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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/25407-0.txt b/25407-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..ca0469c --- /dev/null +++ b/25407-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,2840 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Merrie Tales Of Jacques Tournebroche, by +Anatole France + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Merrie Tales Of Jacques Tournebroche + 1909 + +Author: Anatole France + +Translator: Alfred Allinson + +Release Date: May 9, 2008 [EBook #25407] +Last Updated: October 5, 2016 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK JACQUES TOURNEBROCHE *** + + + + +Produced by David Widger + + + + + + + + + + +THE MERRIE TALES OF JACQUES TOURNEBROCHE + +AND CHILD LIFE IN TOWN AND COUNTRY + +By Anatole France + +John Lane Company, MCMXIX + +Copyright 1909 + +John Lane Company + + + + +THE MERRIE TALES OF JACQUES TOURNEBROCHE + + + + +OLIVIER’S BRAG + +[Illustration: 016] + +The Emperor Charlemagne and his twelve peers, having taken the palmer’s +staff at Saint-Denis, made a pilgrimage to Jerusalem. They prostrated +themselves before the tomb of Our Lord, and sat in the thirteen chairs +of the great hall wherein Jesus Christ and his Apostles met together +to celebrate the blessed sacrifice of the Mass. Then they fared to +Constantinople, being fain to see King Hugo, who was renowned for his +magnificence. + +The King welcomed them in his Palace, where, beneath a golden dome, +birds of ruby, wrought with a wondrous art, sat and sang in bushes of +emerald. + +He seated the Emperor of France and the twelve Counts about a table +loaded with stags, boars, cranes, wild geese, and peacocks, served in +pepper. And he offered his guests, in ox-horns, the wines of Greece and +Asia to drink. Charlemagne and his companions quaffed all these wines +in honour of the King and his daughter, the Princess Helen. After supper +Hugo led them to the chamber where they were to sleep. Now this chamber +was circular, and a column, springing in the midst thereof, carried the +vaulted roof. Nothing could be finer to look upon. Against the walls, +which were hung with gold and purple, twelve beds were ranged, while +another greater than the rest stood beside the pillar. + +Charlemagne lay in this, and the Counts stretched themselves round about +him on the others. The wine they had drunk ran hot in their veins, and +their brains were afire. They could not sleep, and fell to making brags +instead, and laying of wagers, as is the way of the knights of France, +each striving to outdo the other in warranting himself to do some +doughty deed for to manifest his prowess. The Emperor opened the game. +He said: + +“Let them fetch me, a-horseback and fully armed, the best knight King +Hugo hath. I will lift my sword and bring it down upon him in such wise +it shall cleave helm and hauberk, saddle and steed, and the blade shall +delve a foot deep underground.” + +Guillaume d’Orange spake up after the Emperor and made the second brag. + +“I will take,” said he, “a ball of iron sixty men can scarce lift, and +hurl it so mightily against the Palace wall that it shall beat down +sixty fathoms’ length thereof.” + +Ogier, the Dane, spake next. + +“Ye see yon proud pillar which bears up the vault. To-morrow will I tear +it down and break it like a straw.” + +After which Renaud de Montauban cried with an oath: + +“‘Od’s life! Count Ogier, whiles you overset the pillar, I will clap the +dome on my shoulders and hale it down to the seashore.” + +Gérard de Rousillon it was made the fifth brag. + +He boasted he would uproot single-handed, in one hour, all the trees in +the Royal pleasaunce. + +Aimer took up his parable when Gérard was done. + +“I have a magic hat,” said he, “made of a sea-calf’s skin, which renders +me invisible. I will set it on my head, and to-morrow, whenas King Hugo +is seated at meat, I will eat up his fish and drink down his wine, I +will tweak his nose and buffet his ears. Not knowing whom or what +to blame, he will clap all his serving-men in gaol and scourge them +sore,--and we shall laugh.” + +“For me,” declared Huon de Bordeaux, whose turn it was, “for