two regencies and three kings, resolved to try the mettle +of the shrew-mouse, and devote himself to the salvation of the jaws of +his race. This would have been a laudable thing in a man, but it was +far more so in a mouse, belonging to a tribe who live for themselves +alone, barefacedly and shamelessly, and in order to gratify themselves +would defile a consecrated wafer, gnaw a priest’s stole without shame, +and would drink out of a Communion cup, caring nothing for God. The +mouse advanced with many a bow and scrape, and the shrew-mouse let him +advance rather near--for, to tell the truth, these animals are +naturally short-sighted. Then this Curtius of nibblers made his little +speech, not the jargon of common mice, but in the polite language of +shrew-mice:--‘My lord, I have heard with much concern of your glorious +family, of which I am one of the most devoted slaves. I know the +legend of your ancestors, who were thought much of by the ancient +Egyptians, who held them in great veneration, and adored them like +other sacred birds. Nevertheless, your fur robe is so royally +perfumed, and its colour is so splendiferously tanned, that I am +doubtful if I recognise you as belonging to this race, since I have +never seen any of them so gloriously attired. However you have +swallowed the grain after the antique fashion. Your proboscis is a +proboscis of sapience; you have kicked like a learned shrew-mouse; but +if you are a true shrew-mouse, you should have in I know not what part +of your ear--I know not what special auditorial channel, which I know +not, what wonderful door, closes I know not how, and I know not with +what movements, by your secret commands to give you, I know not why, +licence not to listen to I know not what things, which would be +displeasing to you, on account of the special and peculiar perfection +of your faculty of hearing everything, which would often pain you.” + +“‘True,’ said the shrew-mouse, ‘the door has just fallen. I hear +nothing!’ + +“‘Ah, I see,’ said the old rogue. + +“And he made for the pile of corn, from which he commenced to take his +store for the winter. + +“‘Did you hear anything?’ asked he. + +“‘I hear the pit-a-pat of my heart.’ + +“‘Kouick!’ cried all the mice; ‘we shall be able to hoodwink him.’ + +“The shrew-mouse, fancying that he had met with a faithful vassal, +opened the trap of his musical orifice, and heard the noise of the +grain going towards the hole. Then, without having recourse to +forfeiture, the justice of commissaries, he sprang upon the old mouse +and squeezed him to death. Glorious death! for the hero died in the +thick of the grain, and was canonised as a martyr. The shrew-mouse +took him by the ears and placed him on the door the granary, after the +fashion of the Ottoman Porte, where my good Panurge was within an ace +of being spitted. At the cries of the dying wretch the rats, mice, and +others made for their holes in great haste. When the night had fallen +they came to the cellar, convoked for the purpose of holding a council +to consider public affairs; to which meeting, in virtue of the +Papyrian and other laws, their lawful wives were admitted. The rats +wished to pass before the mice, and serious quarrels about precedence +nearly spoiled everything; but a big rat gave his arm to a mouse, and +the gaffer rats and gammer mice being paired off in the same way, all +were soon seated on their rumps, tails in air, muzzles stretched, +whiskers stiff, and their eyes brilliant as those of a falcon. Then +commenced a deliberation, which finished up with insults and a +confusion worthy of an ecumenical council of holy fathers. One said +this and another said that, and a cat passing by took fright and ran +away, hearing these strange noises: ‘Bou, bou, grou, ou, ou, houic, +houic, briff, briffnac, nac, nac, fouix, fouix, trr, trr, trr, trr, +za, za, zaaa, brr, brr, raaa, ra, ra, ra, fouix!’ so well blended +together in a babel of sound, that a council at the Hotel de Ville +could not have made a greater hubbub. During this tempest a little +mouse, who was not old enough to enter parliament, thrust through a +chink her inquiring snout, the hair on which was as downy as that of +all mice, too downy to be caught. As the tumult increased, by degrees +her body followed her nose, until she came to the hoop of a cask, +against which she so dextrously squatted that she might have been +mistaken for a work of art carved in antique bas-relief. Lifting his +eyes to heaven to implore a remedy for the misfortunes of the state, +an old rat perceived this pretty mouse, so gentle and shapely, and +declared that the State might be saved by her. All the muzzles turned +to this Lady of Good Help, became silent, and agreed to let her loose +upon the shrew-mouse, and in spite of the anger of certain envious +mice, she was triumphantly marched around the cellar, where, seeing +her walk mincingly, mechanically move her tail, shake her cunning +little head, twitch her diaphanous ears, and lick with her little red +tongue the hairs just sprouting on her cheeks, the old rats fell in +love with her and wagged their wrinkled, white-whiskered jaws with +delight at the sight of her, as did formerly the old men of Troy, +admiring the lovely Helen, returning from her bath. Then the maiden +was conducted to the granary, with instructions to make a conquest of +the shrew-mouse’s heart, and save the fine red grain, as did formerly +the fair Hebrew, Esther, for the chosen people, with the Emperor +Ahasuerus, as is written in the master-book, for Bible comes from the +Greek word biblos, as if to say the only book. The mouse promised to +deliver the granaries, for by a lucky chance she was the queen of +mice, a fair, plump, pretty little mouse, the most delicate little +lady that ever scampered merrily across the floors, scratched between +the walls, and gave utterance to little cries of joy at finding nuts, +meal, and crumbs of bread in her path; a true fay, pretty and playful, +with an eye clear as crystal, a little head, sleek skin, amorous body, +rosy feet, and velvet tail--a high born mouse and a polished speaker +with a natural love of bed and idleness--a merry mouse, more cunning +than an old Doctor of Sorbonne fed on parchment, lively, white +bellied, streaked on the back, with sweet moulded breasts, pearl-white +teeth, and of a frank open nature--in fact, a true king’s morsel.” + +This portraiture was so bold--the mouse appearing to have been the +living image of Madame Diana, then present--that the courtiers stood +aghast. Queen Catherine smiled, but the king was in no laughing +humour. But Rabelais went on without paying any attention to the winks +of the Cardinal Bellay and de Chatillon, who were terrified for the +good man. + +“The pretty mouse,” said he, continuing, “did not beat long about the +bush, and from the first moment that she trotted before the +shrew-mouse, she had enslaved him for ever by her coquetries, +affectations, friskings, provocations, little refusals, piercing +glances, and wiles of a maiden who desires yet dares not, amorous +oglings, little caresses, preparatory tricks, pride of a mouse who +knows her value, laughings and squeakings, triflings and other +endearments, feminine, treacherous and captivating ways, all traps +which are abundantly used by the females of all nations. When, after +many wrigglings, smacks in the face, nose lickings, gallantries of +amorous shrew-mice, frowns, sighs, serenades, titbits, suppers and +dinners on the pile of corn, and other attentions, the superintendent +overcame the scruples of his beautiful mistress, he became the slave +of this incestuous and illicit love, and the mouse, leading her lord +by the snout, became queen of everything, nibbled his cheese, ate the +sweets, and foraged everywhere. This the shrew-mouse permitted to the +empress of his heart, although he was ill at ease, having broken his +oath made to Gargantua, and betrayed the confidence placed in him. +Pursuing her advantage with the pertinacity of a woman, one night they +were joking together, the mouse remembered the dear old fellow her +father, and desiring that he should make his meals off the grain, she +threatened to leave her lover cold and lonely in his domain if he did +not allow her to indulge her filial piety. In the twinkling of a +mouse’s eye he had granted letters patent, sealed with a green seal, +with tags of crimson silk, to his wench’s father, so that the +Gargantuan palace was open to him at all hours, and he was at liberty +see his good, virtuous daughter, kiss her on the forehead, and eat his +fill, but always in a corner. Then there arrived a venerable old rat, +weighing about twenty-five ounces, with a white tail, marching like the +president of a Court of Justice, wagging his head, and followed by +fifteen or twenty nephews, all with teeth as sharp as saws, who +demonstrated to the shrew-mouse by little speeches and questions of all +kinds that they, his relations, would soon be loyally attached to him, +and would help him to count the things committed to his charge, arrange +and ticket them, in order that when Gargantua came to visit them he +would find everything in perfect order. There was an air of truth about +these promises. The poor shrew-mouse was, however, in spite of this +speech, troubled by ideas from on high, and serious pricking of +shrew-mousian conscience. Seeing that he turned up his nose at +everything, went about slowly and with a careworn face, one morning the +mouse who was pregnant by him, conceived the idea of calming his doubts +and easing his mind by a Sorbonnical consultation, and sent for the +doctors of his tribe. During the day she introduced to him one, Sieur +Evegault, who had just stepped out of a cheese where he lived in perfect +abstinence, an old confessor of high degree, a merry fellow of good +appearance, with a fine black skin, firm as a rock, and slightly +tonsured on the head by the pat of a cat’s claw. He was a grave rat, +with a monastical paunch, having much studied scientific authorities +by nibbling at their works in parchments, papers, books and volumes of +which certain fragments had remained upon his grey beard. In honour of +and great reverence for his great virtue and wisdom, and his modest +life, he was accompanied by a black troop of black rats, all bringing +with them pretty little mice, their sweethearts, for not having +adopted the canons of the council of Chesil, it was lawful for them to +have respectable women for concubines. These beneficed rats, being +arranged in two lines, you might have fancied them a procession of the +university authorities going to Lendit. And they all began to sniff +the victuals. + +“When the ceremony of placing them all was complete, the old cardinal +of the rats lifted up his voice, and in a good rat-latin oration +pointed out to the guardian of the grain that no one but God was +superior to him; and that to God alone he owed obedience, and he +entertained him with many fine phrases, stuffed with evangelical +quotations, to disturb the principal and fog his flock; in fact, fine +argument interlarded with much sound sense. The discourse finished +with a peroration full of high sounding words in honour of shrew-mice, +among whom his hearer was the most illustrious and best beneath the +sun; and this oration considerably bewildered the keeper of the +granary. + +“This good gentleman’s head was thoroughly turned, and he installed +this fine speaking rat and his tribe in his manor, where night and day +his praises and little songs in his honour were sung, not forgetting +his lady, whose little paw was kissed and little tail was sniffed at +by all. Finally, the mistress, knowing that certain young rats were +still fasting, determined to finish her work. Then she kissed her lord +tenderly, loading him with love, and performing those little endearing +antics of which one alone was sufficient to send a beast to perdition; +and said to the shrew-mouse that he wasted the precious time due to +their love by travelling about, that he was always going here or +there, and that she never had her proper share of him; that when she +wanted his society, he was on the leads chasing the cats, and that she +wished him always to be ready to her hand like a lance, and kind as a +bird. Then in her great grief she tore out a grey hair, declaring +herself, weepingly, to be the most wretched little mouse in the world. +The shrew-mouse pointed out to her that she was the mistress of +everything, and wished to resist, but after the lady had shed a +torrent of tears he implored a truce and considered her request. Then +instantly drying her tears, and giving him her paw to kiss, she +advised him to arm some soldiers, trusty and tried rats, old warriors, +who would go the rounds to keep watch. Everything was thus wisely +arranged. The shrew-mouse had the rest of the day to dance, play, and +amuse himself, listen to the roundelays and ballads which the poets +composed in his honour, play the lute and the mandore, make acrostics, +eat, drink and be merry. One day his mistress having just risen from +her confinement, after having given birth to the sweetest little +mouse-sorex or sorex-mouse, I know not what name was given to this +mongrel food of love, whom you may be sure, the gentlemen in the long +robe would manage to legitimise” (the constable of Montmorency, who +had married his son to a legitimised bastard of the king’s, here put +his hand to his sword and clutched the handle fiercely), “a grand +feast was given in the granaries, to which no court festival or gala +could be compared, not even that of the Field of the Cloth of Gold. In +every corner mice were making merry. Everywhere there were dances, +concerts, banquets, sarabands, music, joyous songs, and epithalamia. +The rats had broken open the pots, and uncovered the jars, lapped the +gallipots, and unpacked the stores. The mustard was strewn over the +place, the hams were mangled and the corn scattered. Everything was +rolling, tumbling, and falling about the floor, and the little rats +dabbled in puddles of green sauce, the mice navigated oceans of +sweetmeats, and the old folks carried off the pasties. There were mice +astride salt tongues. Field-mice were swimming in the pots, and the +most cunning of them were carrying the corn into their private holes, +profiting by the confusion to make ample provision for themselves. No +one passed the quince confection of Orleans without saluting it with +one nibble, and oftener with two. It was like a Roman carnival. In +short, anyone with a sharp ear might have heard the frizzling +frying-pans, the cries and clamours of the kitchens, the crackling of +their furnaces, the noise of the turnspits, the creaking of baskets, +the haste of the confectioners, the click of the meat-jacks, and the +noise of the little feet scampering thick as hail over the floor. It +was a bustling wedding-feast, where people come and go, footmen, +stablemen, cooks, musicians, buffoons, where everyone pays compliments +and makes a noise. In short, so great was the delight that they kept +up a general wagging of the head to celebrate this eventful night. But +suddenly there was heard the horrible foot-fall of Gargantua, who was +ascending the stairs of his house to visit the granaries, and made the +planks, the beams, and everything else tremble. Certain old rats asked +each other what might mean this seignorial footstep, with which they +were unacquainted, and some of them decamped, and they did well, for +the lord and master entered suddenly. Perceiving the confusion these +gentleman had made, seeing his preserves eaten, his mustard unpacked, +and everything dirtied and scratched about, he put his feet upon these +lively vermin without giving them time to squeak, and thus spoiled +their best clothes, satins, pearls, velvets, and rubbish, and upset +the feast.” + +“And what became of the shrew-mouse?” said the king, waking from his +reverie. + +“Ah, sire!” replied Rabelais, “herein we see the injustice of the +Gargantuan tribe. He was put to death, but being a gentleman he was +beheaded. That was ill done, for he had been betrayed.” + +“You go rather far, my good man,” said the king. + +“No sire,” replied Rabelais, “but rather high. Have you not sunk the +crown beneath the pulpit? You asked me for a sermon; I have given you +one which is gospel.” + +“My fine vicar,” said Madame Diana, in his ear, “suppose I were +spiteful?” + +“Madame,” said Rabelais, “was it not well then of me to warn the king, +your master, against the queen’s Italians, who are as plentiful here +as cockchafers?” + +“Poor preacher,” said Cardinal Odet, in his ear, “go to another +country.” + +“Ah! monsieur,” replied the old fellow, “ere long I shall be in +another land.” + +“God’s truth! Mr. Scribbler,” said the constable (whose son, as +everyone knows, had treacherously deserted Mademoiselle de Piennes, to +whom he was betrothed, to espouse Diana of France, daughter of the +mistress of certain high personages and of the king), “who made thee +so bold as to slander persons of quality? Ah, wretched poet, you like +to raise yourself high; well then, I promise to put you in a good high +place.” + +“We shall all go there, my lord constable,” replied the old man: “but +if you are friendly to the state and to the king you will thank me for +having warned him against the hordes of Lorraine, who are evils that +will devour everything.” + +“My good man,” whispered Cardinal Charles of Lorraine, “if you need a +few gold crowns to publish your fifth book of Pantagruel you can come +to me for them, because you have put the case clearly to the enemy, +who has bewitched the king, and also to her pack.” + +“Well, gentlemen,” said the king, “what do you think of the sermon?” + +“Sire,” said Mellin de Saint-Gelais, seeing that all were well +pleased, “I had never heard a better Pantagruelian prognostication. +Much do we owe to him who made these leonine verses in the Abbey of +Theleme:-- + + + ‘“Cy vous entrez, qui le saint Evangile + En sens agile annoncez, quoy qu’on gronde, + Ceans aurez une refuge et bastile, + Contre l’hostile erreur qui tant postille + Par son faux style empoisonner le monde.’” + + [’”Should ye who enter here profess in jubilation + Our gospel of elation, then suffer dolts to curse! + Here refuge shall ye find, and sure circumvallation + Against the protestation of those whose delectation + Brings false abomination to blight the universe.’”] + + +All the courtiers having applauded their companion, each one +complimented Rabelais, who took his departure accompanied with great +honour by the king’s pages, who, by express command held torches +before him. + +Some persons have charged Francis Rabelais, the imperial honour of our +land, with spiteful tricks and apish pranks, unworthy of his Homeric +philosophy, of this prince of wisdom of this fatherly centre, from +which have issued since the rising of his subterranean light a good +number of marvellous works. Out upon those who would defile this +divine head! All their life long may they find grit between their +teeth, those who have ignored his good and moderate nourishment. + +Dear drinker of pure water, faithful servant or monachal abstinence, +wisest of wise men, how would thy sides ache with laughter, how +wouldst thou chuckle, if thou couldst come again for a little while to +Chinon, and read the idiotic mouthings, and the maniacal babble of the +fools who have interpreted, commentated, torn, disgraced, +misunderstood, betrayed, defiled, adulterated and meddled with thy +peerless book. As many dogs as Panurge found busy with his lady’s robe +at church, so many two-legged academic puppies have busied themselves +with befouling the high marble pyramid in which is cemented for ever +the seed of all fantastic and comic inventions, besides magnificent +instruction in all things. Although rare are the pilgrims who have the +breath to follow thy bark in its sublime peregrination through the +ocean of ideas, methods, varieties, religions, wisdom, and human +trickeries, at least their worship is unalloyed, pure, and +unadulterated, and thine omnipotence, omniscience, and omni-language +are by them bravely recognised. Therefore has a poor son of our merry +Touraine here been anxious, however unworthily, to do thee homage by +magnifying thine image, and glorifying the works of eternal memory, so +cherished by those who love the concentrative works wherein the +universal moral is contained, wherein are found, pressed like sardines +in their boxes, philosophical ideas on every subject, science, art and +eloquence, as well as theatrical mummeries. + + + + THE SUCCUBUS + + +Prologue + +A number of persons of the noble country of Touraine, considerably +edified by the warm search which the author is making into the +antiquities, adventures, good jokes, and pretty tales of that blessed +land, and believing for certain that he should know everything, have +asked him (after drinking with him of course understood), if he had +discovered the etymological reason, concerning which all the ladies of +the town are so curious, and from which a certain street in Tours is +called the Rue Chaude. By him it was replied, that he was much +astonished to see that the ancient inhabitants had forgotten the great +number of convents situated in this street, where the severe +continence of the monks and nuns might have caused the walls to be +made so hot that some woman of position should increase in size from +walking too slowly along them to vespers. A troublesome fellow, +wishing to appear learned, declared that formerly all the +scandalmongers of the neighbourhood were wont to meet in this place. +Another entangled himself in the minute suffrages of science, and +poured forth golden words without being understood, qualifying words, +harmonising the melodies of the ancient and modern, congregating +customs, distilling verbs, alchemising all languages since the Deluge, +of the Hebrew, Chaldeans, Egyptians, Greeks, Latins, and of Turnus, +the ancient founder of Tours; and the good man finished by declaring +that chaude or chaulde with the exception of the H and the L, came +from Cauda, and that there was a tail in the affair, but the ladies +only understood the end of it. An old man observed that in this same +place was formerly a source of thermal water, of which his great great +grandfather had drunk. In short, in less time than it takes a fly to +embrace its sweetheart, there had been a pocketful of etymologies, in +which the truth of the matter had been less easily found than a louse +in the filthy beard of a Capuchin friar. But a man well learned and +well informed, through having left his footprint in many monasteries, +consumed much midnight oil, and manured his brain with many a volume +--himself more encumbered with pieces, dyptic fragments, boxes, +charters, and registers concerning the history of Touraine than is a +gleaner with stalks of straw in the month of August--this man, old, +infirm, and gouty, who had been drinking in his corner without saying +a word, smiled the smile of a wise man and knitted his brows, the said +smile finally resolving itself into a pish! well articulated, which +the Author heard and understood it to be big with an adventure +historically good, the delights of which he would be able to unfold in +this sweet collection. + +To be brief, on the morrow this gouty old fellow said to him, “By your +poem, which is called ‘The Venial Sin,’ you have forever gained my +esteem, because everything therein is true from head to foot--which I +believe to be a precious superabundance in such matters. But doubtless +you do not know what became of the Moor placed in religion by the said +knight, Bruyn de la Roche-Corbon. I know very well. Now if this +etymology of the street harass you, and also the Egyptian nun, I will +lend you a curious and antique parchment, found by me in the Olim of +the episcopal palace, of which the libraries were a little knocked +about at a period when none of us knew if he would have the pleasure +of his head’s society on the morrow. Now will not this yield you a +perfect contentment?” + +“Good!” said the author. + +Then this worthy collector of truths gave certain rare and dusty +parchments to the author, the which he has, not without great labour, +translated into French, and which were fragments of a most ancient +ecclesiastical process. He has believed that nothing would be more +amusing than the actual resurrection of this antique affair, wherein +shines forth the illiterate simplicity of the good old times. Now, +then, give ear. This is the order in which were the manuscripts, of +which the author has made use in his own fashion, because the language +was devilishly difficult. + + +I +WHAT THE SUCCUBUS WAS. + +_In nomine Patris, et Filii, et Spiritus Sancti. Amen._ + +In the year of our Lord, one thousand two hundred and seventy-one, +before me, Hierome Cornille, grand inquisitor and ecclesiastical judge +(thereto commissioned by the members of the chapter of Saint Maurice, +the cathedral of Tours, having of this deliberated in the presence of +our Lord Jean de Montsoreau, archbishop--namely, the grievances and +complaints of the inhabitants of the said town, whose request is here +subjoined), have appeared certain noblemen, citizens, and inhabitants +of the diocese, who have stated the following facts concerning a demon +suspected of having taken the features of a woman, who has much +afflicted the minds of the diocese, and is at present a prisoner in +the jail of the chapter; and in order to arrive at the truth of the +said charge we have opened the present court, this Monday, the +eleventh day of December, after mass, to communicate the evidence of +each witness to the said demon, to interrogate her upon the said +crimes to her imputed, and to judge her according to the laws enforced +_contra demonios_. + +In this inquiry has assisted me to write the evidence therein given, +Guillaume Tournebouche, rubrican of the chapter, a learned man. + + +Firstly has come before us one Jehan, surnamed Tortebras, a citizen of +Tours, keeping by licence the hostelry of La Cigoyne, situated on the +Place du Pont, and who has sworn by the salvation of his soul, his +hand upon the holy Evangelists, to state no other thing than that +which by himself hath been seen and heard. + +He hath stated as here followeth:-- + +“I declare that about two years before the feast of St. Jehan, upon +which are the grand illuminations, a gentleman, at first unknown to +me, but belonging without doubt to our lord the King, and at that time +returned to our country from the Holy Land, came to me with the +proposition that I should let to him at rental a certain country-house +by me built, in the quit rent of the chapter over against the place +called of St. Etienne, and the which I let to him for nine years, for +the consideration of three besans of fine gold. In the said house was +placed by the said knight a fair wench having the appearance of a +woman, dressed in the strange fashion of the Saracens Mohammedans, +whom he would allow by none to be seen or to be approached within a +bow-shot, but whom I have seen with mine own eyes, weird feathers upon +her head, and eyes so flaming that I cannot adequately describe them, +and from which gleamed forth a fire of hell. The defunct knight having +threatened with death whoever should appear to spy about the said +house, I have by reason of great fear left the said house, and I have +until this day secretly kept to my mind certain presumptions and +doubts concerning the bad appearance of the said foreigner, who was +more strange than any woman, her equal not having as yet by me been +seen. + +“Many persons of all conditions having at the time believed the said +knight to be dead, but kept upon his feet by virtue of the said +charms, philters, spells, and diabolical sorceries of this seeming +woman, who wished to settle in our country, I declare that I have +always seen the said knight so ghastly pale that I can only compare +his face to the wax of a Paschal candle, and to the knowledge of all +the people of the hostelry of La Cigoyne, this knight was interred +nine days after his first coming. According to the statement of his +groom, the defunct had been chalorously coupled with the said Moorish +woman during seven whole days shut up in my house, without coming out +from her, the which I heard him horribly avow upon his deathbed. +Certain persons at the present time have accused this she-devil of +holding the said gentleman in her clutches by her long hair, the which +was furnished with certain warm properties by means of which are +communicated to Christians the flames of hell in the form of love, +which work in them until their souls are by this means drawn from +their bodies and possessed by Satan. But I declare that I have seen +nothing of this excepting the said dead knight, bowelless, emaciated, +wishing, in spite of his confessor, still to go to this wench; and +then he has been recognised as the lord de Bueil, who was a crusader, +and who was, according to certain persons of the town, under the spell +of a demon whom he had met in the Asiatic country of Damascus or +elsewhere. + +“Afterwards I have let my house to the said unknown lady, according to +the clauses of the deed of lease. The said lord of Bueil, being +defunct, I had nevertheless been into my house in order to learn from +the said foreign woman if she wished to remain in my dwelling, and +after great trouble was led before her by a strange, half-naked black +man, whose eyes were white. + +“Then I have seen the said Moorish woman in a little room, shining +with gold and jewels, lighted with strange lights, upon an Asiatic +carpet, where she was seated, lightly attired, with another gentleman, +who was there imperiling his soul; and I had not the heart bold enough +to look upon her, seeing that her eyes would have incited me +immediately to yield myself up to her, for already her voice thrilled +into my very belly, filled my brain, and debauched my mind. Finding +this, from the fear of God, and also of hell, I have departed with +swift feet, leaving my house to her as long as she liked to retain it, +so dangerous was it to behold that Moorish complexion from which +radiated diabolical heats, besides a foot smaller than it was lawful +in a real woman to possess; and to hear her voice, which pierced into +one’s heart! And from that day I have lacked the courage to enter my +house from great fear of falling into hell. I have said my say.” + +To the said Tortebras we have then shown an Abyssinian, Nubian or +Ethiopian, who, black from head to foot, had been found wanting in +certain virile properties with which all good Christians are usually +furnished, who, having persevered in his silence, after having been +tormented and tortured many times, not without much moaning, has +persisted in being unable to speak the language of our country. And +the said Tortebras has recognised the said Abyss heretic as having +been in his house in company with the said demoniacal spirit, and is +suspected of having lent his aid to her sorcery. + +And the said Tortebras has confessed his great faith in the Catholic +religion, and declared no other things to be within his knowledge save +certain rumours which were known to every one, of which he had been in +no way a witness except in the hearing of them. + + +In obedience to the citations served upon him, has appeared then, +Matthew, surname Cognefestu, a day-labourer of St. Etienne, whom, +after having sworn by the holy Evangelists to speak the truth, has +confessed to us always to have seen a bright light in the dwelling of +the said foreign woman, and heard much wild and diabolical laughter on +the days and nights of feasts and fasts, notably during the days of +the holy and Christmas weeks, as if a great number of people were in +the house. And he has sworn to have seen by the windows of the said +dwellings, green buds of all kinds in the winter, growing as if by +magic, especially roses in a time of frost, and other things for which +there was a need of a great heat; but of this he was in no way +astonished, seeing that the said foreigner threw out so much heat that +when she walked in the evening by the side of his wall he found on the +morrow his salad grown; and on certain occasions she had by the +touching of her petticoats, caused the trees to put forth leaves and +hasten the buds. Finally, the said, Cognefestu has declared to us to +know no more, because he worked from early morning, and went to bed at +the same hour as the fowls. + +Afterwards the wife of the aforesaid Cognefestu has by us been +required to state also upon oath the things come to her cognisance in +this process, and has avowed naught save praises of the said +foreigner, because since her coming her man had treated her better in +consequence of the neighbourhood of this good lady, who filled the air +with love, as the sun did light, and other incongruous nonsense, which +we have not committed to writing. + +To the said Cognefestu and to his wife we have shown the said unknown +African, who has been seen by them in the gardens of the house, and is +stated by them for certain to belong to the said demon. In the third +place, has advanced Harduin V., lord of Maille, who being by us +reverentially begged to enlighten the religion of the church, has +expressed his willingness so to do, and has, moreover, engaged his +word, as a gallant knight, to say no other thing than that which he +has seen. Then he has testified to have known in the army of the +Crusades the demon in question, and in the town of Damascus to have +seen the knight of Bueil, since defunct, fight at close quarters to be +her sole possessor. The above-mentioned wench, or demon, belonged at +that time to the knight Geoffroy IV., Lord of Roche-Pozay, by whom she +was said to have been brought from Touraine, although she was a +Saracen; concerning which the knights of France marvelled much, as +well as at her beauty, which made a great noise and a thousand +scandalous ravages in the camp. During the voyage this wench was the +cause of many deaths, seeing that Roche-Pozay had already discomfited +certain Crusaders, who wished to keep her to themselves, because she +shed, according to certain knights petted by her in secret, joys +around her comparable to none others. But in the end the knight of +Bueil, having killed Geoffroy de la Roche-Pozay, became lord and +master of this young murderess, and placed her in a convent, or harem, +according to the Saracen custom. About this time one used to see her +and hear her chattering as entertainment many foreign dialects, such +as the Greek or the Latin empire, Moorish, and, above all, French +better than any of those who knew the language of France best in the +Christian host, from which sprang the belief that she was demoniacal. + +The said knight Harduin has confessed to us not to have tilted for her +in the Holy Land, not from fear, coldness or other cause, so much as +that he believed the time had arrived for him to bear away a portion +of the true cross, and also he had belonging to him a noble lady of +the Greek country, who saved him from this danger in denuding him of +love, morning and night, seeing that she took all of it substantially +from him, leaving him none in his heart or elsewhere for others. + +And the said knight has assured us that the woman living in the +country house of Tortebras, was really the said Saracen woman, come +into the country from Syria, because he had been invited to a midnight +feast at her house by the young Lord of Croixmare, who expired the +seventh day afterwards, according to the statement of the Dame de +Croixmare, his mother, ruined all points by the said wench, whose +commerce with him had consumed his vital spirit, and whose strange +phantasies had squandered his fortune. + +Afterwards questioned in his quality of a man full of prudence, wisdom +and authority in this country, upon the ideas entertained concerning +the said woman, and summoned by us to open his conscience, seeing that +it was a question of a most abominable case of Christian faith and +divine justice, answer has been made by the said knight:-- + +That by certain of the host of Crusaders it has been stated to him +that always this she-devil was a maid to him who embraced her, and +that Mammon was for certain occupied in her, making for her a new +virtue for each of her lovers, and a thousand other foolish sayings of +drunken men, which were not of a nature to form a fifth gospel. But +for a fact, he, an old knight on that turn of life, and knowing +nothing more of the aforesaid, felt himself again a young man in that +last supper with which he had been regaled by the lord of Croixmare; +then the voice of this demon went straight to his heart before flowing +into his ears, and had awakened so great a love in his body that his +life was ebbing from the place whence it should flow, and that +eventually, but for the assistance of Cyprus wine, which he had drunk +to blind his sight, and his getting under the table in order no longer +to gaze upon the fiery eyes of his diabolical hostess, and not to rend +his heart from her, without doubt he would have fought the young +Croixmare, in order to enjoy for a single moment this supernatural +woman. Since then he had had absolution from his confessor for the +wicked thought. Then, by advice from on high, he had carried back to +his house his portion of the true Cross, and had remained in his own +manor, where, in spite of his Christian precautions, the said voice +still at certain times tickled his brain, and in the morning often had +he in remembrance this demon, warm as brimstone; and because the look +of this wench was so warm that it made him burn like a young man, be +half dead, and because it cost him then many transshipments of the +vital spirit, the said knight has requested us not to confront him +with the empress of love to whom, if it were not the devil, God the +Father had granted strange liberties with the minds of men. +Afterwards, he retired, after reading over his statement, not without +having first recognised the above-mentioned African to be the servant +and page of the lady. + + +In the fourth place, upon the faith pledged in us in the name of the +Chapter and of our Lord Archbishop, that he should not be tormented, +tortured, nor harassed in any manner, nor further cited after his +statement, in consequence of his commercial journeys, and upon the +assurance that he should retire in perfect freedom, has come before us +a Jew, Salomon al Rastchid, who, in spite of the infamy of his person +and his Judaism, has been heard by us to this one end, to know +everything concerning the conduct of the aforesaid demon. Thus he has +not been required to take any oath this Salomon, seeing that he is +beyond the pale of the Church, separated from us by the blood of our +saviour (trucidatus Salvatore inter nos). Interrogated by us as to why +he appeared without the green cap upon his head, and the yellow wheel +in the apparent locality of the heart in his garment, according to the +ecclesiastical and royal ordinances, the said de Rastchid has +exhibited to us letters patent of the seneschal of Touraine and +Poitou. Then the said Jew has declared to us to have done a large +business for the lady dwelling in the house of the innkeeper +Tortebras, to have sold to her golden chandeliers, with many branches, +minutely engraved, plates of red silver, cups enriched with stones, +emeralds and rubies; to have brought for her from the Levant a number +of rare stuffs, Persian carpets, silks, and fine linen; in fact, +things so magnificent that no queen in Christendom could say she was +so well furnished with jewels and household goods; and that he had for +his part received from her three hundred thousand pounds for the +rarity of the purchases in which he had been employed, such as Indian +flowers, poppingjays, birds’ feathers, spices, Greek wines, and +diamonds. Requested by us, the judge, to say if he had furnished +certain ingredients of magical conjuration, the blood of new-born +children, conjuring books, and things generally and whatsoever made +use of by sorcerers, giving him licence to state his case without that +thereupon he should be the subject to any further inquest or inquiry, +the said al Rastchid has sworn by his Hebrew faith never to have had +any such commerce; and has stated that he was involved in too high +interests to give himself to such miseries, seeing that he was the +agent of certain most powerful lords, such as the Marquis de +Montferrat, the King of England, the King of Cyprus and Jerusalem, the +Court of Provence, lords of Venice, and many German gentleman; to have +belonging to him merchant galleys of all kinds, going into Egypt with +the permission of the Sultan, and he trafficking in precious articles +of silver and of gold, which took him often into the exchange of +Tours. Moreover, he has declared that he considered the said lady, the +subject of inquiry, to be a right royal and natural woman, with the +sweetest limbs, and the smallest he has ever seen. That in consequence +of her renown for a diabolical spirit, pushed by a wild imagination, +and also because that he was smitten with her, he had heard once that +she was husbandless, proposed to her to be her gallant, to which +proposition she willingly acceded. Now, although from that night he +felt his bones disjointed and his bowels crushed, he had not yet +experienced, as certain persons say, that who once yielded was free no +more; he went to his fate as lead into the crucible of the alchemist. +Then the said Salomon, to whom we have granted his liberty according +to the safe conduct, in spite of the statement, which proves +abundantly his commerce with the devil, because he had been saved +there where all Christians have succumbed, has admitted to us an +agreement concerning the said demon. To make known that he had made an +offer to the chapter of the cathedral to give for the said semblance +of a woman such a ransom, if she were condemned to be burned alive, +that the highest of the towers of the Church of St. Maurice, at +present in course of construction, could therewith be finished. + +The which we have noted to be deliberated upon at an opportune time by +the assembled chapter. And the said Salomon has taken his departure +without being willing to indicate his residence, and has told us that +he can be informed of the deliberation of the chapter by a Jew of the +synagogue of Tours, a name Tobias Nathaneus. The said Jew has before +his departure been shown the African, and has recognised him as the +page of the demon, and has stated the Saracens to have the custom of +mutilating their slaves thus, to commit to them the task of guarding +their women by an ancient usage, as it appears in the profane +histories of Narsez, general of Constantinople, and others. + +On the morrow after mass has appeared before us the most noble and +illustrious lady of Croixmare. The same has worn her faith in the holy +Evangelists, and has related to us with tears how she had placed her +eldest son beneath the earth, dead by reason of his extravagant amours +with this female demon. The which noble gentleman was three-and-twenty +years of age; of good complexion, very manly and well bearded like his +defunct sire. Notwithstanding his great vigour, in ninety days he had +little by little withered, ruined by his commerce with the succubus of +the Rue Chaude, according to the statement of the common people; and +her maternal authority over the son had been powerless. Finally in his +latter days he appeared like a poor dried up worm, such as +housekeepers meet with in a corner when they clean out the +dwelling-rooms. And always, so long as he had the strength to go, he +went to shorten his life with this cursed woman; where, also, he +emptied his cash-box. When he was in his bed, and knew his last hour +had come, he swore at, cursed, and threatened and heaped upon all--his +sister, his brother, and upon her his mother--a thousand insults, +rebelled in the face of the chaplain; denied God, and wished to die in +damnation; at which were much afflicted the retainers of the family, +who, to save his soul and pluck it from hell, have founded two annual +masses in the cathedral. And in order to have him buried in consecrated +ground, the house of Croixmare has undertaken to give to the chapter, +during one hundred years, the wax candles for the chapels and the +church, upon the day of the Paschal feast. And, in conclusion, saving +the wicked words heard by the reverend person, Dom Loys Pot, a nun of +Marmoustiers, who came to assist in his last hours the said Baron de +Croixmaire affirms never to have heard any words offered by the +defunct, touching the demon who had undone him. + +And therewith has retired the noble and illustrious lady in deep +mourning. + + +In the sixth place has appeared before us, after adjournment, +Jacquette, called Vieux-Oing, a kitchen scullion, going to houses to +wash dishes, residing at present in the Fishmarket, who, after having +placed her word to say nothing she did not hold to be true, has +declared as here follows:--Namely, that one day she, being come into +the kitchen of the said demon, of whom she had no fear, because she +was wont to regale herself only upon males, she had the opportunity of +seeing in the garden this female demon, superbly attired, walking in +company with a knight, with whom she was laughing, like a natural +woman. Then she had recognised in this demon that true likeness of the +Moorish woman placed as a nun in the convent of Notre Dame de +l’Egrignolles by the defunct seneschal of Touraine and Poitou, Messire +Bruyn, Count of Roche-Corbon, the which Moorish woman had been left in +the situation and place of the image of our Lady the Virgin, the +mother of our Blessed Saviour, stolen by the Egyptians about eighteen +years since. Of this time, in consequence of the troubles come about +in Touraine, no record has been kept. This girl, aged about twelve +years, was saved from the stake at which she would have been burned by +being baptised; and the said defunct and his wife had then been +godfather and godmother to this child of hell. Being at that time +laundress at the convent, she who bears witness has remembrance of the +flight which the said Egyptian took twenty months after her entry into +the convent, so subtilely that it has never been known how or by what +means she escaped. At that time it was thought by all, that with the +devil’s aid she had flown away in the air, seeing that not +withstanding much search, no trace of her flight was found in the +convent, where everything remained in its accustomed order. + +The African having been shown to the said scullion, she has declared +not to have seen him before, although she was curious to do so, as he +was commissioned to guard the place in which the Moorish woman +combated with those whom she drained through the spigot. + + +In the seventh place has been brought before us Hugues de Fou, son of +the Sieur de Bridore, who, aged twenty years, has been placed in the +hands of his father, under caution of his estates, and by him is +represented in this process, whom it concerns if should be duly +attained and convicted of having, assisted by several unknown and bad +young men, laid siege to the jail of the archbishop and of the +chapter, and of having lent himself to disturb the force of +ecclesiastical justice, by causing the escape of the demon now under +consideration. In spite of the evil disposition we have commanded the +said Hugues de Fou to testify truly, touching the things he should +know concerning the said demon, with whom he is vehemently reputed to +have had commerce, pointing out to him that it was a question of his +salvation and of the life of the said demon. He, after having taken +the oath, he said:-- + +“I swear by my eternal salvation, and by the holy Evangelists here +present under my hand, to hold the woman suspected of being a demon to +be an angel, a perfect woman, and even more so in mind than in body, +living in all honesty, full of the migniard charms and delights of +love, in no way wicked, but most generous, assisting greatly the poor +and suffering. I declare that I have seen her weeping veritable tears +for the death of my friend, the knight of Croixmare. And because on +that day she had made a vow to our Lady the Virgin no more to receive +the love of young noblemen too weak in her service; she has to me +constantly and with great courage denied the enjoyment of her body, +and has only granted to me love, and the possession of her heart, of +which she has made sovereign. Since this gracious gift, in spite of my +increasing flame I have remained alone in her dwelling, where I have +spent the greater part of my days, happy in seeing and in hearing her. +Oh! I would eat near her, partake of the air which entered into her +lungs, of the light which shone in her sweet eyes, and found in this +occupation more joy than have the lords of paradise. Elected by me to +be forever my lady, chosen to be one day my dove, my wife, and only +sweetheart, I, poor fool, have received from her no advances on the +joys of the future, but, on the contrary, a thousand virtuous +admonitions; such as that I should acquire renown as a good knight, +become a strong man and a fine one, fear nothing except God; honour +the ladies, serve but one and love them in memory of that one; that +when I should be strengthened by the work of war, if her heart still +pleased mine, at that time only would she be mine, because she would +be able to wait for me, loving me so much.” + +So saying the young Sire Hugues wept, and weeping, added:-- + +“That thinking of this graceful and feeble woman, whose arms seemed +scarcely large enough to sustain the light weight of her golden +chains, he did not know how to contain himself while fancying the +irons which would wound her, and the miseries with which she would +traitorously be loaded, and from this cause came his rebellion. And +that he had licence to express his sorrow before justice, because his +life was so bound up with that of his delicious mistress and +sweetheart that on the day when evil came to her he would surely die.” + +And the same young man has vociferated a thousand other praises of the +said demon, which bear witness to the vehement sorcery practised upon +him, and prove, moreover, the abominable, unalterable, and incurable +life and the fraudulent witcheries to which he is at present subject, +concerning which our lord the archbishop will judge, in order to save +by exorcisms and penitences this young soul from the snares of hell, +if the devil has not gained too strong a hold of it. + +Then we have handed back the said young nobleman into the custody of +the noble lord his father, after that by the said Hugues, the African +has been recognised as the servant of the accused. + + +In the eighth place, before us, have the footguards of our lord the +archbishop led in great state the MOST HIGH AND REVEREND LADY +JACQUELINE DE CHAMPCHEVRIER, ABBESS OF THE CONVENT OF NOTRE-DAME, +under the invocation of Mount Carmel, to whose control has been +submitted by the late seneschal of Touraine, father of Monseigneur the +Count of Roche-Corbon, present advocate of the said convent, the +Egyptian, named at the baptismal font Blanche Bruyn. + +To the said abbess we have shortly stated the present cause, in which +is involved the holy church, the glory of God, and the eternal future +of the people of the diocese afflicted with a demon, and also the life +of a creature who it was possible might be quite innocent. Then the +cause elaborated, we have requested the said noble abbess to testify +that which was within her knowledge concerning the magical +disappearance of her daughter in God, Blanche Bruyn, espoused by our +Saviour under the name of Sister Clare. + +Then has stated the very high, very noble, and very illustrious lady +abbess as follows:-- + +“The Sister Clare, of origin to her unknown, but suspected to be of an +heretic father and mother, people inimical to God, has truly been +placed in religion in the convent of which the government had +canonically come to her in spite of her unworthiness; that the said +sister had properly concluded her noviciate, and made her vows +according to the holy rule of the order. That the vows taken, she had +fallen into great sadness, and had much drooped. Interrogated by her, +the abbess, concerning her melancholy malady, the said sister had +replied with tears that she herself did not know the cause. That one +thousand and one tears engendered themselves in her at feeling no more +her splendid hair upon her head; that besides this she thirsted for +air, and could not resist her desire to jump up into the trees, to +climb and tumble about according to her wont during her open air life; +that she passed her nights in tears, dreaming of the forests under the +leaves of which in other days she slept; and in remembrance of this +she abhorred the quality of the air of the cloisters, which troubled +her respiration; that in her inside she was troubled with evil +vapours; that at times she was inwardly diverted in church by thoughts +which made her lose countenance. Then I have repeated over and over +again to the poor creature the holy directions of the church, have +reminded her of the eternal happiness which women without seeing enjoy +in paradise, and how transitory was life here below, and certain the +goodness of God, who for first certain bitter pleasures lost, kept for +us a love without end. Is spite of this wise maternal advice the evil +spirit has persisted in the said sister; and always would she gaze +upon the leaves of the trees and grass of the meadows through the +windows of the church during the offices and times of prayer; and +persisted in becoming as white as linen in order that she might stay +in her bed, and at certain times she would run about the cloisters +like a goat broken loose from its fastening. Finally, she had grown +thin, lost much of the great beauty, and shrunk away to nothing. While +in this condition by us, the abbess her mother, was she placed in the +sick-room, we daily expecting her to die. One winter’s morning the +said sister had fled, without leaving any trace of her steps, without +breaking the door, forcing of locks, or opening of windows, nor any +sign whatever of the manner of her passage; a frightful adventure +which was believed to have taken place by the aid of the demon which +has annoyed and tormented her. For the rest it was settled by the +authorities of the metropolitan church that the mission of this +daughter of hell was to divert the nuns from their holy ways, and +blinded by their perfect lives, she had returned through the air on +the wings of the sorcerer, who had left her for mockery of our holy +religion in the place of our Virgin Mary.” + +The which having said, the lady abbess was, with great honour and +according to the command of our lord the archbishop, accompanied as +far as the convent of Carmel. + + +In the ninth place, before us has come, agreeably to the citation +served upon him, Joseph, called Leschalopier, a money-changer, living +on the bridge at the sign of the Besant d’Or, who, after having +pledged his Catholic faith to say no other thing than the truth, and +that known to him, touching the process before the ecclesiastical +tribunal, has testified as follows:--“I am a poor father, much +afflicted by the sacred will of God. Before the coming of the Succubus +of the Rue Chaude, I had, for all good, a son as handsome as a noble, +learned as a clerk, and having made more than a dozen voyages into +foreign lands; for the rest a good Catholic; keeping himself on guard +against the needles of love, because he avoided marriage, knowing +himself to be the support of my old days, the love for my eyes, and +the constant delight of my heart. He was a son of whom the King of +France might have been proud--a good and courageous man, the light on +my commerce, the joy of my roof, and, above all, an inestimable +blessing, seeing that I am alone in the world, having had the +misfortune to lose my wife, and being too old to take another. Now, +monseigneur, this