me, I am +so nimble I will trip up to the King and cut off his beard and eyebrows +without his knowing aught about the matter. ‘T is a piece of sport I +will show you to-morrow. And I shall have no need of a sea-calf hat +either!” + +Doolin de Mayence made his brag too. He promised to eat up in one +hour all the figs and all the oranges and all the lemons in the King’s +orchards. + +Next the Due Naisme said in this wise: + +“By my faith! _I_ will go into the banquet hall, I will catch up flagons +and cups of gold and fling them so high they will never light down again +save to tumble into the moon.” + +Bernard de Brabant then lifted his great voice: + +“I will do better yet,” he roared. “Ye know the river that flows by +Constantinople is broad and deep, for it is come nigh its mouth by then, +after traversing Egypt, Babylon, and the Earthly Paradise. Well, I will +turn it from its bed and make it flood the Great Square of the City.” + +Gérard de Viane said: + +“Put a dozen knights in line of array. And I will tumble all the twelve +on their noses, only by the wind of my sword.” + +It was the Count Roland laid the twelfth wager, in the fashion +following: + +“I will take my horn, I will go forth of the city and I will blow such a +blast all the gates of the town will drop from their hinges.” + +Olivier alone had said no word yet. He was young and courteous, and the +Emperor loved him dearly. + +“Olivier, my son,” he asked, “will you not make your brag like the rest +of us?” + +“Right willingly, sire,” Olivier replied. + +“Do you know the name of Hercules of Greece?” + +“Yea, I have heard some discourse of him,” said Charlemagne. “He was an +idol of the misbelievers, like the false god Mahound.” + +“Not so, sire,” said Olivier. “Hercules of Greece was a knight among +the Pagans and King of a Pagan kingdom. He was a gallant champion and +stoutly framed in all his limbs. Visiting the Court of a certain Emperor +who had fifty daughters, virgins, he wedded them all on one and the same +night, and that so well and throughly that next morning they all avowed +themselves well-contented women and with naught left to learn. He had +not slighted ever a one of them. Well, sire, an you will, I will lay my +wager to do after the fashion of Hercules of Greece.” + +“Nay, beware, Olivier, my son,” cried the Emperor, “beware what you do; +the thing would be a sin. I felt sure this King Hercules was a Saracen!” + +“Sire,” returned Olivier, “know this--I warrant me to show in the same +space of time the selfsame prowess with one virgin that Herailes of +Greece did with fifty. And the maid shall be none other but the Princess +Helen, King Hugo’s daughter.” + +“Good and well,” agreed Charlemagne; “that will be to deal honestly and +as a good Christian should. But you were in the wrong, my son, to drag +the fifty virgins of King Hercules into your business, wherein, the +Devil fly away with me else, I can see but one to be concerned.” + +“Sire,” answered Olivier mildly, “there is but one of a truth. But she +shall win such satisfaction of me that, an I number the tokens of my +love, you will to-morrow see fifty crosses scored on the wall, and that +is _my_ brag.” + +The Count Olivier was yet speaking when lo! the column which bare the +vault opened. The pillar was hollow and contrived in such sort that +a man could lie hid therein at his ease to see and hear everything. +Charlemagne and the twelve Counts had never a notion of this; so they +were sore surprised to behold the King of Constantinople step forth. He +was white with anger and his eyes flashed fire. + +He said in a terrible voice: + +“So this is how ye show your gratitude for the hospitality I offer you. +Ye are ill-mannered guests. For a whole hour have ye been insulting me +with your bragging wagers. Well, know this,--you, Sir Emperor, and ye, +his knights; if to-morrow ye do not all of you make good your boasts, I +will have your heads cut off.” + +Having said his say, he stepped back within the pillar, which shut to +again closely behind him. For a while the twelve paladins were dumb +with wonder and consternation. The Emperor was the first to break the +silence. + +“Comrades,” he said, “‘tis true we have bragged too freely. Mayhap