treasure without equal has been taken from me, and +cast into hell by the demon. Yes, my lord judge, directly he beheld +this mischievous jade, this she-devil, in whom it is a whole workshop +of perdition, a conjunction of pleasure and delectation, and whom +nothing can satiate, my poor child stuck himself fast into the gluepot +of love, and afterwards lived only between the columns of Venus, and +there did not live long, because in that place like so great a heat +that nothing can satisfy the thirst of this gulf, not even should you +plunge therein the germs of the entire world. Alas! then, my poor boy +--his fortune, his generative hopes, his eternal future, his entire +self, more than himself, have been engulfed in this sewer, like a +grain of corn in the jaws of a bull. By this means become an old +orphan I, who speak, shall have no greater joy than to see burning, +this demon, nourished with blood and gold. This Arachne who has drawn +out and sucked more marriages, more families in the seed, more hearts, +more Christians then there are lepers in all the lazar houses or +Christendom. Burn, torment this fiend--this vampire who feeds on +souls, this tigerish nature that drinks blood, this amorous lamp in +which burns the venom of all the vipers. Close this abyss, the bottom +of which no man can find.... I offer my deniers to the chapter for the +stake, and my arm to light the fire. Watch well, my lord judge, to +surely guard this devil, seeing that she has a fire more flaming than +all other terrestrial fires; she has all the fire of hell in her, the +strength of Samson in her hair, and the sound of celestial music in +her voice. She charms to kill the body and the soul at one stroke; she +smiles to bite, she kisses to devour; in short, she would wheedle an +angel, and make him deny his God. My son! my son! where is he at this +hour? The flower of my life--a flower cut by this feminine needlecase +as with scissors. Ha, lord! why have I been called? Who will give me +back my son, whose soul has been absorbed by a womb which gives death +to all, and life to none? The devil alone copulates, and engenders +not. This is my evidence, which I pray Master Tournebouche to write +without omitting one iota, and to grant me a schedule, that I may tell +it to God every evening in my prayer, to this end to make the blood of +the innocent cry aloud into His ears, and to obtain from His infinite +mercy the pardon for my son.” + + +Here followed twenty and seven other statements, of which the +transcription in their true objectivity, in all their quality of space +would be over-fastidious, would draw to a great length, and divert the +thread of this curious process--a narrative which, according to +ancient precepts, should go straight to the fact, like a bull to his +principal office. Therefore, here is, in a few words, the substance of +these testimonies. + +A great number of good Christians, townsmen and townswomen, +inhabitants of the noble town of Tours, testified the demon to have +held every day wedding feasts and royal festivities, never to have +been seen in any church, to have cursed God, to have mocked the +priests, never to have crossed herself in any place; to have spoken +all the languages of the earth--a gift which has only been granted by +God to the blessed Apostles; to have been many times met in the +fields, mounted upon an unknown animal who went before the clouds; not +to grow old, and to have always a youthful face; to have received the +father and the son on the same day, saying that her door sinned not; +to have visible malign influences which flowed from her, for that a +pastrycook, seated on a bench at her door, having perceived her one +evening, received such a gust of warm love that, going in and getting +to bed, he had with great passion embraced his wife, and was found +dead on the morrow, that the old men of the town went to spend the +remainder of their days and of their money with her, to taste the joys +of the sins of their youth, and that they died like fleas on their +bellies, and that certain of them, while dying, became as black as +Moors; that this demon never allowed herself to be seen neither at +dinner, nor at breakfast, nor at supper, but ate alone, because she +lived upon human brains; that several had seen her during the night go +to the cemeteries, and there embrace the young dead men, because she +was not able to assuage otherwise the devil who worked in her +entrails, and there raged like a tempest, and from that came the +astringent biting, nitrous shooting, precipitant, and diabolical +movements, squeezings, and writhings of love and voluptuousness, from +which several men had emerged bruised, torn, bitten, pinched and +crushed; and that since the coming of our Saviour, who had imprisoned +the master devil in the bellies of the swine, no malignant beast had +ever been seen in any portion of the earth so mischievous, venomous +and so clutching; so much so that if one threw the town of Tours into +this field of Venus, she would there transmute it into the grain of +cities, and this demon would swallow it like a strawberry. + +And a thousand other statements, sayings, and depositions, from which +was evident in perfect clearness the infernal generation of this +woman, daughter, sister, niece, spouse, or brother of the devil, +beside abundant proofs of her evil doing, and of the calamity spread +by her in all families. And if it were possible to put them here +conformably with the catalogue preserved by the good man to whom he +accused the discovery, it would seem like a sample of the horrible +cries which the Egyptians gave forth on the day of the seventh plague. +Also this examination has covered with great honour Messire Guillaume +Tournebouche, by whom are quoted all the memoranda. In the tenth +vacation was thus closed this inquest, arriving at a maturity of +proof, furnished with authentic testimony and sufficiently engrossed +with the particulars, plaints, interdicts, contradictions, charges, +assignments, withdrawals, confessions public and private, oaths, +adjournments, appearances and controversies, to which the said demon +must reply. And the townspeople say everywhere if there were really a +she-devil, and furnished with internal horns planted in her nature, +with which she drank the men, and broke them, this woman might swim a +long time in this sea of writing before being landed safe and sound in +hell. + + +II +THE PROCEEDINGS TAKEN RELATIVE TO THIS FEMALE VAMPIRE. + +_In nomine Patris, et Filii, et Spiritus Sancti. Amen._ + + +In the year of our Lord one thousand two hundred and seventy-one, +before us, Hierome Cornille, grand penitentiary and ecclesiastical +judge to this, canonically appointed, have appeared-- + +The Sire Philippe d’Idre, bailiff of the town and city of Tours and +province of Touraine, living in his hotel in the Rue de la Rotisserie, +in Chateauneuf; Master Jehan Ribou, provost of the brotherhood and +company of drapers, residing on the Quay de Bretaingne, at the image +of St. Pierre-es-liens; Messire Antoine Jehan, alderman and chief of +the Brotherhood of Changers, residing in the Place du Pont, at the +image of St. Mark-counting-tournoise-pounds; Master Martin +Beaupertuys, captain of the archers of the town residing at the +castle; Jehan Rabelais, a ships’ painter and boat maker residing at +the port at the isle of St. Jacques, treasurer of the brotherhood of +the mariners of the Loire; Mark Hierome, called Maschefer, hosier, at +the sign of Saint-Sebastian, president of the trades council; and +Jacques, called de Villedomer, master tavern-keeper and vine dresser, +residing in the High Street, at the Pomme de Pin; to the said Sire +d’Idre, and to the said citizens, we have read the following petition +by them, written, signed, and deliberated upon, to be brought under +the notice of the ecclesiastical tribunal:-- + + +PETITION + +We, the undersigned, all citizens of Tours, are come into the hotel of +his worship the Sire d’Idre, bailiff of Touraine, in the absence of +our mayor, and have requested him to hear our plaints and statements +concerning the following facts, which we intend to bring before the +tribunal of the archbishop, the judge of ecclesiastical crimes, to +whom should be deferred the conduct of the cause which we here +expose:-- + +A long time ago there came into this town a wicked demon in the form +of a woman, who lives in the parish of Saint-Etienne, in the house of +the innkeeper Tortebras, situated in the quit-rent of the chapter, and +under the temporal jurisdiction of the archiepiscopal domain. The +which foreigner carries on the business of a gay woman in a prodigal +and abusive manner, and with such increase of infamy that she +threatens to ruin the Catholic faith in this town, because those who +go to her come back again with their souls lost in every way, and +refuse the assistance of the Church with a thousand scandalous +discourses. + +Now considering that a great number of those who yielded to her are +dead, and that arrived in our town with no other wealth than her +beauty, she has, according to public clamour, infinite riches and +right royal treasure, the acquisition of which is vehemently +attributed to sorcery, or at least to robberies committed by the aid +of magical attractions and her supernaturally amorous person. + +Considering that it is a question of the honour and security of our +families, and that never before has been seen in this country a woman +wild of body or a daughter of pleasure, carrying on with such mischief +of vocation of light o’ love, and menacing so openly and bitterly the +life, the savings, the morals, chastity, religion, and the everything +of the inhabitants of this town; + +Considering that there is need of a inquiry into her person, her +wealth and her deportment, in order to verify if these effects of love +are legitimate, and to not proceed, as would seem indicated by her +manners, from a bewitchment of Satan, who often visits Christianity +under the form of a female, as appears in the holy books, in which it +is stated that our blessed Saviour was carried away into a mountain, +from which Lucifer or Astaroth showed him the fertile plains of Judea +and that in many places have been seen succubi or demons, having the +faces of women, who, not wishing to return to hell, and having with +them an insatiable fire, attempt to refresh and sustain themselves by +sucking in souls; + +Considering that in the case of the said woman a thousand proofs of +diablerie are met with, of which certain inhabitants speak openly, and +that it is necessary for the repose of the said woman that the matter +be sifted, in order that she shall not be attacked by certain people, +ruined by the result of her wickedness; + +For these causes we pray that it will please you to submit to our +spiritual lord, father of this diocese, the most noble and blessed +archbishop Jehan de Monsoreau, the troubles of his afflicted flock, to +the end that he may advise upon them. + +By doing so you will fulfil the duties of your office, as we do those +of preservers of the security of this town, each one according to the +things of which he has charge in his locality. + +And we have signed the present, in the year of our Lord one thousand +two hundred and seventy-one, of All Saints’ Day, after mass. + +Master Tournebouche having finished the reading of this petition, by +us, Hierome Cornille, has it been said to the petitioners-- + +“Gentlemen, do you, at the present time, persist in these statements? +have you proofs other than those come within your own knowledge, and +do you undertake to maintain the truth of this before God, before man, +and before the accused?” + +All, with the exception of Master Jehan Rabelais, have persisted in +their belief, and the aforesaid Rabelais has withdrawn from the +process, saying that he considered the said Moorish woman to be a +natural woman and a good wench who had no other fault than that of +keeping up a very high temperature of love. + +Then we, the judge appointed, have, after mature deliberation, found +matter upon which to proceed in the petition of the aforesaid +citizens, and have commanded that the woman at present in the jail of +the chapter shall be proceeded against by all legal methods, as +written in the canons and ordinances, _contra demonios_. The said +ordinance, embodied in a writ, shall be published by the town-crier in +all parts, and with the sound of the trumpet, in order to make it +known to all, and that each witness may, according to his knowledge, +be confronted with the said demon, and finally the said accused to be +provided with a defender, according to custom, and the interrogations, +and the process to be congruously conducted. + +(Signed) HIEROME CORNILLE. + +And, lower-down. + +TOURNEBOUCHE. + + +In nomine Patris, et Filii, et Spiritus Sancti. Amen. + + +In the year of our Lord one thousand two hundred and seventy-one, the +10th day of February, after mass, by command of us, Hierome Cornille, +ecclesiastical judge, has been brought from the jail of the chapter +and led before us the woman taken in the house of the innkeeper +Tortebras, situated in the domains of the chapter and the cathedral of +St. Maurice, and are subject to the temporal and seigneurial justice +of the Archbishop of Tours; besides which, in consequence of the +nature of the crimes imputed to her, she is liable to the tribunal and +council of ecclesiastical justice, the which we have made known to +her, to the end that she should not ignore it. + +And after a serious reading, entirely at will understood by her, in +the first place of the petition of the town, then of the statements, +plaints, accusations, and proceedings which written in twenty-four +quires by Master Tournebouche, and are above related, we have, with +the invocation and assistance of God and the Church, resolved to +ascertain the truth, first by interrogatories made to the said +accused. + +In the first interrogation we have requested the aforesaid to inform +us in what land or town she had been born. By her who speaks was it +answered: “In Mauritania.” + +We have then inquired: “If she had a father or mother, or any +relations?” By her who speaks has it been replied: “That she had never +known them.” By us requested to declare her name. By her who speaks +has been replied: “Zulma,” in Arabian tongue. + +By us has it been demanded: “Why she spoke our language?” By her who +speaks has it been said: “Because she had come into this country.” By +us has it been asked: “At what time?” By her who speaks has it been +replied: “About twelve years.” + +By us has it been asked: “What age she then was?” By her who speaks +has it been answered: “Fifteen years or thereabout.” + +By us has it been said: “Then you acknowledge yourself to be +twenty-seven years of age?” By her who speaks has it been replied: +“Yes.” + +By us has it been said to her: “That she was then the Moorish child +found in the niche of Madame the Virgin, baptised by the Archbishop, +held at the font by the late Lord of Roche-Corbon and the Lady of +Azay, his wife, afterwards by them placed in religion at the convent +of Mount Carmel, where by her had been made vows of chastity, poverty, +silence, and the love of God, under the divine assistance of St. +Clare?” By her who speaks has been said: “That is true.” + +By us has it been asked her: “If, then, she allowed to be true the +declarations of the very noble and illustrious lady the abbess of +Mount Carmel, also the statements of Jacquette, called Vieux-Oing, +being kitchen scullion?” By the accused has been answered: “These +words are true in great measure.” + +Then by us has it been said to her: “Then you are a Christian?” And by +her who speaks has been answered: “Yes, my father.” + +Then by us has she been requested to make the sign of the cross, and +to take holy water from the brush placed by Master Tournebouche in her +hand; the which having been done, and by us having been witnessed, it +has been admitted as an indisputable fact, that Zulma, the Moorish +woman, called in our country Blanche Bruyn, a nun of the convent under +the invocation of Mount Carmel, there named Sister Clare, and +suspected to be the false appearance of a woman under which is +concealed a demon, has in our presence made act of religion and thus +recognised the justice of the ecclesiastical tribunal. + +Then by us have these words been said to her: “My daughter, you are +vehemently suspected to have had recourse to the devil from the manner +in which you left the convent, which was supernatural in every way.” + By her who speaks has it been stated, that she at that time gained +naturally the fields by the street door after vespers, enveloped in +the robes of Jehan de Marsilis, visitor of the convent, who had hidden +her, the person speaking, in a little hovel belonging to him, situated +in the Cupidon Lane, near a tower in the town. That there this said +priest had to her then speaking, at great length, and most thoroughly +taught the depths of love, of which she then speaking was before in +all points ignorant, for which delights she had a great taste, finding +them of great use. That the Sire d’Amboise having perceived her then +speaking at the window of this retreat, had been smitten with a great +love for her. That she loved him more heartily than the monk, and fled +from the hovel where she was detained for profit of his pleasure by +Don Marsilis. And then she had gone in great haste to Amboise, the +castle of the said lord, where she had had a thousand pastimes, +hunting, and dancing, and beautiful dresses fit for a queen. One day +the Sire de la Roche-Pozay having been invited by the Sire d’Amboise +to come and feast and enjoy himself, the Baron d’Amboise had allowed +him to see her then speaking, as she came out naked from her bath. +That at this sight the said Sire de la Roche-Pozay having fallen +violently in love with her, had on the morrow discomfited in single +combat the Sire d’Amboise, and by great violence, had, is spite of her +tears, taken her to the Holy Land, where she who was speaking had +lived the life of a woman well beloved, and had been held in great +respect on account of her great beauty. That after numerous +adventures, she who was speaking had returned into this country in +spite of the apprehensions of misfortune, because such was the will of +her lord and master, the Baron de Bueil, who was dying of grief in +Asiatic lands, and desired to return to his patrimonial manor. Now he +had promised her who was speaking to preserve her from peril. Now she +who was speaking had faith and belief in him, the more so as she loved +him very much; but on his arrival in this country, the Sire de Bueil +was seized with an illness, and died deplorably, without taking any +remedies, this spite of the fervent requests which she who was +speaking had addressed to him, but without success, because he hated +physicians, master surgeons, and apothecaries; and that this was the +whole truth. + +Then by us has it been said to the accused that she then held to be +true the statements of the good Sire Harduin and of the innkeeper +Tortebras. By her who speaks has it been replied, that she recognised +as evidence the greater part, and also as malicious, calumnious, and +imbecile certain portions. + +Then by us has the accused been required to declare if she had had +pleasure and carnal commerce with all the men, nobles, citizens, and +others as set forth in the plaints and declarations of the +inhabitants. To which her who speaks has it been answered with great +effrontery: “Pleasure, yes! Commerce, I do not know.” + +By us has it been said to her, that all had died by her acts. By her +who speaks has it been said that their deaths could not be the result +of her acts, because she had always refused herself to them, and the +more she fled from them the more they came and embraced her with +infinite passion, and that when she who was speaking was taken by them +she gave herself up to them with all her strength, by the grace of +God, because she had in that more joy than in anything, and has +stated, she who speaks, that she avows her secret sentiments solely +because she had been requested by us to state the whole truth, and +that she the speaker stood in great fear of the torments of the +torturers. + +Then by us has she been requested to answer, under pain of torture, in +what state of mind she was when a young nobleman died in consequence +of his commerce with her. Then by her speaking has it been replied, +that she remained quite melancholy and wished to destroy herself; and +prayed God, the Virgin, and the saints to receive her into Paradise, +because never had she met with any but lovely and good hearts in which +was no guile, and beholding them die she fell into a great sadness, +fancying herself to be an evil creature or subject to an evil fate, +which she communicated like the plague. + +Then by us has she been requested to state where she paid her orisons. + +By her speaking has it been said that she played in her oratory on her +knees before God, who according to the Evangelists, sees and hears all +things and resides in all places. + +Then by us has it been demanded why she never frequented the churches, +the offices, nor the feasts. To this by her speaking has it been +answered, that those who came to love her had elected the feast days +for that purpose, and that she speaking did all things to their +liking. + +By us has it been remonstrated that, by so doing, she was submissive +to man rather than to the commandments of God. + +Then by her speaking has it been stated, that for those who loved her +well she speaking would have thrown herself into a flaming pile, never +having followed in her love any course but that of nature, and that +for the weight of the world in gold she would not have lent her body +or her love to a king who did not love her with his heart, feet, hair, +forehead, and all over. In short and moreover the speaker had never +made an act of harlotry in selling one single grain of love to a man +whom she had not chosen to be hers, and that he who held her in his +arms one hour or kissed her on the mouth a little, possessed her for +the remainder of her days. + +Then by us has she been requested to state whence preceded the jewels, +gold plate, silver, precious stones, regal furniture, carpets, et +cetera, worth 200,000 doubloons, according to the inventory found in +her residence and placed in the custody of the treasurer of the +chapter. By the speaker answer has been made, that in us she placed +all her hopes, even as much as in God, but that she dare not reply to +this, because it involved the sweetest things of love upon which she +had always lived. And interpellated anew, the speaker has said that if +the judge knew with what fervour she held him she loved, with what +obedience she followed him in good or evil ways, with what study she +submitted to him, with what happiness she listened to his desires, and +inhaled the sacred words with which his mouth gratified her, in what +adoration she held his person, even we, an old judge, would believe +with her well-beloved, that no sum could pay for this great affection +which all the men ran after. After the speaker has declared never from +any man loved by her, to have solicited any present or gift, and that +she rested perfectly contented to live in their hearts, that she would +there curl herself up with indestructible and ineffable pleasure, +finding herself richer with this heart than with anything, and +thinking of no other thing than to give them more pleasure and +happiness than she received from them. But in spite of the iterated +refusals of the speaker her lovers persisted in graciously rewarding +her. At times one came to her with a necklace of pearls, saying, “This +is to show my darling that the satin of her skin did not falsely +appear to me whiter than pearls” and would put it on the speaker’s +neck, kissing her lovingly. The speaker would be angry at these +follies, but could not refuse to keep a jewel that gave them pleasure +to see it there where they placed it. Each one had a different fancy. +At times another liked to tear the precious garments which the speaker +wore to gratify him; another to deck out the speaker with sapphires on +her arms, on her legs, on her neck, and in her hair; another to seat +her on the carpet, clad in silk or black velvet, and to remain for +days together in ecstasy at the perfections of the speaker the whom +the things desired by her lovers gave infinite pleasure, because these +things rendered them quite happy. And the speaker has said, that as we +love nothing so much as our pleasure, and wish that everything should +shine in beauty and harmonise, outside as well as inside the heart, so +they all wished to see the place inhabited by the speaker adorned with +handsome objects, and from this idea all her lovers were pleased as +much as she was in spreading thereabout gold, silks and flowers. Now +seeing that these lovely things spoil nothing, the speaker had no +force or commandment by which to prevent a knight, or even a rich +citizen beloved by her, having his will, and thus found herself +constrained to receive rare perfumes and other satisfaction with which +the speaker was loaded, and that such was the source of the gold, +plate, carpets, and jewels seized at her house by the officers of +justice. This terminates the first interrogation made to the said +Sister Clare, suspected to be a demon, because we the judge and +Guillaume Tournebouche, are greatly fatigued with having the voice of +the aforesaid, in our ears, and finding our understanding in every way +muddled. + +By us the judge has the second interrogatory been appointed, three +days from to-day, in order that the proofs of the possession and +presence of the demon in the body of the aforesaid may be sought, and +the accused, according to the order of the judge, has been taken back +to the jail under the conduct of Master Guillaume Tournebouche. + + +In nomine Patris, et Filii, et Spiritus Sancti. Amen. + + +On the thirteenth day following of the said month of the February +before us, Hierome Cornille, et cetera, has been produced the Sister +Clare above-mentioned, in order to be interrogated upon the facts and +deeds to her imputed, and of them to be convicted. + +By us, the judge, has it been said to the accused that, looking at the +divers responses by her given to the proceeding interrogatories, it +was certain that it never had been in the power of a simple woman, +even if she were authorised, if such licence were allowed to lead the +life of a loose woman, to give pleasure to all, to cause so many +deaths, and to accomplish sorceries so perfect, without the assistance +of a special demon lodged in her body, and to whom her soul had been +sold by an especial compact. That it had been clearly demonstrated +that under her outward appearance lies and moves a demon, the author +of these evils, and that she was now called upon to declare at what +age she had received the demon, to vow the agreement existing between +herself and him, and to tell the truth concerning their common evil +doings. By the speaker was it replied that she would answer us, man, +as to God, who would be judge of all of us. Then has the speaker +pretended never to have seen the demon, neither to have spoken with +him, nor in any way to desire to see him; never to have led the life +of a courtesan, because she, the speaker, had never practised the +various delights that love invents, other than those furnished by the +pleasure which the Sovereign Creator has put in the thing, and to have +always been incited more from the desire of being sweet and good to +the dear lord loved by her, then by an incessantly raging desire. But +if such had been her inclination, the speaker begged us to bear in +mind that she was a poor African girl, in whom God had placed very hot +blood, and in her brain so easy an understanding of the delights of +love, that if a man only looked at her she felt greatly moved in her +heart. That if from desire of acquaintance an amorous gentleman +touched the speaker her on any portion of the body, there passing his +hand, she was, in spite of everything, under his power, because her +heart failed her instantly. By this touch, the apprehension and +remembrance of all the sweet joys of love woke again in her breast, +and there caused an intense heat, which mounted up, flamed in her +veins, and made her love and joy from head to foot. And since the day +when Don Marsilis had first awakened the understanding of the speaker +concerning these things, she had never had any other thought, and +thenceforth recognised love to be a thing so perfectly concordant with +her nature, that it had since been proved to the speaker that in +default of love and natural relief she would have died, withered at +the said convent. As evidence of which, the speaker affirms as a +certainty, that after her flight from the said convent she had not +passed a single day or one particle of time in melancholy and sadness, +but always was she joyous, and thus followed the sacred will of God, +which she believed to have been diverted during the time lost by her +in the convent. + +To this was it objected by us, Hierome Cornille, to the said demon, +that in this response she had openly blasphemed against God, because +we had all been made to his greater glory, and placed in the world to +honour and to serve Him, to have before our eyes His blessed +commandments, and to live in sanctity, in order to gain eternal life, +and not to be always in bed, doing that which even the beasts only do +at a certain time. Then by the said sister, has answer been made, that +she honoured God greatly, that in all countries she had taken care of +the poor and suffering, giving them both money and raiment, and that +at the last judgement-day she hoped to have around her a goodly +company of holy works pleasant to God, which would intercede for her. +That but for her humility, a fear of being reproached and of +displeasing the gentlemen of the chapter, she would with joy have +spent her wealth in finishing the cathedral of St. Maurice, and there +have established foundations for the welfare of her soul--would have +spared therein neither her pleasure nor her person, and that with this +idea she would have taken double pleasure in her nights, because each +one of her amours would have added a stone to the building of this +basilic. Also the more this purpose, and for the eternal welfare of +the speaker, would they have right heartily given their wealth. + +Then by us has it been said to this demon that she could not justify +the fact of her sterility, because in spite of so much commerce, no +child had been born of her, the which proved the presence of a demon +in her. Moreover, Astaroth alone, or an apostle, could speak all +languages, and she spoke after the manner of all countries, the which +proved the presence of the devil in her. Thereupon the speaker has +asked: “In what consisted the said diversity of language?”--that of +Greek she knew nothing but a Kyrie eleison, of which she made great +use; of Latin, nothing, save Amen, which she said to God, wishing +therewith to obtain her liberty. That for the rest the speaker had +felt great sorrow, being without children, and if the good wives had +them, she believed it was because they took so little pleasure in the +business, and she, the speaker, a little too much. But that such was +doubtless the will of God, who thought that from too great happiness, +the world would be in danger of perishing. Taking this into +consideration, and a thousand other reasons, which sufficiently +establish the presence of the devil in the body of the sister, because +the peculiar property of Lucifer is to always find arguments having +the semblance of truth, we have ordered that in our presence the +torture be applied to the said accused, and that she be well tormented +in order to reduce the said demon by suffering to submit to the +authority of the Church, and have requested to render us assistance +one Francois de Hangest, master surgeon and doctor to the chapter, +charging him by a codicil hereunder written to investigate the +qualities of the feminine nature (virtutes vulvae) of the +above-mentioned woman, to enlighten our religion on the methods +employed by this demon to lay hold of souls in that way, and see if +any article was there apparent. + +Then the said Moorish women had wept bitterly, tortured in advance, +and in spite of her irons, has knelt down imploring with cries and +clamour the revocation of this order, objecting that her limbs were in +such a feeble state, and her bones so tender, that they would break +like glass; and finally, has offered to purchase her freedom from this +by the gift all her goods to the chapter, and to quit incontinently +the country. + +Upon this, by us has she been required to voluntarily declare herself +to be, and to have always been, demon of the nature of the Succubus, +which is a female devil whose business it is to corrupt Christians by +the blandishments and flagitious delights of love. To this the speaker +has replied that the affirmation would be an abominable falsehood, +seeing that she had always felt herself to be a most natural woman. + +Then her irons being struck off by the torturer, the aforesaid has +removed her dress, and has maliciously and with evil design bewildered +and attacked our understandings with the sight of her body, the which, +for a fact, exercises upon a man supernatural coercion. + +Master Guillaume Tournebouche has, by reason of nature, quitted the +pen at this period, and retired, objecting that he was unable, without +incredible temptations, which worked in his brain, to be a witness of +this torture, because he felt the devil violently gaining his person. + +This finishes the second interrogatory; and as the apparitor and +janitor of the chapter have stated Master Francois de Hangest to be in +the country, the torture and interrogations are appointed for +to-morrow at the hour of noon after mass. + +This has been written verbally by me, Hierome, in the absence of +Master Guillaume Tournebouche, on whose behalf it is signed. + +HIEROME CORNILLE +Grand Penitentiary. + + +PETITION + +Today, the fourteenth day of the month of February, in the presence of +me, Hierome Cornille, have appeared the said Masters Jehan Ribou, +Antoine Jehan, Martin Beaupertuys, Hierome Maschefer, Jacques de Ville +d’Omer, and the Sire d’Idre, in place of the mayor of the city of +Tours, for the time absent. All plaintiffs designated in the act of +process made at the Town Hall, to whom we have, at the request of +Blanche Bruyn (now confessing herself a nun of the convent of Mount +Carmel, under the name of Sister Clare), declared the appeal made to +the Judgment of God by the said person accused of demonical +possession, and her offer to pass through the ordeal of fire and +water, in presence of the Chapter and of the town of Tours, in order +to prove her reality as a woman and her innocence. + +To this request have agreed for their parts, the said accusers, who, +on condition that the town is security for it, have engaged to prepare +a suitable place and a pile, to be approved by the godparents of the +accused. + +Then by us, the judge, has the first day of the new year been +appointed for the day of the ordeal--which will be next Paschal Day +--and we have indicated the hour of noon, after mass, each of the +parties having acknowledged this delay to be sufficient. + +And the present proclamation shall be cited, at the suit of each of +them, in all the towns, boroughs, and castles of Touraine and the land +of France, at their request and at their cost and suit. + +HIEROME CORNILLE. + + +III +WHAT THE SUCCUBUS DID TO SUCK OUT THE SOUL OF THE OLD JUDGE, AND +WHAT CAME OF THE DIABOLICAL DELECTATION. + +This the act of extreme confession made the first day of the month of +March, in the year one thousand two hundred and seventy-one, after the +coming of our blessed Saviour, by Hierome Cornille, priest, canon of +the chapter of the cathedral of St. Maurice, grand penitentiary, of +all acknowledging himself unworthy, who, finding his last hour to be +come, and contrite of his sins, evil doings, forfeits, bad deeds, and +wickednesses, has desired his avowal to be published to serve the +preconisation of the truth, the glory of God, the justice of the +tribunal, and to be an alleviation to him of his punishment, in the +other world. The said Hierome Cornille being on his deathbed, there +had been convoked to hear his declarations, Jehan de la Haye (de +Hago), vicar of the church of St. Maurice; Pietro Guyard, treasurer of +the chapter, appointed by our Lord Jean de Monsoreau, Archbishop, to +write his words; and Dom Louis Pot, a monk of maius MONASTERIUM +(Marmoustier), chosen by him for a spiritual father and confessor; all +three assisted by the great and illustrious Dr Guillaume de Censoris, +Roman Archdeacon, at present sent into the diocese (LEGATUS), by our +Holy Father the Pope; and, finally, in the presence of a great number +of Christians come to be witnesses of the death of the said Hierome +Cornille, upon his known wish to make act of public repentance, seeing +that he was fast sinking, and that his words might open the eyes of +Christians about to fall into hell. + +And before him, Hierome, who, by reason of his great weakness could +not speak, has Dom Louis Pot read the following confession to the +great agitation of the said company:-- + +“My brethren, until the seventy-first year of my age, which is the one +in which I now am, with the exception of the little sins through +which, all holy though he be, a Christian renders himself culpable +before God, but which it is allowed to us to repurchase by penitence, +I believe I led a Christian life, and merited the praise and renown +bestowed upon me in this diocese, where I was raised to the high +office of grand penitentiary, of which I am unworthy. Now, struck with +the knowledge of the infinite glory of God, horrified at the agonies +which await the wicked and prevaricators in hell, I have thought to +lessen the enormity of my sins by the greatest penitence I can show in +the extreme hour at which I am. Thus I have prayed of the Church, whom +I have deceived and betrayed, whose rights and judicial renown I have +sold, to grant me the opportunity of accusing myself publicly in the +manner of ancient Christians. I hoped, in order to show my great +repentance, to have still enough life in me to be reviled at the door +of the cathedral by all my brethren, to remain there an entire day on +my knees, holding a candle, a cord around my neck, and my feet naked, +seeing that I had followed the way of hell with regard to the sacred +instincts of the Church. But in this great shipwreck of my fragile +virtue, which will be to you as a warning to fly from vice and the +snares of the demon, and to take refuge in the Church, where all help +is, I have been so bewitched by Lucifer that our Saviour Jesus Christ +will take, by the intercession of all you whose help and prayers I +request, pity on me, a poor abused Christian, whose eyes now stream +with tears. So would I have another life to spend in works of +penitence. Now then listen and tremble with great fear! Elected by the +assembled Chapter to carry it out, instruct, and complete the process +commenced against a demon, who had appeared in a feminine shape, in +the person of a relapse nun--an abominable person, denying God, and +bearing the name of Zulma in the infidel country whence she comes; the +which devil is known in the diocese under that of Clare, of the +convent of Mount Carmel, and has much afflicted the town by putting +herself under an infinite number of men to gain their souls to Mammon, +Astaroth, and Satan--princes of hell, by making them leave this world +in a state of mortal sin, and causing their death where life has its +source, I have, I the judge, fallen in my latter days into this snare, +and have lost my senses, while acquitting myself traitorously of the +functions committed with great confidence by the Chapter to my cold +senility. Hear how subtle the demon is, and stand firm against her +artifices. While listening to the first response of the aforesaid +Succubus, I saw with horror that the irons placed upon her feet and +hands left no mark there, and was astonished at her hidden strength +and at her apparent weakness. Then my mind was troubled suddenly at +the sight of the natural perfections with which the devil was endowed. +I listened to the music of her voice, which warmed me from head to +foot, and made me desire to be young, to give myself up to this demon, +thinking that for an hour passed in her company my eternal salvation +was but poor payment for the pleasure of love tasted in those slender +arms. Then I lost that firmness with which all judges should be +furnished. This demon by me questioned, reasoned with me in such a +manner that at the second interrogatory I was firmly persuaded I +should be committing a crime in fining and torturing a poor little +creature who cried like an innocent child. Then warned by a voice from +on high to do my duty, and that these golden words, the music of +celestial appearance, were diabolical mummeries, that this body, so +pretty, so infatuating, would transmute itself into a bristly beast +with sharp claws, those eyes so soft into flames of hell, her behind +into a scaly tail, the pretty rosebud mouth and gentle lips into the +jaws of a crocodile, I came back to my intention of having the said +Succubus tortured until she avowed her permission, as this practice +had already been followed in Christianity. Now when this demon showed +herself stripped to me, to be put to the torture, I was suddenly +placed in her power by magical conjurations. I felt my old bones +crack, my brain received a warm light, my heart transhipped young and +boiling blood. I was light in myself, and by virtue of the magic +philter thrown into my eyes the snows on my forehead melted away. I +lost all conscience of my Christian life and found myself a schoolboy, +running about the country, escaped from class and stealing apples. I +had not the power to make the sign of the cross, neither did I +remember the Church, God the Father, nor the sweet Saviour of men. A +prey to this design, I went about the streets thinking over the +delights of that voice, the abominable, pretty body of this demon, and +saying a thousand wicked things to myself. Then pierced and drawn by a +blow of the devil’s fork, who had planted himself already in my head +as a serpent in an oak, I was conducted by this sharp prong towards +the jail, in spite of my guardian angel, who from time to time pulled +me by the arm and defended me against these temptations, but in spite +of his holy advice and his assistance I was dragged by a million claws +stuck into my heart, and soon found myself in the jail. As soon as the +door was opened to me I saw no longer any appearance of a prison, +because the Succubus had there, with the assistance of evil genii or +fays, constructed a pavilion of purple and silk, full of perfumes and +flowers, where she was seated, superbly attired with neither irons on +her neck nor chains on her feet. I allowed myself to be stripped of my +ecclesiastical vestments, and was put into a scent bath. Then the +demon covered me with a Saracen robe, entertained me with a repast of +rare viands contained in precious vases, gold cups, Asiatic wines, +songs and marvellous music, and a thousand sweet sounds that tickled +my soul by means of my ears. At my side kept always the said Succubus, +and her sweet, delectable embrace distilled new ardour into my +members. My guardian angel quitted me. Then I lived only by the +terrible light of the Moorish woman’s eyes, coveted the warm embraces +of the delicate body, wished always to feel her red lips, that I +believed natural, and had no fear of the bite of those teeth which +drew me to the bottom of hell, I delighted to feel the unequalled +softness of her hands without thinking that they were unnatural claws. +In short, I acted like husband desiring to go to his affianced without +thinking that that spouse was everlasting death. I had no thought for +the things of this world nor the interests of God, dreaming only of +love, of the sweet breasts of this woman, who made me burn, and of the +gate of hell in which I wished to cast myself. Alas! my brethren, +during three days and three nights was I thus constrained to toil +without being able to stop the stream which flowed from my reins, in +which were plunged, like two pikes, the hands of the Succubus, which +communicated to my poor old age and to my dried up bones, I know not +what sweat of love. At first this demon, to draw me to her, caused to +flow in my inside the softness of milk, then came poignant joys which +pricked like a hundred needles my bones, my marrow, my brain, and my +nerves. Then all this gone, all things became inflamed, my head, my +blood, my nerves, my flesh, my bones, and then I burned with the real +fire of hell, which caused me torments in my joints, and an +incredible, intolerable, tearing voluptuousness which loosened the +bonds of my life. The tresses of this demon, which enveloped my poor +body, poured upon me a stream of flame, and I felt each lock like a +bar of red iron. During this mortal delectation I saw the ardent face +of the said Succubus, who laughed and addressed to me a thousand +exciting words; such as that I was her knight, her lord, her lance, +her day, her joy, her hero, her life, her good, her rider, and that +she would like to clasp me even closer, wishing to be in my skin or +have me in hers. Hearing which, under the prick of this tongue which +sucked out my soul, I plunged and precipitated myself finally into +hell without finding the bottom. And then when I had no more a drop of +blood in my veins, when my heart no longer beat in my body, and I was +ruined at all points, the demon, still fresh, white, rubicund, +glowing, and laughing, said to me-- + +“‘Poor fool, to think me a demon! Had I asked thee to sell thy soul +for a kiss, wouldst thou not give it to me with all thy heart?’ + +“‘Yes,’ said I. + +“‘And if always to act thus it were necessary for thee to nourish +thyself with the blood of new-born children in order always to have +new life to spend in my arms, would you not imbibe it willingly?’ + +“‘Yes,’ said I. + +“‘And to be always my gallant horseman, gay as a man in his prime, +feeling life, drinking pleasure, plunging to the depths of joy as a +swimmer into the Loire, wouldst thou not deny God, wouldst thou not +spit in the face of Jesus?’ + +“‘Yes,’ said I. + +“Then I felt a hundred sharp claws which tore my diaphragm as if the +beaks of a thousand birds there took their bellyfuls, shrieking. Then +I was lifted suddenly above the earth upon the said Succubus, who had +spread her wings, and cried to me-- + +“‘Ride, ride, my gallant rider! Hold yourself firmly on the back of +thy mule, by her mane, by her neck; and ride, ride, my gallant rider +--everything rides!’ And then I saw, as a thick fog, the cities of the +earth, where by a special gift I perceived each one coupled with a +female demon, and tossing about, and engendering in great +concupiscence, all shrieking a thousand words of love and exclamations +of all kinds, and all toiling away with ecstasy. Then my horse with +the Moorish head pointed out to me, still flying and galloping beyond +the clouds, the earth coupled with the sun in a conjunction, from +which proceeded a germ of stars, and there each female world was +embracing a male world; but in place of the words used by creatures, +the worlds were giving forth the howls of tempests, throwing up +lightnings and crying thunders. Then still rising, I saw overhead the +female nature of all things in love with the Prince of Movement. Now, +by way of mockery, the Succubus placed me in the centre of this +horrible and perpetual conflict, where I was lost as a grain of sand +in the sea. Then still cried my white mare to me, ‘Ride, ride my +gallant rider--all things ride!’ Now, thinking how little was a priest +in this torment of the seed of worlds, nature always clasped together, +and metals, stones, waters, airs, thunders, fish, plants, animals, +men, spirits, worlds and planets, all embracing with rage, I denied +the Catholic faith. Then the Succubus, pointing out to me the great +patch of stars seen in heavens, said to me, ‘That way is a drop of +celestial seed escaped from great flow of the worlds in conjunction.’ +Thereupon I instantly clasped the Succubus with passion by the light +of a thousand million of stars, and I wished in clasping her to feel +the nature of those thousand million creatures. Then by this great +effort of love I fell impotent in every way, and heard a great +infernal laugh. Then I found myself in my bed, surrounded by my +servitors, who had had the courage to struggle with the demon, +throwing into the bed where I was stretched a basin full of holy +water, and saying fervent prayers to God. Then had I to sustain, in +spite of this assistance, a horrible combat with the said Succubus, +whose claws still clutched my heart, causing me infinite pains; still, +while reanimated by the voice of my servitors, relations, and friends, +I tried to make the sacred sign of the cross; the Succubus perched on +my bed, on the bolster, at the foot, everywhere, occupying herself in +distracting my nerves, laughing, grimacing, putting before my eyes a +thousand obscene images, and causing me a thousand wicked desires. +Nevertheless, taking pity on me, my lord the Archbishop caused the +relics of St. Gatien to be brought, and the moment the shrine had +touched my bed the said Succubus was obliged to depart, leaving an +odour of sulphur and of hell, which made the throats of my servants, +friends, and others sore for a whole day. Then the celestial light of +God having enlightened my soul, I knew I was, through my sins and my +combat with the evil spirit, in great danger of dying. Then did I +implore the especial mercy, to live just a little time to render glory +to God and his Church, objecting the infinite merits of Jesus dead +upon the cross for the salvation of the Christians. By this prayer I +obtained the favour of recovering sufficient strength to accuse myself +of my sins, and to beg of the members of the Church of St. Maurice +their aid and assistance to deliver me from purgatory, where I am +about to atone for my faults by infinite agonies. Finally, I declare +that my proclamation, wherein the said demon appeals the judgment of +God by the ordeals of holy water and a fire, is a subterfuge due to an +evil design suggested by the said demon, who would thus have had the +power to escape the justice of the tribunal of the Archbishop and of +the Chapter, seeing that she secretly confessed to me, to be able to +make another demon accustomed to the ordeal appear in her place. And, +in conclusion, I give and bequeath to the Chapter of the Church of St. +Maurice my property of all kinds, to found a chapter in the said +church, to build it and adorn it and put it under the invocation of +St. Hierome and St. Gatien, of whom one is my patron and the other the +saviour of my soul.” + +This, heard by all the company, has been brought to the notice of the +ecclesiastical tribunal by Jehan to la Haye (Johannes de Haga). + + +We, Jehan de la Haye (Johannes de Haga), elected grand penitentiary of +St. Maurice by the general assembly of the Chapter, according to the +usage and custom of that church, and appointed to pursue afresh the +trial of the demon Succubus, at present in the jail of the Chapter, +have ordered a new inquest, at which will be heard all those of this +diocese having cognisance of the facts relative thereto. We declared +void the other proceedings, interrogations, and decrees, and annul +them in the name of the members of the Church in general, and +sovereign Chapter assembled, and declare that the appeal to God, +traitorously made by the demon, shall not take place, in consequence +of the notorious treachery of the devil in this affair. And the said +judgment shall be cried by sound of trumpet in all parts of the +diocese in which have been published the false edicts of the preceding +month, all notoriously due to the instigation of the demon, according +to the confession of the late Hierome Cornille. + +Let all good Christians be of assistance to our Holy Church, and to +her commandments. + +JEHAN DE LA HAYE. + + +IV +HOW THE MOORISH WOMAN OF THE RUE CHAUDE TWISTED ABOUT SO BRISKLY +THAT WITH GREAT DIFFICULTY WAS SHE BURNED AND COOKED ALIVE, TO +THE GREAT LOSS OF THE INFERNAL REGIONS. + +This was written in the month of May, of the year 1360, after the +manner of a testament. + + +“My very dear and well-beloved son, when it shall be lawful for thee +to read this I shall be, I thy father, reposing in the tomb, imploring +thy prayers, and supplicating thee to conduct thyself in life as it +will be commanded thee in this rescript, bequeathed for the good +government of thy family, thy future, and safety; for I have done this +at a period when I had my senses and understanding, still recently +affected by the sovereign injustice of men. In my virile age I had a +great ambition to raise myself in the Church, and therein to obtain +the highest dignities, because no life appeared to me more splendid. +Now with this earnest idea, I learned to read and write, and with +great trouble became in a fit condition to enter the clergy. But +because I had no protection, or good advice to superintend my training +I had an idea of becoming the writer, tabellion, and rubrican of the +Chapter of St. Maurice, in which were the highest and richest +personages of Christendom, since the King of France is only therein a +simple canon. Now there I should be able better than anywhere else to +find services to render to certain lords, and thus to find a master or +gain patronage, and by this assistance enter into religion, and be +mitred and esconced in an archiepiscopal chair, somewhere or other. +But this first vision was over credulous, and a little too ambitious, +the which God caused me clearly to perceive by the sequel. In fact, +Messire Jepan de Villedomer, who afterwards became cardinal, was given +this appointment, and I was rejected, discomfited. Now in this unhappy +hour I received an alleviation of my troubles, by the advice of the +good old Hierome Cornille, of whom I have often spoken to you. This +dear man induced me, by his kindness, to become penman to the Chapter +of St. Maurice and the Archbishop of Tours, the which offer I accepted +with joy, since I was reputed a scrivener. At the time I was about to +enter into the presbytery commenced the famous process against the +devil of the Rue Chaude, of which the old folk still talk, and which +in its time, has been recounted in every home in France. Now, +believing that it would be of great advantage to my ambition, and that +for this assistance the Chapter would raise me to some dignity, my +good master had me appointed for the purpose of writing all of that +should be in this grave cause, subject to writing. At the very outset +Monseigneur Hierome Cornille, a man approaching eighty years, of great +sense, justice, and sound understanding, suspected some spitefulness +in this cause, although he was not partial to immodest girls, and had +never been involved with a woman in his life, and was holy and +venerable, with a sanctity which had caused him to be selected as a +judge, all this not withstanding. As soon as the depositions were +completed, and the poor wench heard, it remained clear that although +this merry doxy had broken her religious vows, she was innocent of all +devilry, and that her great wealth was coveted by her enemies, and +other persons, whom I must not name to thee for reasons of prudence. +At this time every one believed her to be so well furnished with +silver and gold that she could have bought the whole county of +Touraine, if so it had pleased her. A thousand falsehoods and +calumnious words concerning the girl, envied by all the honest women, +were circulated and believed in as gospel. At this period Master +Hierome Cornille, having ascertained that no demon other than that of +love was in the girl, made her consent to remain in a convent for the +remainder of her days. And having ascertained certain noble knights +brave in war and rich in domains, that they would do everything to +save her, he invited her secretly to demand of her accusers the +judgment of God, at the same time giving her goods to the chapter, in +order to silence mischievous tongues. By this means would be saved +from the stake the most delicate flower that ever heaven has allowed +to fall upon our earth; the which flower yielded only from excessive +tenderness and amiability to the malady of love, cast by her eyes into +the hearts of all her pursuers. But the real devil, under the form of +a monk, mixed himself up in this affair; in this wise: great enemy of +the virtue, wisdom, and sanctity of Monsignor Hierome Cornille, named +Jehan de la Haye, having learned that in the jail, the poor girl was +treated like a queen, wickedly accused the grand penitentiary of +connivance with her and of being her servitor, because, said this +wicked priest, she makes him young, amorous, and happy, from which the +poor old man died of grief in one day, knowing by this that Jehan de +la Haye had worn his ruin and coveted his dignities. In fact, our lord +the archbishop visited the jail, and found the Moorish woman in a +pleasant place, reposing comfortably, and without irons, because, +having placed a diamond in a place when none could have believed she +could have held it, she had purchased the clemency of her jailer. At +the time certain persons said that this jailer was smitten with her, +and that from love, or perhaps in great fear of the young barons, +lovers of this woman, he had planned her escape. The good man Cornille +being at the point of death, through the treachery of Jehan de la +Haye, the Chapter thinking it necessary to make null and void the +proceedings taken by the penitentiary, and also his decrees, the said +Jehan de la Haye, at that time a simple vicar of the cathedral, +pointed out that to do this it would be sufficient to obtain a public +confession from the good man on his death-bed. Then was the moribund +tortured and tormented by the gentleman of the Chapter, those of Saint +Martin, those of Marmoustiers, by the archbishop and also by the +Pope’s legate, in order that he might recant to the advantage of the +Church, to which the good man would not consent. But after a thousand +ills, the public confession was prepared, at which the most noteworthy +people of the town assisted, and the which spread more horror and +consternation than I can describe. The churches of the diocese held +public prayers for this calamity, and every one expected to see the +devil tumble into his house by the chimney. But the truth of it is +that the good Master Hierome had a fever, and saw cows in his room, +and then was this recantation obtained of him. The access passed, the +poor saint wept copiously on learning this trick from me. In fact, he +died in my arms, assisted by his physicians, heartbroken at this +mummery, telling us that he was going to the feet of God to pray to +prevent the consummation of this deplorable iniquity. The poor Moorish +woman had touched him much by her tears and repentance, seing that +before making her demand for the judgment of God he had minutely +confessed her, and by that means had disentangled the soul divine +which was in the body, and of which he spoke as of a diamond worthy of +adorning the holy crown of God, when she should have departed this +life, after repenting her sins. Then, my dear son, knowing by the +statements made in the town, and by the naive responses of this +unhappy wretch, all the trickery of this affair, I determined by the +advice of Master Francois de Hangest, physician of the chapter, to +feign an illness and quit the service of the Church of St. Maurice and +of the archbishopric, in order not to dip my hands in the innocent +blood, which still cries and will continue to cry aloud unto God until +the day of the last judgment. Then was the jailer dismissed, and in +his place was put the second son of the torturer, who threw the +Moorish woman into a dungeon, and inhumanly put upon her hands and +feet chains weighing fifty pounds, besides a wooden waistband; and the +jail were watched by the crossbowmen of the town and the people of the +archbishop. The wench was tormented and tortured, and her bones were +broken; conquered by sorrow, she made an avowal according to the +wishes of Jehan de la Haye, and was instantly condemned to be burned +in the enclosure of St. Etienne, having been previously placed in the +portals of the church, attired in a chemise of sulphur, and her goods +given over to the Chapter, et cetera. This order was the cause of +great disturbances and fighting in the town, because three young +knights of Touraine swore to die in the service of the poor girl, and +to deliver her in all possible ways. Then they came into the town, +accompanied by thousands of sufferers, labouring people, old soldiers, +warriors, courtesans, and others, whom the said girls had succoured, +saved from misfortune, from hunger and misery, and searched all the +poor dwellings of the town where lay those to whom she had done good. +Thus all were stirred up and called together to the plain of +Mount-Louis under the protection of the soldiers of the said lords; +they had for companions all the scape-graces of the said twenty +leagues around, and came one morning to lay siege to the prison of the +archbishop, demanding that the Moorish woman should be given up to +them as though they would put her to death, but in fact to set her +free, and to place her secretly upon a swift horse, that she might +gain the open country, seeing that she rode like a groom. Then in this +frightful tempest of men have we seen between the battlements of the +archiepiscopal palace and the bridges, more than ten thousand men +swarming, besides those who were perched upon the roofs of the houses +and climbing on all the balconies to see the sedition; in short it was +easy to hear the horrible cries of the Christians, who were terribly in +earnest, and of those who surrounded the jail with the intention of +setting the poor girl free, across the Loire, the other side of Saint +Symphorien. The suffocation and squeezing of bodies was so great in +this immense crowd, bloodthirsty for the poor creature at whose knees +they would have fallen had they had the opportunity of seeing her, that +seven children, eleven women, and eight citizens were crushed and +smashed beyond all recognition, since they were like splodges of mud; +in short, so wide open was the great mouth of this popular leviathan, +this horrible monster, that the clamour was heard at +Montils-les-Tours. All cried ‘Death to the Succubus! Throw out the +demon! Ha! I’d like a quarter! I’ll have her skin! The foot for me, the +mane for thee! The head for me! The something for me! Is it red? Shall +we see? Will it be grilled? Death to her! death!’ Each one had his say. +But the cry, ‘Largesse to God! Death to the Succubus!’ was yelled at +the same time by the crowd so hoarsely and so cruelly that one’s ears +and heart bled therefrom; and the other cries were scarcely heard in +the houses. The archbishop decided, in order to calm this storm which +threatened to overthrow everything, to come out with great pomp from +the church, bearing the host, which would deliver the Chapter from +ruin, since the wicked young men and the lords had sworn to destroy +and burn the cloisters and all the canons. Now by this stratagem the +crowd was obliged to break up, and from lack of provisions return to +their houses. Then the monks of Touraine, the lords, and the citizens, +in great apprehension of pillage on the morrow, held a nocturnal +council, and accepted the advice of the Chapter. By their efforts the +men-at-arms, archers, knights, and citizens, in a large number, kept +watch, and killed a party of shepherds, road menders, and vagrants, +who, knowing the disturbed state of Tours, came to swell the ranks of +the malcontents. The Sire Harduin de Maille, an old nobleman, reasoned +with the young knights, who were the champions of the Moorish woman, +and argued sagely with them, asking them if for so small a woman they +wished to put Touraine to fire and sword; that even if they were +victorious they would be masters of the bad characters brought +together by them; that these said freebooters, after having sacked the +castles of their enemies, would turn to those of their chiefs. That +the rebellion commenced had had no success in the first attack, +because up to that time the place was untouched, could they have any +over the church, which would invoke the aid of the king? And a +thousand other arguments. To these reasons the young knights replied, +that it was easy for the Chapter to aid the girl’s escape in the +night, and that thus the cause of the sedition would be removed. To +this humane and wise requests replied Monseigneur de Censoris, the +Pope’s legate, that it was necessary that strength should remain with +the religion of the Church. And thereupon the poor wench payed for +all, since it was agreed that no inquiry should be made concerning +this sedition. + +“Then the Chapter had full licence to proceed to the penance of the +girl, to which act and ecclesiastical ceremony the people came from +twelve leagues around. So that on the day when, after divine +satisfaction, the Succubus was to be delivered up to secular justice, +in order to be publicly burnt at a stake, not for a gold pound would a +lord or even an abbott have been found lodging in the town of Tours. +The night before many camped outside the town in tents, or slept upon +straw. Provisions were lacking, and many who came with their bellies +full, returned with their bellies empty, having seen nothing but the +reflection of the fire in the distance. And the bad characters did +good strokes of business by the way. + +“The poor courtesan was half dead; her hair had whitened. She was, to +tell the truth, nothing but a skeleton, scarcely covered with flesh, +and her chains weighed more than she did. If she had had joy in her +life, she paid dearly for it at this moment. Those who saw her pass +say that she wept and shrieked in a way that should have earned the +pity of her hardest pursuers; and in the church there were compelled +to put a piece of wood in her mouth, which she bit as a lizard bites a +stick. Then the executioner tied her to a stake to sustain her, since +she let herself roll at times and fell for want of strength. Then she +suddenly recovered a vigorous handful, because, this notwithstanding, +she was able, it is said to break her cords and escape into the +church, where in remembrance of her old vocation, she climbed quickly +into galleries above, flying like a bird along the little columns and +small friezes. She was about to escape on to the roof when a soldier +perceived her, and thrust his spear in the sole of her foot. In spite +of her foot half cut through, the poor girl still ran along the church +without noticing it, going along with her bones broken and her blood +gushing out, so great fear had she of the flames of the stake. At last +she was taken and bound, thrown into a tumbrel and led to the stake, +without being afterwards heard to utter a cry. The account of her +flight in the church assisted in making the common people believe that +she was the devil, and some of them said that she had flown in the +air. As soon as the executioner of the town threw her into the flames, +she made two or three horrible leaps and fell down into the bottom of +the pile, which burned day and night. On the following evening I went +to see if anything remained of this gentle girl, so sweet, so loving, +but I found nothing but a fragment of the ‘os stomachal,’ in which, is +spite of this, there still remained some moisture, and which some say +still trembled like a woman does in the same place. It is impossible +to tell, my dear son, the sadnesses, without number and without equal, +which for about ten years weighed upon me; always was I thinking of +this angel burnt by wicked men, and always I beheld her with her eyes +full of love. In short the supernatural gifts of this artless child +were shining day and night before me, and I prayed for her in the +church, where she had been martyred. At length I had neither the +strength nor the courage to look without trembling upon the grand +penitentiary Jehan de la Haye, who died eaten up by lice. Leprosy was +his punishment. Fire burned his house and his wife; and all those who +had a hand in the burning had their own hands singed. + +“This, my well-beloved son, was the cause of a thousand ideas, which I +have here put into writing to be forever the rule of conduct in our +family. + +“I quitted the service of the church, and espoused your mother, from +whom I received infinite blessings, and with whom I shared my life, my +goods, my soul, and all. And she agreed with me in following precepts +--Firstly, that to live happily, it is necessary to keep far away from +church people, to honour them much without giving them leave to enter +your house, any more than to those who by right, just or unjust, are +supposed to be superior to us. Secondly, to take a modest condition, +and to keep oneself in it without wishing to appear in any way rich. +To have a care to excite no envy, nor strike any onesoever in any +manner, because it is needful to be as strong as an oak, which kills +the plants at its feet, to crush envious heads, and even then would +one succumb, since human oaks are especially rare and that no +Tournebouche should flatter himself that he is one, granting that he +be a Tournebouche. Thirdly, never to spend more than one quarter of +one’s income, conceal one’s wealth, hide one’s goods and chattels, to +undertake no office, to go to church like other people, and always +keep one’s thoughts to oneself, seeing that they belong to you and not +to others, who twist them about, turn them after their own fashion, +and make calumnies therefrom. Fourthly, always to remain in the +condition of the Tournebouches, who are now and forever drapers. To +marry your daughters to good drapers, send your sons to be drapers in +other towns of France furnished with these wise precepts, and to bring +them up to the honour of drapery, and without leaving any dream of +ambition in their minds. A draper like a Tournebouche should be their +glory, their arms, their name, their motto, their life. Thus by being +always drapers, they will be always Tournebouches, and rub on like the +good little insects, who, once lodged in the beam, made their dens, +and go on with security to the end of their ball of thread. Fifthly +never to speak any other language than that of drapery, and never to +dispute concerning religion or government. And even though the +government of the state, the province, religion, and God turn about, +or have a fancy to go to the right or to the left, always in your +quality of Tournebouche, stick to your cloth. Thus unnoticed by the +others of the town, the Tournebouches will live in peace with their +little Tournebouches--paying the tithes and taxes, and all that they +are required by force to give, be it to God, or to the king, to the +town of to the parish, with all of whom it is unwise to struggle. Also +it is necessary to keep the patrimonial treasure, to have peace and to +buy peace, never to owe anything, to have corn in the house, and enjoy +yourselves with the doors and windows shut. + +“By this means none will take from the Tournebouches, neither the +state, nor the Church, nor the Lords, to whom should the case be that +force is employed, you will lend a few crowns without cherishing the +idea of ever seeing him again--I mean the crowns. + +“Thus, in all seasons people will love the Tournebouches, will mock +the Tournebouches as poor people--as the slow Tournebouches, as +Tournebouches of no understanding. Let the know-nothings say on. The +Tournebouches will neither be burned nor hanged, to the advantage of +King or Church, or other people; and the wise Tournebouches will have +secretly money in their pockets, and joy in their houses, hidden from +all. + +“Now, my dear son, follow this the counsel of a modest and +middle-class life. Maintain this in thy family as a county charter; +and when you die, let your successor maintain it as the sacred gospel +of the Tournebouches, until God wills it that there be no longer +Tournebouches in this world.” + +This letter has been found at the time of the inventory made in the +house of Francois Tournebouche, lord of Veretz, chancellor to +Monseigneur the Dauphin, and condemned at the time of the rebellion of +the said lord against the King to lose his head, and have all his +goods confiscated by order of the Parliament of Paris. The said letter +has been handed to the Governor of Touraine as an historical +curiosity, and joined to the pieces of the process in the +archbishopric of Tours, by me, Pierre Gaultier, Sheriff, President of +the Trades Council. + +The author having finished the transcription and deciphering of these +parchments, translating them from their strange language into French, +the donor of them declared that the Rue Chaude at Tours was so called, +according to certain people, because the sun remained there longer +than in all other parts. But in spite of this version, people of lofty +understanding will find, in the warm way of the said Succubus, the +real origin of the said name. In which acquiesces the author. This +teaches us not to abuse our body, but use it wisely in view of our +salvation. + + + + DESPAIR IN LOVE + +At the time when King Charles the Eighth took it into his head to +decorate the castle of Amboise, they came with him certain workmen, +master sculptors, good painters, and masons, or architects, who +ornamented the galleries with splendid works, which, through neglect, +have since been much spoiled. + +At that time the court was staying in this beautiful locality, and, as +everyone knows, the king took great pleasure in watching his people +work out their ideas. Among these foreign gentlemen was an Italian, +named Angelo Cappara, a most worthy young man, and, in spite of his +age, a better sculptor and engraver than any of them; and it +astonished many to see one in the April of his life so clever. Indeed, +there had scarcely sprouted upon his visage the hair which imprints +upon a man virile majesty. To this Angelo the ladies took a great +fancy because he was charming as a dream, and as melancholy as a dove +left solitary in its nest by the death of its mate. And this was the +reason thereof: this sculptor knew the curse of poverty, which mars +and troubles all the actions of life; he lived miserably, eating +little, ashamed of his pennilessness, and made use of his talents only +through great despair, wishing by any means to win that idle life +which is the best all for those whose minds are occupied. The +Florentine, out of bravado, came to the court gallantly attired, and +from the timidity of youth and misfortune dared not ask his money from +the king, who, seeing him thus dressed, believed him well with +everything. The courtiers and the ladies used all to admire his +beautiful works, and also their author; but of money he got none. All, +and the ladies above all, finding him rich by nature, esteemed him +well off with his youth, his long black hair, and bright eyes, and did +not give a thought to lucre, while thinking of these things and the +rest. Indeed they were quite right, since these advantages gave to +many a rascal of the court, lands, money and all. In spite of his +youthful appearance, Master Angelo was twenty years of age, and no +fool, had a large heart, a head full of poetry; and more than that, +was a man of lofty imaginings. But although he had little confidence +in himself, like all poor and unfortunate people, he was astonished at +the success of the ignorant. He fancied that he was ill-fashioned, +either in body or mind, and kept his thoughts to himself. I am wrong, +for he told them in the clear starlight nights to the shadows, to God, +to the devil, and everything about him. At such times he would lament +his fate in having a heart so warm, that doubtless the ladies avoided +him as they would a red-hot iron; then he would say to himself how he +would worship a beautiful mistress, how all his life long he would +honour her, and with what fidelity he would attach himself to her, +with what affection serve her, how studiously obey her commands, with +what sports he would dispel the light clouds of her melancholy sadness +on the days when the skies should be overcast. Fashioning himself one +out of his imagination, he would throw himself at her feet, kiss, +fondle, caress, bite, and clasp her with as much reality as a prisoner +scampers over the grass when he sees the green fields through the bars +of his cell. Thus he would appeal to her mercy; overcome with his +feelings, would stop her breath with his embraces, would become daring +in spite of his respect, and passionately bite the clothes of his bed, +seeking this celestial lady, full of courage when by himself, but +abashed on the morrow if he passed one by. Nevertheless, inflamed by +these amorous advances, he would hammer way anew at his marble +figures, would carve beautiful breasts, to bring the water into one’s +mouth at the sight of those sweet fruits of love, without counting the +other things that he raised, carved, and caressed with the chisels, +smoothed down with his file, and fashioned in a manner that would make +their use intelligible to the mind of a greenhorn, and stain his +verdure in a single day. The ladies would criticise these beauties, +and all of them were smitten with the youthful Cappara. And the +youthful Cappara would eye them up and down, swearing that the day one +of them gave him her little finger to kiss, he would have his desire. + +Among these high-born ladies there came one day one by herself to the +young Florentine, asking him why he was so shy, and if none of the +court ladies could make him sociable. Then she graciously invited him +to come to her house that evening. + +Master Angelo perfumes himself, purchases a velvet mantle with a +double fringe of satin, borrows from a friend a cloak with wide +sleeves, a slashed doublet, and silken hose, arrives at the house, and +ascends the stairs with hasty feet, hope beaming from his eyes, +knowing not what to do with his heart, which leaped and bounded like a +goat; and, to sum up, so much over head and ears in love, that the +perspiration trickled down his back. + +You may be sure the lady was a beautiful, and Master Cappara was the +more aware of it, since in his profession he had studied the mouldings +of the arms, the lines of the body, the secret surroundings of the +sex, and other mysteries. Now this lady satisfied the especial rules +of art; and besides being fair and slender, she had a voice to disturb +life in its source, to stir fire of a heart, brain, and everything; in +short, she put into one’s imagination delicious images of love without +thinking of it, which is the characteristic of these cursed women. + +The sculptor found her seated by the fire in a high chair, and the +lady immediately commenced to converse at her ease, although Angelo +could find no other replies than “Yes” and “No,” could get no other +words from his throat nor idea in his brain, and would have beaten his +head against the fireplace but for the happiness of gazing at and +listening to his lovely mistress, who was playing there like a young +fly in the sunshine. Because, which this mute admiration, both +remained until the middle of the night, wandering slowly down the +flowery path of love, the good sculptor went away radiant with +happiness. On the road, he concluded in his own mind, that if a noble +lady kept him rather close to her skirts during four hours of the +night, it would not matter a straw if she kept him there the +remainder. Drawing from these premises certain corollaries, he +resolved to ask her favours as a simple woman. Then he determined to +kill everybody--the husband, the wife, or himself--rather than lose +the distaff whereon to spin one hour of joy. Indeed, he was so mad +with love, that he believed life to be but a small stake in the game +of love, since one single day of it was worth a thousand lives. + +The Florentine chiselled away at his statues, thinking of his evening, +and thus spoiled many a nose thinking of something else. Noticing +this, he left his work, perfumed himself, and went to listen to the +sweet words of his lady, with the hope of turning them into deeds; but +when he was in the presence of his sovereign, her feminine majesty +made itself felt, and poor Cappara, such a lion in street, looked +sheepish when gazing at his victim. This notwithstanding, towards the +hour when desire becomes heated, he was almost in the lady’s lap and +held her tightly clasped. He had obtained a kiss, had taken it, much +to his delight; for, when they give it, the ladies retain the right of +refusal, but when they left it to be taken, the lover may take a +thousand. This is the reason why all of them are accustomed to let it +be taken. The Florentine has stolen a great number, and things were +going on admirably, when the lady, who had been thrifty with her +favours, cried, “My husband!” + +And, in fact, my lord had just returned from playing tennis, and the +sculptor had to leave the place, but not without receiving a warm +glance from the lady interrupted in her pleasure. This was all his +substance, pittance and enjoyment during a whole month, since on the +brink of his joy always came the said husband, and he always arrived +wisely between a point-blank refusal and those little sweet caresses +with which women always season their refusals--little things which +reanimate love and render it all the stronger. And when the sculptor, +out of patience, commenced, immediately upon his arrival, the skirmish +of the skirt, in order that victory might arrive before the husband, +to whom, no doubt, these disturbances were not without profit, his +fine lady, seeing desire written in the eyes of her sculptor, +commenced endless quarrels and altercations; at first she pretended to +be jealous in order to rail against love; then appeased the anger of +the little one with the moisture of a kiss, then kept the conversation +to herself, and kept on saying that her lover should be good, obedient +to her will, otherwise she would not yield to him her life and soul; +that a desire was a small thing to offer a mistress; that she was more +courageous, because loving more she sacrificed more, and to his +propositions she would exclaim, “Silence, sir!” with the air of a +queen, and at times she would put on an angry look, to reply to the +reproachs of Cappara: “If you are not as I wish you to be, I will no +longer love you.” + +The poor Italian saw, when it was too late, that this was not a noble +love, one of those which does not mete out joy as a miser his crowns; +and that this lady took delight in letting him jump about outside the +hedge and be master of everything, provided he touched not the garden +of love. At this business Cappara became a savage enough to kill +anyone, and took with him trusty companions, his friends, to whom he +gave the task of attacking the husband while walking home to bed after +his game of tennis with the king. He came to his lady at the +accustomed hour when the sweet sports of love were in full swing, +which sports were long, lasting kisses, hair twisted and untwisted, +hand bitten with passion, ears as well; indeed, the whole business, +with the exception of that especial thing which good authors rightly +find abominable. The Florentine exclaims between two hearty kisses-- + +“Sweet one, do you love me more than anything?” + +“Yes,” said she, because words never cost anything. + +“Well then,” replied the lover, “be mine in deed as in word.” + +“But,” said she, “my husband will be here directly.” + +“Is that the only reason?” said he. + +“Yes.” + +“I have friends who will cross him, and will not let him go unless I +show a torch at this window. If he complain to the king, my friends +will say, they thought they were playing a joke on one of their own +set.” + +“Ah, my dear,” said she, “let me see if everyone in the house is gone +to bed.” + +She rose, and held the light to the window. Seeing which Cappara blew +out the candle, seized his sword, and placing himself in front of the +woman, whose scorn and evil mind he recognised. + +“I will not kill you, madame,” said he, “but I will mark your face in +such a manner you will never again coquette with young lovers whose +lives you waste. You have deceived me shamefully, and are not a +respectable woman. You must know that a kiss will never sustain life +in a true lover, and that a kissed mouth needs the rest. Your have +made my life forever dull and wretched; now I will make you remember +forever my death, which you have caused. You shall never again behold +yourself in a glass without seeing there my face also.” Then he raised +his arm, and held the sword ready to cut off a good slice of the fresh +fair cheek, where still all the traces of his kiss remained. And the +lady exclaimed, “You wretch!” + +“Hold your tongue,” said he; “you told me that you loved me better +than anything. Now you say otherwise; each evening have you raised me +a little nearer to heaven; with one blow you cast me into hell, and +you think that your petticoat can save you from a lover’s wrath--No!” + +“Ah, my Angelo! I am thine,” said she, marvelling at this man glaring +with rage. + +But he, stepping three paces back, replied, “Ah, woman of the court +and wicked heart, thou lovest, then, thy face better than thy lover.” + +She turned pale, and humbly held up her face, for she understood that +at this moment her past perfidy wronged her present love. With a +single blow Angelo slashed her face, then left her house, and quitted +the country. The husband not having been stopped by reason of that +light which was seen by the Florentines, found his wife minus her left +cheek. But she spoke not a word in spite of her agony; she loved her +Cappara more than life itself. Nevertheless, the husband wished to +know whence preceded this wound. No one having been there except the +Florentine, he complained to the king, who had his workman hastily +pursued, and ordered him to be hanged at Blois. On the day of +execution a noble lady was seized with a desire to save this +courageous man, whom she believed to be a lover of the right sort. She +begged the king to give him to her, which he did willingly. But +Cappara declaring that he belonged entirely to his lady, the memory of +whom he could not banish entirely, entered the Church, became a +cardinal and a great savant, and used to say in his old age that he +had existed upon the remembrance of the joys tasted in those poor +hours of anguish; in which he was, at the same time, both very well +and very badly treated by his lady. There are authors saying +afterwards he succeeded better with his old sweetheart, whose cheek +healed; but I cannot believe this, because he was a man of heart, who +had a high opinion of the holy joys of love. + +This teaches us nothing worth knowing, unless it be that there are +unlucky meetings in life, since this tale is in every way true. If in +other places the author has overshot the truth, this one will gain for +him the indulgence of the conclave or lovers. + + + + EPILOGUE + +This second series comes in the merry month of June, when all is green +and gay, because the poor muse, whose slave the author is, has been +more capricious then the love of a queen, and has mysteriously wished +to bring forth her fruit in the time of flowers. No one can boast +himself master of this fay. At times, when grave thoughts occupy the +mind and grieve the brain, comes the jade whispering her merry tales +in the author’s ear, tickling her lips with her feathers, dancing +sarabands, and making the house echo with her laughter. If by chance +the writer, abandoning science for pleasure, says to her, “Wait a +moment, little one, till I come,” and runs in great haste to play with +the madcap, she has disappeared. She has gone into her hole, hides +herself there, rolls herself up, and retires. Take the poker, take a +staff, a cudgel, a cane, raise them, strike the wench, and rave at +her, she moans; strap her, she moans; caress her, fondle her, she +moans; kiss her, say to her, “Here, little one,” she moans. Now she’s +cold, now she is going to die; adieu to love, adieu to laughter, adieu +to merriment, adieu to good stories. Wear mourning for her, weep and +fancy her dead, groan. Then she raises her head, her merry laugh rings +out again; she spreads her white wings, flies one knows not wither, +turns in the air, capers, shows her impish tail, her woman’s breasts, +her strong loins, and her angelic face, shakes her perfumed tresses, +gambols in the rays of the sun, shines forth in all her beauty, +changes her colours like the breast of a dove, laughs until she cries, +cast the tears of her eyes into the sea, where the fishermen find them +transmuted into pretty pearls, which are gathered to adorn the +foreheads of queens. She twists about like a colt broken loose, +exposing her virgin charms, and a thousand things so fair that a pope +would peril his salvation for her at the mere sight of them. During +these wild pranks of the ungovernable beast you meet fools and +friends, who say to the poor poet, “Where are your tales? Where are +your new volumes? You are a pagan prognosticator. Oh yes, you are +known. You go to fetes and feasts, and do nothing between your meals. +Where’s your work?” + +Although I am by nature partial to kindness, I should like to see one +of these people impaled in the Turkish fashion, and thus equipped, +sent on the Love Chase. Here endeth the second series; make the devil +give it a lift with his horns, and it will be well received by a +smiling Christendom. + + + + + VOLUME III + THE THIRD TEN TALES + + + + CONTENTS + +PROLOGUE +PERSEVERANCE IN LOVE +CONCERNING A PROVOST WHO DID NOT RECOGNISE THINGS +ABOUT THE MONK AMADOR, WHO WAS A GLORIOUS ABBOT OF TURPENAY +BERTHA THE PENITENT +HOW THE PRETTY MAID OF PORTILLON CONVINCED HER JUDGE +IN WHICH IT IS DEMONSTRATED THAT FORTUNE IS ALWAYS FEMININE +CONCERNING A POOR MAN WHO WAS CALLED LE VIEUX PAR-CHEMINS +ODD SAYINGS OF THREE PILGRIMS +INNOCENCE +THE FAIR IMPERIA MARRIED +EPILOGUE + + + + PROLOGUE + +Certain persons have interrogated the author as to why there was such +a demand for these tales that no year passes without his giving an +instalment of them, and why he has lately taken to writing commas +mixed up with bad syllables, at which the ladies publicly knit their +brows, and have put to him other questions of a like character. + +The author declares that these treacherous words, cast like pebbles in +his path, have touched him in the very depths of his heart, and he is +sufficiently cognisant of his duty not to fail to give to his special +audience in this prologue certain reasons other than the preceding +ones, because it is always necessary to reason with children until +they are grown up, understand things, and hold their tongues; and +because he perceives many mischievous fellows among the crowd of noisy +people, who ignore at pleasure the real object of these volumes. + +In the first place know, that if certain virtuous ladies--I say +virtuous because common and low class women do not read these stories, +preferring those that are never published; on the contrary, other +citizens’ wives and ladies, of high respectability and godliness, +although doubtless disgusted with the subject-matter, read them +piously to satisfy an evil spirit, and thus keep themselves virtuous. +Do you understand, my good reapers of horns? It is better to be +deceived by the tale of a book than cuckolded through the story of a +gentleman. You are saved the damage by this, poor fools! besides +which, often your lady becomes enamoured, is seized with fecund +agitations to your advantage, raised in her by the present book. +Therefore do these volumes assist to populate the land and maintain it +in mirth, honour and health. I say mirth, because much is to be +derived from these tales. I say honour, because you save your nest +from the claws of that youthful demon named cuckoldom in the language +of the Celts. I say health, because this book incites that which was +prescribed by the Church of Salerno, for the avoidance of cerebral +plethora. Can you derive a like proof in any other typographically +blackened portfolios? Ha! ha! where are the books that make children? +Think! Nowhere. But you will find a glut of children making books +which beget nothing but weariness. + +But to continue. Now be it known that when ladies, of a virtuous +nature and a talkative turn of mind, converse publicly on the subject +of these volumes, a great number of them, far from reprimanding the +author, confess that they like him very much, esteem him a valiant +man, worthy to be a monk in the Abbey of Theleme. For as many reasons +as there are stars in the heavens, he does not drop the style which he +has adopted in these said tales, but lets himself be vituperated, and +keeps steadily on his way, because noble France is a woman who refuses +to yield, crying, twisting about, and saying, + +“No, no, never! Oh, sir, what are you going to do? I won’t let you; +you’d rumple me.” + +And when the volume is done and finished, all smiles, she exclaims, + +“Oh, master, are there any more to come?” + +You may take it for granted that the author is a merry fellow, who +troubles himself little about the cries, tears and tricks of the lady +you call glory, fashion, or public favour, for he knows her to be a +wanton who would put up with any violence. He knows that in France her +war-cry is _Mount Joy_! A fine cry indeed, but one which certain +writers have disfigured, and which signifies, “Joy it is not of the +earth, it is there; seize it, otherwise good-bye.” The author has this +interpretation from Rabelais, who told it to him. If you search +history, has France ever breathed a word when she was joyous mounted, +bravely mounted, passionately mounted, mounted and out of breath? She +goes furiously at everything, and likes this exercise better than +drinking. Now, do you not see that these volumes are French, joyfully +French, wildly French, French before, French behind, French to the +backbone. Back then, curs! strike up the music; silence, bigots! +advance my merry wags, my little pages, put your soft hands into the +ladies’ hands and tickle them in the middle--of the hand of course. +Ha! ha! these are high sounding and peripatetic reasons, or the author +knows nothing of sound and the philosophy of Aristotle. He has on his +side the crown of France and the oriflamme of the king and Monsieur +St. Denis, who, having lost his head, said “Mount-my-Joy!” Do you mean +to say, you quadrupeds, that the word is wrong? No. It was certainly +heard by a great many people at the time; but in these days of deep +wretchedness you believe nothing concerning the good old saints. + +The author has not finished yet. Know all ye who read these tales with +eye and hand, feel them in the head alone, and love them for the joy +they bring you, and which goes to your heart, know that the author +having in an evil hour let his ideas, _id est_, his inheritance, go +astray, and being unable to get them together again, found himself in +a state of mental nudity. Then he cried like the woodcutter in the +prologue of the book of his dear master Rabelais, in order to make +himself heard by the gentleman on high, Lord Paramount of all things, +and obtain from Him fresh ideas. This said Most High, still busy with +the congress of the time, threw to him through Mercury an inkstand +with two cups, on which was engraved, after the manner of a motto, +these three letters, _Ave_. Then the poor fellow, perceiving no other +help, took great care to turn over this said inkstand to find out the +hidden meaning of it, thinking over the mysterious words and trying to +find a key to them. First, he saw that God was polite, like the great +Lord as He is, because the world is His, and He holds the title of it +from no one. But since, in thinking over the days of his youth, he +remembered no great service rendered to God, the author was in doubt +concerning this hollow civility, and pondered long without finding out +the real substance of the celestial utensil. By reason of turning it +and twisting it about, studying it, looking at it, feeling it, +emptying it, knocking it in an interrogatory manner, smacking it down, +standing it up straight, standing it on one side, and turning it +upside down, he read backwards _Eva_. Who is _Eva_, if not all women +in one? Therefore by the Voice Divine was it said to the author: + +Think of women; woman will heal thy wound, stop the waste-hole in thy +bag of tricks. Woman is thy wealth; have but one woman, dress, +undress, and fondle that women, make use of the woman--woman is +everything--woman has an inkstand of her own; dip thy pen in that +bottomless inkpot. Women like love; make love to her with the pen +only, tickle her phantasies, and sketch merrily for her a thousand +pictures of love in a thousand pretty ways. Woman is generous, and all +for one, or one for all, must pay the painter, and furnish the hairs +of the brush. Now, muse upon that which is written here. _Ave_, Hail, +_Eva_, woman; or _Eva_, woman, _Ave_, Hail. Yes, she makes and +unmakes. Heigh, then, for the inkstand! What does woman like best? +What does she desire? All the special things of love; and woman is +right. To have children, to produce an imitation, of nature, which is +always in labour. Come to me, then, woman!--come to me, Eva! + +With this the author began to dip into that fertile inkpot, where +there was a brain-fluid, concocted by virtues from on high in a +talismanic fashion. From one cup there came serious things, which +wrote themselves in brown ink; and from the other trifling things, +which merely gave a roseate hue to the pages of the manuscript. The +poor author has often, from carelessness, mixed the inks, now here, +now there; but as soon as the heavy sentences, difficult to smooth, +polish, and brighten up, of some work suitable to the taste of the day +are finished, the author, eager to amuse himself, in spite of the +small amount of merry ink remaining in the left cup, steals and bears +eagerly therefrom a few penfuls with great delight. These said penfuls +are, indeed, these same Droll Tales, the authority on which is above +suspicion, because it flows from a divine source, as is shown in this +the author’s naive confession. + +Certain evil-disposed people will still cry out at this; but can you +find a man perfectly contented on this lump of mud? Is it not a shame? +In this the author has wisely comported himself in imitation of a +higher power; and he proves it by _atqui_. Listen. Is it not most +clearly demonstrated to the learned that the sovereign Lord of worlds +has made an infinite number of heavy, weighty, and serious machines +with great wheels, large chains, terrible notches, and frightfully +complicated screws and weights like the roasting jack, but also has +amused Himself with little trifles and grotesque things light as +zephyrs, and has made also naive and pleasant creations, at which you +laugh directly you see them? Is it not so? Then in all eccentric +works, such as the very spacious edifice undertaken by the author, in +order to model himself upon the laws of the above-named Lord, it is +necessary to fashion certain delicate flowers, pleasant insects, fine +dragons well twisted, imbricated, and coloured--nay, even gilt, +although he is often short of gold--and throw them at the feet of his +snow-clad mountains, piles of rocks, and other cloud-capped +philosophers, long and terrible works, marble columns, real thoughts +carved in porphyry. + +Ah! unclean beasts, who despise and repudiate the figures, phantasies, +harmonies, and roulades of the fair muse of drollery, will you not +pare your claws, so that you may never again scratch her white skin, +all azure with veins, her amorous reins, her flanks of surpassing +elegance, her feet that stay modestly in bed, her satin face, her +lustrous features, her heart devoid of bitterness? Ah! wooden-heads, +what will you say when you find that this merry lass springs from the +heart of France, agrees with all that is womanly in nature, has been +saluted with a polite _Ave_! by the angels in the person of their +spokesman, Mercury, and finally, is the clearest quintessence of Art. +In this work are to be met with necessity, virtue, whim, the desire of +a woman, the votive offering of a stout Pantagruelist, all are here. +Hold your peace, then, drink to the author, and let his inkstand with +the double cup endow the Gay Science with a hundred glorious Droll +Tales. + +Stand back then, curs; strike up the music! Silence, bigots; out of +the way, dunces! step forward my merry wags!--my little pages! give +your soft hand to the ladies, and tickle theirs in the centre in a +pretty manner, saying to them, “Read to laugh.” Afterwards you can +tell them some mere jest to make them roar, since when they are +laughing their lips are apart, and they make but a faint resistance to +love. + + + + PERSEVERANCE IN LOVE + +During the first years of the thirteenth century after the coming of +our Divine Saviour there happened in the City of Paris an amorous +adventure, through the deed of a man of Tours, of which the town and +even the king’s court was never tired of speaking. As to the clergy, +you will see by that which is related the part they played in this +history, the testimony of which was by them preserved. This said man, +called the Touranian by the common people, because he had been born in +our merry Touraine, had for his true name that of Anseau. In his +latter days the good man returned into his own country and was mayor +of St. Martin, according to the chronicles of the abbey of that town; +but at Paris he was a great silversmith. + +But now in his prime, by his great honesty, his labours, and so forth, +he became a citizen of Paris and subject of the king, whose protection +he bought, according to the custom of the period. He had a house built +for him free of all quit-rent, close the Church of St. Leu, in the Rue +St. Denis, where his forge was well-known by those in want of fine +jewels. Although he was a Touranian, and had plenty of spirit and +animation, he kept himself virtuous as a true saint, in spite of the +blandishments of the city, and had passed the days of his green season +without once dragging his good name through the mire. Many will say +this passes the bounds of that faculty of belief which God has placed +in us to aid that faith due to the mysteries of our holy religion; so +it is needful to demonstrate abundantly the secret cause of this +silversmith’s chastity. And, first remember that he came into the town +on foot, poor as Job, according to the old saying; and unlike all the +inhabitants of our part of the country, who have but one passion, he +had a character of iron, and persevered in the path he had chosen as +steadily as a monk in vengeance. As a workman, he laboured from morn +to night; become a master, he laboured still, always learning new +secrets, seeking new receipts, and in seeking, meeting with inventions +of all kinds. Late idlers, watchmen, and vagrants saw always a modest +lamp shining through the silversmith’s window, and the good man +tapping, sculpting, rounding, distilling, modeling, and finishing, +with his apprentices, his door closed and his ears open. Poverty +engendered hard work, hard work engendered his wonderful virtue, and +his virtue engendered his great wealth. Take this to heart, ye +children of Cain who eat doubloons and micturate water. If the good +silversmith felt himself possessed with wild desires, which now in one +way, now another, seize upon an unhappy bachelor when the devil tries +to get hold of him, making the sign of the cross, the Touranian +hammered away at his metal, drove out the rebellious spirits from his +brain by bending down over the exquisite works of art, little +engravings, figures of gold and silver forms, with which he appeased +the anger of his Venus. Add to this that this Touranian was an artless +man, of simple understanding, fearing God above all things, then +robbers, next to that of nobles, and more than all, a disturbance. +Although if he had two hands, he never did more than one thing at a +time. His voice was as gentle as that of a bridegroom before marriage. +Although the clergy, the military, and others gave him no reputation +for knowledge, he knew well his mother’s Latin, and spoke it correctly +without waiting to be asked. Latterly the Parisians had taught him to +walk uprightly, not to beat the bush for others, to measure his +passions by the rule of his revenues, not to let them take his leather +to make other’s shoes, to trust no one farther then he could see them, +never to say what he did, and always to do what he said; never to +spill anything but water; to have a better memory than flies usually +have; to keep his hands to himself, to do the same with his purse; to +avoid a crowd at the corner of a street, and sell his jewels for more +than they cost him; all things, the sage observance of which gave him +as much wisdom as he had need of to do business comfortably and +pleasantly. And so he did, without troubling anyone else. And watching +this good little man unobserved, many said, + +“By my faith, I should like to be this jeweller, even were I obliged +to splash myself up to the eyes with the mud of Paris during a hundred +years for it.” + +They might just as well have wished to be king of France, seeing that +the silversmith had great powerful nervous arms, so wonderfully strong +that when he closed his fist the cleverest trick of the roughest +fellow could not open it; from which you may be sure that whatever he +got hold of he stuck to. More than this, he had teeth fit to masticate +iron, a stomach to dissolve it, a duodenum to digest it, a sphincter +to let it out again without tearing, and shoulders that would bear a +universe upon them, like that pagan gentleman to whom the job was +confided, and whom the timely arrival of Jesus Christ discharged from +the duty. He was, in fact, a man made with one stroke, and they are +the best, for those who have to be touched are worth nothing, being +patched up and finished at odd times. In short, Master Anseau was a +thorough man, with a lion’s face, and under his eyebrows a glance that +would melt his gold if the fire of his forge had gone out, but a +limpid water placed in his eyes by the great Moderator of all things +tempered this great ardour, without which he would have burnt up +everything. Was he not a splendid specimen of a man? + +With such a sample of his cardinal virtues, some persist in asking why +the good silversmith remained as unmarried as an oyster, seeing that +these properties of nature are of good use in all places. But these +opinionated critics, do they know what it is to love? Ho! Ho! Easy! +The vocation of a lover is to go, to come, to listen, to watch, to +hold his tongue, to talk, to stick in a corner, to make himself big, +to make himself little, to agree, to play music, to drudge, to go to +the devil wherever he may be, to count the gray peas in the dovecote, +to find flowers under the snow, to say paternosters to the moon, to +pat the cat and pat the dog, to salute the friends, to flatter the +gout, or the cold of the aunt, to say to her at opportune moments “You +have good looks, and will yet write the epitaph of the human race.” To +please all the relations, to tread on no one’s corns, to break no +glasses, to waste no breath, to talk nonsense, to hold ice in his +hand, to say, “This is good!” or, “Really, madam, you are very +beautiful so.” And to vary that in a hundred different ways. To keep +himself cool, to bear himself like a nobleman, to have a free tongue +and a modest one, to endure with a smile all the evils the devil may +invent on his behalf, to smother his anger, to hold nature in control, +to have the finger of God, and the tail of the devil, to reward the +mother, the cousin, the servant; in fact, to put a good face on +everything. In default of which the female escapes and leaves you in a +fix, without giving a single Christian reason. In fact, the lover of +the most gentle maid that God ever created in a good-tempered moment, +had he talked like a book, jumped like a flea, turned about like dice, +played like King David, and built for the aforesaid woman the +Corinthian order of the columns of the devil, if he failed in the +essential and hidden thing which pleases his lady above all others, +which often she does not know herself and which he has need to know, +the lass leaves him like a red leper. She is quite right. No one can +blame her for so doing. When this happens some men become +ill-tempered, cross, and more wretched than you can possibly imagine. +Have not many of them killed themselves through this petticoat tyranny? +In this matter the man distinguishes himself from the beast, seeing that +no animal ever yet lost his senses through blighted love, which proves +abundantly that animals have no souls. The employment of a lover is +that of a mountebank, of a soldier, of a quack, of a buffoon, of a +prince, of a ninny, of a king, of an idler, of a monk, of a dupe, of a +blackguard, of a liar, of a braggart, of a sycophant, of a numskull, +of a frivolous fool, of a blockhead, of a know-nothing, of a knave. An +employment from which Jesus abstained, in imitation of whom folks of +great understanding likewise disdain it; it is a vocation in which a +man of worth is required to spend above all things, his time, his +life, his blood, his best words, besides his heart, his soul, and his +brain; things to which the women are cruelly partial, because directly +their tongues begin to go, they say among themselves that if they have +not the whole of a man they have none of him. Be sure, also, that +there are cats, who, knitting their eyebrows, complain that a man does +but a hundred things for them, for the purpose of finding out if there +be a hundred, at first seeing that in everything they desire the most +thorough spirit of conquest and tyranny. And this high jurisprudence +has always flourished among the customs of Paris, where the women +receive more wit at their baptism than in any other place in the +world, and thus are mischievous by birth. + +But our silversmith, always busy at his work, burnishing gold and +melting silver, had no time to warm his love or to burnish and make +shine his fantasies, nor to show off, gad about, waste his time in +mischief, or to run after she-males. Now seeing that in Paris virgins +do not fall into the beds of young men any more than roast pheasants +into the streets, not even when the young men are royal silversmiths, +the Touranian had the advantage of having, as I have before observed, +a continent member in his shirt. However, the good man could not close +his eyes to the advantage of nature with which were so amply furnished +the ladies with whom he dilated upon the value of his jewels. So it +was that, after listening to the gentle discourse of the ladies, who +tried to wheedle and to fondle him to obtain a favour from him, the +good Touranian would return to his home, dreamy as a poet, wretched as +a restless cuckoo, and would say to himself, “I must take to myself a +wife. She would keep the house tidy, keep the plates hot for me, fold +the clothes for me, sew my buttons on, sing merrily about the house, +tease me to do everything according to her taste, would say to me as +they all say to their husbands when they want a jewel, ‘Oh, my own +pet, look at this, is it not pretty?’ And every one in the quarter +will think of my wife and then of me, and say ‘There’s a happy man.’ +Then the getting married, the bridal festivities, to fondle Madame +Silversmith, to dress her superbly, give her a fine gold chain, to +worship her from crown to toe, to give her the whole management of the +house, except the cash, to give her a nice little room upstairs, with +good windows, pretty, and hung around with tapestry, with a wonderful +chest in it and a fine large bed, with twisted columns and curtains of +yellow silk. He would buy her beautiful mirrors, and there would +always be a dozen or so of children, his and hers, when he came home +to greet him.” Then wife and children would vanish into the clouds. He +transferred his melancholy imaginings to fantastic designs, fashioned +his amorous thoughts into grotesque jewels that pleased their buyers +well, they not knowing how many wives and children were lost in the +productions of the good man, who, the more talent he threw into his +art, the more disordered he became. Now if God had not had pity upon +him, he would have quitted this world without knowing what love was, +but would have known it in the other without that metamorphosis of the +flesh which spares it, according to Monsieur Plato, a man of some +authority, but who, not being a Christian, was wrong. But, there! +these preparatory digressions are the idle digressions and fastidious +commentaries which certain unbelievers compel a man to wind about a +tale, swaddling clothes about an infant when it should run about stark +naked. May the great devil give them a clyster with his red-hot +three-pronged fork. I am going on with my story now without further +circumlocution. + +This is what happened to the silversmith in the one-and-fortieth year +of his age. One Sabbath-day while walking on the left bank of the +Seine, led by an idle fancy, he ventured as far as that meadow which +has since been called the Pre-aux-Clercs and which at that time was in +the domain of the abbey of St. Germain, and not in that of the +University. There, still strolling on the Touranian found himself in +the open fields, and there met a poor young girl who, seeing that he +was well-dressed, curtsied to him, saying “Heaven preserve you, +monseigneur.” In saying this her voice had such sympathetic sweetness +that the silversmith felt his soul ravished by this feminine melody, +and conceived an affection for the girl, the more so as, tormented +with ideas of marriage as he was, everything was favourable thereto. +Nevertheless, as he had passed the wench by he dared not go back, +because he was as timid as a young maid who would die in her +petticoats rather than raise them for her pleasure. But when he was a +bowshot off he bethought him that he was a man who for ten years had +been a master silversmith, had become a citizen, and was a man of +mark, and could look a woman in the face if his fancy so led him, the +more so as his imagination had great power over him. So he turned +suddenly back, as if he had changed the direction of his stroll, and +came upon the girl, who held by an old cord her poor cow, who was +munching grass that had grown on the border of a ditch at the side of +the road. + +“Ah, my pretty one,” said he, “you are not overburdened with the goods +of this world that you thus work with your hands upon the Lord’s Day. +Are you not afraid of being cast into prison?” + +“Monseigneur,” replied the maid, casting down her eyes, “I have +nothing to fear, because I belong to the abbey. The Lord Abbot has +given me leave to exercise the cow after vespers.” + +“You love your cow, then, more than the salvation of your soul?” + +“Ah, monseigneur, our beast is almost the half of our poor lives.” + +“I am astonished, my girl, to see you poor and in rags, clothed like a +fagot, running barefoot about the fields on the Sabbath, when you +carry about you more treasures than you could dig up in the grounds of +the abbey. Do not the townspeople pursue, and torment you with love?” + +“Oh, never monseigneur. I belong to the abbey”, replied she, showing +the jeweller a collar on her left arm like those that the beasts of +the field have, but without the little bell, and at the same time +casting such a deplorable glance at our townsman that he was stricken +quite sad, for by the eyes are communicated contagions of the heart +when they are strong. + +“And what does this mean?” he said, wishing to hear all about it. + +And he touched the collar, upon which was engraved the arms of the +abbey very distinctly, but which he did not wish to see. + +“Monseigneur, I am the daughter of an homme de corps; thus whoever +unites himself to me by marriage, will become a bondsman, even if he +were a citizen of Paris, and would belong body and goods to the abbey. +If he loved me otherwise, his children would still belong to the +domain. For this reason I am neglected by everyone, abandoned like a +poor beast of the field. But what makes me most unhappy is, that +according to the pleasure of monseigneur the abbot, I shall be coupled +at some time with a bondsman. And if I were less ugly than I am, at +the sight of my collar the most amorous would flee from me as from the +black plague.” + +So saying, she pulled her cow by the cord to make it follow her. + +“And how old are you?” asked the silversmith. + +“I do not know, monseigneur; but our master, the abbot, has kept +account.” + +This great misery touched the heart of the good man, who had in his +day eaten the bread of sorrow. He regulated his pace to the girl’s, +and they went together towards the water in painful silence. The good +man gazed at the fine forehead, the round red arms, the queen’s waist, +the feet dusty, but made like those of a Virgin Mary; and the sweet +physiognomy of this girl, who was the living image of St. Genevieve, +the patroness of Paris, and the maidens who live in the fields. And +make sure that this Joseph suspected the pretty white of this sweet +girl’s breasts, which were by a modest grace carefully covered with an +old rag, and looked at them as a schoolboy looks at a rosy apple on a +hot day. Also, may you depend upon it that these little hillocks of +nature denoted a wench fashioned with delicious perfection, like +everything that the monks possess. Now, the more it was forbidden our +silversmith to touch them, the more his mouth watered for these fruits +of love. And his heart leaped almost into his mouth. + +“You have a fine cow,” said he. + +“Would you like a little milk?” replied she. “It is so warm these +early days of May. You are far from the town.” + +In truth, the sky was a cloudless blue, and glared like a forge. +Everything was radiant with youth, the leaves, the air, the girls, the +lads; everything was burning, was green, and smelt like balm. This +naive offer, made without the hope of recompense, though a byzant +would not have paid for the special grace of this speech; and the +modesty of the gesture with which the poor girl turned to him gained +the heart of the jeweller, who would have liked to be able to put this +bondswoman into the skin of a queen, and Paris at her feet. + +“Nay, my child, I thirst not for milk, but for you, whom I would have +leave to liberate.” + +“That cannot be, and I shall die the property of the abbey. For years +we have lived so, from father to son, from mother to daughter. Like my +ancestors, I shall pass my days on this land, as will also my +children, because the abbot cannot legally let us go.” + +“What!” said the Touranian; “has no gallant been tempted by your +bright eyes to buy your liberty, as I bought mine from the king?” + +“It would cost too dear; thus it is those whom at first sight I +please, go as they came.” + +“And you have never thought of gaining another country in company of a +lover on horseback on a fleet courser?” + +“Oh yes. But, monseigneur, if I were caught I should be hanged at +least; and my gallant, even were he a lord, would lose more than one +domain over it, besides other things. I am not worth so much; besides, +the abbey has arms longer than my feet are swift. So I live on in +perfect obedience to God, who has placed me in this plight.” + +“What is your father?” + +“He tends the vines in the gardens of the abbey.” + +“And your mother?” + +“She is a washerwoman.” + +“And what is your name?” + +“I have no name, dear sir. My father was baptised Etienne, my mother +is Etienne, and I am Tiennette, at your service.” + +“Sweetheart,” said the jeweller, “never has woman pleased me as you +please me; and I believe that your heart contains a wealth of +goodness. Now, since you offered yourself to my eyes at the moment +when I was firmly deliberating upon taking a companion, I believe that +I see in you a sign from heaven! And if I am not displeasing to you, I +beg you to accept me as your friend.” + +Immediately the maid lowered her eyes. These words were uttered in +such a way, in so grave a tone, so penetrating a manner, that the said +Tiennette burst into tears. + +“No, monseigneur, I should be the cause of a thousand +unpleasantnesses, and of your misfortune. For a poor bondsmaid, the +conversation has gone far enough.” + +“Ho!” cried Anseau; “you do not know, my child, the man you are +dealing with.” + +The Touranian crossed himself, joined his hands, and said-- + +“I make a vow to Monsieur the Saint Eloi, under whose invocation are +the silversmiths, to fashion two images of pure silver, with the best +workmanship I am able to perform. One shall be a statue of Madame the +Virgin, to this end, to thank her for the liberty of my dear wife; and +the other for my said patron, if I am successful in my undertaking to +liberate the bondswoman Tiennette here present, and for which I rely +upon his assistance. Moreover, I swear by my eternal salvation, to +persevere with courage in this affair, to spend therein all I process, +and only to quit it with my life. God has heard me,” said he. “And +you, little one,” he added, turning towards the maid. + +“Ha! monseigneur, look! My cow is running about the fields,” cried +she, sobbing at the good man’s knees. “I will love you all my life; +but withdraw your vow.” + +“Let us to look after the cow,” said the silversmith, raising her, +without daring yet to kiss her, although the maid was well disposed to +it. + +“Yes,” said she, “for I shall be beaten.” + +And behold now the silversmith, scampering after the cursed cow, who +gave no heed to their amours; she was taken by the horns, and held in +the grip of the Touranian, who for a trifle would have thrown her in +the air, like a straw. + +“Adieu, my sweet one! If you go into the town, come to my house, over +against St Leu’s Church. I am called Master Anseau, and am silversmith +to the King of France, at the sign of St. Eloi. Make me a promise to +be in this field the next Lord’s-Day; fail not to come, even should it +rain halberds.” + +“Yes, dear Sir. For this I would leap the walls, and, in gratitude, +would I be yours without mischief, and cause you no sorrow, at the +price of my everlasting future. Awaiting the happy moment, I will pray +God for you with all my heart.” + +And then she remained standing like a stone saint, moving not, until +she could see the good citizen no longer, and he went away with +lagging steps, turning from time to time further to gaze upon her. And +when he was far off, and out of her sight, she stayed on, until +nightfall, lost in meditation, knowing not if she had dreamed that +which had happened to her. Then she went back to the house, where she +was beaten for staying out, but felt not the blows. The good +silversmith could neither eat nor drink, but closed his workshop, +possessed of this girl, thinking of nothing but this girl, seeing +everywhere the girl; everything to him being to possess this girl. Now +when the morrow was come, he went with great apprehension towards the +abbey to speak to the lord abbot. On the road, however, he suddenly +thought of putting himself under the protection of one of the king’s +people, and with this idea returned to the court, which was then held +in the town. Being esteemed by all for his prudence, and loved for his +little works and kindnesses, the king’s chamberlain--for whom he had +once made, for a present to a lady of the court, a golden casket set +with precious stones and unique of its kind--promised him assistance, +had a horse saddled for himself, and a hack for the silversmith, with +whom he set out for the abbey, and asked to see the abbot, who was +Monseigneur Hugon de Sennecterre, aged ninety-three. Being come into +the room with the silversmith, waiting nervously to receive his +sentence, the chamberlain begged the abbot to sell him in advance a +thing which was easy for him to sell, and which would be pleasant to +him. + +To which the abbot replied, looking at the chamberlain-- + +“That the canons inhibited and forbade him thus to engage his word.” + +“Behold, my dear father,” said the chamberlain, “the jeweller of the +Court who has conceived a great love for a bondswoman belonging to +your abbey, and I request you, in consideration of my obliging you in +any such desire as you may wish to see accomplished, to emancipate +this maid.” + +“Which is she?” asked the abbot of the citizen. + +“Her name is Tiennette,” answered the silversmith, timidly. + +“Ho! ho!” said the good old Hugon, smiling. “The angler has caught us +a good fish! This is a grave business, and I know not how to decide by +myself.” + +“I know, my father, what those words mean,” said that chamberlain, +knitting his brows. + +“Fine sir,” said the abbot, “know you what this maid is worth?” + +The abbot ordered Tiennette to be fetched, telling his clerk to dress +her in her finest clothes, and to make her look as nice as possible. + +“Your love is in danger,” said that chamberlain to the silversmith, +pulling him on one side. “Dismiss this fantasy. You can meet anywhere, +even at Court, with women of wealth, young and pretty, who would +willingly marry you. For this, if need be, the king would assist you +by giving you some title, which in course of time would enable you to +found a good family. Are you sufficiently well furnished with crowns +to become the founder of a noble line?” + +“I know not, monseigneur,” replied Anseau. “I have put money by.” + +“Then see if you cannot buy the manumission of this maid. I know the +monks. With them money does everything.” + +“Monseigneur,” said the silversmith to the abbot, coming towards him, +“you have the charge and office representing here below the goodness +of God, who is often clement towards us, and has infinite treasures of +mercy for our sorrows. Now, I will remember you each evening and each +morning in my prayers, and never forget that I received my happiness +at your hands, if you aid me to gain this maid in lawful wedlock, +without keeping in servitude the children born of this union. And for +this I will make you a receptacle for the Holy Eucharist, so +elaborate, so rich with gold, precious stones and winged angels, that +no other shall be like it in all Christendom. It shall remain unique, +it shall dazzle your eyesight, and shall be so far the glory of your +altar, that the people of the towns and foreign nobles shall rush to +it, so magnificent shall it be.” + +“My son,” replied the abbot “have you lost your senses? If you are so +resolved to have this wench for a legal wife, your goods and your +person belong to the Chapter of the abbey.” + +“Yes, monseigneur, I am passionately in love with this girl, and more +touched with her misery and her Christian heart than even with her +perfections; but I am,” said he, with tears in his eyes, “still more +astonished at your harshness, and I say it although I know that my +fate is in your hands. Yes, monseigneur, I know the law; and if my +goods fall to your domain, if I become a bondsman, if I lose my house +and my citizenship, I will still keep that engine, gained by my +labours and my studies, on which lies there,” cried he, striking his +forehead “in a place of which no one, save God, can be lord but +myself. And your whole abbey could not pay for the special creations +which proceed therefrom. You may have my body, my wife, my children, +but nothing shall get you my engine; nay, not even torture, seeing +that I am stronger than iron is hard, and more patient than sorrow is +great.” + +So saying, the silversmith, enraged by the calmness of the abbot, who +seemed resolved to acquire for the abbey the good man’s doubloons, +brought down his fist upon an oaken chair and shivered it into +fragments, for it split as under the blow of a mace. + +“Behold, monseigneur, what kind of servant you will have, and of an +artificer of things divine you will make a mere cart-horse.” + +“My son,” replied the abbot, “you have wrongfully broken my chair, and +lightly judged my mind. This wench belongs to the abbey and not to me. +I am the faithful servant of the rights and customs of this glorious +monastery; although I might grant this woman license to bear free +children, I am responsible for this to God and to the abbey. Now, +since there was here an altar, bondsmen and monks, _id est_, from time +immemorial, there has never occurred the case of a citizen becoming +the property of the abbey by marriage with a bondswoman. Now, +therefore, is there need to exercise the right, and to make use of it +so that it would not be lost, weakened, worn out, or fallen into +disuse, which would occasion a thousand difficulties. And this is of +higher advantage to the State and to the abbey than your stones, +however beautiful they be, seeing that we have treasure wherewith to +buy rare jewels, and that no treasure can establish customs and laws. +I call upon the king’s chamberlain to bear witness to the infinite +pains which his majesty takes every day to fight for the establishment +of his orders.” + +“That is to close my mouth,” said the chamberlain. + +The silversmith, who was not a great scholar, remained thoughtful. +Then came Tiennette, clean as a new pin, her hair raised up, dressed +in a robe of white wool with a blue sash, with tiny shoes and white +stockings; in fact, so royally beautiful, so noble in her bearing was +she, that the silversmith was petrified with ecstasy, and the +chamberlain confessed he had never seen so perfect a creature. +Thinking there was too much danger in this sight for the poor +jeweller, he led him into the town, and begged him to think no further +of the affair, since the abbey was not likely to liberate so good a +bait for the citizens and nobles of the Parisian stream. In fact, the +Chapter let the poor lover know that if he married this girl he must +resolve to yield up his goods and his house to the abbey, consider +himself a bondsman, both he and the children of the aforesaid +marriage; although, by a special grace, the abbey would let him his +house on the condition of his giving an inventory of his furniture and +paying a yearly rent, and coming during eight days to live in a shed +adjoining the domain, thus performing an act of service. The +silversmith, to whom everyone spoke of the cupidity of the monks, saw +clearly that the abbot would incommutably maintain this order, and his +soul was filled with despair. At one time he determined to burn down +the monastery; at another, he proposed to lure the abbot into a place +where he could torment him until he had signed a charter for +Tiennette’s liberation; in fact a thousand ideas possessed his brain, +and as quickly evaporated. But after much lamentation he determined to +carry off the girl, and fly with her into her a sure place from which +nothing could draw him, and made his preparations accordingly; for +once out of the kingdom, his friends or the king could better tackle +the monks and bring them to reason. The good man counted, however, +without his abbot, for going to the meadows, he found Tiennette no +more there, and learned that she was confined in the abbey, and with +much rigour, that to get at her it would be necessary to lay siege to +the monastery. Then Master Anseau passed his time in tears, +complaints, and lamentations; and all the city, the townspeople, and +housewives, talked of his adventure, the noise of which was so great, +that the king sent for the old abbot to court, and demanded of him why +he did not yield under the circumstances to the great love of the +silversmith, and why he did not put into practice Christian charity. + +“Because, monseigneur,” replied the priest, “all rights are knit +together like the pieces of a coat of mail, and if one makes default, +all fail. If this girl was taken from us against our wish, and if the +custom were not observed, your subjects would soon take off your +crown, and raise up in various places violence and sedition, in order +to abolish the taxes and imposts that weigh upon the populace.” + +The king’s mouth was closed. Everyone was eager to know the end of +this adventure. So great was the curiosity that certain lords wagered +that the Touranian would desist from his love, and the ladies wagered +to the contrary. The silversmith having complained to the queen that +the monks had hidden his well-beloved from his sight, she found the +deed detestable and horrible; and in consequence of her commands to +the lord abbot it was permitted to the Touranian to go every day into +the parlour of the abbey, where came Tiennette, but under the control +of an old monk, and she always came attired in great splendour like a +lady. The two lovers had no other license than to see each other, and +to speak to each other, without being able to snatch the smallest atom +of pleasure, and always grew their love more powerful. + +One day Tiennette discoursed thus with her lover--“My dear lord, I +have determined to make you a gift of my life, in order to relieve +your suffering, and in this wise; in informing myself concerning +everything I have found a means to set aside the rights of the abbey, +and to give you all the joy you hope for from my fruition.” + +“The ecclesiastical judge has ruled that as you become a bondsman only +by accession, and because you were not born a bondsman, your servitude +will cease with the cause that makes you a serf. Now, if you love me +more than all else, lose your goods to purchase our happiness, and +espouse me. Then when you have had your will of me, when you have +hugged me and embraced me to your heart’s content, before I have +offspring will I voluntarily kill myself, and thus you become free +again; at least you will have the king on your side, who, it is said, +wishes you well. And without doubt, God will pardon me that I cause my +own death, in order to deliver my lord spouse.” + +“My dear Tiennette,” cried the jeweller, “it is finished--I will be a +bondsman, and thou wilt live to make my happiness as long as my days. +In thy company, the hardest chains will weigh but lightly, and little +shall I reck the want of gold, when all my riches are in thy heart, +and my only pleasure in thy sweet body. I place myself in the hands of +St. Eloi, will deign in this misery to look upon us with pitying eyes, +and guard us from all evils. Now I shall go hence to a scrivener to +have the deeds and contracts drawn up. At least, dear flower of my +days, thou shalt be gorgeously attired, well housed, and served like a +queen during thy lifetime, since the lord abbot leaves me the earnings +of my profession.” + +Tiennette, crying and laughing, tried to put off her good fortune and +wished to die, rather than reduce to slavery a free man; but the good +Anseau whispered such soft words to her, and threatened so firmly to +follow her to the tomb, that she agreed to the said marriage, thinking +that she could always free herself after having tasted the pleasures +of love. + +When the submission of the Touranian became known in the town, and +that for his sweetheart he yielded up his wealth and his liberty, +everyone wished to see him. The ladies of the court encumbered +themselves with jewels, in order to speak with him, and there fell +upon him as from the clouds women enough to make up for the time he +had been without them; but if any of them approached Tiennette in +beauty, none had her heart. To be brief, when the hour of slavery and +love was at hand, Anseau remolded all of his gold into a royal crown, +in which he fixed all his pearls and diamonds, and went secretly to +the queen, and gave it to her, saying, “Madame, I know not how to +dispose of my fortune, which you here behold. Tomorrow everything that +is found in my house will be the property of the cursed monks, who +have had no pity on me. Then deign, madame, to accept this. It is a +slight return for the joy which, through you, I have experienced in +seeing her I love; for no sum of money is worth one of her glances. I +do not know what will become of me, but if one day my children are +delivered, I rely upon your queenly generosity.” + +“Well said, good man,” cried the king. “The abbey will one day need my +aid and I will not lose the remembrance of this.” + +There was a vast crowd at the abbey for the nuptials of Tiennette, to +whom the queen presented the bridal dress, and to whom the king +granted a licence to wear every day golden rings in her ears. When the +charming pair came from the abbey to the house of Anseau (now serf) +over against St. Leu, there were torches at the windows to see them +pass, and a double line in the streets, as though it were a royal +entry. The poor husband had made himself a collar of gold, which he +wore on his left arm in token of his belonging to the abbey of St. +Germain. But in spite of his servitude the people cried out, “Noel! +Noel!” as to a new crowned king. And the good man bowed to them +gracefully, happy as a lover, and joyful at the homage which every one +rendered to the grace and modesty of Tiennette. Then the good +Touranian found green boughs and violets in crowns in his honour; and +the principal inhabitants of the quarter were all there, who as a +great honour, played music to him, and cried to him, “You will always +be a noble man in spite of the abbey.” You may be sure that the happy +pair indulged an amorous conflict to their hearts’ content; that the +good man’s blows were vigorous; and that his sweetheart, like a good +country maiden, was of a nature to return them. Thus they lived +together a whole month, happy as the doves, who in springtime build +their nest twig by twig. Tiennette was delighted with the beautiful +house and the customers, who came and went away astonished at her. +This month of flowers past, there came one day, with great pomp, the +good old Abbot Hugon, their lord and master, who entered the house, +which then belonged not the jeweller but to the Chapter, and said to +the two spouses:-- + +“My children, you are released, free and quit of everything; and I +should tell you that from the first I was much struck with the love +which united you one to the other. The rights of the abbey once +recognised, I was, so far as I was concerned, determined to restore +you to perfect enjoyment, after having proved your loyalty by the test +of God. And this manumission will cost you nothing.” Having thus said, +he gave them each a little tap with his hand on the cheek. And they +fell about his knees weeping tears of joy for such good reasons. The +Touranian informed the people of the neighbourhood, who picked up in +the street the largesse, and received the predictions of the good +Abbott Hugon. + +Then it was with great honour, Master Anseau held the reins of his +mule, so far as the gate of Bussy. During the journey the jeweller, +who had taken a bag of silver, threw the pieces to the poor and +suffering, crying, “Largesse, largesse to God! God save and guard the +abbot! Long live the good Lord Hugon!” And returning to his house he +regaled his friends, and had fresh wedding festivities, which lasted a +fortnight. You can imagine that the abbot was reproached by the +Chapter, for his clemency in opening the door for such good prey to +escape, so that when a year after the good man Hugon fell ill, his +prior told him that it was a punishment from Heaven because he had +neglected the sacred interests of the Chapter and of God. + +“If I have judged that man aright,” said the abbot, “he will not +forget what he owes us.” + +In fact, this day happening by chance to be the anniversary of the +marriage, a monk came to announce that the silversmith supplicated his +benefactor to receive him. Soon he entered the room where the abbot +was, and spread out before him two marvellous shrines, which since +that time no workman has surpassed, in any portion of the Christian +world, and which were named “Vow of a Steadfast Love.” These two +treasures are, as everyone knows, placed on the principal altar of the +church, and are esteemed as an inestimable work, for the silversmith +had spent therein all his wealth. Nevertheless, this wealth, far from +emptying his purse, filled it full to overflowing, because so rapidly +increased his fame and his fortune that he was able to buy a patent of +nobility and lands, and he founded the house of Anseau, which has +since been held in great honour in fair Touraine. + +This teaches us to have always recourse to God and the saints in all +the undertakings of life, to be steadfast in all things, and, above +all, that a great love triumphs over everything, which is an old +sentence; but the author has rewritten it because it is a most +pleasant one. + + + + CONCERNING A PROVOST WHO DID NOT RECOGNISE THINGS + +In the good town of Bourges, at the time when that lord the king +disported himself there, who afterwards abandoned his search after +pleasure to conquer the kingdom, and did indeed conquer it, lived +there a provost, entrusted by him with the maintenance of order, and +called the provost-royal. From which came, under the glorious son of +the said king, the office of provost of the hotel, in which behaved +rather harshly my lord Tristan of Mere, of whom these tales oft make +mention, although he was by no means a merry fellow. I give this +information to the friends who pilfer from old manuscripts to +manufacture new ones, and I show thereby how learned these Tales +really are, without appearing to be so. Very well, then, this provost +was named Picot or Picault, of which some made picotin, picoter, and +picoree; by some Pitot or Pitaut, from which comes _pitance_; by +others in Languedoc, Pichot from which comes nothing comes worth +knowing; by these Petiot or Petiet; by those Petitot and Petinault, or +Petiniaud, which was the masonic appellation; but at Bourges he was +called Petit, a name which was eventually adopted by the family, which +has multiplied exceedingly, for everywhere you find “_des Petits_,” + and so he will be called Petit in this narrative. I have given this +etymology in order to throw a light on our language, and show how our +citizens have finished by acquiring names. But enough of science. + +This said provost, who had as many names as there were provinces into +which the court went, was in reality a little bit of a man, whose +mother had given him so strange a hide, that when he wanted to laugh +he used to stretch his cheeks like a cow making water, and this smile +at court was called the provost’s smile. One day the king, hearing +this proverbial expression used by certain lords, said jokingly-- + +“You are in error, gentlemen, Petit does not laugh, he’s short of skin +below the mouth.” + +But with his forced laugh Petit was all the more suited to his +occupation of watching and catching evil-doers. In fact, he was worth +what he cost. For all malice, he was a bit of a cuckold, for all vice, +he went to vespers, for all wisdom he obeyed God, when it was +convenient; for all joy he had a wife in his house; and for all change +in his joy he looked for a man to hang, and when he was asked to find +one he never failed to meet him; but when he was between the sheets he +never troubled himself about thieves. Can you find in all Christendom +a more virtuous provost? No! All provosts hang too little, or too +much, while this one just hanged as much as was necessary to be a +provost. + +This good fellow had for his wife in legitimate marriage, and much to +the astonishment of everyone, the prettiest little woman in Bourges. +So it was that often, while on his road to the execution, he would ask +God the same question as several others in the town did--namely, why +he, Petit, he the sheriff, he the provost royal, had to himself, +Petit, provost royal and sheriff, a wife so exquisitely shapely, said +dowered with charms, that a donkey seeing her pass by would bray with +delight. To this God vouchsafed no reply, and doubtless had his +reasons. But the slanderous tongues of the town replied for him, that +the young lady was by no means a maiden when she became the wife of +Petit. Others said she did not keep her affections solely for him. The +wags answered, that donkeys often get into fine stables. Everyone had +taunts ready which would have made a nice little collection had anyone +gathered them together. From them, however, it is necessary to take +nearly four-fourths, seeing that Petit’s wife was a virtuous woman, +who had a lover for pleasure and a husband for duty. How many were +there in the town as careful of their hearts and mouths? If you can +point out one to me, I’ll give you a kick or a half-penny, whichever +you like. You will find some who have neither husband nor lover. +Certain females have a lover and no husband. Ugly women have a husband +and no lover. But to meet with a woman who, having one husband and one +lover, keeps to the deuce without trying for the trey, there is the +miracle, you see, you greenhorns, blockheads, and dolts! Now then, put +the true character of this virtuous woman on the tablets of your +memory, go your ways, and let me go mine. + +The good Madame Petit was not one of those ladies who are always on +the move, running hither and thither, can’t keep still a moment, but +trot about, worrying, hurrying, chattering, and clattering, and had +nothing in them to keep them steady, but are so light that they run +after a gastric zephyr as after their quintessence. No; on the +contrary, she was a good housewife, always sitting in her chair or +sleeping in her bed, ready as a candlestick, waiting for her lover +when her husband went out, receiving the husband when the lover had +gone. This dear woman never thought of dressing herself only to annoy +and make other wives jealous. Pish! She had found a better use for the +merry time of youth, and put life into her joints in order to make the +best use of it. Now you know the provost and his good wife. + +The provost’s lieutenant in duties matrimonial, duties which are so +heavy that it takes two men to execute them, was a noble lord, a +landowner, who disliked the king exceedingly. You must bear this in +mind, because it is one of the principal points of the story. The +Constable, who was a thorough Scotch gentleman, had seen by chance +Petit’s wife, and wished to have a little conversation with her +comfortably, towards the morning, just the time to tell his beads, +which was Christianly honest, or honestly Christian, in order to argue +with her concerning the things of science or the science of things. +Thinking herself quite learned enough, Madame Petit, who was, as has +been stated, a virtuous, wise, and honest wife, refused to listen to +the said constable. After certain arguments, reasonings, tricks and +messages, which were of no avail, he swore by his great black +_coquedouille_ that he would rip up the gallant although he was a man +of mark. But he swore nothing about the lady. This denotes a good +Frenchman, for in such a dilemma there are certain offended persons +who would upset the whole business of three persons by killing four. +The constable wagered his big black _coquedouille_ before the king and +the lady of Sorel, who were playing cards before supper; and his +majesty was well pleased, because he would be relieved of this noble, +that displeased him, and that without costing him a Thank You. + +“And how will you manage the affair?” said Madame de Sorel to him, +with a smile. + +“Oh, oh!” replied the constable. “You may be sure, madame, I do not +wish to lose my big black coquedouille.” + +“What was, then, this great coquedouille?” + +“Ha, ha! This point is shrouded in darkness to a degree that would +make you ruin your eyes in ancient books; but it was certainly +something of great importance. Nevertheless, let us put on our +spectacles, and search it out. _Douille_ signifies in Brittany, a +girl, and _coque_ means a cook’s frying pan. From this word has come +into France that of _coquin_--a knave who eats, licks, laps, sucks, +and fritters his money away, and gets into stews; is always in hot +water, and eats up everything, leads an idle life, and doing this, +becomes wicked, becomes poor, and that incites him to steal or beg. +From this it may be concluded by the learned that the great +coquedouille was a household utensil in the shape of a kettle used for +cooking things.” + +“Well,” continued the constable, who was the Sieur of Richmond, “I +will have the husband ordered to go into the country for a day and a +night, to arrest certain peasants suspected of plotting treacherously +with the English. Thereupon my two pigeons, believing their man +absent, will be as merry as soldiers off duty; and, if a certain thing +takes place, I will let loose the provost, sending him, in the king’s +name, to search the house where the couple will be, in order that he +may slay our friend, who pretends to have this good cordelier all to +himself.” + +“What does this mean?” said the Lady of Beaute. + +“Friar . . . fryer . . . an _equivoque_,” answered the king, smiling. + +“Come to supper,” said Madame Agnes. “You are bad men, who with one +word insult both the citizens’ wives and a holy order.” + +Now, for a long time, Madame Petit had longed to have a night of +liberty, during which she might visit the house of the said noble, +where she could make as much noise as she liked, without waking the +neighbours, because at the provost’s house she was afraid of being +overheard, and had to content herself well with the pilferings of +love, little tastes, and nibbles, daring at the most only to trot, +while what she desired was a smart gallop. On the morrow, therefore, +the lady’s-maid went off about midday to the young lord’s house, and +told the lover--from whom she received many presents, and therefore in +no way disliked him--that he might make his preparations for pleasure, +and for supper, for that he might rely upon the provost’s better half +being with him in the evening both hungry and thirsty. + +“Good!” said he. “Tell your mistress I will not stint her in anything +she desires.” + +The pages of the cunning constable, who were watching the house, +seeing the gallant prepare for his gallantries, and set out the +flagons and the meats, went and informed their master that everything +had happened as he wished. Hearing this, the good constable rubbed his +hands thinking how nicely the provost would catch the pair. He +instantly sent word to him, that by the king’s express commands he was +to return to town, in order that he might seize at the said lord’s +house an English nobleman, with whom he was vehemently suspected to be +arranging a plot of diabolical darkness. But before he put this order +into execution, he was to come to the king’s hotel, in order that he +might understand the courtesy to be exercised in this case. The +provost, joyous at the chance of speaking to the king, used such +diligence that he was in town just at that time when the two lovers +were singing the first note of their evening hymn. The lord of +cuckoldom and its surrounding lands, who is a strange lord, managed +things so well, that madame was only conversing with her lord lover at +the time that her lord spouse was talking to the constable and the +king; at which he was pleased, and so was his wife--a case of concord +rare in matrimony. + +“I was saying to monseigneur,” said the constable to the provost, as +he entered the king’s apartment, “that every man in the kingdom has a +right to kill his wife and her lover if he finds them in an act of +infidelity. But his majesty, who is clement, argues that he has only a +right to kill the man, and not the woman. Now what would you do, Mr. +Provost, if by chance you found a gentleman taking a stroll in that +fair meadow of which laws, human and divine, enjoin you alone to +cultivate the verdure?” + +“I would kill everything,” said the provost; “I would scrunch the five +hundred thousand devils of nature, flower and seed, and send them +flying, the pips and apples, the grass and the meadow, the woman and +the man.” + +“You would be in the wrong,” said the king. “That is contrary to the +laws of the Church and of the State; of the State, because you might +deprive me of a subject; of the Church, because you would be sending +an innocent to limbo unshriven.” + +“Sire, I admire your profound wisdom, and I clearly perceive you to be +the centre of all justice.” + +“We can then only kill the knight--Amen,” said constable, “Kill the +horseman. Now go quickly to the house of the suspected lord, but +without letting yourself be bamboozled, do not forget what is due to +his position.” + +The provost, believing he would certainly be Chancellor of France if +he properly acquitted himself of the task, went from the castle into +the town, took his men, arrived at the nobleman’s residence, arranged +his people outside, placed guards at all the doors, opened noiselessly +by order of the king, climbs the stairs, asks the servants in which +room their master is, puts them under arrest, goes up alone, and +knocks at the door of the room where the two lovers are tilting in +love’s tournament, and says to them-- + +“Open, in the name of our lord the king!” + +The lady recognised her husband’s voice, and could not repress a +smile, thinking that she had not waited for the king’s orders to do +what she had done. But after laughter came terror. Her lover took his +cloak, threw it over him, and came to the door. There, not knowing +that his life was in peril, he declared that he belonged to the court +and to the king’s household. + +“Bah!” said the provost. “I have a strict order from the king; and +under pain of being treated as a rebel, you are bound instantly to +receive me.” + +Then the lord went out to him, still holding the door. + +“What do you want here?” + +“An enemy of our lord the king, whom we command you to deliver into +our hands, otherwise you must follow me with him to the castle.” + +This, thought the lover, is a piece of treachery on the part of the +constable, whose proposition my dear mistress treated with scorn. We +must get out of this scrape in some way. Then turning towards the +provost, he went double or quits on the risk, reasoning thus with the +cuckold:-- + +“My friend, you know that I consider you but as gallant a man as it is +possible for a provost to be in the discharge of his duty. Now, can I +have confidence in you? I have here with me the fairest lady of the +court. As for Englishmen, I have not sufficient of one to make the +breakfast of the constable, M. de Richmond, who sends you here. This +is (to be candid with you) the result of a bet made between myself and +the constable, who shares it with the King. Both have wagered that +they know who is the lady of my heart; and I have wagered to the +contrary. No one more than myself hates the English, who took my +estates in Piccadilly. Is it not a knavish trick to put justice in +motion against me? Ho! Ho! my lord constable, a chamberlain is worth +two of you, and I will beat you yet. My dear Petit, I give you +permission to search by night and by day, every nook and cranny of my +house. But come in here alone, search my room, turn the bed over, do +what you like. Only allow me to cover with a cloth or a handkerchief +this fair lady, who is at present in the costume of an archangel, in +order that you may not know to what husband she belongs.” + +“Willingly,” said the provost. “But I am an old bird, not easily +caught with chaff, and would like to be sure that it is really a lady +of the court, and not an Englishman, for these English have flesh as +white and soft as women, and I know it well, because I’ve hanged so +many of them.” + +“Well then,” said the lord, “seeing of what crime I am suspected, from +which I am bound to free myself, I will go and ask my lady-love to +consent for a moment to abandon her modesty. She is too fond of me to +refuse to save me from reproach. I will beg her to turn herself over +and show you a physiognomy, which will in no way compromise her, and +will be sufficient to enable you to recognise a noble woman, although +she will be in a sense upside down.” + +“All right,” said the provost. + +The lady having heard every word, had folded up all her clothes, and +put them under the bolster, had taken off her chemise, that her +husband should not recognise it, had twisted her head up in a sheet, +and had brought to light the carnal convexities which commenced where +her spine finished. + +“Come in, my friend,” said the lord. + +The provost looked up the chimney, opened the cupboard, the clothes’ +chest, felt under the bed, in the sheets, and everywhere. Then he +began to study what was on the bed. + +“My lord,” said he, regarding his legitimate appurtenances, “I have +seen young English lads with backs like that. You must forgive me +doing my duty, but I must see otherwise.” + +“What do you call otherwise?” said the lord. + +“Well, the other physiognomy, or, if you prefer it, the physiognomy of +the other.” + +“Then you will allow madame to cover herself and arrange only to show +you sufficient to convince you,” said the lover, knowing that the lady +had a mark or two easy to recognise. “Turn your back a moment, so that +my dear lady may satisfy propriety.” + +The wife smiled at her lover, kissed him for his dexterity, arranging +herself cunningly; and the husband seeing in full that which the jade +had never let him see before, was quite convinced that no English +person could be thus fashioned without being a charming Englishwoman. + +“Yes, my lord,” he whispered in the ear of his lieutenant, “this is +certainly a lady of the court, because the towns-women are neither so +well formed nor so charming.” + +Then the house being thoroughly searched, and no Englishman found, the +provost returned, as the constable had told him, to the king’s +residence. + +“Is he slain?” said the constable. + +“Who?” + +“He who grafted horns upon your forehead.” + +“I only saw a lady in his couch, who seemed to be greatly enjoying +herself with him.” + +“You, with your own eyes, saw this woman, cursed cuckold, and you did +not kill your rival?” + +“It was not a common woman, but a lady of the court.” + +“You saw her?” + +“And verified her in both cases.” + +“What do you mean by those words?” cried the king, who was bursting +with laughter. + +“I say, with all the respect due to your Majesty, that I have verified +the over and the under.” + +“You do not, then, know the physiognomies of your own wife, you old +fool without memory! You deserve to be hanged.” + +“I hold those features of my wife in too great respect to gaze upon +them. Besides she is so modest that she would die rather than expose +an atom of her body.” + +“True,” said the king; “it was not made to be shown.” + +“Old coquedouille! that was your wife,” said the constable. + +“My lord constable, she is asleep, poor girl!” + +“Quick, quick, then! To horse! Let us be off, and if she be in your +house I’ll forgive you.” + +Then the constable, followed by the provost, went to the latter’s +house in less time than it would have taken a beggar to empty the +poor-box. + +“Hullo! there, hi!” + +Hearing the noise made by the men, which threatened to bring the walls +about their ears, the maid-servant opened the door, yawning and +stretching her arms. The constable and the provost rushed into the +room, where, with great difficulty, they succeeded in waking the lady, +who pretended to be terrified, and was so soundly asleep that her eyes +were full of gum. At this the provost was in great glee, saying to the +constable that someone had certainly deceived him, that his wife was a +virtuous woman, and was more astonished than any of them at these +proceedings. The constable turned on his heel and departed. The good +provost began directly to undress to get to bed early, since this +adventure had brought his good wife to his memory. When he was +harnessing himself, and was knocking off his nether garments, madame, +still astonished, said to him-- + +“Oh, my dear husband, what is the meaning of all this uproar--this +constable and his pages, and why did he come to see if I was asleep? +Is it to be henceforward part of a constable’s duty to look after +our . . .” + +“I do not know,” said the provost, interrupting her, to tell her what +had happened to him. + +“And you saw without my permission a lady of the court! Ha! ha! heu! +heu! hein!” + +Then she began to moan, to weep, and to cry in such a deplorable +manner and so loudly, that her lord was quite aghast. + +“What’s the matter, my darling? What is it? What do you want?” + +“Ah! You won’t love me any more are after seeing how beautiful court +ladies are!” + +“Nonsense, my child! They are great ladies. I don’t mind telling you +in confidence; they are great ladies in every respect.” + +“Well,” said she, “am I nicer?” + +“Ah,” said he, “in a great measure. Yes!” + +“They have, then, great happiness,” said she, sighing, “when I have so +much with so little beauty.” + +Thereupon the provost tried a better argument to argue with his good +wife, and argued so well that she finished by allowing herself to be +convinced that Heaven has ordained that much pleasure may be obtained +from small things. + +This shows us that nothing here below can prevail against the Church +of Cuckolds. + + + + ABOUT THE MONK AMADOR, WHO WAS A GLORIOUS ABBOT OF TURPENAY + +One day that it was drizzling with rain--a time when the ladies remain +gleefully at home, because they love the damp, and can have at their +apron strings the men who are not disagreeable to them--the queen was +in her chamber, at the castle of Amboise, against the window curtains. +There, seated in her chair, she was working at a piece of tapestry to +amuse herself, but was using her needle heedlessly, watching the rain +fall into the Loire, and was lost in thought, where her ladies were +following her example. The king was arguing with those of his court +who had accompanied him from the chapel--for it was a question of +returning to dominical vespers. His arguments, statements, and +reasonings finished, he looked at the queen, saw that she was +melancholy, saw that the ladies were melancholy also, and noted the +fact that they were all acquainted with the mysteries of matrimony. + +“Did I not see the Abbot of Turpenay here just now?” said he. + +Hearing these words, there advanced towards the king the monk, who, by +his constant petitions, rendered himself so obnoxious to Louis the +Eleventh, that that monarch seriously commanded his provost-royal to +remove him from his sight; and it has been related in the first volume +of these Tales, how the monk was saved through the mistake of Sieur +Tristan. The monk was at this time a man whose qualities had grown +rapidly, so much so that his wit had communicated a jovial hue to his +face. He was a great favourite with the ladies, who crammed him with +wine, confectioneries, and dainty dishes at the dinners, suppers, and +merry-makings, to which they invited him, because every host likes +those cheerful guests of God with nimble jaws, who say as many words +as they put away tit-bits. This abbot was a pernicious fellow, who +would relate to the ladies many a merry tale, at which they were only +offended when they had heard them; since, to judge them, things must +be heard. + +“My reverend father,” said the king, “behold the twilight hour, in +which ears feminine may be regaled with certain pleasant stories, for +the ladies can laugh without blushing, or blush without laughing, as +it suits them best. Give us a good story--a regular monk’s story. I +shall listen to it, i’faith, with pleasure, because I want to be +amused, and so do the ladies.” + +“We only submit to this, in order to please your lordship,” said the +queen; “because our good friend the abbot goes a little too far.” + +“Then,” replied the king, turning towards the monk, “read us some +Christian admonition, holy father, to amuse madame.” + +“Sire, my sight is weak, and the day is closing.” + +“Give us a story, then, that stops at the girdle.” + +“Ah, sire!” said the monk, smiling, “the one I am thinking of stops +there; but it commences at the feet.” + +The lords present made such gallant remonstrances and supplications to +the queen and her ladies, that, like the good Bretonne that she was, +she gave the monk a gentle smile, and said-- + +“As you will, my father; but you must answer to God for our sins.” + +“Willingly, madame; if it be your pleasure to take mine, you will be a +gainer.” + +Everyone laughed, and so did queen. The king went and sat by his dear +wife, well beloved by him, as everyone knows. The courtiers received +permission to be seated--the old courtiers, of course, understood; for +the young ones stood, by the ladies’ permission, beside their chairs, +to laugh at the same time as they did. Then the Abbot of Turpenay +gracefully delivered himself of the following tale, the risky passages +of which he gave in a low, soft, flute-like voice:-- + +About a hundred years ago at the least, there occurred great quarrels +in Christendom because there were two popes at Rome, each one +pretending to be legitimately elected, which caused great annoyance to +the monasteries, abbeys, and bishoprics, since, in order to be +recognised by as many as possible, each of the two popes granted +titles and rights to each adherent, the which made double owners +everywhere. Under these circumstances, the monasteries and abbeys that +were at war with their neighbours would not recognise both the popes, +and found themselves much embarrassed by the other, who always gave +the verdict to the enemies of the Chapter. This wicked schism brought +about considerable mischief, and proved abundantly that error is worse +in Christianity than the adultery of the Church. + +Now at this time, when the devil was making havoc among our +possessions, the most illustrious abbey of Turpenay, of which I am at +present the unworthy ruler, had a heavy trial on concerning the +settlements of certain rights with the redoubtable Sire de Cande, an +idolatrous infidel, a relapsed heretic, and most wicked lord. This +devil, sent upon earth in the shape of a nobleman, was, to tell the +truth, a good soldier, well received at court, and a friend of the +Sieur Bureau de la Riviere; who was a person to whom the king was +exceedingly partial--King Charles the Fifth, of glorious memory. +Beneath the shelter of the favour of this Sieur de la Riviere, Lord of +Cande did exactly as he pleased in the valley of the Indre, where he +used to be master of everything, from Montbazon to Usse. You may be +sure that his neighbours were terribly afraid of him, and to save +their skulls let him have his way. They would, however, have preferred +him under the ground to above it, and heartily wished him bad luck; +but he troubled himself little about that. In the whole valley the +noble abbey alone showed fight to this demon, for it has always been a +doctrine of the Church to take into her lap the weak and suffering, +and use every effort to protect the oppressed, especially those whose +rights and privileges are menaced. + +For this reason this rough warrior hated monks exceedingly, especially +those of Turpenay, who would not allow themselves to be robbed of +their rights either by force or stratagem. He was well pleased at the +ecclesiastical schism, and waited the decision of our abbey, +concerning which pope they should choose, to pillage them, being quite +ready to recognise the one to whom the abbot of Turpenay should refuse +his obedience. Since his return to his castle, it was his custom to +torment and annoy the priests whom he encountered upon his domains in +such a manner, that a poor monk, surprised by him on his private road, +which was by the water-side, perceived no other method of safety than +to throw himself into the river, where, by a special