we +have spoken things better unsaid. We have drunk overmuch wine, and have +shown unwisdom. The chiefest fault is mine; I am your Emperor, and I +gave you the bad example. I will devise with you to-morrow of the means +whereby we may save us from this perilous pass; meantime, it behoves us +to get to sleep. I wish you a good night. God have you in his keeping!” + +A moment later the Emperor and the twelve peers were snoring under their +coverlets of silk and cloth of gold. + +They awoke on the morrow, their minds still distraught and deeming the +thing was but a nightmare. But anon soldiers came to lead them to the +Palace, that they might make good their brags before the King’s face. + +“Come,” cried the Emperor, “come; and let us pray God and His Holy +Mother. By Our Lady’s help shall we easily make good our brags.” + +He marched in front with a more than human majesty of port. Arriving +anon at the King’s Palace, Charlemagne, Naisme, Aimer, Huon, Doolin, +Guillaume, Ogier, Bernard, Renaud, the two Gérards, and Roland fell on +their knees and, joining their hands in prayer, made this supplication +to the Holy Virgin: + +“Lady, which art in Paradise, look on us now in our extremity; for love +of the Realm of the Lilies, which is thine own, protect the Emperor of +France and his twelve peers, and give them the puissance to make good +their brags.” + +Thereafter they rose up comforted and fulfilled of bright courage and +gallant confidence, for they knew that Our Lady would answer their +prayer. + +King Hugo, seated on a golden throne, accosted them, saying: + +“The hour is come to make good your brags. But an if ye fail so to do, I +will have your heads cut off. Begone therefore, straightway, escorted by +my men-at-arms, each one of you to the place meet for the doing of the +fine things ye have insolently boasted ye will accomplish.” + +At this order they separated and went divers ways, each followed by a +little troop of armed men. Whiles some returned to the hall where they +had passed the night, others betook them to the gardens and orchards. +Bernard de Brabant made for the river, Roland hied him to the ramparts, +and all marched valiantly. Only Olivier and Charlemagne tarried in the +Palace, waiting, the one for the knight that he had sworn to cleave in +twain, the other for the maiden he was to wed. + +But in very brief while a fearful sound arose, awful as the last trump +that shall proclaim to mankind the end of the world. It reached the +Great Hall of the Palace, set the birds of ruby trembling on their +emerald perches and shook King Hugo on his throne of gold. + +‘Twas a noise of walls crumbling into ruin and floods roaring, and +high above the din blared out an ear-splitting trumpet blast. Meanwhile +messengers had come hurrying in from all quarters of the city, and +thrown themselves trembling at the King’s feet, bearing strange and +terrible tidings. + +“Sire,” said one, “sixty fathoms’ length of the city walls is fallen in +at one crash.” + +“Sire,” cried another, “the pillar which bare up your vaulted hall is +broken down, and the dome thereof we have seen walking like a tortoise +toward the sea.” + +“Sire,” faltered a third, “the river, with its ships and its fishes, +is pouring through the streets, and will soon be beating against your +Palace walls.” + +King Hugo, white with terror, muttered: + +“By my faith! these men are wizards.” + +“Well, Sir King,” Charlemagne addressed him with a smile on his lips, +“the Knight I wait for is long of coming.” + +The King sent for him, and he came. He was a knight of stately stature +and well armed. The good Emperor clave him in twain, as he had said. + +Now while these things were a-doing, Olivier thought to himself: + +“The intervention of Our Most Blessed Lady is plain to see in these +marvels; and I am rejoiced to behold the manifest tokens she vouchsafes +of her love for the Realm of France. Not in vain have the Emperor and +his companions implored the succour of the Holy Virgin, Mother of God. +Alas! _I_ shall pay for all the rest, and have my head cut off. For I +cannot well ask the Virgin Mary to help me make good _my_ brag. ‘Tis +an enterprise of a sort wherein ‘twould be indiscreet to