miracle of the +Almighty, whom the good man fervently invoked, his gown floated him on +the Indre, and he made his way comfortably to the other side, which he +attained in full view of the lord of Cande, who was not ashamed to +enjoy the terrors of a servant of God. Now you see of what stuff this +horrid man was made. The abbot, to whom at that time, the care of our +glorious abbey was committed, led a most holy life, and prayed to God +with devotion; but he would have saved his own soul ten times, of such +good quality was his religion, before finding a chance to save the +abbey itself from the clutches of this wretch. Although he was very +perplexed, and saw the evil hour at hand, he relied upon God for +succour, saying that he would never allow the property of the Church +to be touched, and that He who had raised up the Princess Judith for +the Hebrews, and Queen Lucretia for the Romans, would keep his most +illustrious abbey of Turpenay, and indulged in other equally sapient +remarks. But his monks, who--to our shame I confess it--were +unbelievers, reproached him with his happy-go-lucky way of looking at +things, and declared that, to bring the chariot of Providence to the +rescue in time, all the oxen in the province would have to be yoked +it; that the trumpets of Jericho were no longer made in any portion of +the world; that God was disgusted with His creation, and would have +nothing more to do with it: in short, a thousand and one things that +were doubts and contumelies against God. + +At this desperate juncture there rose up a monk named Amador. This +name had been given him by way of a joke, since his person offered a +perfect portrait of the false god Aegipan. He was like him, strong in +the stomach; like him, had crooked legs; arms hairy as those of a +saddler, a back made to carry a wallet, a face as red as the phiz of a +drunkard, glistening eyes, a tangled beard, was hairy faced, and so +puffed out with fat and meat that you would have fancied him in an +interesting condition. You may be sure that he sung his matins on the +steps of the wine-cellar, and said his vespers in the vineyards of +Lord. He was as fond of his bed as a beggar with sores, and would go +about the valley fuddling, faddling, blessing the bridals, plucking +the grapes, and giving them to the girls to taste, in spite of the +prohibition of the abbot. In fact, he was a pilferer, a loiterer, and +a bad soldier of the ecclesiastical militia, of whom nobody in the +abbey took any notice, but let him do as he liked from motives of +Christian charity, thinking him mad. + +Amador, knowing that it was a question of the ruin of the Abbey, in +which he was as snug as a bug in a rug, put up his bristles, took +notice of this and of that, went into each of the cells, listened in +the refectory, shivered in his shoes, and declared that he would +attempt to save the abbey. He took cognisance of the contested points, +received from the abbot permission to postpone the case, and was +promised by the whole Chapter the Office of sub-prior if he succeeded +in putting an end to the litigation. Then he set off across the +country, heedless of the cruelty and ill-treatment of the Sieur de +Cande, saying that he had that within his gown which would subdue him. +He went his way with nothing but the said gown for his viaticum: but +then in it was enough fat to feed a dwarf. He selected to go to the +chateau, a day when it rained hard enough to fill the tubs of all the +housewives, and arrived without meeting a soul, in sight of Cande, and +looking like a drowned dog, stepped bravely into the courtyard, and +took shelter under a sty-roof to wait until the fury of the elements +had calmed down, and placed himself boldly in front of the room where +the owner of the chateau should be. A servant perceiving him while +laying the supper, took pity on him, and told him to make himself +scarce, otherwise his master would give him a horsewhipping, just to +open the conversation, and asked him what made him so bold as to enter +a house where monks were hated more than a red leper. + +“Ah!” said Amador, “I am on my way to Tours, sent thither by my lord +abbot. If the lord of Cande were not so bitter against the poor +servant of God, I should not be kept during such a deluge in the +courtyard, but in the house. I hope that he will find mercy in his +hour of need.” + +The servant reported these words to his master, who at first wished to +have the monk thrown into the big trough of the castle among the other +filth. But the lady of Cande, who had great authority over her spouse, +and was respected by him, because through her he expected a large +inheritance, and because she was a little tyrannical, reprimanded him, +saying, that it was possible this monk was a Christian; that in such +weather thieves would succour an officer of justice; that, besides, it +was necessary to treat him well to find out to what decision the +brethren of Turpenay had come with regard to the schism business, and +that her advice was put an end by kindness and not by force to the +difficulties arisen between the abbey and the domain of Cande, because +no lord since the coming of Christ had ever been stronger than the +Church, and that sooner or later the abbey would ruin the castle; +finally, she gave utterance to a thousand wise arguments, such as +ladies use in the height of the storms of life, when they have had +about enough of them. Amador’s face was so piteous, his appearance so +wretched, and so open to banter, that the lord, saddened by the +weather, conceived the idea of enjoying a joke at his expense, +tormenting him, playing tricks on him, and of giving him a lively +recollection of his reception at the chateau. Then this gentleman, who +had secret relations with his wife’s maid, sent this girl, who was +called Perrotte, to put an end to his ill-will towards the luckless +Amador. As soon as the plot had been arranged between them, the wench, +who hated monks, in order to please her master, went to the monk, who +was standing under the pigsty, assuming a courteous demeanour in order +the better to please him, said-- + +“Holy father, the master of the house is ashamed to see a servant of +God out in the rain when there is room for him indoors, a good fire in +the chimney, and a table spread. I invite you in his name and that of +the lady of the house to step in.” + +“I thank the lady and lord, not for their hospitality which is a +Christian thing, but for having sent as an ambassador to me, a poor +sinner, an angel of such delicate beauty that I fancy I see the Virgin +over our altar.” + +Saying which, Amador raised his nose in the air, and saluted with the +two flakes of fire that sparkled in his bright eyes the pretty +maidservant, who thought him neither so ugly nor so foul, nor so +bestial; when, following Perrotte up the steps, Amador received on the +nose, cheeks, and other portions of his face a slash of the whip, +which made him see all the lights of the Magnificat, so well was the +dose administered by the Sieur de Cande, who, busy chastening his +greyhounds pretended not see the monk. He requested Amador to pardon +him this accident, and ran after the dogs who had caused the mischief +to his guest. The laughing servant, who knew what was coming, had +dexterously kept out of the way. Noticing this business, Amador +suspected the relations of Perrotte and the chevalier, concerning whom +it is possible that the lasses of the valley had already whispered +something into his ear. Of the people who were then in the room not +one made room for the man of God, who remained right in the draught +between the door and the window, where he stood freezing until the +moment when the Sieur de Cande, his wife, and his aged sister, +Mademoiselle de Cande, who had the charge of the young heiress of the +house, aged about sixteen years, came and sat in their chairs at the +head of the table, far from the common people, according to the old +custom usual among the lords of the period, much to their discredit. + +The Sieur de Cande, paying no attention to the monk, let him sit at +the extreme end of the table, in a corner, where two mischievous lads +had orders to squeeze and elbow him. Indeed these fellows worried his +feet, his body, and his arms like real torturers, poured white wine +into his goblet for water, in order to fuddle him, and the better to +amuse themselves with him; but they made him drink seven large jugfuls +without making belch, break wind, sweat or snort, which horrified them +exceedingly, especially as his eye remained as clear as crystal. +Encouraged, however, by a glance from their lord, they still kept +throwing, while bowing to him, gravy into his beard, and wiping it dry +in a manner to tear every hair of it out. The varlet who served a +caudle baptised his head with it, and took care to let the burning +liquor trickle down poor Amador’s backbone. All this agony he endured +with meekness, because the spirit of God was in him, and also the hope +of finishing the litigation by holding out in the castle. +Nevertheless, the mischievous lot burst out into such roars of +laughter at the warm baptism given by the cook’s lad to the soaked +monk, even the butler making jokes at his expense, that the lady of +Cande was compelled to notice what was going on at the end of the +table. Then she perceived Amador, who had a look of sublime +resignation upon his face, and was endeavouring to get something out +of the big beef bones that had been put upon his pewter platter. At +this moment the poor monk, who had administered a dexterous blow of +the knife to a big ugly bone, took it into his hairy hands, snapped it +in two, sucked the warm marrow out of it, and found it good. + +“Truly,” said she to herself, “God has put great strength into this +monk!” + +At the same time she seriously forbade the pages, servants, and others +to torment the poor man, to whom out of mockery they had just given +some rotten apples and maggoty nuts. He, perceiving that the old lady +and her charge, the lady and the servants had seen him manoeuvring the +bone, pushed backed his sleeve, showed the powerful muscles of his +arm, placed nuts near his wrist on the bifurcation of the veins, and +crushed them one by one by pressing them with the palm of his hand so +vigorously that they appeared like ripe medlars. He also crunched them +between his teeth, white as the teeth of a dog, husk, shell, fruit, +and all, of which he made in a second a mash which he swallowed like +honey. He crushed them between two fingers, which he used like +scissors to cut them in two without a moment’s hesitation. + +You may be sure that the women were silent, that the men believed the +devil to be in the monk; and had it not been for his wife and the +darkness of the night, the Sieur de Cande, having the fear of God +before his eyes, would have kicked him out of the house. Everyone +declared that the monk was a man capable of throwing the castle into +the moat. Therefore, as soon as everyone had wiped his mouth, my lord +took care to imprison this devil, whose strength was terrible to +behold, and had him conducted to a wretched little closet where +Perrotte had arranged her machine in order to annoy him during the +night. The tom-cats of the neighbourhood had been requested to come +and confess to him, invited to tell him their sins in embryo towards +the tabbies who attracted their affections, and also the little pigs +for whom fine lumps of tripe had been placed under the bed in order to +prevent them becoming monks, of which they were very desirous, by +disgusting them with the style of libera, which the monk would sing to +them. At every movement of poor Amador, who would find short +horse-hair in the sheets, he would bring down cold water on to the bed, +and a thousand other tricks were arranged, such are usually practised +in castles. Everyone went to bed in expectation of the nocturnal revels +of the monk, certain that they would not be disappointed, since he had +been lodged under the tiles at the top of a little tower, the guard of +the door of which was committed to dogs who howled for a bit of him. +In order to ascertain what language the conversations with the cats +and pigs would be carried on, the Sire came to stay with his dear +Perrotte, who slept in the next room. + +As soon as he found himself thus treated, Amador drew from his bag a +knife, and dexterously extricated himself. Then he began to listen in +order to find out the ways of the place, and heard the master of the +house laughing with his maid-servant. Suspecting their manoeuvres, he +waited till the moment when the lady of the house should be alone in +bed, and made his way into her room with bare feet, in order that his +sandals should not be in his secrets. He appeared to her by the light +of the lamp in the manner in which monks generally appear during the +night--that is, in a marvellous state, which the laity find it +difficult long to sustain; and the thing is an effect of the frock, +which magnifies everything. Then having let her see that he was all a +monk, he made the following little speech-- + +“Know, madame, that I am sent by Jesus and the Virgin Mary to warn you +to put an end to the improper perversities which are taking place--to +the injury of your virtue, which is treacherously deprived of your +husband’s best attention, which he lavishes upon your maid. What is +the use of being a lady if the seigneurial dues are received +elsewhere. According to this, your servant is the lady and you are the +servant. Are not all the joys bestowed upon her due to you? You will +find them all amassed in our Holy Church, which is the consolation of +the afflicted. Behold in me the messenger, ready to pay these debts if +you do not renounce them.” + +Saying this, the good monk gently loosened his girdle in which he was +incommoded, so much did he appear affected by the sight of those +beauties which the Sieur de Cande disdained. + +“If you speak truly, my father, I will submit to your guidance,” said +she, springing lightly out of bed. “You are for sure, a messenger of +God, because you have been in a single day that which I had not +noticed here for a long time.” + +Then she went, accompanied by Amador, whose holy robe she did not fail +to run her hand over, and was so struck when she found it real, that +she hoped to find her husband guilty; and indeed she heard him talking +about the monk in her servant’s bed. Perceiving this felony, she went +into a furious rage and opened her mouth to resolve it into words-- +which is the usual method of women--and wished to kick up the devil’s +delight before handing the girl over to justice. But Amador told her +that it would be more sensible to avenge herself first, and cry out +afterwards. + +“Avenge me quickly, then, my father,” said she, “that I may begin to +cry out.” + +Thereupon the monk avenged her most monastically with a good and ample +vengeance, that she indulged in as a drunkard who puts his lips to the +bunghole of a barrel; for when a lady avenges herself, she should get +drunk with vengeance, or not taste it at all. And the chatelaine was +revenged to that degree that she could not move; since nothing +agitates, takes away the breath, and exhausts, like anger and +vengeance. But although she were avenged, and doubly and trebly +avenged, yet would she not forgive, in order that she might reserve +the right of avenging herself with the monk, now here, now there. +Perceiving this love for vengeance, Amador promised to aid her in it +as long as her ire lasted, for he informed her that he knew in his +quality of a monk, constrained to meditate long on the nature of +things, an infinite number of modes, methods, and manners of +practicing revenge. + +Then he pointed out to her canonically what a Christian thing it is to +revenge oneself, because all through the Holy Scriptures God declares +Himself, above all things, to be a God of vengeance; and moreover, +demonstrates to us, by his establishment in the infernal regions, how +royally divine a thing vengeance is, since His vengeance is eternal. +From which it followed, that women with monks ought to revenge +themselves, under pain of not being Christians and faithful servants +of celestial doctrines. + +This dogma pleased the lady much, and she confessed that she had never +understood the commandments of the Church, and invited her +well-beloved monk to enlighten her thoroughly concerning them. Then +the chatelaine, whose vital spirits had been excited by the vengeance +which had refreshed them, went into the room where the jade was +amusing herself, and by chance found her with her hand where she, the +chatelaine, often had her eye--like the merchants have on their most +precious articles, in order to see that they were not stolen. They +were--according to President Lizet, when he was in a merry mood--a +couple taken in flagrant delectation, and looked dumbfounded, sheepish +and foolish. The sight that met her eyes displeased the lady beyond +the power of words to express, as it appeared by her discourse, of +which to roughness was similar to that of the water of a big pond when +the sluice-gates were opened. It was a sermon in three heads, +accompanied with music of a high gamut, varied in tones, with many +sharps among the keys. + +“Out upon virtue! my lord; I’ve had my share of it. You have shown me +that religion in conjugal faith is an abuse; this is then the reason +that I have no son. How many children have you consigned to this +common oven, this poor-box, this bottomless alms-purse, this leper’s +porringer, the true cemetery of the House of Cande? I will know if I +am childless from a constitutional defect, or through your fault. I +will have handsome cavaliers, in order that I may have an heir. You +can get the bastards, I the legitimate children.” + +“My dear,” said the bewildered lord, “don’t shout so.” + +“But,” replied the lady, “I will shout, and shout to make myself +heard, heard by the archbishop, heard by the legate, by the king, by +my brothers, who will avenge this infamy for me.” + +“Do not dishonour your husband!” + +“This is dishonour then? You are right; but, my lord, it is not +brought about by you, but by this hussy, whom I will have sewn up in a +sack, and thrown into the Indre; thus your dishonour will be washed +away. Hi! there,” she called out. + +“Silence, madame!” said the sire, as shamefaced as a blind man’s dog; +because this great warrior, so ready to kill others, was like a child +in the hands of his wife, a state of affairs to which soldiers are +accustomed, because in them lies the strength and is found all the +dull carnality of matter; while, on the contrary, in woman is a subtle +spirit and a scintillation of perfumed flame that lights up paradise +and dazzles the male. This is the reason that certain women govern +their husbands, because mind is the master of matter. + +(At this the ladies began to laugh, as did also the king). + +“I will not be silent,” said the lady of Cande (said the abbot, +continuing his tale); “I have been too grossly outraged. This, then, +is the reward of the wealth that I brought you, and of my virtuous +conduct! Did I ever refuse to obey you even during Lent, and on fast +days? Am I so cold as to freeze the sun? Do you think that I embrace +by force, from duty, or pure kindness of heart! Am I too hallowed for +you to touch? Am I a holy shrine? Was there need of a papal brief to +kiss me? God’s truth! have you had so much of me that you are tired? +Am I not to your taste? Do charming wenches know more than ladies? Ha! +perhaps it is so, since she has let you work in the field without +sowing. Teach me the business; I will practice it with those whom I +take into my service, for it is settled that I am free. That is as we +should be. Your society was wearisome, and the little pleasure I +derived from it cost me too dear. Thank God! I am quit of you and your +whims, because I intend to retire to a monastery.” . . . She meant to +say a convent, but this avenging monk had perverted her tongue. + +“And I shall be more comfortable in this monastery with my daughter, +than in this place of abominable wickedness. You can inherit from your +wench. Ha, ha! The fine lady of Cande! Look at her!” + +“What is the matter?” said Amador, appearing suddenly upon the scene. + +“The matter is, my father,” replied she, “that my wrongs cry aloud for +vengeance. To begin with, I shall have this trollop thrown into the +river, sewn up in a sack, for having diverted the seed of the House of +Cande from its proper channel. It will be saving the hangman a job. +For the rest I will--” + +“Abandon your anger, my daughter,” said the monk. “It is commanded us +by the Church to forgive those who trespass against us, if we would +find favour in the side of Heaven, because you pardon those who also +pardon others. God avenges himself eternally on those who have avenged +themselves, but keeps in His paradise those who have pardoned. From +that comes the jubilee, which is a day of great rejoicing, because all +debts and offences are forgiven. Thus it is a source of happiness to +pardon. Pardon! Pardon! To pardon is a most holy work. Pardon +Monseigneur de Cande, who will bless you for your gracious clemency, +and will henceforth love you much; This forgiveness will restore to +you the flower of youth; and believe, my dear sweet young lady, that +forgiveness is in certain cases the best means of vengeance. Pardon +your maid-servant, who will pray heaven for you. Thus God, supplicated +by all, will have you in His keeping, and will bless you with male +lineage for this pardon.” + +Thus saying, the monk took the hand of the sire, placed it in that of +the lady, and added-- + +“Go and talk over the pardon.” + +And then he whispered into the husband’s ears this sage advice-- + +“My lord, use your best argument, and you will silence her with it, +because a woman’s mouth it is only full of words when she is empty +elsewhere. Argue continually, and thus you will always have the upper +hand of your wife.” + +“By the body of the Jupiter! There’s good in this monk after all,” + said the seigneur, as he went out. + +As soon as Amador found himself alone with Perrotte he spoke to her, +as follows-- + +“You are to blame, my dear, for having wished to torment a poor +servant of God; therefore are you now the object of celestial wrath, +which will fall upon you. To whatever place you fly it will always +follow you, will seize upon you in every limb, even after your death, +and will cook you like a pasty in the oven of hell, where you will +simmer eternally, and every day you will receive seven hundred +thousand million lashes of the whip, for the one I received through +you.” + +“Ah! holy Father,” said the wench, casting herself at the monk’s feet, +“you alone can save me, for in your gown I should be sheltered from +the anger of God.” + +Saying this, she raised the robe to place herself beneath it, and +exclaimed-- + +“By my faith! monks are better than knights.” + +“By the sulphur of the devil! You are not acquainted with the monks?” + +“No,” said Perrotte. + +“And you don’t know the service that monks sing without saying a +word?” + +“No.” + +Thereupon the monk went through this said service for her, as it is +sung on great feast days, with all the grand effects used in +monasteries, the psalms well chanted in f major, the flaming tapers, +and the choristers, and explained to her the _Introit_, and also the +_ite missa est_, and departed, leaving her so sanctified that the +wrath of heaven would have great difficulty in discovering any portion +of the girl that was not thoroughly monasticated. + +By his orders, Perrotte conducted him to Mademoiselle de Cande, the +lord’s sister, to whom he went in order to learn if it was her desire +to confess to him, because monks came so rarely to the castle. The +lady was delighted, as would any good Christian have been, at such a +chance of clearing out her conscience. Amador requested her to show +him her conscience, and she having allowed him to see that which he +considered the conscience of old maids, he found it in a bad state, +and told her that the sins of women were accomplished there; that to +be for the future without sin it was necessary to have the conscience +corked up by a monk’s indulgence. The poor ignorant lady having +replied that she did not know where these indulgences were to be had, +the monk informed her that he had a relic with him which enabled him +to grant one, that nothing was more indulgent than this relic, because +without saying a word it produced infinite pleasures, which is the +true, eternal and primary character of an indulgence. The poor lady +was so pleased with this relic, the virtue of which she tried in +various ways, that her brain became muddled, and she had so much faith +in it that she indulged as devoutly in indulgences as the Lady of +Cande had indulged in vengeances. This business of confession woke up +the younger Demoiselle de Cande, who came to watch the proceedings. +You may imagine that the monk had hoped for this occurrence, since his +mouth had watered at the sight of this fair blossom, whom he also +confessed, because the elder lady could not hinder him from bestowing +upon the younger one, who wished it, what remained of the indulgences. +But, remember, this pleasure was due to him for the trouble he had +taken. The morning having dawned, the pigs having eaten their tripe, +and the cats having become disenchanted with love, and having watered +all the places rubbed with herbs, Amador went to rest himself in his +bed, which Perrotte had put straight again. Every one slept, thanks to +the monk, so long, that no one in the castle was up before noon, which +was the dinner hour. The servants all believed the monk to be a devil +who had carried off the cats, the pigs, and also their masters. In +spite of these ideas however, every one was in the room at meal time. + +“Come, my father,” said the chatelaine, giving her arm to the monk, +whom she put at her side in the baron’s chair, to the great +astonishment of the attendants, because the Sire of Cande said not a +word. “Page, give some of this to Father Amador,” said madame. + +“Father Amador has need of so and so,” said the Demoiselle de Cande. + +“Fill up Father Amador’s goblet,” said the sire. + +“Father Amador has no bread,” said the little lady. + +“What do you require, Father Amador?” said Perrotte. + +It was Father Amador here, and Father Amador there. He was regaled +like a little maiden on her wedding night. + +“Eat, father,” said madame; “you made such a bad meal yesterday.” + +“Drink, father,” said the sire. “You are, s’blood! the finest monk I +have ever set eyes on.” + +“Father Amador is a handsome monk,” said Perrotte. + +“An indulgent monk,” said the demoiselle. + +“A beneficent monk,” said the little one. + +“A great monk,” said the lady. + +“A monk who well deserves his name,” said the clerk of the castle. + +Amador munched and chewed, tried all the dishes, lapped up the +hypocras, licked his chops, sneezed, blew himself out, strutted and +stamped about like a bull in a field. The others regarded him with +great fear, believing him to be a magician. Dinner over, the Lady of +Cande, the demoiselle, and the little one, besought the Sire of Cande +with a thousand fine arguments, to terminate the litigation. A great +deal was said to him by madame, who pointed out to him how useful a +monk was in a castle; by mademoiselle, who wished for the future to +polish up her conscience every day; by the little one, who pulled her +father’s beard, and asked that this monk might always be at Cande. If +ever the difference were arranged, it would be by the monk: the monk +was of a good understanding, gentle and virtuous as a saint; it was a +misfortune to be at enmity with a monastery containing such monks. If +all the monks were like him, the abbey would always have everywhere +the advantage of the castle, and would ruin it, because this monk was +very strong. Finally, they gave utterance to a thousand reasons, which +were like a deluge of words, and were so pluvially showered down that +the sire yielded, saying, that there would never be a moment’s peace +in the house until matters were settled to the satisfaction of the +women. Then he sent for the clerk, who wrote down for him, and also +for the monk. Then Amador surprised them exceedingly by showing them +the charters and the letters of credit, which would prevent the sire +and his clerk delaying this agreement. When the Lady of Cande saw them +about to put an end to this old case, she went to the linen chest to +get some fine cloth to make a new gown for her dear Amador. Every one +in the house had noticed how this old gown was worn, and it would have +been a great shame to leave such a treasure in such a worn-out case. +Everyone was eager to work at the gown. Madame cut it, the servant put +the hood on, the demoiselle sewed it, and the little demoiselle worked +at the sleeves. And all set so heartily to work to adorn the monk, +that the robe was ready by supper time, as was also the charter of +agreement prepared and sealed by the Sire de Cande. + +“Ah, my father!” said the lady, “if you love us, you will refresh +yourself after your merry labour by washing yourself in a bath that I +have had heated by Perrotte.” + +Amador was then bathed in scented water. When he came out he found a +new robe of fine linen and lovely sandals ready for him, which made +him appear the most glorious monk in the world. + +Meanwhile the monks of Turpenay fearing for Amador, had ordered two of +their number to spy about the castle. These spies came round by the +moat, just as Perrotte threw Amador’s greasy old gown, with other +rubbish, into it. Seeing which, they thought that it was all over with +the poor madman. They therefore returned, and announced that it was +certain Amador had suffered martyrdom in the service of the abbey. +Hearing which the abbot ordered them to assemble in the chapel and +pray to God, in order to assist this devoted servant in his torments. +The monk having supped, put his charter into his girdle, and wished to +return to Turpenay. Then he found at the foot of the steps madame’s +mare, bridled and saddled, and held ready for him by a groom. The lord +had ordered his men-at-arms to accompany the good monk, so that no +accident might befall him. Seeing which, Amador pardoned the tricks of +the night before, and bestowed his benediction upon every one before +taking his departure from this converted place. Madame followed him +with her eyes, and proclaimed him a splendid rider. Perrotte declared +that for a monk he held himself more upright in the saddle than any of +the men-at-arms. Mademoiselle de Cande sighed. The little one wished +to have him for her confessor. + +“He has sanctified the castle,” said they, when they were in the room +again. + +When Amador and his suite came to the gates of the abbey, a scene of +terror ensued, since the guardian thought that the Sire de Cande had +had his appetite for monks whetted by the blood of poor Amador, and +wished to sack the abbey. But Amador shouted with his fine bass voice, +and was recognised and admitted into the courtyard; and when he +dismounted from madame’s mare there was enough uproar to make the +monks as a wild as April moons. They gave vent to shouts of joy in the +refectory, and all came to congratulate Amador, who waved the charter +over his head. The men-at-arms were regaled with the best wine in the +cellars, which was a present made to the monks of Turpenay by those of +Marmoustier, to whom belonged the lands of Vouvray. The good abbot +having had the document of the Sieur de Cande read, went about +saying-- + +“On these divine occasions there always appears the finger of God, to +whom we should render thanks.” + +As the good abbot kept on at the finger of God, when thanking Amador, +the monk, annoyed to see the instrument of their delivery thus +diminished, said to him-- + +“Well, say that it is the arm, my father, and drop the subject.” + +The termination of the trial between the Sieur de Cande and the abbey +of Turpenay was followed by a blessing which rendered him devoted to +the Church, because nine months after he had a son. Two years +afterwards Amador was chosen as abbot by the monks, who reckoned upon +a merry government with a madcap. But Amador become an abbot, became +steady and austere, because he had conquered his evil desires by his +labours, and recast his nature at the female forge, in which is that +fire which is the most perfecting, persevering, persistent, +perdurable, permanent, perennial, and permeating fire that there ever +was in the world. It is a fire to ruin everything, and it ruined so +well the evil that was in Amador, that it left only that which it +could not eat--that is, his wit, which was as clear as a diamond, +which is, as everyone knows, a residue of the great fire by which our +globe was formerly carbonised. Amador was then the instrument chosen +by Providence to reform our illustrious abbey, since he put everything +right there, watched night and day over his monks, made them all rise +at the hours appointed for prayers, counted them in chapel as a +shepherd counts his sheep, kept them well in hand, and punished their +faults severely, that he made them most virtuous brethren. + +This teaches us to look upon womankind more as the instruments of our +salvation than of our pleasure. Besides which, this narrative teaches +us that we should never attempt to struggle with the Churchmen. + +The king and the queen had found this tale in the best taste; the +courtiers confessed that they had never heard a better; and the ladies +would all willingly have been the heroines of it. + + + + BERTHA THE PENITENT + +I +HOW BERTHA REMAINED A MAIDEN IN THE MARRIED STATE + +About the time of the first flight of the Dauphin, which threw our +good Sire, Charles the Victorious, into a state of great dejection, +there happened a great misfortune to a noble House of Touraine, since +extinct in every branch; and it is owing to this fact that this most +deplorable history may now be safely brought to light. To aid him in +this work the author calls to his assistance the holy confessors, +martyrs, and other celestial dominations, who, by the commandments of +God, were the promoters of good in this affair. + +From some defect in his character, the Sire Imbert de Bastarnay, one +of the most landed lords in our land of Touraine, had no confidence in +the mind of the female of man, whom he considered much too animated, +on account of her numerous vagaries, and it may be he was right. In +consequence of this idea he reached his old age without a companion, +which was certainly not to his advantage. Always leading a solitary +life, this said man had no idea of making himself agreeable to others, +having only been mixed up with wars and the orgies of bachelors, with +whom he did not put himself out of the way. Thus he remained stale in +his garments, sweaty in his accoutrements, with dirty hands and an +apish face. In short, he looked the ugliest man in Christendom. As far +as regards his person only though, since so far as his heart, his +head, and other secret places were concerned, he had properties which +rendered him most praiseworthy. An angel (pray believe this) would +have walked a long way without meeting an old warrior firmer at his +post, a lord with more spotless scutcheon, of shorter speech, and more +perfect loyalty. + +Certain people have stated, they have heard that he gave sound advice, +and was a good and profitable man to consult. Was it not a strange +freak on the part of God, who plays sometimes jokes on us, to have +granted so many perfections to a man so badly apparelled? + +When he was sixty in appearance, although only fifty in years, he +determined to take unto himself a wife, in order to obtain lineage. +Then, while foraging about for a place where he might be able to find +a lady to his liking, he heard much vaunted, the great merits and +perfections of a daughter of the illustrious house of Rohan, which at +that time had some property in the province. The young lady in +question was called Bertha, that being her pet name. Imbert having +been to see her at the castle of Montbazon, was, in consequence of the +prettiness and innocent virtue of the said Bertha de Rohan, seized +with so great a desire to possess her, that he determined to make her +his wife, believing that never could a girl of such lofty descent fail +in her duty. This marriage was soon celebrated, because the Sire de +Rohan had seven daughters, and hardly knew how to provide for them +all, at a time when people were just recovering from the late wars, +and patching up their unsettled affairs. Now the good man Bastarnay +happily found Bertha really a maiden, which fact bore witness to her +proper bringing up and perfect maternal correction. So immediately the +night arrived when it should be lawful for him to embrace her, he got +her with a child so roughly that he had proof of the result two months +after marriage, which rendered the Sire Imbert joyful to a degree. In +order that we may here finish with this portion of the story, let us +at once state that from this legitimate grain was born the Sire de +Bastarnay, who was Duke by the grace of Louis the Eleventh, his +chamberlain, and more than that, his ambassador in the countries of +Europe, and well-beloved of this most redoubtable lord, to whom he +was never faithless. His loyalty was an heritage from his father, who +from his early youth was much attached to the Dauphin, whose fortunes +he followed, even in the rebellions, since he was a man to put Christ +on the cross again if it had been required by him to do so, which is +the flower of friendship rarely to be found encompassing princes and +great people. At first, the fair lady of Bastarnay comported herself +so loyally that her society caused those thick vapours and black +clouds to vanish, which obscured the mind of this great man, the +brightness of the feminine glory. Now, according to the custom of +unbelievers, he passed from suspicion to confidence so thoroughly, +that he yielded up the government of his house to the said Bertha, +made her mistress of his deeds and actions, queen of his honour, +guardian of his grey hairs, and would have slaughtered without a +contest any one who had said an evil word concerning this mirror of +virtue, on whom no breath had fallen save the breath issued from his +conjugal and marital lips, cold and withered as they were. To speak +truly on all points, it should be explained, that to this virtuous +behaviour considerably aided the little boy, who during six years +occupied day and night the attention of his pretty mother, who first +nourished him with her milk, and made of him a lover’s lieutenant, +yielding to him her sweet breasts, which he gnawed at, hungry, as +often as he would, and was, like a lover, always there. This good +mother knew no other pleasures than those of his rosy lips, had no +other caresses that those of his tiny little hands, which ran about +her like the feet of playful mice, read no other book than that in his +clear baby eyes, in which the blue sky was reflected, and listened to +no other music than his cries, which sounded in her ears as angels’ +whispers. You may be sure that she was always fondling him, had a +desire to kiss him at dawn of day, kissed him in the evening, would +rise in the night to eat him up with kisses, made herself a child as +he was a child, educated him in the perfect religion of maternity; +finally, behaved as the best and happiest mother that ever lived, +without disparagement to our Lady the Virgin, who could have had +little trouble in bringing up our Saviour, since he was God. + +This employment and the little taste which Bertha had for the blisses +of matrimony much delighted the old man, since he would have been +unable to return the affection of a too amorous wife, and desired to +practice economy, to have the wherewithal for a second child. + +After six years had passed away, the mother was compelled to give her +son into the hands of the grooms and other persons to whom Messire de +Bastarnay committed the task to mould him properly, in order that his +heir should have an heritage of the virtues, qualities and courage of +the house, as well as the domains and the name. Then did Bertha shed +many tears, her happiness being gone. For the great heart of this +mother it was nothing to have this well-beloved son after others, and +during only certain short fleeting hours. Therefore she became sad and +melancholy. Noticing her grief, the good man wished to bestow upon her +another child and could not, and the poor lady was displeased thereat, +because she declared that the making of a child wearied her much and +cost her dear. And this is true, or no doctrine is true, and you must +burn the Gospels as a pack of stories if you have not faith in this +innocent remark. + +This, nevertheless, to certain ladies (I did not mention men, since +they have a smattering of the science), will still seem an untruth. +The writer has taken care here to give the mute reasons for this +strange antipathy; I mean the distastes of Bertha, because I love the +ladies above all things, knowing that for want of the pleasure of +love, my face would grow old and my heart torment me. Did you ever +meet a scribe so complacent and so fond of the ladies as I am? No; of +course not. Therefore, do I love them devotedly, but not so often as I +could wish, since I have oftener in my hands my goose-quill than I +have the barbs with which one tickles their lips to make them laugh +and be merry in all innocence. I understand them, and in this way. + +The good man Bastarnay was not a smart young fellow of an amorous +nature, and acquainted with the pranks of the thing. He did not +trouble himself much about the fashion in which he killed a soldier so +long as he killed him; that he would have killed him in all ways +without saying a word in battle, is, of course, understood. The +perfect heedlessness in the matter of death was in accordance with the +nonchalance in the matter of life, the birth and manner of begetting a +child, and the ceremonies thereto appertaining. The good sire was +ignorant of the many litigious, dilatory, interlocutory and +proprietary exploits and the little humourings of the little fagots +placed in the oven to heat it; of the sweet perfumed branches gathered +little by little in the forests of love, fondlings, coddlings, +huggings, nursing, the bites at the cherry, the cat-licking, and other +little tricks and traffic of love which ruffians know, which lovers +preserve, and which the ladies love better than their salvation, +because there is more of the cat than the woman in them. This shines +forth in perfect evidence in their feminine ways. If you think it +worth while watching them, examine them attentively while they eat: +not one of them (I am speaking of women, noble and well-educated) puts +her knife in the eatables and thrusts it into her mouth, as do +brutally the males; no, they turn over their food, pick the pieces +that please them as they would gray peas in a dovecote; they suck the +sauces by mouthfuls; play with their knife and spoon as if they are +only ate in consequence of a judge’s order, so much do they dislike to +go straight to the point, and make free use of variations, finesse, +and little tricks in everything, which is the especial attribute of +these creatures, and the reason that the sons of Adam delight in them, +since they do everything differently to themselves, and they do well. +You think so too. Good! I love you. + +Now then, Imbert de Bastarnay, an old soldier, ignorant of the tricks +of love, entered into the sweet garden of Venus as he would into a +place taken by assault, without giving any heed to the cries of the +poor inhabitants in tears, and placed a child as he would an arrow in +the dark. Although the gentle Bertha was not used to such treatment +(poor child, she was but fifteen), she believed in her virgin faith, +that the happiness of becoming a mother demanded this terrible, +dreadful bruising and nasty business; so during his painful task she +would pray to God to assist her, and recite _Aves_ to our Lady, +esteeming her lucky, in only having the Holy Ghost to endure. By this +means, never having experienced anything but pain in marriage, she +never troubled her husband to go through the ceremony again. Now +seeing that the old fellow was scarcely equal to it--as has been +before stated--she lived in perfect solitude, like a nun. She hated +the society of men, and never suspected that the Author of the world +had put so much joy in that from which she had only received infinite +misery. But she loved all the more her little one, who had cost her so +much before he was born. Do not be astonished, therefore, that she +held aloof from that gallant tourney in which it is the mare who +governs her cavalier, guides him, fatigues him, and abuses him, if he +stumbles. This is the true history of certain unhappy unions, +according to the statement of the old men and women, and the certain +reason of the follies committed by certain women, who too late +perceive, I know not how, that they have been deceived, and attempt to +crowd into a day more time than it will hold, to have their proper +share of life. That is philosophical, my friends. Therefore study well +this page, in order that you may wisely look to the proper government +of your wives, your sweethearts, and all females generally, and +particularly those who by chance may be under your care, from which +God preserve you. + +Thus a virgin in deed, although a mother, Bertha was in her +one-and-twentieth year a castle flower, the glory of her good man, +and the honour of the province. The said Bastarnay took great pleasure +in beholding this child come, go, and frisk about like a willow-switch, +as lively as an eel, as innocent as her little one, and still most +sensible and of sound understanding; so much so that he never +undertook any project without consulting her about it, seeing that if +the minds of these angels have not been disturbed in their purity, +they give a sound answer to everything one asks of them. At this time +Bertha lived near the town of Loches, in the castle of her lord, and +there resided, with no desire to do anything but look after her +household duties, after the old custom of the good housewives, from +which the ladies of France were led away when Queen Catherine and the +Italians came with their balls and merry-makings. To these practices +Francis the First and his successors, whose easy ways did as much harm +to the State of France as the goings on of the Protestants lent their +aid. This, however, has nothing to do with my story. + +About this time the lord and lady of Bastarnay were invited by the +king to come to his town of Loches, where for the present he was with +his court, in which the beauty of the lady of Bastarnay had made a +great noise. Bertha came to Loches, received many kind praises from +the king, was the centre of the homage of all the young nobles, who +feasted their eyes on this apple of love, and of the old ones, who +warmed themselves at this sun. But you may be sure that all of them, +old and young, would have suffered death a thousand times over to have +at their service this instrument of joy, which dazzled their eyes and +muddled their brains. Bertha was more talked about in Loches then +either God or the Gospels, which enraged a great many ladies who were +not so bountifully endowed with charms, and would have given all that +was left of their honour to have sent back to her castle this fair +gatherer of smiles. + +A young lady having early perceived that one of her lovers was smitten +with Bertha, took such a hatred to her that from it arose all the +misfortunes of the lady of Bastarnay; but also from the same source +came her happiness, and her discovery of the gentle land of love, of +which she was ignorant. This wicked lady had a relation who had +confessed to her, directly he saw Bertha, that to be her lover he +would be willing to die after a month’s happiness with her. Bear in +mind that this cousin was as handsome as a girl is beautiful, had no +hair on his chin, would have gained his enemy’s forgiveness by asking +for it, so melodious was his young voice, and was scarcely twenty +years of age. + +“Dear cousin,” said she to him, “leave the room, and go to your house; +I will endeavour to give you this joy. But do not let yourself be seen +by her, nor by that old baboon-face by an error of nature on a +Christian’s body, and to whom belongs this beauteous fay.” + +The young gentleman out of the way, the lady came rubbing her +treacherous nose against Bertha’s, and called her “My friend, my +treasure, my star of beauty”; trying every way to be agreeable to her, +to make her vengeance more certain on the poor child who, all +unwittingly, had caused her lover’s heart to be faithless, which, for +women ambitious in love, is the worst of infidelities. After a little +conversation, the plotting lady suspected that poor Bertha was a +maiden in matters of love, when she saw her eyes full of limpid water, +no marks on the temples, no little black speck on the point of her +little nose, white as snow, where usually the marks of the amusement +are visible, no wrinkle on her brow; in short, no habit of pleasure +apparent on her face--clear as the face of an innocent maiden. Then +this traitress put certain women’s questions to her, and was perfectly +assured by the replies of Bertha, that if she had had the profit of +being a mother, the pleasures of love had been denied to her. At this +she rejoiced greatly on her cousin’s behalf--like the good woman she +was. + +Then she told her, that in the town of Loches there lived a young and +noble lady, of the family of a Rohan, who at that time had need of the +assistance of a lady of position to be reconciled with the Sire Louis +de Rohan; that if she had as much goodness as God had given her +beauty, she would take her with her to the castle, ascertain for +herself the sanctity of her life, and bring about a reconciliation +with the Sire de Rohan, who refused to receive her. To this Bertha +consented without hesitation, because the misfortunes of this girl +were known to her, but not the poor young lady herself, whose name was +Sylvia, and whom she had believed to be in a foreign land. + +It is here necessary to state why the king had given this invitation +to the Sire de Bastarnay. He had a suspicion of the first flight of +his son the Dauphin into Burgundy, and wished to deprive him of so +good a counsellor as was the said Bastarnay. But the veteran, faithful +to young Louis, had already, without saying a word, made up his mind. +Therefore he took Bertha back to his castle; but before they set out +she told him she had taken a companion and introduced her to him. It +was the young lord, disguised as a girl, with the assistance of his +cousin, who was jealous of Bertha, and annoyed at her virtue. Imbert +drew back a little when he learned that it was Sylvia de Rohan, but +was also much affected at the kindness of Bertha, whom he thanked for +her attempt to bring a little wandering lamb back to the fold. He made +much of his wife, when his last night at home came, left men-at-arms +about his castle, and then set out with the Dauphin for Burgundy, +having a cruel enemy in his bosom without suspecting it. The face of +the young lad was unknown to him, because he was a young page come to +see the king’s court, and who had been brought up by the Cardinal +Dunois, in whose service he was a knight-bachelor. + +The old lord, believing that he was a girl, thought him very modest +and timid, because the lad, doubting the language of his eyes, kept +them always cast down; and when Bertha kissed him on the mouth, he +trembled lest his petticoat might be indiscreet, and would walk away +to the window, so fearful was he of being recognised as a man by +Bastarnay, and killed before he had made love to the lady. + +Therefore he was as joyful as any lover would have been in his place, +when the portcullis was lowered, and the old lord galloped away across +the country. He had been in such suspense that he made a vow to build +a pillar at his own expense in the cathedral at Tours, because he had +escaped the danger of his mad scheme. He gave, indeed, fifty gold +marks to pay God for his delight. But by chance he had to pay for it +over again to the devil, as it appears from the following facts if the +tale pleases you well enough to induce you to follow the narrative, +which will be succinct, as all good speeches should be. + + +II +HOW BERTHA BEHAVED, KNOWING THE BUSINESS OF LOVE + +This bachelor was the young Sire Jehan de Sacchez, cousin of the Sieur +de Montmorency, to whom, by the death of the said Jehan, the fiefs of +Sacchez and other places would return, according to the deed of +tenure. He was twenty years of age and glowed like a burning coal; +therefore you may be sure that he had a hard job to get through the +first day. While old Imbert was galloping across the fields, the two +cousins perched themselves under the lantern of the portcullis, in +order to keep him the longer in view, and waved him signals of +farewells. When the clouds of dust raised by the heels of the horses +were no longer visible upon the horizon, they came down and went into +the great room of the castle. + +“What shall we do, dear cousin?” said Bertha to the false Sylvia. “Do +you like music? We will play together. Let us sing the lay of some +sweet ancient bard. Eh? What do you say? Come to my organ; come along. +As you love me, sing!” + +Then she took Jehan by the hand and led him to the keyboard of the +organ, at which the young fellow seated himself prettily, after the +manner of women. “Ah! sweet coz,” cried Bertha, as soon as the first +notes tried, the lad turned his head towards her, in order that they +might sing together. “Ah! sweet coz you have a wonderful glance in +your eye; you move I know not what in my heart.” + +“Ah! cousin,” replied the false Sylvia, “that it is which has been my +ruin. A sweet milord of the land across the sea told me so often that +I had fine eyes, and kissed them so well, that I yielded, so much +pleasure did I feel in letting them be kissed.” + +“Cousin, does love then, commence in the eyes?” + +“In them is the forge of Cupid’s bolts, my dear Bertha,” said the +lover, casting fire and flame at her. + +“Let us go on with our singing.” + +They then sang, by Jehan’s desire, a lay of Christine de Pisan, every +word of which breathed love. + +“Ah! cousin, what a deep and powerful voice you have. It seems to +pierce me.” + +“Where?” said the impudent Sylvia. + +“There,” replied Bertha, touching her little diaphragm, where the +sounds of love are understood better than by the ears, but the +diaphragm lies nearer the heart, and that which is undoubtedly the +first brain, the second heart, and the third ear of the ladies. I say +this, with all respect and with all honour, for physical reasons and +for no others. + +“Let us leave off singing,” said Bertha; “it has too great an effect +upon me. Come to the window; we can do needlework until the evening.” + +“Ah! dear cousin of my soul, I don’t know how to hold the needle in my +fingers, having been accustomed, to my perdition to do something else +with them.” + +“Eh! what did you do then all day long?” + +“Ah! I yielded to the current of love, which makes days seem Instants, +months seem days, and years months; and if it could last, would gulp +down eternity like a strawberry, seeing that it is all youth and +fragrance, sweetness and endless joy.” + +Then the youth dropped his beautiful eyelids over his eyes, and +remained as melancholy as a poor lady who has been abandoned by her +lover, who weeps for him, wishes to kiss him, and would pardon his +perfidy, if he would but seek once again the sweet path to his +once-loved fold. + +“Cousin, does love blossom in the married state?” + +“Oh no,” said Sylvia; “because in the married state everything is +duty, but in love everything is done in perfect freedom of heart. This +difference communicates an indescribable soft balm to those caresses +which are the flowers of love.” + +“Cousin, let us change the conversation; it affects me more than did +the music.” + +She called hastily to a servant to bring her boy to her, who came, and +when Sylvia saw him, she exclaimed-- + +“Ah! the little dear, he is as beautiful as love.” + +Then she kissed him heartily upon the forehead. + +“Come, my little one,” said the mother, as the child clambered into +her lap. “Thou art thy mother’s blessing, her unclouded joy, the +delight of her every hour, her crown, her jewel, her own pure pearl, +her spotless soul, her treasure, her morning and evening star, her +only flame, and her heart’s darling. Give me thy hands, that I may eat +them; give me thine ears, that I may bite them; give me thy head, that +I may kiss thy curls. Be happy sweet flower of my body, that I may be +happy too.” + +“Ah! cousin,” said Sylvia, “you are speaking the language of love to +him.” + +“Love is a child then?” + +“Yes, cousin; therefore the heathen always portrayed him as a little +boy.” + +And with many other remarks fertile in the imagery of love, the two +pretty cousins amused themselves until supper time, playing with the +child. + +“Would you like to have another?” whispered Jehan, at an opportune +moment, into his cousin’s ear, which he touched with his warm lips. + +“Ah! Sylvia! for that I would ensure a hundred years of purgatory, if +it would only please God to give me that joy. But in spite of the +work, labour, and industry of my spouse, which causes me much pain, my +waist does not vary in size. Alas! It is nothing to have but one +child. If I hear the sound of a cry in the castle, my heart beats +ready to burst. I fear man and beast alike for this innocent darling; +I dread volts, passes, and manual exercises; in fact, I dread +everything. I live not in myself, but in him alone. And, alas! I like +to endure these miseries, because when I fidget, and tremble, it is a +sign that my offspring is safe and sound. To be brief--for I am never +weary of talking on this subject--I believe that my breath is in him, +and not in myself.” + +With these words she hugged him to her breasts, as only mothers know +how to hug children, with a spiritual force that is felt only in their +hearts. If you doubt this, watch a cat carrying her kittens in her +mouth, not one of them gives a single mew. The youthful gallant, who +had certain fears about watering this fair, unfertile plain, was +reassured by this speech. He thought then that it would only be +following the commandments of God to win this saint to love; and he +thought right. At night Bertha asked her cousin--according to the old +custom, to which the ladies of our day object--to keep her company in +her big seigneurial bed. To which request Sylvia replied--in order to +keep up the role of a well-born maiden--that nothing would give her +greater pleasure. The curfew rang, and found the two cousins in a +chamber richly ornamented with carpeting, fringes, and royal +tapestries, and Bertha began gracefully to disarray herself, assisted +by her women. You can imagine that her companion modestly declined +their services, and told her cousin, with a little blush, that she was +accustomed to undress herself ever since she had lost the services of +her dearly beloved, who had put her out of conceit with feminine +fingers by his gentle ways; that these preparations brought back the +pretty speeches he used to make, and his merry pranks while playing +the lady’s-maid; and that to her injury, the memory of all these +things brought the water into her mouth. + +This discourse considerably astonished the lady Bertha, who let her +cousin say her prayers, and make other preparations for the night +beneath the curtains of the bed, into which my lord, inflamed with +desire, soon tumbled, happy at being able to catch an occasional +glimpse of the wondrous charms of the chatelaine, which were in no way +injured. Bertha, believing herself to be with an experienced girl, did +not omit any of the usual practices; she washed her feet, not minding +whether she raised them little or much, exposed her delicate little +shoulders, and did as all the ladies do when they are retiring to +rest. At last she came to bed, and settled herself comfortably in it, +kissing her cousin on the lips, which she found remarkably warm. + +“Are you unwell, Sylvia, that you burn so?” said she. + +“I always burn like that when I go to bed,” replied her companion, +“because at that time there comes back to my memory the pretty little +tricks that he invented to please me, and which make me burn still +more.” + +“Ah! cousin, tell me all about this he. Tell all the sweets of love to +me, who live beneath the shadow of a hoary head, of which the snows +keep me from such warm feelings. Tell me all; you are cured. It will +be a good warning to me, and then your misfortunes will have been a +salutary lesson to two poor weak women.” + +“I do not know I ought to obey you, sweet cousin,” said the youth. + +“Tell me, why not?” + +“Ah! deeds are better than words,” said the false maiden, heaving a +deep sigh as the _ut_ of an organ. “But I am afraid that this milord +has encumbered me with so much joy that you may get a little of it, +which would be enough to give you a daughter, since the power of +engendering is weakened in me.” + +“But,” said Bertha, “between us, would it be a sin?” + +“It would be, on the contrary, a joy both here and in heaven; the +angels would shed their fragrance around you, and make sweet music in +your ears.” + +“Tell me quickly, then,” said Bertha. + +“Well, then, this is how my dear lord made my heart rejoice.” + +With these words Jehan took Bertha in his arms, and strained her +hungering to his heart, for in the soft light of the lamp, and clothed +with the spotless linen, she was in this tempting bed, like the pretty +petals of a lily at the bottom of the virgin calyx. + +“When he held me as I hold thee he said to me, with a voice far +sweeter than mine, ‘Ah, Bertha, thou art my eternal love, my priceless +treasure, my joy by day and my joy by night; thou art fairer than the +day is day; there is naught so pretty as thou art. I love thee more +than God, and would endure a thousand deaths for the happiness I ask +of thee!’ Then he would kiss me, not after the manner of husbands, +which is rough, but in a peculiar dove-like fashion.” + +To show her there and then how much better was the method of lovers, +he sucked all the honey from Bertha’s lips, and taught her how, with +her pretty tongue, small and rosy as that of a cat, she could speak to +the heart without saying a single word, and becoming exhausted at this +game, Jehan spread the fire of his kisses from the mouth to the neck, +from the neck to the sweetest forms that ever a woman gave a child to +slake its thirst upon. And whoever had been in his place would have +thought himself a wicked man not to imitate him. + +“Ah!” said Bertha, fast bound in love without knowing it; “this is +better. I must take care to tell Imbert about it.” + +“Are you in your proper senses, cousin? Say nothing about it to your +old husband. How could he make his hands pleasant like mine? They are +as hard as washerwoman’s beetles, and his piebald beard would hardly +please this centre of bliss, that rose in which lies our wealth, our +substance, our loves, and our fortune. Do you know that it is a living +flower, which should be fondled thus, and not used like a trombone, or +as if it were a catapult of war? Now this was the gentle way of my +beloved Englishman.” + +Thus saying, the handsome youth comported himself so bravely in the +battle that victory crowned his efforts, and poor innocent Bertha +exclaimed-- + +“Ah! cousin, the angels are come! but so beautiful is the music, that +I hear nothing else, and so flaming are their luminous rays, that my +eyes are closing.” + +And, indeed, she fainted under the burden of those joys of love which +burst forth in her like the highest notes of the organ, which +glistened like the most magnificent aurora, which flowed in her veins +like the finest musk, and loosened the liens of her life in giving her +a child of love, who made a great deal of confusion in taking up his +quarters. Finally, Bertha imagined herself to be in Paradise, so happy +did she feel; and woke from this beautiful dream in the arms of Jehan, +exclaiming-- + +“Ah! who would not have been married in England!” + +“My sweet mistress,” said Jehan, whose ecstasy was sooner over, “you +are married to me in France, where things are managed still better, +for I am a man who would give a thousand lives for you if he had +them.” + +Poor Bertha gave a shriek so sharp that it pierced the walls, and +leapt out of bed like a mountebank of the plains of Egypt would have +done. She fell upon her knees before her _Prie-Dieu_, joined her +hands, and wept more pearls than ever Mary Magdalene wore. + +“Ah! I am dead” she cried; “I am deceived by a devil who has taken the +face of an angel. I am lost; I am the mother for certain of a +beautiful child, without being more guilty than you, Madame the +Virgin. Implore the pardon of God for me, if I have not that of men +upon earth; or let me die, so that I may not blush before my lord and +master.” + +Hearing that she said nothing against him, Jehan rose, quite aghast to +see Bertha take this charming dance for two so to heart. But the +moment she heard her Gabriel moving she sprang quickly to her feet, +regarded him with a tearful face, and her eye illumined with a holy +anger, which made her more lovely to look upon, exclaimed-- + +“If you advance a single step towards me, I will make one towards +death!” + +And she took her stiletto in her hand. + +So heartrending was the tragic spectacle of her grief that Jehan +answered her-- + +“It is not for thee but for me to die, my dear, beautiful mistress, +more dearly loved than will ever woman be again upon this earth.” + +“If you had truly loved me you would not have killed me as you have, +for I will die sooner than be reproached by my husband.” + +“Will you die?” said he. + +“Assuredly,” said she. + +“Now, if I am here pierced with a thousand blows, you will have your +husband’s pardon, to whom you will say that if your innocence was +surprised, you have avenged his honour by killing the man who had +deceived you; and it will be the greatest happiness that could ever +befall me to die for you, the moment you refuse to live for me.” + +Hearing this tender discourse spoken with tears, Bertha dropped the +dagger; Jehan sprang upon it, and thrust it into his breast, saying-- + +“Such happiness can be paid for but with death.” + +And fell stiff and stark. + +Bertha, terrified, called aloud for her maid. The servant came, and +terribly alarmed to see a wounded man in Madame’s chamber, and Madame +holding him up, crying and saying, “What have you done, my love?” + because she believed he was dead, and remembered her vanished joys, +and thought how beautiful Jehan must be, since everyone, even Imbert, +believed him to be a girl. In her sorrow she confessed all to her +maid, sobbing and crying out, “that it was quite enough to have upon +her mind the life of a child without having the death of a man as +well.” Hearing this the poor lover tried to open his eyes, and only +succeeded in showing a little bit of the white of them. + +“Ha! Madame, don’t cry out,” said the servant, “let us keep our senses +together and save this pretty knight. I will go and seek La Fallotte, +in order not to let any physician or surgeon into the secret, and as +she is a sorceress she will, to please Madame, perform the miracle of +healing this wound so not a trace of it shall remain. + +“Run!” replied Bertha. “I will love you, and will pay you well for +this assistance.” + +But before anything else was done the lady and her maid agreed to be +silent about this adventure, and hide Jehan from every eye. Then the +servant went out into the night to seek La Fallotte, and was +accompanied by her mistress as far as the postern, because the guard +could not raise the portcullis without Bertha’s special order. Bertha +found on going back that her lover had fainted, for the blood was +flowing from the wound. At the sight she drank a little of his blood, +thinking that Jehan had shed it for her. Affected by this great love +and by the danger, she kissed this pretty varlet of pleasure on the +face, bound up his wound, bathing it with her tears, beseeching him +not to die, and exclaiming that if he would live she would love him +with all her heart. You can imagine that the chatelaine became still +more enamoured while observing what a difference there was between a +young knight like Jehan, white, downy, and agreeable, and an old +fellow like Imbert, bristly, yellow, and wrinkled. This difference +brought back to her memory that which she had found in the pleasure of +love. Moved by this souvenir, her kisses became so warm that Jehan +came back to his senses, his look improved, and he could see Bertha, +from whom in a feeble voice he asked forgiveness. But Bertha forbade +him to speak until La Fallotte had arrived. Then both of them consumed +the time by loving each other with their eyes, since in those of +Bertha there was nothing but compassion, and on these occasions pity +is akin to love. + +La Fallotte was a hunchback, vehemently suspected of dealings in +necromancy, and of riding to nocturnal orgies on a broomstick, +according to the custom of witches. Certain persons had seen her +putting the harness on her broom in the stable, which, as everyone +knows is on the housetops. To tell the truth, she possessed certain +medical secrets, and was of such great service to ladies in certain +things, and to the nobles, that she lived in perfect tranquillity, +without giving up the ghost on a pile of fagots, but on a feather bed, +for she had made a hatful of money, although the physicians tormented +her by declaring that she sold poisons, which was certainly true, as +will be shown in the sequel. The servant and La Fallotte came on the +same ass, making such haste that they arrived at the castle before the +day had fully dawned. + +The old hunchback exclaimed, as she entered the chamber, “Now then, my +children, what is the matter?” + +This was her manner, which was familiar with great people, who +appeared very small to her. She put on her spectacles, and carefully +examined the wound, saying-- + +“This is fine blood, my dear; you have tasted it. That’s all right, he +has bled externally.” + +Then she washed the wound with a fine sponge, under the nose of the +lady and the servant, who held their breath. To be brief, Fallotte +gave it as her medical opinion, that the youth would not die from this +blow, “although,” said she, looking at his hand, “he will come to a +violent end through this night’s deed.” + +This decree of chiromancy frightened considerably both Bertha and the +maid. Fallotte prescribed certain remedies, and promised to come again +the following night. Indeed, she tended the wound for a whole +fortnight, coming secretly at night-time. The people about the castle +were told by the servants that their young lady, Sylvia de Rohan, was +in danger of death, through a swelling of the stomach, which must +remain a mystery for the honour of Madame, who was her cousin. Each +one was satisfied with this story, of which his mouth was so full that +he told it to his fellows. + +The good people believe that it was the malady which was fraught with +danger; but it was not! it was the convalescence, for the stronger +Jehan grew, the weaker Bertha became, and so weak that she allowed +herself to drift into that Paradise the gates of which Jehan had +opened for her. To be brief, she loved him more and more. But in the +midst of her happiness, always mingled with apprehension at the +menacing words of Fallotte, and tormented by her great religion, she +was in great fear of her husband, Imbert, to whom she was compelled to +write that he had given her a child, who would be ready to delight him +on his return. Poor Bertha avoided her lover, Jehan, during the day on +which she wrote the lying letter, over which she soaked her +handkerchief with tears. Finding himself avoided (for they had +previously left each other no more than fire leaves the wood it has +bitten) Jehan believed that she was beginning to hate him, and +straightway he cried too. In the evening Bertha, touched by his tears, +which had left their mark upon his eyes, although he had well dried +them, told him the cause of her sorrow, mingling therewith her +confessions of her terrors for the future, pointing out to him how +much they were both to blame, and discoursing so beautifully to him, +gave utterance to such Christian sentences, ornamented with holy tears +and contrite prayers, that Jehan was touched to the quick by the +sincerity of his mistress. This love innocently united to repentance, +this nobility in sin, this mixture of weakness and strength, would, as +the old authors say, have changed the nature of a tiger, melting it to +pity. You will not be astonished then, that Jehan was compelled to +pledge his word as a knight-bachelor, to obey her in what ever she +should command him, to save her in this world and in the next. +Delighted at this confidence in her, and this goodness of heart, +Bertha cast herself at Jehan’s feet, and kissing them, exclaimed-- + +“Oh! my love, whom I am compelled to love, although it is a mortal sin +to do so, thou who art so good, so gentle to thy poor Bertha, if thou +wouldst have her always think of thee with pleasure, and stop the +torrent of her tears, whose source is so pretty and so pleasant (here, +to show him that it was so, she let him steal a kiss)--Jehan, if thou +wouldst that the memory of our celestial joys, angel music, and the +fragrance of love should be a consolation to me in my loneliness +rather than a torment, do that which the Virgin commanded me to order +thee in a dream, in which I was beseeching her to direct me in the +present case, for I had asked her to come to me, and she had come. +Then I told her the horrible anguish I should endure, trembling for +this little one, whose movements I already feel, and for the real +father, who would be at the mercy of the other, and might expiate his +paternity by a violent death, since it is possible that La Fallotte +saw clearly into his future life. Then the beautiful Virgin told me, +smiling, that the Church offered its forgiveness for our faults if we +followed her commandments; that it was necessary to save one’s self +from the pains of hell, by reforming before Heaven became angry. Then +with her finger she showed me a Jehan like thee, but dressed as thou +shouldst be, and as thou wilt be, if thou does but love thy Bertha +with a love eternal.” + +Jehan assured her of his perfect obedience, and raised her, seating +her on his knee, and kissing her. The unhappy Bertha told him then +that this garment was a monk’s frock, and trembling besought him +--almost fearing a refusal--to enter the Church, and retire to +Marmoustier, beyond Tours, pledging him her word that she would grant +him a last night, after which she would be neither for him nor for +anyone else in the world again. And each year, as a reward for this, +she would let him come to her one day, in order that he might see the +child. Jehan, bound by his oath, promised to obey his mistress, saying +that by this means he would be faithful to her, and would experience +no joys of love but those tasted in her divine embrace, and would live +upon the dear remembrance of them. Hearing these sweet words, Bertha +declared to him that, however great might have been her sin, and +whatever God reserved for her, this happiness would enable her to +support it, since she believed she had not fallen through a man, but +through an angel. + +Then they returned to the nest which contained their love but only to +bid a final adieu to all their lovely flowers. There can be but little +doubt that Seigneur Cupid had something to do with this festival, for +no woman ever experienced such joy in any part of the world before, +and no man ever took as much. The especial property of true love is a +certain harmony, which brings it about that the more one gives, the +more the other receives, and vice-versa, as in certain cases in +mathematics, where things are multiplied by themselves without end. +This problem can only be explained to unscientific people, by asking +them to look into their Venetian glasses, in which are to be seen +thousands of faces produced by one alone. Thus, in the heart of two +lovers, the roses of pleasure multiply within them in a manner which +causes them to be astonished that so much joy can be contained, +without anything bursting. Bertha and Jehan would have wished in this +night to have finished their days, and thought, from the excessive +languor which flowed in their veins, that love had resolved to bear +them away on his wings with the kiss of death; but they held out in +spite of these numerous multiplications. + +On the morrow, as the return of Monsieur Imbert de Bastarnay was close +at hand, the lady Sylvia was compelled to depart. The poor girl left +her cousin, covering her with tears and with kisses; it was always her +last, but the last lasted till evening. Then he was compelled to leave +her, and he did leave her although the blood of his heart congealed, +like the fallen wax of a Paschal candle. According to his promise, he +wended his way towards Marmoustier, which he entered towards the +eleventh hour of the day, and was placed among the novices. +Monseigneur de Bastarnay was informed that Sylvia had returned to the +Lord which is the signification of le Seigneur in the English +language; and therefore in this Bertha did not lie. + +The joy of her husband, when he saw Bertha without her waistband--she +could not wear it, so much had she increased in size--commenced the +martyrdom of this poor woman, who did not know how to deceive, and +who, at each false word, went to her Prie-Dieu, wept her blood away +from her eyes in tears, burst into prayers, and recommended herself to +the graces of Messieurs the Saints in paradise. It happened that she +cried so loudly to God that He heard her, because He hears everything; +He hears the stones that roll beneath the waters, the poor who groan, +and the flies who wing their way through the air. It is well that you +should know this, otherwise you would not believe in what happened. +God commanded the archangel Michael to make for this penitent a hell +upon earth, so that she might enter without dispute into Paradise. +Then St. Michael descended from the skies as far as the gate of hell, +and handed over this triple soul to the devil, telling him that he had +permission to torment it during the rest of her days, at the same time +indicating to him Bertha, Jehan and the child. + +The devil, who by the will of God, is lord of all evil, told the +archangel that he would obey the message. During this heavenly +arrangement life went on as usual here below. The sweet lady of +Bastarnay gave the most beautiful child in the world to the Sire +Imbert, a boy all lilies and roses, of great intelligence, like a +little Jesus, merry and arch as a pagan love. He became more beautiful +day by day, while the elder was turning into an ape, like his father, +whom he painfully resembled. The younger boy was as bright as a star, +and resembled his father and mother, whose corporeal and spiritual +perfections had produced a compound of illustrious graces and +marvellous intelligence. Seeing this perpetual miracle of body and +mind blended with the essential conditions, Bastarnay declared that +for his eternal salvation he would like to make the younger the elder, +and that he would do with the king’s protection. Bertha did not know +what to do, for she adored the child of Jehan, and could only feel a +feeble affection for the other, whom, nevertheless she protected +against the evil intentions of the old fellow, Bastarnay. + +Bertha, satisfied with the way things were going, quieted her +conscience with falsehood, and thought that all danger was past, since +twelve years had elapsed with no other alloy than the doubt which at +times embittered her joy. Each year, according to her pledged faith, +the monk of Marmoustier, who was unknown to everyone except the +servant-maid, came to pass a whole day at the chateau to see his +child, although Bertha had many times besought brother Jehan to yield +his right. But Jehan pointed to the child, saying, “You see him every +day of the year, and I only once!” And the poor mother could find no +word to answer this speech with. + +A few months before the last rebellion of the Dauphin Louis against +his father, the boy was treading closely on the heels of his twelfth +year, and appeared likely to become a great savant, so learned was he +in all the sciences. Old Bastarnay had never been more delighted at +having been a father in his life, and resolved to take his son with +him to the Court of Burgundy, where Duke Charles promised to make for +this well-beloved son a position, which should be the envy of princes, +for he was not at all averse to clever people. Seeing matters thus +arranged, the devil judged the time to be ripe for his mischiefs. He +took his tail and flapped it right into the middle of this happiness, +so that he could stir it up in his own peculiar way. + + +III +HORRIBLE CHASTISEMENT OF BERTHA AND EXPIATION OF THE SAME, +WHO DIED PARDONED + +The servant of the lady of Bastarnay, who was then about +five-and-thirty years old, fell in love with one of the master’s +men-at-arms, and was silly enough to let him take loaves out of the +oven, until there resulted therefrom a natural swelling, which certain +wags in these parts call a nine months’ dropsy. The poor woman begged +her mistress to intercede for her with the master, so that he might +compel this wicked man to finish at the altar that which he had +commenced elsewhere. Madame de Bastarnay had no difficulty in obtaining +this favour from him, and the servant was quite satisfied. But the old +warrior, who was always extremely rough, hastened into his pretorium, +and blew him up sky-high, ordering him, under the pain of the gallows, +to marry the girl; which the soldier preferred to do, thinking more of +his neck than of his peace of mind. + +Bastarnay sent also for the female, to whom he imagined, for the +honour of his house, he ought to sing a litany, mixed with epithets +and ornamented with extremely strong expressions, and made her think, +by way of punishment, that she was not going to be married, but flung +into one of the cells in the jail. The girl fancied that Madame wanted +to get rid of her, in order to inter the secret of the birth of her +beloved son. With this impression, when the old ape said such +outrageous things to her--namely, that he must have been a fool to +keep a harlot in his house--she replied that he certainly was a very +big fool, seeing that for a long time past his wife had been played +the harlot, and with a monk too, which was the worst thing that could +happen to a warrior. + +Think of the greatest storm you ever saw it in your life, and you will +have a weak sketch of the furious rage into which the old man fell, +when thus assailed in a portion of his heart which was a triple life. +He seized the girl by the throat, and would have killed her there and +then, but she, to prove her story, detailed the how, the why, and the +when, and said that if he had no faith in her, he could have the +evidence of his own ears by hiding himself the day that Father Jehan +de Sacchez, the prior of Marmoustier, came. He would then hear the +words of the father, who solaced herself for his year’s fast, and in +one day kissed his son for the rest of the year. + +Imbert ordered this woman instantly to leave the castle, since, if her +accusation were true, he would kill her just as though she had +invented a tissue of lies. In an instant he had given her a hundred +crowns, besides her man, enjoining them not to sleep in Touraine; and +for greater security, they were conducted into Burgundy, by de +Bastarnay’s officers. He informed his wife of their departure, saying, +that as her servant was a damaged article he had thought it best to +get rid of her, but had given her a hundred crowns, and found +employment for the man at the Court of Burgundy. Bertha was astonished +to learn that her maid had left the castle without receiving her +dismissal from herself, her mistress; but she said nothing. Soon +afterwards she had other fish to fry, for she became a prey to vague +apprehensions, because her husband completely changed in his manner, +commenced to notice the likeness of his first-born to himself, and +could find nothing resembling his nose, or his forehead, his this, or +his that, in the youngest he loved so well. + +“He is my very image,” replied Bertha one day that he was throwing out +these hints. “Know you not that in well regulated households, children +are formed from the father and mother, each in turn, or often from +both together, because the mother mingles her qualities with the vital +force of the father? Some physicians declare that they have known many +children born without any resemblance to either father or mother, and +attribute these mysteries to the whim of the Almighty.” + +“You have become very learned, my dear,” replied Bastarnay; “but I, +who am an ignoramus, I should fancy that a child who resembles a +monk--” + +“Had a monk for a father!” said Bertha, looking at him with an +unflinching gaze, although ice rather than blood was coursing through +her veins. + +The old fellow thought he was mistaken, and cursed the servant; but he +was none the less determined to make sure of the affair. As the day of +Father Jehan’s visit was close at hand, Bertha, whose suspicions were +aroused by this speech, wrote him that it was her wish that he should +not come this year, without, however, telling him her reason; then she +went in search of La Fallotte at Loches, who was to give her letter to +Jehan, and believed everything was safe for the present. She was all +the more pleased at having written to her friend the prior, when +Imbert, who, towards the time appointed for the poor monk’s annual +treat, had always been accustomed to take a journey into the province +of Maine, where he had considerable property, remained this time at +home, giving as his reason the preparations for rebellion which +monseigneur Louis was then making against his father, who as everyone +knows, was so cut up at this revolt that it caused his death. This +reason was so good a one, that poor Bertha was quite satisfied with +it, and did not trouble herself. On the regular day, however, the +prior arrived as usual. Bertha seeing him, turned pale, and asked him +if he had not received her message. + +“What message?” said Jehan. + +“Ah! we are lost then; the child, thou, and I,” replied Bertha. + +“Why so?” said the prior. + +“I know not,” said she; “but our last day has come.” + +She inquired of her dearly beloved son where Bastarnay was. The young +man told her that his father had been sent for by a special messenger +to Loches, and would not be back until evening. Thereupon Jehan +wished, is spite of his mistress, to remain with her and his dear son, +asserting that no harm would come of it, after the lapse of twelve +years, since the birth of their boy. + +The days when that adventurous night you know of was celebrated, +Bertha stayed in her room with the poor monk until supper time. But on +this occasion the lovers--hastened by the apprehensions of Bertha, +which was shared by Jehan directly she had informed him of them--dined +immediately, although the prior of Marmoustier reassured Bertha by +pointing out to her the privileges of the Church, and how Bastarnay, +already in bad odour at court, would be afraid to attack a dignitary +of Marmoustier. When they were sitting down to table their little one +happened to be playing, and in spite of the reiterated prayers of his +mother, would not stop his games, since he was galloping about the +courtyard on a fine Spanish barb, which Duke Charles of Burgundy had +presented to Bastarnay. And because young lads like to show off, +varlets make themselves bachelors at arms, and bachelors wish to play +the knight, this boy was delighted at being able to show the monk what +a man he was becoming; he made the horse jump like a flea in the +bedclothes, and sat as steady as a trooper in the saddle. + +“Let him have his way, my darling,” said the monk to Bertha. +“Disobedient children often become great characters.” + +Bertha ate sparingly, for her heart was as swollen as a sponge in +water. At the first mouthful, the monk, who was a great scholar, felt +in his stomach a pain, and on his palette a bitter taste of poison +that caused him to suspect that the Sire de Bastarnay had given them +all their quietus. Before he had made this discovery Bertha had eaten. +Suddenly the monk pulled off the tablecloth and flung everything into +the fireplace, telling Bertha his suspicion. Bertha thanked the Virgin +that her son had been so taken up with his sport. Retaining his +presence of mind, Jehan, who had not forgotten the lesson he had +learned as a page, leaped into the courtyard, lifted his son from the +horse, sprang across it himself, and flew across the country with such +speed that you would have thought him a shooting-star if you had seen +him digging the spurs into the horse’s bleeding flanks, and he was at +Loches in Fallotte’s house in the same space of time that only the +devil could have done the journey. He stated the case to her in two +words, for the poison was already frying his marrow, and requested her +to give him an antidote. + +“Alas,” said the sorceress, “had I known that it was for you I was +giving this poison, I would have received in my breast the dagger’s +point, with which I was threatened, and would have sacrificed my poor +life to save that of a man of God, and of the sweetest woman that ever +blossomed on this earth; for alas! my dear friend, I have only two +drops of the counter-poison that you see in this phial.” + +“Is there enough for her?” + +“Yes, but go at once,” said the old hag. + +The monk came back more quickly that he went, so that the horse died +under him in the courtyard. He rushed into the room where Bertha, +believing her last hour to be come, was kissing her son, and writhing +like a lizard in the fire, uttering no cry for herself, but for the +child, left to the wrath of Bastarnay, forgetting her own agony at the +thought of his cruel future. + +“Take this,” said the monk; “my life is saved!” + +Jehan had the great courage to say these words with an unmoved face, +although he felt the claws of death seizing his heart. Hardly had +Bertha drunk when the prior fell dead, not, however, without kissing +his son, and regarding his dear lady with an eye that changed not even +after his last sigh. This sight turned her as cold as marble, and +terrified her so much that she remained rigid before this dead man, +stretched at her feet, pressing the hand of her child, who wept, +although her own eye was as dry as the Red Sea when the Hebrews +crossed it under the leadership of Baron Moses, for it seemed to her +that she had sharp sand rolling under her eyelids. Pray for her, ye +charitable souls, for never was woman so agonised, in divining that +her lover has saved her life at the expense of his own. Aided by her +son, she herself placed the monk in the middle of the bed, and stood +by the side of it, praying with the boy, whom she then told that the +prior was his true father. In this state she waited her evil hour, and +her evil hour did not take long in coming, for towards the eleventh +hour Bastarnay arrived, and was informed at the portcullis that the +monk was dead, and not Madame and the child, and he saw his beautiful +Spanish horse lying dead. Thereupon, seized with a furious desire to +slay Bertha and the monk’s bastard, he sprang up the stairs with one +bound; but at the sight of the corpse, for whom his wife and her son +repeated incessant litanies, having no ears for his torrent of +invective, having no eyes for his writhings and threats, he had no +longer the courage to perpetrate this dark deed. After the first fury +of his rage had passed, he could not bring himself to it, and quitted +the room like a coward and a man taken in crime, stung to the quick by +those prayers continuously said for the monk. The night was passed in +tears, groans, and prayers. + +By an express order from Madame, her servant had been to Loches to +purchase for her the attire of a young lady of quality, and for her +poor child a horse and the arms of an esquire; noticing which the +Sieur de Bastarnay was much astonished. He sent for Madame and the +monk’s son, but neither mother nor child returned any answer, but +quietly put on the clothes purchased by the servant. By Madame’s order +this servant made up the account of her effects, arranged her clothes, +purples, jewels, and diamonds, as the property of a widow is arranged +when she renounces her rights. Bertha ordered even her alms-purse be +included, in order that the ceremony might be perfect. The report of +these preparations ran through the house, and everyone knew then that +the mistress was about to leave it, a circumstance that filled every +heart with sorrow, even that of a little scullion, who had only been a +week in the place, but to whom Madame had already given a kind word. + +Frightened at these preparations, old Bastarnay came into her chamber, +and found her weeping over the body of Jehan, for the tears had come +at last; but she dried them directly she perceived her husband. To his +numerous questions she replied briefly by the confession of her fault, +telling him how she had been duped, how the poor page had been +distressed, showing him upon the corpse the mark of the poniard wound; +how long he had been getting well; and how, in obedience to her, and +from penitence towards God, he had entered the Church, abandoning the +glorious career of a knight, putting an end to his name, which was +certainly worse than death; how she, while avenging her honour, had +thought that even God himself would not have refused the monk one day +in the year to see the son for whom he had sacrificed everything; how, +not wishing to live with a murderer, she was about to quit his house, +leaving all her property behind her; because, if the honour of the +Bastarnays was stained, it was not she who had brought the shame +about; because in this calamity she had arranged matters as best she +could; finally, she added a vow to go over mountain and valley, she +and her son, until all was expiated, for she knew how to expiate all. + +Having with noble mien and a pale face uttered these beautiful words, +she took her child by the hand and went out in great mourning, more +magnificently beautiful than was Mademoiselle Hagar on her departure +from the residence of the patriarch Abraham, and so proudly, that all +the servants and retainers fell on their knees as she passed along, +imploring her with joined hands, like Notre Dame de la Riche. It was +pitiful to see the Sieur de Bastarnay following her, ashamed, weeping, +confessing himself to blame, and downcast and despairing, like a man +being led to the gallows, there to be turned off. + +And Bertha turned a deaf ear to everything. The desolation was so +great that she found the drawbridge lowered, and hastened to quit the +castle, fearing that it might be suddenly raised again; but no one had +the right or the heart to do it. She sat down on the curb of the moat, +in view of the whole castle, who begged her, with tears, to stay. The +poor sire was standing with his hand upon the chain of the portcullis, +as silent as the stone saints carved above the door. He saw Bertha +order her son to shake the dust from his shoes at the end of the +bridge, in order to have nothing belonging to Bastarnay about him; and +she did likewise. Then, indicating the sire to her son with her +finger, she spoke to him as follows-- + +“Child, behold the murderer of thy father, who was, as thou art aware, +the poor prior; but thou hast taken the name of this man. Give it him +back here, even as thou leavest the dust taken by the shoes from his +castle. For the food that thou hast had in the castle, by God’s help +we will also settle.” + +Hearing this, Bastarnay would have let his wife receive a whole +monastery of monks in order not to be abandoned by her, and by a young +squire capable of becoming the honour of his house, and remained with +his head sunk down against the chains. + +The heart of Bertha was suddenly filled with holy solace, for the +banner of the great monastery turned the corner of a road across the +fields, and appeared accompanied by the chants of the Church, which +burst forth like heavenly music. The monks, informed of the murder +perpetrated on their well-beloved prior, came in procession, assisted +by the ecclesiastical justice, to claim his body. When he saw this, +the Sire de Bastarnay had barely that time to make for the postern +with his men, and set out towards Monseigneur Louis, leaving +everything in confusion. + +Poor Bertha, en croup behind her son, came to Montbazon to bid her +father farewell, telling him that this blow would be her death, and +was consoled by those of her family who endeavoured to raise her +spirits, but were unable to do so. The old Sire de Rohan presented his +grandson with a splendid suit of armour, telling him to acquire glory +and honour that he might turn his mother’s faults into eternal renown. +But Madame de Bastarnay had implanted in the mind of her dear son no +other idea than of atoning for the harm done, in order to save her and +Jehan from eternal damnation. Both then set out for the places then in +a state of rebellion, in order to render such service to Bastarnay +that he would receive from them more than life itself. + +Now the heat of the sedition was, as everyone knows, in the +neighbourhood of Angouleme, and of Bordeaux in Guienne, and other +parts of the kingdom, where great battles and severe conflicts between +the rebels and the royal armies was likely to take place. The +principal one which finished the war was given between Ruffec and +Angouleme, where all the prisoners taken were tried and hanged. This +battle, commanded by old Bastarnay, took place in the month of +November, seven months after the poisoning of Jehan. Now the Baron +knew that his head had been strongly recommended as one to be cut off, +he being the right hand of Monsiegneur Louis. Directly his men began +to fall back, the old fellow found himself surrounded by six men +determined to seize him. Then he understood that they wished to take +him alive, in order to proceed against his house, ruin his name, and +confiscate his property. The poor sire preferred rather to die and +save his family, and present the domains to his son. He defended +himself like the brave old lion that he was. In spite of their number, +these said soldiers, seeing three of their comrades fall, were obliged +to attack Bastarnay at the risk of killing him, and threw themselves +together upon him, after having laid low two of his equerries and a +page. + +In this extreme danger an esquire wearing the arms of Rohan, fell upon +the assailants like a thunderbolt, and killed two of them, crying, +“God save the Bastarnays!” The third man-at-arms, who had already +seized old Bastarnay, was so hard pressed by this squire, that he was +obliged to leave the elder and turn against the younger, to whom he +gave a thrust with his dagger through a flaw in his armour. Bastarnay +was too good a comrade to fly without assisting the liberator of his +house, who was badly wounded. With a blow of his mace he killed the +man-at-arms, seized the squire, lifted him on to his horse, and gained +the open, accompanied by a guide, who led him to the castle of +Roche-Foucauld, which he entered by night, and found in the great room +Bertha de Rohan, who had arranged this retreat for him. But on +removing the helmet of his rescuer, he recognised the son of Jehan, +who expired upon the table, as by a final effort he kissed his mother, +and saying in a loud voice to her-- + +“Mother, we have paid the debt we owed him!” + +Hearing these words, the mother clasped the body of her loved child to +her heart, and separated from him never again, for she died of grief, +without hearing or heeding the pardon and repentance of Bastarnay. + +The strange calamity hastened the last day of the poor old man, who +did not live to see the coronation of King Louis the Eleventh. He +founded a daily mass in the Church of Roche-Foucauld, where in the +same grave he placed mother and son, with a large tombstone, upon +which their lives are much honoured in the Latin language. + +The morals which any one can deduce from this history are the most +profitable for the conduct of life, since this shows how gentlemen +should be courteous with the dearly beloveds of their wives. Further, +it teaches us that all children are blessings sent by God Himself, and +over them fathers, whether true or false, have no right of murder, as +was formerly the case at Rome, owing to a heathen and abominable law, +which ill became that Christianity which makes us all sons of God. + + + + HOW THE PRETTY MAID OF PORTILLON CONVINCED HER JUDGE + +The Maid of Portillon, who became as everyone knows, La Tascherette, +was, before she became a dyer, a laundress at the said place of +Portillon, from which she took her name. If any there be who do not +know Tours, it may be as well to state that Portillon is down the +Loire, on the same side as St. Cyr, about as far from the bridge which +leads to the cathedral of Tours as said bridge is distant from +Marmoustier, since the bridge is in the centre of the embankment +between Portillon and Marmoustier. Do you thoroughly understand? + +Yes? Good! Now the maid had there her washhouse, from which she ran to +the Loire with her washing in a second and took the ferry-boat to get +to St. Martin, which was on the other side of the river, for she had +to deliver the greater part of her work in Chateauneuf and other +places. + +About Midsummer day, seven years before marrying old Taschereau, she +had just reached the right age to be loved, without making a choice +from any of the lads who pursued her with their intentions. Although +there used to come to the bench under her window the son of Rabelais, +who had seven boats on the Loire, Jehan’s eldest, Marchandeau the +tailor, and Peccard the ecclesiastical goldsmith, she made fun of them +all, because she wished to be taken to church before burthening +herself with a man, which proves that she was an honest woman until +she was wheedled out of her virtue. She was one of those girls who +take great care not to be contaminated, but who, if by chance they get +deceived, let things take their course, thinking that for one stain or +for fifty a good polishing up is necessary. These characters demand +our indulgence. + +A young noble of the court perceived her one day when she was crossing +the water in the glare of the noonday sun, which lit up her ample +charms, and seeing her, asked who she was. An old man, who was working +on the banks, told him she was called the Pretty Maid of Portillon, a +laundress, celebrated for her merry ways and her virtue. This young +lord, besides ruffles to starch, had many precious draperies and +things; he resolved to give the custom of his house to this girl, whom +he stopped on the road. He was thanked by her and heartily, because he +was the Sire du Fou, the king’s chamberlain. This encounter made her +so joyful that her mouth was full of his name. She talked about it a +great deal to the people of St. Martin, and when she got back to the +washhouse was still full of it, and on the morrow at her work her +tongue went nineteen to the dozen, and all on the same subject, so +that as much was said concerning my Lord du Fou in Portillon as of God +in a sermon; that is, a great deal too much. + +“If she works like that in cold water, what will she do in warm?” said +an old washerwoman. “She wants du Fou; he’ll give her du Fou!” + +The first time this giddy wench, with her head full of Monsieur du +Fou, had to deliver the linen at his hotel, the chamberlain wished to +see her, and was very profuse in praises and compliments concerning +her charms, and wound up by telling her that she was not at all silly +to be beautiful, and therefore he would give her more than she +expected. The deed followed the word, for the moment his people were +out of the room, he began to caress the maid, who thinking he was +about to take out the money from his purse, dared not look at the +purse, but said, like a girl ashamed to take her wages-- + +“It will be for the first time.” + +“It will be soon,” said he. + +Some people say that he had great difficulty in forcing her to accept +what he offered her, and hardly forced her at all; others that he +forced her badly, because she came out like an army flagging on the +route, crying and groaning, and came to the judge. It happened that +the judge was out. La Portillone awaited his return in his room, +weeping and saying to the servant that she had been robbed, because +Monseigneur du Fou had given her nothing but his mischief; whilst a +canon of the Chapter used to give her large sums for that which M. du +Fou wanted for nothing. If she loved a man she would think it wise to +do things for him for nothing, because it would be a pleasure to her; +but the chamberlain had treated her roughly, and not kindly and +gently, as he should have done, and that therefore he owed her the +thousand crowns of the canon. Then the judge came in, saw the wench, +and wished to kiss her, but she put herself on guard, and said she had +come to make a complaint. The judge replied that certainly she could +have the offender hanged if she liked, because he was most anxious to +serve her. The injured maiden replied that she did not wish the death +of her man, but that he should pay her a thousand gold crowns, because +she had been robbed against her will. + +“Ha! ha!” said the judge, “what he took was worth more than that.” + +“For the thousand crowns I’ll cry quits, because I shall be able to +live without washing.” + +“He who has robbed you, is he well off?” + +“Oh yes.” + +“Then he shall pay dearly for it. Who is it?” + +“Monseigneur du Fou.” + +“Oh, that alters the case,” said the judge. + +“But justice?” said she. + +“I said the case, not the justice of it,” replied the judge. “I must +know how the affair occurred.” + +Then the girl related naively how she was arranging the young lord’s +ruffles in his wardrobe, when he began to play with her skirt, and she +turned round saying-- + +“Go on with you!” + +“You have no case,” said the judge, “for by that speech he thought +that you gave him leave to go on. Ha! ha!” + +Then she declared that she had defended herself, weeping and crying +out, and that that constitutes an assault. + +“A wench’s antics to incite him,” said the judge. + +Finally, La Portillone declared that against her will she had been +taken round the waist and thrown, although she had kicked and cried +and struggled, but that seeing no help at hand, she had lost courage. + +“Good! good!” said the judge. “Did you take pleasure in the affair?” + +“No,” said she. “My anguish can only be paid for with a thousand +crowns.” + +“My dear,” said the judge, “I cannot receive your complaint, because I +believe no girl could be thus treated against her will.” + +“Hi! hi! hi! Ask your servant,” said the little laundress, sobbing, +“and hear what she’ll tell you.” + +The servant affirmed that there were pleasant assaults and unpleasant +ones; that if La Portillone had received neither amusement nor money, +either one or the other was due to her. This wise counsel threw the +judge into a state of great perplexity. + +“Jacqueline,” said he, “before I sup I’ll get to the bottom of this. +Now go and fetch my needle and the red thread that I sew the law paper +bags with.” + +Jacqueline came back with a big needle, pierced with a pretty little +hole, and a big red thread, such as the judges use. Then she remained +standing to see the question decided, very much disturbed, as was also +the complainant at these mysterious preparations. + +“My dear,” said the judge, “I am going to hold the bodkin, of which +the eye is sufficiently large, to put this thread into it without +trouble. If you do put it in, I will take up your case, and will make +Monseigneur offer you a compromise.” + +“What’s that?” said she. “I will not allow it.” + +“It is a word used in justice to signify an agreement.” + +“A compromise is then agreeable with justice?” said La Portillone. + +“My dear, this violence has also opened your mind. Are you ready?” + +“Yes,” said she. + +The waggish judge gave the poor nymph fair play, holding the eye +steady for her; but when she wished to slip in the thread that she had +twisted to make straight, he moved a little, and the thread went on +the other side. She suspected the judge’s argument, wetted the thread, +stretched it, and came back again. The judge moved, twisted about, and +wriggled like a bashful maiden; still this cursed thread would not +enter. The girl kept trying at the eye, and the judge kept fidgeting. +The marriage of the thread could not be consummated, the bodkin +remained virgin, and the servant began to laugh, saying to La +Portillone that she knew better how to endure than to perform. Then +the roguish judge laughed too, and the fair Portillone cried for her +golden crowns. + +“If you don’t keep still,” cried she, losing patience; “if you keep +moving about I shall never be able to put the thread in.” + +“Then, my dear, if you had done the same, Monseigneur would have been +unsuccessful too. Think, too, how easy is the one affair, and how +difficult the other.” + +The pretty wench, who declared she had been forced, remained +thoughtful, and sought to find a means to convince the judge by +showing how she had been compelled to yield, since the honour of all +poor girls liable to violence was at stake. + +“Monseigneur, in order that the bet made the fair, I must do exactly +as the young lord did. If I had only had to move I should be moving +still, but he went through other performances.” + +“Let us hear them,” replied the judge. + +Then La Portillone straightens the thread, and rubs it in the wax of +the candle, to make it firm and straight; then she looked towards the +eye of the bodkin, held by the judge, slipping always to the right or +to the left. Then she began making endearing little speeches, such as, +“Ah, the pretty little bodkin! What a pretty mark to aim at! Never did +I see such a little jewel! What a pretty little eye! Let me put this +little thread into it! Ah, you will hurt my poor thread, my nice +little thread! Keep still! Come, my love of a judge, judge of my love! +Won’t the thread go nicely into this iron gate, which makes good use +of the thread, for it comes out very much out of order?” Then she +burst out laughing, for she was better up in this game than the judge, +who laughed too, so saucy and comical and arch was she, pushing the +thread backwards and forwards. She kept the poor judge with the case +in his hand until seven o’clock, keeping on fidgeting and moving about +like a schoolboy let loose; but as La Portillone kept on trying to put +the thread in, he could not help it. As, however, his joint was +burning, and his wrist was tired, he was obliged to rest himself for a +minute on the side of the table; then very dexterously the fair maid +of Portillon slipped the thread in, saying-- + +“That’s how the thing occurred.” + +“But my joint was burning.” + +“So was mine,” said she. + +The judge, convinced, told La Portillone that he would speak to +Monseigneur du Fou, and would himself carry the affair through, since +it was certain the young lord had embraced her against her will, but +that for valid reasons he would keep the affair dark. On the morrow +the judge went to the Court and saw Monseigneur du Fou, to whom he +recounted the young woman’s complaint, and how she had set forth her +case. This complaint lodged in court, tickled the king immensely. +Young du Fou having said that there was some truth in it, the king +asked if he had had much difficulty, and as he replied, innocently, +“No,” the king declared the girl was quite worth a hundred gold +crowns, and the chamberlain gave them to the judge, in order not to be +taxed with stinginess, and said the starch would be a good income to +La Portillone. The judge came back to La Portillone, and said, +smiling, that he had raised a hundred gold crowns for her. But if she +desired the balance of the thousand, there were at that moment in the +king’s apartments certain lords who, knowing the case, had offered to +make up the sum for her, with her consent. The little hussy did not +refuse this offer, saying, that in order to do no more washing in the +future she did not mind doing a little hard work now. She gratefully +acknowledged the trouble the good judge had taken, and gained her +thousand crowns in a month. From this came the falsehoods and jokes +concerning her, because out of these ten lords jealousy made a +hundred, whilst, differently from young men, La Portillone settled +down to a virtuous life directly she had her thousand crowns. Even a +Duke, who would have counted out five hundred crowns, would have found +this girl rebellious, which proves she was niggardly with her +property. It is true that the king caused her to be sent for to his +retreat of Rue Quinquangrogne, on the mall of Chardonneret, found her +extremely pretty, exceedingly affectionate, enjoyed her society, and +forbade the sergeants to interfere with her in any way whatever. +Seeing she was so beautiful, Nicole Beaupertuys, the king’s mistress, +gave her a hundred gold crowns to go to Orleans, in order to see if +the colour of the Loire was the same there as at Portillon. She went +there, and the more willingly because she did not care very much for +the king. When the good man came who confessed the king in his last +hours, and was afterwards canonised, La Portillone went to him to +polish up her conscience, did penance, and founded a bed in the +leper-house of St. Lazare-aux-Tours. Many ladies whom you know have +been assaulted by more than two lords, and have founded no other beds +than those in their own houses. It is as well to relate this fact, in +order to cleanse the reputation of this honest girl, who herself once +washed dirty things, and who afterwards became famous for her clever +tricks and her wit. She gave a proof of her merit in marrying +Taschereau, who she cuckolded right merrily, as has been related in the +story of The Reproach. This proves to us most satisfactorily that with +strength and patience justice itself can be violated. + + + + IN WHICH IT IS DEMONSTRATED THAT FORTUNE IS ALWAYS FEMININE + +During the time when knights courteously offered to each other both +help and assistance in seeking their fortune, it happened that in +Sicily--which, as you are probably aware, is an island situated in the +corner of the Mediterranean Sea, and formerly celebrated--one knight +met in a wood another knight, who had the appearance of a Frenchman. +Presumably, this Frenchman was by some chance stripped of everything, +and was so wretchedly attired that but for his princely air he might +have been taken for a blackguard. It was possible that his horse had +died of hunger or fatigue, on disembarking from the foreign shore for +which he came, on the faith of the good luck which happened to the +French in Sicily, which was true in every respect. + +The Sicilian knight, whose name was Pezare, was a Venetian long absent +from the Venetian Republic, and with no desire to return there, since +he had obtained a footing in the Court of the King of Sicily. Being +short of funds in Venice, because he was a younger son, he had no +fancy for commerce, and was for that reason eventually abandoned by +his family, a most illustrious one. He therefore remained at this +Court, where he was much liked by the king. + +This gentleman was riding a splendid Spanish horse, and thinking to +himself how lonely he was in this strange court, without trusty +friends, and how in such cases fortune was harsh to helpless people +and became a traitress, when he met the poor French knight, who +appeared far worse off that he, who had good weapons, a fine horse, +and a mansion where servants were then preparing a sumptuous supper. + +“You must have come a long way to have so much dust on your feet,” + said the Venetian. + +“My feet have not as much dust as the road was long,” answered the +Frenchman. + +“If you have travelled so much,” continued the Venetian, “you must be +a learned man.” + +“I have learned,” replied the Frenchman, “to give no heed to those who +do not trouble about me. I have learnt that however high a man’s head +was, his feet were always level with my own; more than that, I have +learnt to have no confidence in the warm days of winter, in the sleep +of my enemies, or the words of my friends.” + +“You are, then, richer than I am,” said the Venetian, astonished, +“since you tell me things of which I never thought.” + +“Everyone must think for himself,” said the Frenchman; “and as you +have interrogated me, I can request from you the kindness of pointing +to me the road to Palermo or some inn, for the night is closing in.” + +“Are you then, acquainted with no French or Sicilian gentlemen at +Palermo?” + +“No.” + +“Then you are not certain of being received?” + +“I am disposed to forgive those who reject me. The road, sir, if you +please.” + +“I am lost like yourself,” said the Venetian. “Let us look for it in +company.” + +“To do that we must go together; but you are on horseback, I am on +foot.” + +The Venetian took the French knight on his saddle behind him, and +said-- + +“Do you know with whom you are?” + +“With a man, apparently.” + +“Do you think you are in safety?” + +“If you were a robber, you would have to take care of yourself,” said +the Frenchman, putting the point of his dagger to the Venetian’s +heart. + +“Well, now, my noble Frenchman, you appear to be a man of great +learning and sound sense; know that I am a noble, established at the +Court of Sicily, but alone, and I seek a friend. You seem to be in the +same plight, and, judging from appearances, you do not seem friendly +with your lot, and have apparently need of everybody.” + +“Should I be happier if everybody wanted me?” + +“You are a devil, who turns every one of my words against me. By St. +Mark! my lord knight, can one trust you?” + +“More than yourself, who commenced our federal friendship by deceiving +me, since you guide your horse like a man who knows his way, and you +said you were lost.” + +“And did not you deceive me?” said the Venetian, “by making a sage of +your years walk, and giving a noble knight the appearance of a +vagabond? Here is my abode; my servants have prepared supper for us.” + +The Frenchman jumped off the horse, and entered the house with the +Venetian cavalier, accepting his supper. They both seated themselves +at the table. The Frenchman fought so well with his jaws, he twisted +the morsels with so much agility, that he showed herself equally +learned in suppers, and showed it again in dexterously draining the +wine flasks without his eye becoming dimmed or his understanding +affected. Then you may be sure that the Venetian thought to himself he +had fallen in with a fine son of Adam, sprung from the right side and +the wrong one. While they were drinking together, the Venetian +endeavoured to find some joint through which to sound the secret +depths of his friend’s cogitations. He, however, clearly perceived +that he would cast aside his shirt sooner than his prudence, and +judged it opportune to gain his esteem by opening his doublet to him. +Therefore he told him in what state was Sicily, where reigned Prince +Leufroid and his gentle wife; how gallant was the Court, what courtesy +there flourished, that there abounded many lords of Spain, Italy, +France, and other countries, lords in high feather and well feathered; +many princesses, as rich as noble, and as noble as rich; that this +prince had the loftiest aspirations--such as to conquer Morocco, +Constantinople, Jerusalem, the lands of Soudan, and other African +places. Certain men of vast minds conducted his affairs, bringing +together the ban and arriere ban of the flower of Christian chivalry, +and kept up his splendour with the idea of causing to reign over the +Mediterranean this Sicily, so opulent in times gone by, and of ruining +Venice, which had not a foot of land. These designs had been planted +in the king’s mind by him, Pezare; but although he was high in that +prince’s favour, he felt himself weak, had no assistance from the +courtiers, and desired to make a friend. In this great trouble he had +gone for a little ride to turn matters over in his mind, and decide +upon the course to pursue. Now, since while in this idea he had met a +man of so much sense as the chevalier had proved herself to be, he +proposed to fraternise with him, to open his purse to him, and give +him his palace to live in. They would journey in company through life +in search of honours and pleasure, without concealing one single +thought, and would assist each other on all occasions as the +brothers-in-arms did at the Crusades. Now, as the Frenchman was seeking +his fortune, and required assistance, the Venetian did not for a moment +expect that this offer of mutual consolation would be refused. + +“Although I stand in need of no assistance,” said the Frenchman, +“because I rely upon a point which will procure me all that I desire, +I should like to acknowledge your courtesy, dear Chevalier Pezare. You +will soon see that you will yet be the debtor of Gauttier de +Monsoreau, a gentleman of the fair land of Touraine.” + +“Do you possess any relic with which your fortune is wound up?” said +the Venetian. + +“A talisman given me by my dear mother,” said the Touranian, “with +which castles and cities are built and demolished, a hammer to coin +money, a remedy for every ill, a traveller’s staff always ready to be +tried, and worth most when in a state of readiness, a master tool, +which executes wondrous works in all sorts of forges, without making +the slightest noise.” + +“Eh! by St. Mark you have, then, a mystery concealed in your hauberk?” + +“No,” said the French knight; “it is a perfectly natural thing. Here +it is.” + +And rising suddenly from the table to prepare for bed, Gauttier showed +to the Venetian the finest talisman to procure joy that he had ever +seen. + +“This,” said the Frenchman, as they both got into bed together, +according to the custom of the times, “overcomes every obstacle, by +making itself master of female hearts; and as the ladies are the +queens in this court, your friend Gauttier will soon reign there.” + +The Venetian remained in great astonishment at the sight of the secret +charms of the said Gauttier, who had indeed been bounteously endowed +by his mother, and perhaps also by his father; and would thus triumph +over everything, since he joined to this corporeal perfection the wit +of a young page, and the wisdom of an old devil. Then they swore an +eternal friendship, regarding as nothing therein a woman’s heart, +vowing to have one and the same idea, as if their heads had been in +the same helmet; and they fell asleep on the same pillow enchanted +with this fraternity. This was a common occurrence in those days. + +On the morrow the Venetian gave a fine horse to his friend Gauttier, +also a purse full of money, fine silken hose, a velvet doublet, +fringed with gold, and an embroidered mantle, which garments set off +his figure so well, and showed up his beauties, that the Venetian was +certain he would captivate all the ladies. The servants received +orders to obey this Gauttier as they would himself, so that they +fancied their master had been fishing, and had caught this Frenchman. +Then the two friends made their entry into Palermo at the hour when +the princes and princesses were taking the air. Pezare presented his +French friend, speaking so highly of his merits, and obtaining such a +gracious reception for him, that Leufroid kept him to supper. The +knight kept a sharp eye on the Court, and noticed therein various +curious little secret practices. If the king was a brave and handsome +prince, the princess was a Spanish lady of high temperature, the most +beautiful and most noble woman of his Court, but inclined to +melancholy. Looking at her, the Touranian believed that she was +sparingly embraced by the king, for the law of Touraine is that joy in +the face comes from joy elsewhere. Pezare pointed out to his friend +Gauttier several ladies to whom Leufroid was exceedingly gracious and +who were exceedingly jealous and fought for him in a tournament of +gallantries and wonderful female inventions. From all this Gauttier +concluded that the prince went considerably astray with his court, +although he had the prettiest wife in the world, and occupied himself +with taxing the ladies of Sicily, in order that he might put his horse +in their stables, vary his fodder, and learn the equestrian +capabilities of many lands. Perceiving what a life Leufroid was +leading, the Sire de Monsoreau, certain that no one in the Court had +had the heart to enlighten the queen, determined at one blow to plant +his halberd in the field of the fair Spaniard by a master stroke; and +this is how. At supper-time, in order to show courtesy to the foreign +knight, the king took care to place him near the queen, to whom the +gallant Gauttier offered his arm, to take her into the room, and +conducted her there hastily, to get ahead of those who were following, +in order to whisper, first of all, a word concerning a subject which +always pleases the ladies in whatever condition they may be. Imagine +what this word was, and how it went straight through the stubble and +weeds into the warm thicket of love. + +“I know, your majesty, what causes your paleness of face.” + +“What?” said she. + +“You are so loving that the king loves you night and day; thus you +abuse your advantage, for he will die of love.” + +“What should I do to keep him alive?” said the queen. + +“Forbid him to repeat at your altar more than three prayers a day.” + +“You are joking, after the French fashion, Sir Knight, seeing that the +king’s devotion to me does not extend beyond a short prayer a week.” + +“You are deceived,” said Gauttier, seating himself at the table. “I +can prove to you that love should go through the whole mass, matins, +and vespers, with an _Ave_ now and then, for queens as for simple +women, and go through the ceremony every day, like the monks in their +monastery, with fervour; but for you these litanies should never +finish.” + +The queen cast upon the knight a glance which was far from one of +displeasure, smiled at him, and shook her head. + +“In this,” said she, “men are great liars.” + +“I have with me a great truth which I will show you when you wish it.” + replied the knight. “I undertake to give you queen’s fare, and put you +on the high road to joy; by this means you will make up for lost time, +the more so as the king is ruined through other women, while I shall +reserve my advantage for your service.” + +“And if the king learns of our arrangement, he will put your head on a +level with your feet.” + +“Even if this misfortune befell me it after the first night, I should +believe I had lived a hundred years, from the joy therein received, +for never have I seen, after visiting all Courts, a princess fit to +hold a candle to your beauty. To be brief, if I die not by the sword, +you will still be the cause of my death, for I am resolved to spend my +life in your love, if life will depart in the place whence it comes.” + +Now this queen had never heard such words before, and preferred them +to the most sweetly sung mass; her pleasure showed itself in her face, +which became purple, for these words made her blood boil within her +veins, so that the strings of her lute were moved thereat, and struck +a sweet note that rang melodiously in her ears, for this lute fills +with its music the brain and the body of the ladies, by a sweet +artifice of their resonant nature. What a shame to be young, +beautiful, Spanish, and queen, and yet neglected. She conceived an +intense disdain for those of her Court who had kept their lips closed +concerning this infidelity, through fear of the king, and determined +to revenge herself with the aid of this handsome Frenchman, who cared +so little for life that in his first words he had staked it in making +a proposition to a queen, which was worthy of death, if she did her +duty. Instead of this, however, she pressed his foot with her own, in +a manner that admitted no misconception, and said aloud to him-- + +“Sir Knight, let us change the subject, for it is very wrong of you to +attack a poor queen in her weak spot. Tell us the customs of the +ladies of the Court of France.” + +Thus did the knight receive the delicate hint that the business was +arranged. Then he commenced to talk of merry and pleasant things, +which during supper kept the court, the king, the queen, and all the +courtiers in a good humour; so much so that when the siege was raised, +Leufroid declared that he had never laughed so much in his life. Then +they strolled about the gardens, which were the most beautiful in the +world, and the queen made a pretext of the chevalier’s sayings to walk +beneath a grove of blossoming orange trees, which yielded a delicious +fragrance. + +“Lovely and noble queen,” said Gauttier, immediately, “I have seen in +all countries the perdition of love have its birth in these first +attentions, which we call courtesy; if you have confidence in me, let +us agree, as people of high intelligence, to love each other without +standing on so much ceremony; by this means no suspicion will be +aroused, our happiness will be less dangerous and more lasting. In +this fashion should queens conduct their amours, if they would avoid +interference.” + +“Well said,” said she. “But as I am new at this business, I did not +know what arrangements to make.” + +“Have you are among your women one in whom you have perfect +confidence?” + +“Yes,” said she; “I have a maid who came from Spain with me, who would +put herself on a gridiron for me like St. Lawrence did for God, but +she is always poorly.” + +“That’s good,” said her companion, “because you go to see her.” + +“Yes,” said the queen, “and sometimes at night.” + +“Ah!” exclaimed Gauttier, “I make a vow to St. Rosalie, patroness of +Sicily, to build her a gold altar for this fortune.” + +“O Jesus!” cried the queen. “I am doubly blessed in having a lover so +handsome and yet so religious.” + +“Ah, my dear, I have two sweethearts today, because I have a queen to +love in heaven above, and another one here below, and luckily these +loves cannot clash one with the other.” + +This sweet speech so affected the queen, that for nothing she would +have fled with this cunning Frenchman. + +“The Virgin Mary is very powerful in heaven,” said the queen. “Love +grant that I may be like her!” + +“Bah! they are talking of the Virgin Mary,” said the king, who by +chance had come to watch them, disturbed by a gleam of jealousy, cast +into his heart by a Sicilian courtier, who was furious at the sudden +favour which the Frenchman had obtained. + +The queen and the chevalier laid their plans, and everything was +secretly arranged to furnish the helmet of the king with two invisible +ornaments. The knight rejoined the Court, made himself agreeable to +everyone, and returned to the Palace of Pezare, whom he told that +their fortunes were made, because on the morrow, at night, he would +sleep with the queen. This swift success astonished the Venetian, who, +like a good friend, went in search of fine perfumes, linen of Brabant, +and precious garments, to which queens are accustomed, with all of +which he loaded his friend Gauttier, in order that the case might be +worthy the jewel. + +“Ah, my friend,” said he “are you sure not to falter, but to go +vigorously to work, to serve the queen bravely, and give her such joys +in her castle of Gallardin that she may hold on for ever to this +master staff, like a drowning sailor to a plank?” + +“As for that, fear nothing, dear Pezare, because I have the arrears of +the journey, and I will deal with her as with a simple servant, +instructing her in the ways of the ladies of Touraine, who understand +love better than all others, because they make it, remake it, and +unmake it to make it again and having remade it, still keep on making +it; and having nothing else to do, have to do that which always wants +doing. Now let us settle our plans. This is how we shall obtain the +government of the island. I shall hold the queen and you the king; we +will play the comedy of being great enemies before the eyes of the +courtiers, in order to divide them into two parties under our command, +and yet, unknown to all, we will remain friends. By this means we +shall know their plots, and will thwart them, you by listening to my +enemies and I to yours. In the course of a few days we will pretend to +quarrel in order to strive one against the other. This quarrel will be +caused by the favour in which I will manage to place you with the +king, through the channel of the queen, and he will give you supreme +power, to my injury.” + +On the morrow Gauttier went to the house of the Spanish lady, who +before the courtiers he recognised as having known in Spain, and he +remained there seven whole days. As you can imagine, the Touranian +treated the queen as a fondly loved woman, and showed her so many +terra incognita in love, French fashions, little tendernesses, etc., +that she nearly lost her reason through it, and swore that the French +were the only people who thoroughly understood love. You see how the +king was punished, who, to keep her virtuous, had allowed weeds to +grow in the grange of love. Their supernatural festivities touched the +queen so strongly that she made a vow of eternal love to Montsoreau, +who had awakened her, by revealing to her the joys of the proceeding. +It was arranged that the Spanish lady should take care always to be +ill; and that the only man to whom the lovers would confide their +secret should be the court physician, who was much attached to the +queen. By chance this physician had in his glottis, chords exactly +similar to those of Gauttier, so that by a freak of nature they had +the same voice, which much astonished the queen. The physician swore +on his life faithfully to serve the pretty couple, for he deplored the +sad desertion of this beautiful women, and was delighted to know she +would be served as a queen should be--a rare thing. + +A month elapsed and everything was going on to the satisfaction of the +two friends, who worked the plans laid by the queen, in order to get +the government of Sicily into the hands of Pezare, to the detriment of +Montsoreau, whom the king loved for his great wisdom; but the queen +would not consent to have him, because he was so ungallant. Leufroid +dismissed the Duke of Cataneo, his principal follower, and put the +Chevalier Pezare in his place. The Venetian took no notice of his +friend the Frenchmen. Then Gauttier burst out, declaimed loudly +against the treachery and abused friendship of his former comrade, and +instantly earned the devotion of Cataneo and his friends, with whom he +made a compact to overthrow Pezare. Directly he was in office the +Venetian, who was a shrewd man, and well suited to govern states, +which was the usual employment of Venetian gentlemen, worked wonders +in Sicily, repaired the ports, brought merchants there by the +fertility of his inventions and by granting them facilities, put bread +into the mouths of hundreds of poor people, drew thither artisans of +all trades, because fetes were always being held, and also the idle +and rich from all quarters, even from the East. Thus harvests, the +products of the earth, and other commodities, were plentiful; and +galleys came from Asia, the which made the king much envied, and the +happiest king in the Christian world, because through these things his +Court was the most renowned in the countries of Europe. This fine +political aspect was the result of the perfect agreement of the two +men who thoroughly understood each other. The one looked after the +pleasures, and was himself the delight of the queen, whose face was +always bright and gay, because she was served according to the method +of Touraine, and became animated through excessive happiness; and he +also took care to keep the king amused, finding him every day new +mistresses, and casting him into a whirl of dissipation. The king was +much astonished at the good temper of the queen, whom, since the +arrival of the Sire de Montsoreau in the island, he had touched no +more than a Jew touches bacon. Thus occupied, the king and queen +abandoned the care of their kingdom to the other friend, who conducted +the affairs of government, ruled the establishment, managed the +finances, and looked to the army, and all exceedingly well, knowing +where money was to be made, enriching the treasury, and preparing all +the great enterprises above mentioned. + +The state of things lasted three years, some say four, but the monks +of Saint Benoist have not wormed out the date, which remains obscure, +like the reasons for the quarrel between the two friends. Probably the +Venetian had the high ambition to reign without any control or +dispute, and forgot the services which the Frenchman had rendered him. +Thus do the men who live in Courts behave, for, according to the +statements of the Messire Aristotle in his works, that which ages the +most rapidly in this world is a kindness, although extinguished love +is sometimes very rancid. Now, relying on the perfect friendship of +Leufroid, who called him his crony, and would have done anything for +him, the Venetian conceived the idea of getting rid of his friend by +revealing to the king the mystery of his cuckoldom, and showing him +the source of the queen’s happiness, not doubting for a moment but +that he would commence by depriving Monsoreau of his head, according +to a practice common in Sicily under similar circumstances. By this +means Pezare would have all the money that he and Gauttier had +noiselessly conveyed to the house of a Lombard of Genoa, which money +was their joint property on account of their fraternity. This +treasure, increased on one side by the magnificent presents made to +Montsoreau by the queen, who had vast estates in Spain, and other, by +inheritance in Italy; on the other, by the king’s gifts to his prime +minister, to whom he also gave certain rights over the merchants, and +other indulgences. The treacherous friend, having determined to break +his vow, took care to conceal his intention from Gauttier, because the +Touranian was an awkward man to tackle. + +One night that Pezare knew that the queen was in bed with her lover, +who loved him as though each night were a wedding one, so skilful was +she at the business, the traitor promised the king to let him take +evidence in the case, through a hole he had made in the wardrobe of +the Spanish lady, who always pretended to be at death’s door. In order +to obtain a better view, Pezare waited until the sun had risen. The +Spanish lady, who was fleet of foot, had a quick eye and a sharp ear, +heard footsteps, peeped out, and perceiving the king, followed by the +Venetian, through a crossbar in the closet in which she slept the +night that the queen had her lover between two sheets, which is +certainly the best way to have a lover. She ran to warn the couple of +this betrayal. But the king’s eye was already at the cursed hole, +Leufroid saw--what? + +That beautiful and divine lantern with burns so much oil and lights +the world--a lantern adorned with the most lovely baubles, flaming, +brilliantly, which he thought more lovely than all the others, because +he had lost sight of it for so long a time that it appeared quite new +to him; but the size of the hole prevented him seeing anything else +except the hand of a man, which modestly covered the lantern, and he +heard the voice of Montsoreau saying-- + +“How’s the little treasure, this morning?” A playful expression, which +lovers used jokingly, because this lantern is in all countries the sun +of love, and for this the prettiest possible names are bestowed upon +it, whilst comparing it to the loveliest things in nature, such as my +pomegranate, my rose, my little shell, my hedgehog, my gulf of love, +my treasure, my master, my little one; some even dared most +heretically to say, my god! If you don’t believe it, ask your friends. + +At this moment the lady let him understand by a gesture that the king +was there. + +“Can he hear?” said the queen. + +“Yes.” + +“Can he see?” + +“Yes.” + +“Who brought him?” + +“Pezare.” + +“Fetch the physician, and get Gauttier into his own room.” said the +queen. + +In less time than it takes a beggar to say “God bless you, sir!” the +queen had swathed the lantern in linen and paint, so that you would +have thought it a hideous wound in a state of grievous inflammation. +When the king, enraged by what he overheard, burst open the door, he +found the queen lying on the bed exactly as he has seen her through +the hole, and the physician, examining the lantern swathed in +bandages, and saying, “How it is the little treasure, this morning?” + in exactly the same voice as the king had heard. A jocular and +cheerful expression, because physicians and surgeons use cheerful +words with ladies and treat this sweet flower with flowery phrases. +This sight made the king look as foolish as a fox caught in a trap. +The queen sprang up, reddening with shame, and asking what man dared +to intrude upon her privacy at such a moment, but perceiving the king, +she said to him as follows:-- + +“Ah! my lord, you have discovered that which I have endeavoured to +conceal from you: that I am so badly treated by you that I am +afflicted with a burning ailment, of which my dignity would not allow +me to complain, but which needs secret dressing in order to assuage +the influence of the vital forces. To save my honour and your own, I +am compelled to come to my good Lady Miraflor, who consoles me in my +troubles.” + +Then the physician commenced to treat Leufroid to an oration, +interlarded with Latin quotations and precious grains from +Hippocrates, Galen, the School of Salerno, and others, in which he +showed him how necessary to women was the proper cultivation of the +field of Venus, and that there was great danger of death to queens of +Spanish temperament, whose blood was excessively amorous. He delivered +himself of his arguments with great solemnity of feature, voice, and +manner, in order to give the Sire de Montsoreau time to get to bed. +Then the queen took the same text to preach the king a sermon as long +as his arm, and requested the loan of that limb, that the king might +conduct her to her apartment instead of the poor invalid, who usually +did so in order to avoid calumny. When they were in the gallery where +the Sire de Montsoreau resided, the queen said jokingly, “You should +play a good trick on this Frenchman, who I would wager is with some +lady, and not in his own room. All the ladies of Court are in love +with him, and there will be mischief some day through him. If you had +taken my advice he would not be in Sicily now.” + +Leufroid went suddenly into Gauttier’s room, whom he found in a deep +sleep, and snoring like a monk in Church. The queen returned with the +king, whom she took to her apartments, and whispered to one of the +guards to send to her the lord whose place Pezare occupied. Then, +while she fondled the king, taking breakfast with him, she took the +lord directly he came, into an adjoining room. + +“Erect a gallows on the bastion,” said she, “then seize the knight +Pezare, and manage so that he is hanged instantly, without giving time +to write or say a single word on any subject whatsoever. Such is our +good pleasure and supreme command.” + +Cataneo made no remark. While Pezare was thinking to himself that his +friend Gauttier would soon be minus his head, the Duke Cataneo came to +seize and lead him on to bastion, from which he could see at the +queen’s window the Sire de Montsoreau in company with the king, the +queen, and the courtiers, and came to the conclusion that he who +looked after the queen had a better chance in everything than he who +looked after the king. + +“My dear,” said the queen to her spouse, leading him to the window, +“behold a traitor, who was endeavouring to deprive you of that which +you hold dearest in the world, and I will give you the proofs when you +have the leisure to study them.” + +Montsoreau, seeing the preparations for the final ceremony, threw +himself at the king’s feet, to obtain the pardon of him who was his +mortal enemy, at which the king was much moved. + +“Sire de Monsoreau,” said the queen, turning towards him with an angry +look, “are you so bold as to oppose our will and pleasure?” + +“You are a noble knight,” said the king, “but you do not know how +bitter this Venetian was against you.” + +Pezare was delicately strangled between the head and the shoulders, +for the queen revealed his treacheries to the king, proving to him, by +the declaration of a Lombard of the town, the enormous sums which +Pezare had in the bank of Genoa, the whole of which were given up to +Montsoreau. + +This noble and lovely queen died, as related in the history of Sicily, +that is, in consequence of a heavy labour, during which she gave birth +to a son, who was a man as great in himself as he was unfortunate in +his undertakings. The king believed the physician’s statement, that +the said termination to this accouchement was caused by the too chaste +life the queen had led, and believing himself responsible for it, he +founded the Church of the Madonna, which is one of the finest in the +town of Palermo. The Sire de Monsoreau, who was a witness of the +king’s remorse, told him that when a king got his wife from Spain, he +ought to know that this queen would require more attention than any +other, because the Spanish ladies were so lively that they equalled +ten ordinary women, and that if he wished a wife for show only, he +should get her from the north of Germany, where the women are as cold +as ice. The good knight came back to Touraine laden with wealth, and +lived there many years, but never mentioned his adventures in Sicily. +He returned there to aid the king’s son in his principal attempt +against Naples, and left Italy when this sweet prince was wounded, as +is related in the Chronicle. + +Besides the high moralities contained in the title of this tale, where +it is said that fortune, being female, is always on the side of the +ladies, and that men are quite right to serve them well, it shows us +that silence is the better part of wisdom. Nevertheless, the monkish +author of this narrative seems to draw this other no less learned +moral therefrom, that interest which makes so many friendships, breaks +them also. But from these three versions you can choose the one that +best accords with your judgment and your momentary requirement. + + + + CONCERNING A POOR MAN WHO WAS CALLED LE VIEUX PAR-CHEMINS + +The old chronicler who furnished the hemp to weave the present story, +is said to have lived at the time when the affair occurred in the City +of Rouen. + +In the environs of this fair town, where at the time dwelt Duke +Richard, an old man used to beg, whose name was Tryballot, but to whom +was given the nickname of Le Vieux par-Chemins, or the Old Man of the +Roads; not because he was yellow and dry as vellum, but because he was +always in the high-ways and by-ways--up hill and down dale--slept with +the sky for his counterpane, and went about in rags and tatters. +Notwithstanding this, he was very popular in the duchy, where everyone +had grown used to him, so much so that if the month went by without +anyone seeing his cup held towards them, people would say, “Where is +the old man?” and the usual answer was, “On the roads.” + +This said man had had for a father a Tryballot, who was in his +lifetime a skilled artisan, so economical and careful, that he left +considerable wealth to his son. + +But the young lad soon frittered it away, for he was the very opposite +of the old fellow, who, returning from the fields to his house, picked +up, now here, now there, many a little stick of wood left right and +left, saying, conscientiously, that one should never come home empty +handed. Thus he warmed himself in the winter at the expense of the +careless; and he did well. Everyone recognised what a good example +this was for the country, since a year before his death no one left a +morsel of wood on the road; he had compelled the most dissipated to be +thrifty and orderly. But his son made ducks and drakes of everything, +and did not follow his wise example. The father had predicted the +thing. From the boy’s earliest youth, when the good Tryballot set him +to watch the birds who came to eat the peas, beans, and the grain, and +to drive the thieves away, above all, the jays, who spoiled +everything, he would study their habits, and took delight in watching +with what grace they came and went, flew off loaded, and returned, +watching with a quick eye the snares and nets; and he would laugh +heartily at their cleverness in avoiding them. Tryballot senior went +into a passion when he found his grain considerably less in a measure. +But although he pulled his son’s ears whenever he caught him idling +and trifling under a nut tree, the little rascal did not alter his +conduct, but continued to study the habits of the blackbirds, +sparrows, and other intelligent marauders. One day his father told him +that he would be wise to model himself after them, for that if he +continued this kind of life, he would be compelled in his old age like +them, to pilfer, and like them, would be pursued by justice. This came +true; for, as has before been stated, he dissipated in a few days the +crowns which his careful father had acquired in a life-time. He dealt +with men as he did with the sparrows, letting everyone put a hand in +his pocket, and contemplating the grace and polite demeanour of those +who assisted to empty it. The end of his wealth was thus soon reached. +When the devil had the empty money bag to himself, Tryballot did not +appear at all cut up, saying, that he “did not wish to damn himself +for this world’s goods, and that he had studied philosophy in the +school of the birds.” + +After having thoroughly enjoyed himself, of all his goods, there only +remained to him a goblet bought at Landict, and three dice, quite +sufficient furniture for drinking and gambling, so that he went about +without being encumbered, as are the great, with chariots, carpets, +dripping pans, and an infinite number of varlets. Tryballot wished to +see his good friends, but they no longer knew him, which fact gave him +leave no longer to recognise anyone. Seeing this, he determined to +choose a profession in which there was nothing to do and plenty to +gain. Thinking this over, he remembered the indulgences of the +blackbirds and the sparrows. Then the good Tryballot selected for his +profession that of begging money at people’s houses, and pilfering. +From the first day, charitable people gave him something, and +Tryballot was content, finding the business good, without advance +money or bad debts; on the contrary, full of accommodation. He went +about it so heartily, that he was liked everywhere, and received a +thousand consolations refused to rich people. The good man watched the +peasants planting, sowing, reaping, and making harvest, and said to +himself, that they worked a little for him as well. He who had a pig +in his larder owed him a bit for it, without suspecting it. The man +who baked a loaf in his oven often baked it for Tryballot without +knowing it. He took nothing by force; on the contrary, people said to +him kindly, while making him a present, “Here Vieux par-Chemins, cheer +up, old fellow. How are you? Come, take this; the cat began it, you +can finish it.” + +Vieux par-Chemins was at all the weddings, baptisms, and funerals, +because he went everywhere where there was, openly or secretly, +merriment and feasting. He religiously kept the statutes and canons of +his order--namely, to do nothing, because if he had been able to do +the smallest amount of work no one would ever give anything again. +After having refreshed himself, this wise man would lay full length in +a ditch, or against a church wall, and think over public affairs; and +then he would philosophise, like his pretty tutors, the blackbirds, +jays, and sparrows, and thought a great deal while mumping; for, +because his apparel was poor, was that a reason his understanding +should not be rich? His philosophy amused his clients, to whom he +would repeat, by way of thanks, the finest aphorisms of his science. +According to him, suppers produced gout in the rich: he boasted that +he had nimble feet, because his shoemaker gave him boots that do not +pinch his corns. There were aching heads beneath diadems, but his +never ached, because it was touched neither by luxury nor any other +chaplet. And again, that jewelled rings hinder the circulation of the +blood. Although he covered himself with sores, after the manner of +cadgers, you may be sure he was as sound as a child at the baptismal +font. + +The good man disported himself with other rogues, playing with his +three dice, which he kept to remind him to spend his coppers, in order +that he might always be poor. In spite of his vow, he was, like all +the order of mendicants, so wealthy that one day at the Paschal feast, +another beggar wishing to rent his profit from him, Vieux par-Chemins +refused ten crowns for it; in fact, the same evening he spent fourteen +crowns in drinking the health of the alms-givers, because it is the +statutes of beggary that one should show one’s gratitude to donors. +Although he carefully got rid of that of which had been a source of +anxiety to others, who, having too much wealth went in search of +poverty, he was happier with nothing in the world than when he had his +father’s money. And seeing what are the conditions of nobility, he was +always on the high road to it, because he did nothing except according +to his fancy, and lived nobly without labour. Thirty crowns would not +have got him out of a bed when he was in it. The morrow always dawned +for him as it did for others, while leading this happy life; which, +according to the statements of Plato, whose authority has more than +once been invoked in these narratives, certain ancient sages had led +before him. At last, Vieux par-Chemins reached the age of eighty-two +years, having never been a single day without picking up money, and +possessed the healthiest colour and complexion imaginable. He believed +that if he had persevered in the race for wealth he would have been +spoiled and buried years before. It is possible he was right. + +In his early youth Vieux par-Chemins had the illustrious virtue of +being very partial to the ladies; and his abundance of love was, it is +said, the result of his studies among the sparrows. Thus it was that +he was always ready to give the ladies his assistance in counting the +joists, and this generosity finds its physical cause in the fact that, +having nothing to do, he was always ready to do something. His secret +virtues brought about, it is said, that popularity which he enjoyed in +the provinces. Certain people say that the lady of Chaumont had him in +her castle, to learn the truth about these qualities, and kept him +there for a week, to prevent him begging. But the good man jumped over +the hedges and fled in great terror of being rich. Advancing in age, +this great quintessencer found himself disdained, although his notable +faculties of loving were in no way impaired. This unjust turning away +on the part of the female tribe caused the first trouble of Vieux +par-Chemins, and the celebrated trial of Rouen, to which it is time I +came. + +In this eighty-second year of his age he was compelled to remain +continent for about seven months, during which time he met no woman +kindly disposed towards him; and he declared before the judge that +that had caused the greatest astonishment of his long and honourable +life. In this most pitiable state he saw in the fields during the +merry month of May a girl, who by chance was a maiden, and minding +cows. The heat was so excessive that this cowherdess had stretched +herself beneath the shadow of a beech tree, her face to the ground, +after the custom of people who labour in the fields, in order to get a +little nap while her animals were grazing. She was awakened by the +deed of the old man, who had stolen from her that which a poor girl +could only lose once. Finding herself ruined without receiving from +the process either knowledge or pleasure, she cried out so loudly that +the people working in the fields ran to her, and were called upon by +her as witnesses, at the time when that destruction was visible in her +which is appropriate only to a bridal night. She cried and groaned, +saying that the old ape might just as well have played his tricks on +her mother, who would have said nothing. + +He made answer to the peasants, who had already raised their hoes to +kill him, that he had been compelled to enjoy himself. These people +objected that a man can enjoy himself very well without enjoying a +maiden--a case for the provost, which would bring him straight to the +gallows; and he was taken with great clamour to the jail of Rouen. + +The girl, interrogated by the provost, declared that she was sleeping +in order to do something, and that she thought she was dreaming of her +lover, with whom she was then at loggerheads, because before marriage +he wished to take certain liberties: and jokingly, in this dream she +let him reconnoiter to a certain extent, in order to avoid any dispute +afterwards, and that in spite of her prohibitions he went further than +she had given him leave to go, and finding more pain than pleasure in +the affair, she had been awakened by Vieux par-Chemins, who had +attacked her as a gray-friar would a ham at the end of lent. + +This trial caused so great a commotion in the town of Rouen that the +provost was sent for by the duke, who had an intense desire to know if +the thing were true. Upon the affirmation of the provost, he ordered +Vieux par-Chemins to be brought to his palace, in order that he might +hear what defence he had to make. The poor old fellow appeared before +the prince, and informed him naively of the misfortune which his +impulsive nature brought upon him, declaring that he was like a young +fellow impelled by imperious desires; that up to the present year he +had sweethearts of his own, but for the last eight months he had been +a total abstainer; that he was too poor to find favour with the girls +of the town; that honest women who once were charitable to him, had +taken a dislike to his hair, which had feloniously turned white in +spite of the green youth of his love, and that he felt compelled to +avail himself of the chance when he saw this maiden, who, stretched at +full length under the beech tree, left visible the lining of her dress +and two hemispheres, white as snow, which had deprived him of reason; +that the fault was the girl’s and not his, because young maidens +should be forbidden to entice passers-by by showing them that which +caused Venus to be named Callipyge; finally the prince ought to be +aware what trouble a man had to control himself at the hour of noon, +because that was the time of day at which King David was smitten with +the wife of the Sieur Uriah, that where a Hebrew king, beloved of God, +had succumbed, a poor man, deprived of all joy, and reduced to begging +for his bread, could not expect to escape; that for that matter of +that, he was quite willing to sing psalms for the remainder of his +days, and play upon a lute by way of penance, in imitation of the said +king, who had had the misfortune to slay a husband, while he had only +done a trifling injury to a peasant girl. The duke listened to the +arguments of Vieux par-Chemins, and said that he was a man of good +parts. Then he made his memorable decree, that if, as this beggar +declared, he had need of such gratification at his age he gave +permission to prove it at the foot of the ladder which he would have +to mount to be hanged, according to the sentence already passed on him +by the provost; that if then, the rope being round his neck, between +the priest and the hangman, a like desire seized him he should have a +free pardon. + +This decree becoming known, there was a tremendous crowd to see the +old fellow led to the gallows. There was a line drawn up as if for a +ducal entry, and in it many more bonnets than hats. Vieux par-Chemins +was saved by a lady curious to see how this precious violator would +finish his career. She told the duke that religion demanded that he +should have a fair chance. And she dressed herself as if for a ball; +she brought intentionally into evidence two hillocks of such snowy +whiteness that the whitest linen neckerchief would have paled before +them; indeed, these fruits of love stood out, without a wrinkle, over +her corset, like two beautiful apples, and made one’s mouth water, so +exquisite were they. This noble lady, who was one of those who rouse +one’s manhood, had a smile ready on her lips for the old fellow. Vieux +par-Chemins, dressed in garments of coarse cloth, more certain of +being in the desired state after hanging than before it, came along +between the officers of justice with a sad countenance, glancing now +here and there, and seeing nothing but head-dresses; and he would he +declared, have given a hundred crowns for a girl tucked up as was the +cowherdess, whose charms, though they had been his ruin, he still +remembered, and they might still have saved him; but, as he was old, +the remembrance was not sufficiently recent. But when, at the foot of +the ladder, he saw the twin charms of the lady, and the pretty delta +that their confluent rotundities produced, the sight so much excited +him that his emotion was patent to the spectators. + +“Make haste and see that the required conditions are fulfilled,” said +he to the officers. “I have gained my pardon but I cannot answer for +my saviour.” + +The lady was well pleased with this homage, which, she said, was +greater than his offence. The guards, whose business it was to proceed +to a verification, believed the culprit to be the devil, because never +in their wits had they seen an “I” so perpendicular as was the old +man. He was marched in triumph through the town to the palace of the +duke, to whom the guards and others stated the facts. In that period +of ignorance, this affair was thought so much of that the town voted +the erection of a column on the spot where the old fellow gained his +pardon, and he was portrayed thereon in stone in the attitude he +assumed at the sight of that honest and virtuous lady. The statue was +still to be seen when Rouen was taken by the English, and the writers +of the period have included this history among the notable events of +the reign. + +As the town offered to supply the old man with all he required, and +see to his sustenance, clothing, and amusements, the good duke +arranged matters by giving the injured maiden a thousand crowns and +marrying her to her seducer, who then lost his name of Vieux +par-Chemins. He was named by the duke the Sieur de Bonne-C------. +This wife was confined nine months afterwards of a perfectly formed +male child, alive and kicking, and born with two teeth. From this +marriage came the house of Bonne-C------, who from motives modest but +wrong, besought our well-beloved King Louis Eleventh to grant them +letters patent to change their names into that of Bonne-Chose. The +king pointed out to the Sieur de Bonne-C------ that there was in the +state of Venice an illustrious family named Coglioni, who wore three +“C------ au natural” on their coat of arms. The gentlemen of the House +of Bonne-C------ stated to the king that their wives were ashamed to +be thus called in public assemblies; the king answered that they would +lose a great deal, because there is a great deal in a name. +Nevertheless, he granted the letters. After that this race was known +by this name, and founded families in many provinces. The first Sieur +de Bonne-C------ lived another 27 years, and had another son and two +daughters. But he grieved much at becoming rich, and no longer being +able to pick up a living in the street. + +From this you can obtain finer lessons and higher morals than from any +story you will read all your life long--of course excepting these +hundred glorious Droll Tales--namely, that never could adventure of +this sort have happened to the impaired and ruined constitutions of +court rascals, rich people and others who dig their graves with their +teeth by over-eating and drinking many wines that impair the +implements of happiness; which said over-fed people were lolling +luxuriously in costly draperies and on feather beds, while the Sieur +de Bonne-Chose was roughing it. In a similar situation, if they had +eaten cabbage, it would have given them the diarrhoea. This may incite +many of those who read this story to change their mode of life, in +order to imitate Vieux par-Chemins in his old age. + + + + ODD SAYINGS OF THREE PILGRIMS + +When the pope left his good town of Avignon to take up his residence +in Rome, certain pilgrims were thrown out who had set out for this +country, and would have to pass the high Alps, in order to gain this +said town of Rome, where they were going to seek the _remittimus_ of +various sins. Then were to be seen on the roads, and the hostelries, +those who wore the order of Cain, otherwise the flower of the +penitents, all wicked fellows, burdened with leprous souls, which +thirsted to bathe in the papal piscina, and all carrying with them +gold or precious things to purchase absolution, pay for their beds, +and present to the saints. You may be sure that those who drank water +going, on their return, if the landlords gave them water, wished it to +be the holy water of the cellar. + +At this time the three pilgrims came to this said Avignon to their +injury, seeing that it was widowed of the pope. While they were +passing the Rhodane, to reach the Mediterranean coast, one of the +three pilgrims, who had with him a son about 10 years of age, parted +company with the others, and near the town of Milan suddenly appeared +again, but without the boy. Now in the evening, at supper, they had a +hearty feast in order to celebrate the return of the pilgrim, who they +thought had become disgusted with penitence through the pope not being +in Avignon. Of these three roamers to Rome, one had come from the city +of Paris, the other from Germany, and the third, who doubtless wished +to instruct his son on the journey, had his home in the duchy of +Burgundy, in which he had certain fiefs, and was a younger son of the +house of Villers-la-Faye (Villa in Fago), and was named La Vaugrenand. +The German baron had met the citizen of Paris just past Lyons, and +both had accosted the Sire de la Vaugrenand in sight of Avignon. + +Now in this hostelry the three pilgrims loosened their tongues, and +agreed to journey to Rome together, in order the better to resist the +foot pads, the night-birds, and other malefactors, who made it their +business to ease pilgrims of that which weighed upon their bodies +before the pope eased them of that which weighed upon their +consciences. After drinking the three companions commenced to talk +together, for the bottle is the key of conversation, and each made +this confession--that the cause of his pilgrimage was a woman. The +servant who watched their drinking, told them that of a hundred +pilgrims who stopped in the locality, ninety-nine were travelling from +the same thing. These three wise men then began to consider how +pernicious is woman to man. The Baron showed the heavy gold chain that +he had in his hauberk to present to Saint Peter, and said his crime +was such that he would not get rid of with the value of two such +chains. The Parisian took off his glove, and exposed a ring set with a +white diamond, saying that he had a hundred like it for the pope. The +Burgundian took off his hat, and exhibited two wonderful pearls, that +were beautiful ear-pendants for Notre-Dame-de-Lorette, and candidly +confessed that he would rather have left them round his wife’s neck. + +Thereupon the servant exclaimed that their sins must have been as +great as those of Visconti. + +Then the pilgrims replied that they were such that they had made a +solemn vow in their minds never to go astray again during the +remainder of their days, however beautiful the woman might be, and +this in addition to the penance which the pope might impose upon them. + +Then the servant expressed her astonishment that all had made the same +vow. The Burgundian added, that this vow had been the cause of his +lagging behind, because he had been in extreme fear that his son, in +spite of his age, might go astray, and that he had made a vow to +prevent people and beasts alike gratifying their passions in his +house, or upon his estates. The baron having inquired the particulars +of the adventure, the sire narrated the affair as follows:-- + +“You know that the good Countess Jeane d’Avignon made formerly a law +for the harlots, who she compelled to live in the outskirts of the +town in houses with window-shutters painted red and closed. Now +passing in my company in this vile neighbourhood, my lad remarked +these houses with closed window-shutters, painted red, and his +curiosity being aroused--for these ten-year old little devils have +eyes for everything--he pulled me by the sleeve and kept on pulling +until he had learnt from me what these houses were. Then, to obtain +peace, I told him that young lads had nothing to do with such places, +and could only enter them at the peril of their lives, because it was +a place where men and women were manufactured, and the danger was such +for anyone unacquainted with the business that if a novice entered, +flying chancres and other wild beasts would seize upon his face. Fear +seized the lad, who then followed me to the hostelry in a state of +agitation, and not daring to cast his eyes upon the said bordels. +While I was in the stable, seeing to the putting up of the horses, my +son went off like a robber, and the servant was unable to tell me what +had become of him. Then I was in great fear of the wenches, but had +confidence in the laws, which forbade them to admit such children. At +supper-time the rascal came back to me looking no more ashamed of +himself than did our divine Saviour in the temple among the doctors. + +“‘Whence comes you?’ said I to him. + +“‘From the houses with the red shutters,’ he replied. + +“‘Little blackguard,’ said I, ‘I’ll give you a taste of the whip.’ + +“Then he began to moan and cry. I told him that if he would confess +all that had happened to him I would let him off the beating. + +“‘Ha,’ said he, ‘I took care not to go in, because of the flying +chancres and other wild beasts. I only looked through the chinks of +the windows, in order to see how men were manufactured.’ + +“‘And what did you see?’ I asked. + +“‘I saw,’ said he, ‘a fine woman just being finished, because she only +wanted one peg, which a young worker was fitting in with energy. +Directly she was finished she turned round, spoke to, and kissed her +manufacturer.’ + +“‘Have your supper,’ said I; and the same night I returned into +Burgundy, and left him with his mother, being sorely afraid that at +the first town he might want to fit a peg into some girl.” + +“These children often make these sort of answers,” said the Parisian. +“One of my neighbour’s children revealed the cuckoldom of his father +by a reply. One day I asked, to see if he was well instructed at +school in religious matters, ‘What is hope?’ ‘One of the king’s big +archers, who comes here when father goes out,’ said he. Indeed, the +sergeant of the Archers was named Hope. My friend was dumbfounded at +this, and, although to keep his countenance he looked in the mirror, +he could not see his horns there.” + +The baron observed that the boy’s remark was good in this way: that +Hope is a person who comes to bed with us when the realities of life +are out of the way. + +“Is a cuckold made in the image of God?” asked the Burgundian. + +“No,” said the Parisian, “because God was wise in this respect, that +he took no wife; therefore is He happy through all eternity.” + +“But,” said the maid-servant, “cuckolds are made in the image of God +before they are horned.” + +Then the three pilgrims began to curse women, saying that they were +the cause of all the evils in the world. + +“Their heads are as empty as helmets,” said the Burgundian. + +“Their hearts are as straight as bill-hooks,” said the Parisian. + +“Why are there so many men pilgrims and so few women pilgrims?” said +the German baron. + +“Their cursed member never sins,” replied the Parisian; “it knows +neither father nor mother, the commandments of God, nor those of the +Church, neither laws divine or human: their member knows no doctrine, +understands no heresies, and cannot be blamed; it is innocent of all, +and always on the laugh; its understanding is nil; and for this reason +do I hold it in utter detestation.” + +“I also,” said the Burgundian, “and I begin to understand the +different reading by a learned man of the verses of the Bible, in +which the account of the creation is given. In this Commentary, which +in my country we call a Noel, lies the reason of imperfection of this +feature of women, of which, different to that of other females, no man +can slake the thirst, such diabolical heat existing there. In this +Noel is stated that the Lord God, having turned his head to look at a +donkey, who had brayed for the first time in his Paradise, while he +was manufacturing Eve, the devil seized this moment to put his finger +into this divine creature, and made a warm wound, which the Lord took +care to close with a stitch, from which comes the maid. By means of +this frenum, the woman should remain closed, and children be made in +the same manner in which God made the angels, by a pleasure far above +carnal pleasure as the heaven is above the earth. Observing this +closing, the devil, wild at being done, pinched the Sieur Adam, who +was asleep, by the skin, and stretched a portion of it out in +imitation of his diabolical tail; but as the father of man was on his +back this appendage came out in front. Thus these two productions of +the devil had the desire to reunite themselves, following the law of +similarities which God had laid down for the conduct of the world. +From this came the first sin and the sorrows of the human race, +because God, noticing the devil’s work, determined to see what would +come of it.” + +The servant declared that they were quite correct in the statements, +for that woman was a bad animal, and that she herself knew some who +were better under the ground than on it. The pilgrims, noticing then +how pretty the girl was, were afraid of breaking their vows, and went +straight to bed. The girl went and told her mistress she was +harbouring infidels, and told her what they had said about women. + +“Ah!” said the landlady, “what matters it to me the thoughts my +customers have in their brains, so long as their purses are well +filled.” + +And when the servant had told of the jewels, she exclaimed-- + +“Ah, these are questions which concern all women. Let us go and reason +with them. I’ll take the nobles, you can have the citizen.” + +The landlady, who was the most shameless inhabitant of the duchy of +Milan, went into the chamber where the Sire de La Vaugrenand and the +German baron were sleeping, and congratulated them upon their vows, +saying that the women would not lose much by them; but to accomplish +these said vows it was necessary they should endeavour to withstand +the strongest temptations. Then she offered to lie down beside them, +so anxious were she to see if she would be left unmolested, a thing +which had never happened to her yet in the company of a man. + +On the morrow, at breakfast, the servant had the ring on her finger, +her mistress had the gold chain and the pearl earrings. The three +pilgrims stayed in the town about a month, spending there all the +money they had in their purses, and agreed that if they had spoken so +severely of women it was because they had not known those of Milan. + +On his return to Germany the Baron made this observation: that he was +only guilty of one sin, that of being in his castle. The Citizen of +Paris came back full of stories for his wife, and found her full of +Hope. The Burgundian saw Madame de La Vaugrenand so troubled that he +nearly died of the consolations he administered to her, in spite of +his former opinions. This teaches us to hold our tongues in +hostelries. + + + + INNOCENCE + +By the double crest of my fowl, and by the rose lining of my +sweetheart’s slipper! By all the horns of well-beloved cuckolds, and +by the virtue of their blessed wives! the finest work of man is +neither poetry, nor painted pictures, nor music, nor castles, nor +statues, be they carved never so well, nor rowing, nor sailing +galleys, but children. + +Understand me, children up to the age of ten years, for after that +they become men or women, and cutting their wisdom teeth, are not +worth what they cost; the worst are the best. Watch them playing, +prettily and innocently, with slippers; above all, cancellated ones, +with the household utensils, leaving that which displeases them, +crying after that which pleases them, munching the sweets and +confectionery in the house, nibbling at the stores, and always +laughing as soon as their teeth are cut, and you will agree with me +that they are in every way lovable; besides which they are flower and +fruit--the fruit of love, the flower of life. Before their minds have +been unsettled by the disturbances of life, there is nothing in this +world more blessed or more pleasant than their sayings, which are +naive beyond description. This is as true as the double chewing +machine of a cow. Do not expect a man to be innocent after the manner +of children, because there is an, I know not what, ingredient of +reason in the naivety of a man, while the naivety of children is +candid, immaculate, and has all the finesse of the mother, which is +plainly proved in this tale. + +Queen Catherine was at that time Dauphine, and to make herself welcome +to the king, her father-in-law, who at that time was very ill indeed, +presented him, from time to time, with Italian pictures, knowing that +he liked them much, being a friend of the Sieur Raphael d’Urbin and of +the Sieurs Primatice and Leonardo da Vinci, to whom he sent large sums +of money. She obtained from her family--who had the pick of these +works, because at that time the Duke of the Medicis governed Tuscany +--a precious picture, painted by a Venetian named Titian (artist to +the Emperor Charles, and in very high flavour), in which there were +portraits of Adam and Eve at the moment when God left them to wander +about the terrestrial Paradise, and were painted their full height, in +the costume of the period, in which it is difficult to make a mistake, +because they were attired in their ignorance, and caparisoned with the +divine grace which enveloped them--a difficult thing to execute on +account of the colour, but one in which the said Sieur Titian +excelled. The picture was put into the room of the poor king, who was +then ill with the disease of which he eventually died. It had a great +success at the Court of France, where everyone wished to see it; but +no one was able to until after the king’s death, since at his desire +it was allowed to remain in his room as long as he lived. + +One day Madame Catherine took with her to the king’s room her son +Francis and little Margot, who began to talk at random, as children +will. Now here, now there, these children had heard this picture of +Adam and Eve spoken about, and had tormented their mother to take them +there. Since the two little ones at times amused the old king, Madame +the Dauphine consented to their request. + +“You wished to see Adam and Eve, who were our first parents; there +they are,” said she. + +Then she left them in great astonishment before Titian’s picture, and +seated herself by the bedside of the king, who delighted to watch the +children. + +“Which of the two is Adam?” said Francis, nudging his sister Margot’s +elbow. + +“You silly!” replied she, “to know that, they would have to be +dressed!” + +This reply, which delighted the poor king and the mother, was +mentioned in a letter written in Florence by Queen Catherine. + +No writer having brought it to light, it will remain, like a sweet +flower, in a corner of these Tales, although it is no way droll, and +there is no other moral to be drawn from it except that to hear these +pretty speeches of infancy one must beget the children. + + + + THE FAIR IMPERIA MARRIED + +I +HOW MADAME IMPERIA WAS CAUGHT BY THE VERY NET SHE WAS +ACCUSTOMED TO SPREAD FOR HER LOVE-BIRDS + +The lovely lady Imperia, who gloriously opens these tales, because she +was the glory of her time, was compelled to come into the town of +Rome, after the holding of the council, for the cardinal of Ragusa +loved her more than his cardinal’s hat, and wished to have her near +him. This rascal was so magnificent, that he presented her with the +beautiful palace that he had in the Papal capital. About this time she +had the misfortune to find herself in an interesting condition by this +cardinal. As everyone knows, this pregnancy finished with a fine +little daughter, concerning whom the Pope said jokingly that she +should be named Theodora, as if to say The Gift Of God. The girl was +thus named, and was exquisitely lovely. The cardinal left his +inheritance to this Theodora, whom the fair Imperia established in her +hotel, for she was flying from Rome as from a pernicious place, where +children were begotten, and where she had nearly spoiled her beautiful +figure, her celebrated perfections, lines of the body, curves of the +back, delicious breasts, and Serpentine charms which placed her as +much above the other women of Christendom as the Holy Father was above +all other Christians. But all her lovers knew that with the assistance +of eleven doctors of Padua, seven master surgeons of Pavia, and five +surgeons come from all parts, who assisted at her confinement, she was +preserved from all injury. Some go so far as to say that she gained +therein superfineness and whiteness of skin. A famous man, of the +school of Salerno, wrote a book on the subject, to show the value of a +confinement for the freshness, health, preservation, and beauty of +women. In this very learned book it was clearly proved to readers that +that which was beautiful to see in Imperia, was that which it was +permissible for lovers alone to behold; a rare case then, for she did +not disarrange her attire for the petty German princes whom she called +her margraves, burgraves, electors, and dukes, just as a captain ranks +his soldiers. + +Everyone knows that when she was eighteen years of age, the lovely +Theodora, to atone for her mother’s gay life, wished to retire into +the bosom of the Church. With this idea she placed herself in the +hands of a cardinal, in order that he might instruct her in the duties +of the devout. This wicked shepherd found the lamb so magnificently +beautiful that he attempted to debauch her. Theodora instantly stabbed +herself with a stiletto, in order not to be contaminated by the +evil-minded priest. This adventure, which was consigned to the history +of the period, made a great commotion in Rome, and was deplored by +everyone, so much was the daughter of Imperia beloved. + +Then this noble courtesan, much afflicted, returned to Rome, there to +weep for her poor daughter. She set out in the thirty-ninth year of +her age, which was, according to some authors, the summer of her +magnificent beauty, because then she had obtained the acme of +perfection, like ripe fruit. Sorrow made her haughty and hard with +those who spoke to her of love, in order to dry her tears. The pope +himself visited her in her palace, and gave her certain words of +admonition. But she refused to be comforted, saying that she would +henceforth devote herself to God, because she had never yet been +satisfied by any man, although she had ardently desired it; and all of +them, even a little priest, whom she had adored like a saint’s shrine, +had deceived her. God, she was sure, would not do so. + +This resolution disconcerted many, for she was the joy of a vast +number of lords. So that people ran about the streets of Rome crying +out, “Where is Madame Imperia? Is she going to deprive the world of +love?” Some of the ambassadors wrote to their masters on the subject. +The Emperor of the Romans was much cut up about it, because he had +loved her to distraction for eleven weeks; had left her only to go to +the wars, and loved her still as much as his most precious member, +which according to his own statement, was his eye, for that alone +embraced the whole of his dear Imperia. In this extremity the Pope +sent for a Spanish physician, and conducted him to the beautiful +creature, to whom he proved, by various arguments, adorned with Latin +and Greek quotations, that beauty is impaired by tears and +tribulation, and that through sorrow’s door wrinkles step in. This +proposition, confirmed by the doctors of the Holy College in +controversy, had the effect of opening the doors of the palace that +same evening. The young cardinals, the foreign envoys, the wealthy +inhabitants, and the principal men of the town of Rome came, crowded +the rooms, and held a joyous festival; the common people made grand +illuminations, and thus the whole population celebrated the return of +the Queen of Pleasure to her occupation, for she was at that time the +presiding deity of Love. The experts in all the arts loved her much, +because she spent considerable sums of money improving the Church in +Rome, which contained poor Theodora’s tomb, which was destroyed during +that pillage of Rome in which perished the traitorous constable of +Bourbon, for this holy maiden was placed therein in a massive coffin +of gold and silver, which the cursed soldiers were anxious to obtain. +The basilic cost, it is said, more than the pyramid erected by the +Lady Rhodepa, an Egyptian courtesan, eighteen hundred years before the +coming of our divine Saviour, which proves the antiquity of this +pleasant occupation, the extravagant prices which the wise Egyptians +paid for their pleasures, and how things deteriorate, seeing that now +for a trifle you can have a chemise full of female loveliness in the +Rue du Petit-Heulen, at Paris. Is it not abomination? + +Never had Madame Imperia appeared so lovely as at this first gala +after her mourning. All the princes, cardinals, and others declared +that she was worthy the homage of the whole world, which was there +represented by a noble from every known land, and thus was it amply +demonstrated that beauty was in every place queen of everything. + +The envoy of the King of France, who was a cadet of the house of l’Ile +Adam, arrived late, although he had never yet seen Imperia, and was +most anxious to do so. He was a handsome young knight, much in favour +with his sovereign, in whose court he had a mistress, whom he loved +with infinite tenderness, and who was the daughter of Monsieur de +Montmorency, a lord whose domains bordered upon those of the house of +l’Ile Adam. To this penniless cadet the king had given certain +missions to the duchy of Milan, of which he had acquitted himself so +well that he was sent to Rome to advance the negotiations concerning +which historians have written so much in their books. Now if he had +nothing of his own, poor little l’Ile Adam relied upon so good a +beginning. He was slightly built, but upright as a column, dark, with +black, glistening eyes; and a man not easily taken in; but concealing +his finesse, he had the air of an innocent child, which made him +gentle and amiable as a laughing maiden. Directly this gentleman +joined her circle, and her eyes had rested upon him, Madame Imperia +felt herself bitten by a strong desire, which stretched the harp +strings of her nature, and produced therefrom a sound she had not +heard for many a day. She was seized with such a vertigo of true love +at the sight of this freshness of youth, that but for her imperial +dignity she would have kissed the good cheeks which shone like little +apples. + +Now take note of this; that so called modest women, and ladies whose +skirts bear their armorial bearings, are thoroughly ignorant of the +nature of man, because they keep to one alone, like the Queen of +France who believed all men had ulcers in the nose because the king +had; but a great courtesan, like Madame Imperia, knew man to his core, +because she had handled a great many. In her retreat, everyone came +out in his true colours, and concealed nothing, thinking to himself +that he would not be long with her. Having often deplored this +subjection, sometimes she would remark that she suffered from pleasure +more than she suffered from pain. There was the dark shadow of her +life. You may be sure that a lover was often compelled to part with a +nice little heap of crowns in order to pass the night with her, and +was reduced to desperation by a refusal. Now for her it was a joyful +thing to feel a youthful desire, like that she had for the little +priest, whose story commences this collection; but because she was +older than in those merry days, love was more fully established in +her, and she soon perceived that it was of a fiery nature when it +began to make itself felt; indeed, she suffered in her skin like a cat +that is being scorched, and so much so that she had an intense longing +to spring upon this gentleman, and bear him in triumph to her nest, as +a kite does its prey, but with great difficulty she restrained +herself. When he came and bowed to her, she threw back her head, and +assumed a most dignified attitude, as do those who have a love +infatuation in their hearts. The gravity of her demeanour to the young +ambassador caused many to think that she had work in store for him; +equivocating on the word, after the custom of the time. + +L’Ile Adam, knowing himself to be dearly loved by his mistress, +troubled himself but little about Madame Imperia, grave or gay, and +frisked about like a goat let loose. The courtesan, terribly annoyed +at this, changed her tone, from being sulky became gay and lively, +came to him, softened her voice, sharpened her glance, gracefully +inclined her head, rubbed against him with her sleeve, and called him +Monsiegneur, embraced him with the loving words, trifled with his +hand, and finished by smiling at him most affably. He, not imagining +that so unprofitable a lover would suit her, for he was as poor as a +church mouse, and did not know that his beauty was the equal in her +eyes to all the treasures of the world, was not taken in her trap, but +continued to ride the high horse with his hand on his hips. This +disdain of her passion irritated Madame to the heart, which by this +spark was set in flame. If you doubt this, it is because you know +nothing of the profession of the Madame Imperia, who by reason of it +might be compared to a chimney, in which a great number of fires have +been lighted, which had filled it with soot; in this state a match was +sufficient to burn everything there, where a hundred fagots has smoked +comfortably. She burned within from top to toe in a horrible manner, +and could not be extinguished save with the water of love. The cadet +of l’Ile Adam left the room without noticing this ardour. + +Madame, disconsolate at his departure, lost her senses from her head +to her feet, and so thoroughly that she sent a messenger to him on the +galleries, begging him to pass the night with her. On no other +occasion of her life had she had this cowardice, either for king, +pope, or emperor, since the high price of her favours came from the +bondage in which she held her admirers, whom the more she humbled the +more she raised herself. The disdainful hero of this history was +informed by the head chamber-women, who was a clever jade, that in all +probability a great treat awaited him, for most certainly Madame would +regale him with her most delicate inventions of love. L’Ile Adam +returned to the salons, delighted at this lucky chance. Directly the +envoy of France reappeared, as everyone had seen Imperia turn pale at +his departure, the general joy knew no bounds, because everyone was +delighted to see her return to her old life of love. An English +cardinal, who had drained more than one big-bellied flagon, and wished +to taste Imperia, went to l’Ile Adam and whispered to him, “Hold her +fast, so that she shall never again escape us.” + +The story of this remark was told to the pope at his levee, and caused +him to remark, _Laetamini, gentes, quoniam surrexit Dominus_. A +quotation which the old cardinals abominated as a profanation of +sacred texts. Seeing which, the pope reprimanded them severely, and +took occasion to lecture them, telling them that if they were good +Christians they were bad politicians. Indeed, he relied upon the fair +Imperia to reclaim the emperor, and with this idea he syringed her +well with flattery. + +The lights of the palace being extinguished, the golden flagons on the +floor, and the servants drunk and stretched about on the carpets, +Madame entered her bedchamber, leading by the hand her dear +lover-elect; and she was well pleased, and has since confessed that so +strongly was she bitten with love, she could hardly restrain herself +from rolling at his feet like a beast of the field, begging him to +crush her beneath him if he could. L’Ile Adam slipped off his +garments, and tumbled into bed as if he were in his own house. Seeing +which, Madame hastened her preparations, and sprang into her lover’s +arms with a frenzy that astonished her women, who knew her to be +ordinarily one of the most modest of women on these occasions. The +astonishment became general throughout the country, for the pair +remained in bed for nine days, eating, drinking, and embracing in a +marvellous and most masterly manner. Madame told her women that at +last she had placed her hand on a phoenix of love, since he revived +from every attack. Nothing was talked of in Rome and Italy but the +victory that had been gained over Imperia, who had boasted that she +would yield to no man, and spat upon all of them, even the dukes. As +to the aforesaid margraves and burgraves, she gave them the tail of +her dress to hold, and said that if she did not tread them under foot, +they would trample upon her. Madame confessed to her servants that, +differently to all other men she had had to put up with, the more she +fondled this child of love, the more she desired to do so, and that +she would never be able to part with him; nor his splendid eyes, which +blinded her; nor his branch of coral, that she always hungered after. +She further declared that if such were his desire, she would let him +suck her blood, eat her breasts--which were the most lovely in the +world--and cut her tresses, of which she had only given a single one +to the Emperor of the Romans, who kept it in his breast, like a +precious relic; finally, she confessed that on that night only had +life begun for her, because the embrace of Villiers de l’Ile Adam sent +the blood to her in three bounds and in a brace of shakes. + +These expressions becoming known, made everyone very miserable. +Directly she went out, Imperia told the ladies of Rome that she should +die it if she were deserted by this gentleman, and would cause +herself, like Queen Cleopatra, to be bitten by an asp. She declared +openly that she had bidden an eternal adieu her to her former gay +life, and would show the whole world what virtue was by abandoning her +empire for this Villiers de l’Ile Adam, whose servant she would rather +be than reign of Christendom. The English cardinal remonstrated with +the pope that this love for one, in the heart of a woman who was the +joy of all, was an infamous depravity, and that he ought with a brief +_in partibus_, to annul this marriage, which robbed the fashionable +world of its principal attraction. But the love of this poor woman, +who had confessed the miseries of her life, was so sweet a thing, and +so moved the most dissipated heart, that she silenced all clamour, and +everyone forgave her her happiness. One day, during Lent, Imperia made +her people fast, and ordered them to go and confess, and return to +God. She herself went and fell at the pope’s feet, and there showed +such penitence, that she obtained from him remission of all her sins, +believing that the absolution of the pope would communicate to her +soul that virginity which she was grieved at being unable to offer her +lover. It is impossible to help thinking that there was some virtue in +the ecclesiastical piscina, for the poor cadet was so smothered with +love that he fancied himself in Paradise, and left the negotiations of +the King of France, left his love for Mademoiselle de Montmorency--in +fact, left everything to marry Madame Imperia, in order that he might +live and die with her. Such was the effect of the learned ways of this +great lady of pleasure directly she turned her science to the root of +a virtuous love. Imperia bade adieu to her admirers at a royal feast, +given in honour of her wedding, which was a wonderful ceremony, at +which all the Italian princes were present. She had, it is said, a +million gold crowns; in spite of the vastness of this sum, every one +far from blaming L’Ile Adam, paid him many compliments, because it was +evident that neither Madame Imperia nor her young husband thought of +anything but one. The pope blessed their marriage, and said that it +was a fine thing to see the foolish virgin returning to God by the +road of marriage. + +But during that last night in which it would be permissible for all to +behold the Queen of Beauty, who was about to become a simple +chatelaine of the kingdom of France, there were a great number of men +who mourned for the merry nights, the suppers, the masked balls, the +joyous games, and the melting hours, when each one emptied his heart +to her. Everyone regretted the ease and freedom which had always been +found in the residence of this lovely creature, who now appeared more +tempting than she had ever done in her life, for the fervid heat of +her great love made her glisten like a summer sun. Much did they +lament the fact that she had had the sad fantasy to become a +respectable woman. To these Madame de l’Ile Adam answered jestingly, +that after twenty-four years passed in the service of the public, she +had a right to retire. Others said to her, that however distant the +sun was, people could warm themselves in it, while she would show +herself no more. To these she replied that she would still have smiles +to bestow upon those lords who would come and see how she played the +role of a virtuous woman. To this the English envoy answered, he +believed her capable of pushing virtue to its extreme point. She gave +a present to each of her friends, and large sums to the poor and +suffering of Rome; besides this, she left to the convent where her +daughter was to have been, and to the church she had built, the wealth +she had inherited from Theodora, which came from the cardinal of +Ragusa. + +When the two spouses set out they were accompanied a long way by +knights in mourning, and even by the common people, who wished them +every happiness, because Madame Imperia had been hard on the rich +only, and had always been kind and gentle with the poor. This lovely +queen of love was hailed with acclamations throughout the journey in +all the towns of Italy where the report of her conversion had spread, +and where everyone was curious to see pass, a case so rare as two such +spouses. Several princes received this handsome couple at their +courts, saying it was but right to show honour to this woman who had +the courage to renounce her empire over the world of fashion, to +become a virtuous woman. But there was an evil-minded fellow, one my +lord Duke of Ferrara, who said to l’Ile Adam that his great fortune +had not cost him much. At this first offence Madame Imperia showed +what a good heart she had, for she gave up all the money she had +received from her lovers, to ornament the dome of St. Maria del Fiore, +in the town of Florence, which turned the laugh against the Sire +d’Este, who boasted that he had built a church in spite of the empty +condition of his purse. You may be sure he was reprimanded for this +joke by his brother the cardinal. + +The fair Imperia only kept her own wealth and that which the Emperor +had bestowed upon her out of pure friendship since his departure, the +amount of which was however, considerable. The cadet of l’Ile Adam had +a duel with the duke, in which he wounded him. Thus neither Madame de +l’Ile Adam, nor her husband could be in any way reproached. This piece +of chivalry caused her to be gloriously received in all places she +passed through, especially in Piedmont, where the fetes were splendid. +Verses which the poet then composed, such as sonnets, epithalamias, +and odes, have been given in certain collections; but all poetry was +weak in comparison with her, who was, according to an expression of +Monsieur Boccaccio, poetry herself. + +The prize in this tourney of fetes and gallantry must be awarded to +the good Emperor of the Romans, who, knowing of the misbehaviour of +the Duke of Ferrara, dispatched an envoy to his old flame, charged +with Latin manuscripts, in which he told her that he loved her so much +for herself, that he was delighted to know that she was happy, but +grieved to know that all her happiness was not derived from him; that +he had lost his right to make her presents, but that, if the king of +France received her coldly, he would think it an honour to acquire a +Villiers to the holy empire, and would give him such principalities as +he might choose from his domains. The fair Imperia replied that she +was extremely obliged to the Emperor, but that had she to suffer +contumely upon contumely in France, she still intended there to finish +her days. + + +II +HOW THIS MARRIAGE ENDED + +Not knowing if it she would be received or not, the lady of l’Ile Adam +would not go to court, but lived in the country, where her husband +made a fine establishment, purchasing the manor of +Beaumont-le-Vicomte, which gave rise to the equivoque upon his name, +made by our well-beloved Rabelais, in his most magnificent book. He +acquired also the domain of Nointel, the forest of Carenelle, St. +Martin, and other places in the neighbourhood of the l’Ile Adam, where +his brother Villiers resided. These said acquisitions made him the most +powerful lord in the l’Ile de France and county of Paris. He built a +wonderful castle near Beaumont, which was afterwards ruined by the +English, and adorned it with the furniture, foreign tapestries, chests, +pictures, statues, and curiosities, of his wife, who was a great +connoisseur, which made this place equal to the most magnificent +castles known. + +The happy pair led a life so envied by all, that nothing was talked +about in Paris and at Court but this marriage, the good fortune of the +Sire de Beaumont, and, above all, of the perfect, loyal, gracious, and +religious life of his wife, who from habit many still called Madame +Imperia; who was no longer proud and sharp as steel, but had the +virtues and qualities of a respectable woman, and was an example in +many things to a queen. She was much beloved by the Church on account +of her great religion, for she had never once forgotten God, having, +as she once said, spent much of her time with churchmen, abbots, +bishops, and cardinals, who had sprinkled her well with holy water, +and under the curtains worked her eternal salvation. + +The praises sung in honour of this lady had such an effect, that the +king came to Beauvoisis to gaze upon this wonder, and did the sire the +honour to sleep at Beaumont, remained there three days, and had a +royal hunt there with the queen and the whole Court. You may be sure +that he was surprised, as were also the queen, the ladies, and the +Court, at the manners of this superb creature, who was proclaimed a +lady of courtesy and beauty. The king first, then the queen, and +afterwards every individual member of the company, complemented l’Ile +Adam on having chosen such a wife. The modesty of the chatelaine did +more than pride would have accomplished; for she was invited to court, +and everywhere, so imperious was her great heart, so tyrannic her +violent love for her husband. You may be sure that her charms, hidden +under the garments of virtue, were none the less exquisite. The king +gave the vacant post of lieutenant of the Ile de France and provost of +Paris to his ancient ambassador, giving him the title of Viscount of +Beaumont, which established him as governor of the whole province, and +put him on an excellent footing at court. But this was the cause of a +great wound in Madame’s heart, because a wretch, jealous of this +unclouded happiness, asked her, playfully, if Beaumont had ever spoken +to her of his first love, Mademoiselle de Montmorency, who at that +time was twenty-two years of age, as she was sixteen at the time the +marriage took place in Rome--the which young lady loved l’Ile Adam so +much that she remained a maiden, would listen to no proposals of +marriage, and was dying of a broken heart, unable to banish her +perfidious lover from her remembrance and was desirous of entering the +convent of Chelles. Madame Imperia, during the six years of her +marriage, had never heard this name, and was sure from this fact that +she was indeed beloved. You can imagine that this time had been passed +as a single day, that both believed that they had only been married +the evening before, and that each night was as a wedding night, and +that if business took the knight out of doors, he was quite +melancholy, being unwilling ever to have her out of his sight, and she +was the same with him. + +The king, who was very partial to the viscount, also made a remark to +him which stung him to the quick, when he said, “You have no +children?” + +To which Beaumont replied, with the face of a man whose raw place you +have touched with your finger, “Monsiegneur, my brother has; thus our +line is safe.” + +Now it happened that his brother’s two children died suddenly--one +from a fall from his horse at a tournament and the other from illness. +Monsieur l’Ile Adam the elder was so stricken with grief at these two +deaths that he expired soon after, so much did he love his two sons. +By this means the manor of Beaumont, the property at Carenelle, St. +Martin, Nointel, and the surrounding domains, were reunited to the +manor of l’Ile Adam, and the neighbouring forests, and the cadet +became the head of the house. At this time Madame was forty-five, and +was still fit to bear children; but alas! she conceived not. As soon +as she saw the lineage of l’Ile Adam destroyed, she was anxious to +obtain offspring. + +Now, as during the seven years which had elapsed she had never once +had the slightest hint of pregnancy, she believed, according to the +statement of a clever physician whom she sent for from Paris, that +this barrenness proceeded from the fact, that both she and her +husband, always more lovers than spouses, allowed pleasure to +interfere with business, and by this means engendering was prevented. +Then she endeavoured to restrain her impetuosity, and to take things +coolly, because the physician had explained to her that in a state of +nature animals never failed to breed, because the females employed +none of those artifices, tricks, and hanky-pankies with which women +accommodate the olives of Poissy, and for this reason they thoroughly +deserved the title of beasts. She promised him no longer to play with +such a serious affair, and to forget all the ingenious devices in +which she had been so fertile. But, alas! although she kept as quiet +as that German woman who lay so still that her husband embraced her to +death, and then went, poor baron, to obtain absolution from the pope, +who delivered his celebrated brief, in which he requested the ladies +of Franconia to be a little more lively, and prevent a repetition of +such a crime. Madame de l’Ile Adam did not conceive, and fell into a +state of great melancholy. + +Then she began to notice how thoughtful had become her husband, l’Ile +Adam, whom she watched when he thought she was not looking, and who +wept that he had no fruit of his great love. Soon this pair mingled +their tears, for everything was common to the two in this fine +household, and as they never left the other, the thought of the one +was necessarily the thought of the other. When Madame beheld a poor +person’s child she nearly died of grief, and it took her a whole day +to recover. Seeing this great sorrow, l’Ile Adam ordered all children +to be kept out of his wife’s sight, and said soothing things to her, +such as that children often turned out badly; to which she replied, +that a child made by those who loved so passionately would be the +finest child in the world. He told her that her sons might perish, +like those of his poor brother; to which she replied, that she would +not let them stir further from her petticoats than a hen allows her +chickens. In fact, she had an answer for everything. + +Madame caused a woman to be sent for who dealt in magic, and who was +supposed to be learned in these mysteries, who told her that she had +often seen women unable to conceive in spite of every effort, but yet +they had succeeded by studying the manners and customs of animals. +Madame took the beasts of the fields for her preceptors, but she did +not increase in size; her flesh still remained firm and white as +marble. She returned to the physical science of the master doctors of +Paris, and sent for a celebrated Arabian physician, who had just +arrived in France with a new science. Then this savant, brought up in +the school of one Sieur Averroes, entered into certain medical +details, and declared that the loose life she had formerly led had for +ever ruined her chance of obtaining offspring. The physical reasons +which he assigned were so contrary to the teaching of the holy books +which establish the majesty of man, made in the image of his creator, +and so contrary to the system upheld by sound sense and good doctrine, +that the doctors of Paris laughed them to scorn. The Arabian physician +left the school where his master, the Sieur Averroes, was unknown. + +The doctors told Madame, who had come to Paris, that she was to keep +on as usual, since she had had during her gay life the lovely +Theodora, by the cardinal of Ragusa, and that the right of having +children remained with women as long as their blood circulated, and +all that she had to do was to multiply the chances of conception. This +advice appeared to her so good that she multiplied her victories, but +it was only multiplying her defeats, since she obtained the flowers of +love without its fruits. + +The poor afflicted woman wrote then to the pope, who loved her much, +and told him of her sorrows. The good pope replied to her with a +gracious homily, written with his own hand, in which he told her that +when human science and things terrestrial had failed, we should turn +to Heaven and implore the grace of God. Then she determined to go with +naked feet, accompanied by her husband, to Notre Dame de Liesse, +celebrated for her intervention in similar cases, and made a vow to +build a magnificent cathedral in gratitude for the child. But she +bruised and injured her pretty feet, and conceived nothing but a +violent grief, which was so great that some of her lovely tresses fell +off and some turned white. + +At last the faculty of making children was taken from her, which +brought on the vapours consequent upon hypochondria, and caused her +skin to turn yellow. She was then forty-nine years of age, and lived +in her castle of l’Ile Adam, where she grew as thin as a leper in a +lazar-house. The poor creature was all the more wretched because l’Ile +Adam was still amorous, and as good as gold to her, who failed in her +duty, because she had formerly been too free with the men, and was +now, according to her own disdainful remark, only a cauldron to cook +chitterlings. + +“Ha!” said she, one evening when these thoughts were tormenting her. +“In spite of the Church, in spite of the king, in spite of everything, +Madame de l’Ile Adam is still the wicked Imperia!” + +She fell into a violent passion when she saw this handsome gentleman +have everything a man can desire, great wealth, royal favour, +unequalled love, matchless wife, pleasure such as none other could +produce, and yet fail in that which is dearest to the head of the +house--namely, lineage. With this idea in her head, she wished to die, +thinking how good and noble he had been to her, and how much she +failed in her duty in not giving him children, and in being +henceforward unable to do so. She hid her sorrow in the secret +recesses of her heart, and conceived a devotion worthy her great love. +To put into practice this heroic design she became still more amorous, +took extreme care of her charms, and made use of learned precepts to +maintain her bodily perfection, which threw out an incredible lustre. + +About this time the Sieur de Montmorency conquered the repulsion his +daughter entertained for marriage, and her alliance with one Sieur de +Chatillon was much talked about. Madame Imperia, who lived only three +leagues distant from Montmorency, one day sent her husband out hunting +in the forests, and set out towards the castle where the young lady +lived. Arrived in the grounds she walked about there, telling a +servant to inform her mistress that a lady had a most important +communication to make to her, and that she had come to request an +audience. Much interested by the account which she received by the +beauty, courtesy, and manners of the unknown lady, Mademoiselle de +Montmorency went in great haste into the gardens, and there met her +rival, whom she did not know. + +“My dear,” said the poor woman, weeping to find the young maiden as +beautiful as herself, “I know that they are trying to force you into a +marriage with Monsieur de Chatillon, although you still love Monsieur +de l’Ile Adam. Have confidence in the prophecy that I here make you, +that he whom you have loved, and who only was false to you through a +snare into which an angel might have fallen, will be free from the +burden of his old wife before the leaves fall. Thus the constancy of +your love will have its crown of flowers. Now have the courage to +refuse this marriage they are arranging for you, and you may yet clasp +your first and only love. Pledge me your word to love and cherish +l’Ile Adam, who is the kindest of men; never to cause him a moment’s +anguish, and tell him to reveal to you all the secrets of love +invented by Madame Imperia, because, in practicing them, being young, +you will be easily able to obliterate the remembrance of her from his +mind.” + +Mademoiselle de Montmorency was so astonished that she could make no +answer, and let this queen of beauty depart, and believed her to be a +fairy, until a workman told her that the fairy was Madame de l’Ile +Adam. Although the adventure was inexplicable, she told her father +that she would not give her consent to the proposed marriage until +after the autumn, so much is it in the nature of Love to ally itself +with Hope, in spite of the bitter pills which this deceitful and +gracious, companion gives her to swallow like bull’s eyes. During the +months when the grapes are gathered, Imperia would not let l’Ile Adam +leave her, and was so amorous that one would have imagined she wished +to kill him, since l’Ile Adam felt as though he had a fresh bride in +his arms every night. The next morning the good woman requested him to +keep the remembrance of these joys in his heart. + +Then, to know what her lover’s real thoughts on the subject were she +said to him, “Poor l’Ile Adam, we were very silly to marry--a lad like +you, with your twenty-three years, and an old woman close to 40.” + +He answered her, that his happiness was such that he was the envy of +every one, that at her age her equal did not exist among the younger +women, and that if ever she grew old he would love her wrinkles, +believing that even in the tomb she would be lovely, and her skeleton +lovable. + +To these answers, which brought the tears into her eyes, she one +morning answered maliciously, that Mademoiselle de Montmorency was +very lovely and very faithful. This speech forced l’Ile Adam to tell +her that she pained him by telling him of the only wrong he had ever +committed in his life--the breaking of the troth pledged to his first +sweetheart, all love for whom he had since effaced from his heart. +This candid speech made her seize him and clasp him to her heart, +affected at the loyalty of his discourse on a subject from which many +would have shrunk. + +“My dear love,” said she, “for a long time past I have been suffering +from a retraction of the heart, which has always since my youth been +dangerous to my life, and in this opinion the Arabian physician +coincides. If I die, I wish you to make the most binding oath a knight +can make, to wed Mademoiselle Montmorency. I am so certain of dying, +that I leave my property to you only on condition that this marriage +takes place.” + +Hearing this, l’Ile Adam turned pale, and felt faint at the mere +thought of an eternal separation from his good wife. + +“Yes, dear treasure of love,” continued she. “I am punished by God +there where my sins were committed, for the great joys that I feel +dilate my heart, and have, according to the Arabian doctor, weakened +the vessels which in a moment of excitement will burst; but I have +always implored God to take my life at the age in which I now am, +because I would not see my charms marred by the ravages of time.” + +This great and noble woman saw then how well she was beloved. This is +how she obtained the greatest sacrifice of love that ever was made +upon this earth. She alone knew what a charm existed in the embraces, +fondlings, and raptures of the conjugal bed, which were such that poor +l’Ile Adam would rather have died than allow himself to be deprived of +the amorous delicacies she knew so well how to prepare. At this +confession made by her that, in the excitement of love her heart would +burst, the chevalier cast himself at her knees, and declared that to +preserve her life he would never ask her for love, but would live +contented to see her only at his side, happy at being able to touch +but the hem of her garment. + +She replied, bursting into tears, “that she would rather die than lose +one iota of his love; that she would die as she had lived, since +luckily she could make a man embrace her when such was her desire +without having to put her request into words.” + +Here it must be stated that the cardinal of Ragusa had given her as a +present an article, which this holy joker called _in articulo mortis_. +It was a tiny glass bottle, no bigger than a bean, made at Venice, and +containing a poison so subtle that by breaking it between the teeth +death came instantly and painlessly. He had received it from Signora +Tophana, the celebrated maker of poisons of the town of Rome. + +Now this tiny bottle was under the bezel of a ring, preserved from all +objects that could break it by certain plates of gold. Poor Imperia +put it into her mouth several times without being able to make up her +mind to bite it, so much pleasure did she take in the moment that she +believed to be her last. Then she would pass before her in mental +review all her methods of enjoyment before breaking the glass, and +determined that when she felt the most perfect of all joys she would +bite the bottle. + +The poor creature departed this life on the night on the first day of +October. Then was there heard a great clamour in the forests and in +the clouds, as if the loves had cried aloud, “The great Noc is dead!” + in imitation of the pagan gods who, at the coming of the Saviour of +men, fled into the skies, saying, “the great Pan is slain!” A cry +which was heard by some persons navigating the Eubean Sea, and +preserved by a Father of the Church. + +Madame Imperia died without being spoiled in shape, so much had God +made her the irreproachable model of a woman. She had, it was said, a +magnificent tint upon her flesh, caused by the proximity of the +flaming wings of Pleasure, who cried and groaned over her corpse. Her +husband mourned for her most bitterly, never suspecting that she had +died to deliver him from a childless wife, for the doctor who embalmed +her said not a word concerning the cause of her death. This great +sacrifice was discovered six years after marriage of l’Ile Adam with +Mademoiselle de Montmorency, because she told him all about the visit +of Madame Imperia. The poor gentleman immediately fell into a state of +great melancholy and finished by dying, being unable to banish the +remembrance of those joys of love which it was beyond the power of a +novice to restore to him; thereby did he prove the truth of that which +was said at that time, that this woman would never die in a heart +where she had once reigned. + +This teaches us that virtue is well understood by those who have +practised vice; for among the most modest women few would thus have +sacrificed life, in whatever high state of religion you look for them. + + + + EPILOGUE + +Oh! mad little one, thou whose business it is to make the house merry, +again hast thou been wallowing, in spite of a thousand prohibitions, +in that slough of melancholy, whence thou hast already fished out +Bertha, and come back with thy tresses dishevelled, like a girl who +has been ill-treated by a regiment of soldiers! Where are thy golden +aiglets and bells, thy filigree flowers of fantastic design? Where +hast thou left thy crimson head-dress, ornamented with precious +gewgaws that cost a minot of pearls? + +Why spoil with pernicious tears thy black eyes, so pleasant when +therein sparkles the wit of a tale, that popes pardon thee thy sayings +for the sake of thy merry laughter, feel their souls caught between +the ivory of thy teeth, have their hearts drawn by the rose point of +thy sweet tongue, and would barter the holy slipper for a hundred of +the smiles that hover round thy vermillion lips? Laughing lassie, if +thou wouldst remain always fresh and young, weep no more; think of +riding the brideless fleas, of bridling with the golden clouds thy +chameleon chimeras, of metamorphosing the realities of life into +figures clothed with the rainbow, caparisoned with roseate dreams, and +mantled with wings blue as the eyes of the partridge. By the Body and +the Blood, by the Censer and the Seal, by the Book and the Sword, by +the Rag and the Gold, by the Sound and the Colour, if thou does but +return once into that hovel of elegies where eunuchs find ugly women +for imbecile sultans, I’ll curse thee; I’ll rave at thee; I’ll make +thee fast from roguery and love; I’ll-- + +Phist! Here she is astride a sunbeam with a volume that is ready to +burst with merry meteors! She plays in their prisms, tearing about so +madly, so wildly, so boldly, so contrary to good sense, so contrary to +good manners, so contrary to everything, that one has to touch her +with long feathers, to follow her siren’s tail in the golden facets +which trifle among the artifices of these new pearls of laughter. Ye +gods! but she is sporting herself in them like a hundred schoolboys in +a hedge full of blackberries, after vespers. To the devil with the +magister! The volume is finished! Out upon work! What ho! my jovial +friends; this way! + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg’s Droll Stories, Complete, by Honoré de Balzac + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 13260 *** |