crave the +interference of Her who is the _Lily of Purity_, the _Tower of Ivory_, +the _Guarded Door_ and the _Fenced Orchard-Close_. And, lacking aid from +on high, I am sore afraid I may not do so much as I have said.” + +Thus ran Olivier’s thoughts, when King Hugo roughly accosted him with +the words: + +“‘T is now your turn, Count, to fulfil your promise.” + +“Sire,” replied Olivier, “I am waiting with great impatience for the +Princess your daughter. For you must needs do me the priceless grace of +giving me her hand.” + +“That is but fair,” said King Hugo. “I will therefore bid her come to +you and a chaplain with her for to celebrate the marriage.” + +At church, during the ceremony, Olivier reflected: + +“The maid is sweet and comely as ever a man could desire, and too fain +am I to clip her in my arms to regret the brag I have made.” + +That evening, after supper, the Princess Helen and the Count Olivier +were escorted by twelve ladies and twelve knights to a chamber, wherein +the twain were left alone together. + +There they passed the night, and on the morrow guards came and led them +both before King Hugo. He was on his throne, surrounded by his knights. +Near by stood Charlemagne and the peers. + +“Well, Count Olivier,” demanded the King, “is your brag made good?” + +Olivier held his peace, and already was King Hugo rejoiced at heart +to think his new son-in-law’s head must fall. For of all the brags and +boasts, it was Olivier’s had angered him worst. + +“Answer,” he stormed. “Do you dare to tell me your brag is +accomplished?” + +Thereupon the Princess Helen, blushing and smiling, spake with eyes +downcast and in a faint voice, yet clear withal, and said,--“Yea!” + +Right glad were Charlemagne and the peers to hear the Princess say this +word. + +“Well, well,” said Hugo, “these Frenchmen have God and the Devil +o’ their side. It was fated I should cut off none of these knights’ +heads.... Come hither, son-in-law,”--and he stretched forth his hand to +Olivier, who kissed it. + +The Emperor Charlemagne embraced the Princess and said to her: + +“Helen, I hold you for my daughter and my son’s wife. You will go along +with us to France, and you will live at our Court.” + +Then, as his lips lay on the Princess’s cheek, he rounded softly in her +ear: + +“You spake as a loving-hearted woman should. But tell me this in closest +confidence,--Did you speak the truth?” + +She answered: + +“Sire, Olivier is a gallant man and a courteous. He was so full of +pretty ways and dainty devices for to distract my mind, _I_ never +thought of counting. Nor yet did _he_ keep score. Needs therefore must I +hold him quit of his promise.” + +King Hugo made great rejoicings for his daughter’s nuptials. Thereafter +Charlemagne and his twelve peers returned back to France, taking with +them the Princess Helen. + + + + +THE MIRACLE OF THE MAGPIE + +[Illustration: 034] + + + + +I + +LENT, of the year 1429, presented a strange marvel of the Calendar, a +conjunction that moved the admiration not only of the common crowd +of the Faithful, but eke of Clerks, well learned in Arithmetic. For +Astronomy, mother of the Calendar, was Christian in those days. In 1429 +Good Friday fell on the Feast of the Annunciation, so that one and the +same day combined the commemoration of the two several mysteries which +did commence and consummate the redemption of mankind, and in wondrous +wise superimposed one on top of the other, Jesus conceived in the +Virgin’s womb and Jesus dying on the Cross. This Friday, whereon the +mystery of joy came so to coincide exactly with the mystery of sorrow, +was named the “Grand Friday,” and was kept holy with solemn Feasts on +Mount Anis, in the Church of the Annunciation. For many years, by gift +of the Popes of Rome, the sanctuary of Mount Anis had possessed the +privilege of the plenary indulgences of a great jubilee, and the +late-deceased Bishop of Le Puy, Élie de Le-strange, had gotten Pope +Martin to restore this _pardon_. It was a favour of the sort the Popes +scarce ever refused, when asked in due and proper form. + +The _pardon_ of the Grand Friday drew a great crowd of pilgrims and +traders to Le Puy-en-Velay. As early as mid February folk from distant +lands set out thither in cold and wind and rain. For the most part +they fared on foot, staff in hand. Whenever they could, these pilgrims +travelled in companies, to the end they might not be robbed and held to +ransom by the armed bands that infested the country parts, and by the +barons who exacted toll on the confines of their lands. Inasmuch as +the mountain districts were especially dangerous, they tarried in the +neighbouring towns, Clermont, Issoire, Brioude, Lyons, Issingeaux, +Alais, till they were gathered in a great host, and then went forth on +their road in the snow. During Holy Week a strange multitude thronged +the hilly streets of Le Puy,--pedlars from Languedoc and Provence and +Catalonia, leading their mules laded with leather goods, oil, wool, webs +of cloth, or wines of Spain in goat-skins; lords a-horseback and ladies +in wains, artisans and traders pacing on their mules, with wife or +daughter perched behind, Then came the poor pilgrim folk, limping along, +halting and hobbling, stick in hand and bag on back, panting up the +stiff climb. Last were the flocks of oxen and sheep being driven to the +slaughterhouses. + +Now, leant against the wall of the Bishop’s palace, stood Florent +Guillaume, looking as long and dry and black as an espalier vine in +winter, and devoured pilgrims and cattle with his eyes. + +“Look,” he called to Marguerite the lace-maker, “look at yonder fine +heads of bestial.” + +And Marguerite, squatted beside her bobbins, called back: + +“Yea, fine beasts, and fat withal!” + +Both the twain were very bare and scant of the goods of this world, and +even then were feeling bitterly the pinch of hunger. And folk said +it came of their own fault. At that very moment Pierre Grandmange the +tripe-seller was saying as much, where he stood in his tripe-shop, +pointing a finger at them. “‘T would be sinful,” he was crying, “to give +an alms to such good-for-nothing varlets.” The tripe-seller would fain +have been very charitable, but he feared to lose his soul by giving to +evil-livers, and all the fat citizens of Le Puy had the selfsame +scruples. + +To say truth, we must needs allow that, in the heyday of her hot youth, +Marguerite the lace-maker had not matched St. Lucy in purity, St. Agatha +in constancy, and St. Catherine in staidness. As for Florent Guillaume, +he had been the best scrivener in the city. For years he had not had his +equal for engrossing the Hours of Our Lady of Le Puy. But he had been +over fond of merrymakings and junketings. Now his hand had lost its +cunning, and his eye its clearness; he could no more trace the letters +on the parchment with the needful steadiness of touch. Even so, he might +have won his livelihood by teaching apprentices in his shop at the +sign of the Image of Our Lady, under the choir buttresses of _The +Annunciation_, for he was a fellow of good counsel and experience. But +having had the ill fortune to borrow of Maître Jacquet Coquedouille the +sum of six livres ten sous, and having paid him back at divers terms +eighty livres two sous, he had found himself at the last to owe yet +six livres two sous to the account of his creditor, which account was +approved correct by the judges, for Jacquet Coquedouille was a sound +arithmetician. This was the reason why the scrivenry of Florent +Guillaume, under the choir buttresses of _The Annunciation_, was sold, +on Saturday the fifth day of March, being the Feast of St. Theophilus, +to the profit of Maître Jacquet Coquedouille. Since that time the poor +penman had never a place to call his own. But by the good help of Jean +Magne the bell-ringer and with the protection of Our Lady, whose Hours +he had aforetime written, Florent Guillaume found a perch o’ nights in +the steeple of the Cathedral. + +The scrivener and the lace-maker had much ado to live. Marguerite only +kept body and soul together by chance and charity, for she had long lost +her good looks and she hated the lace-making. They helped each other. +Folks said so by way of reproach; they had been better advised to +account it to them for righteousness. Florent Guillaume was a learned +clerk. Well knowing every word of the history of the beautiful Black +Virgin of Le Puy and the ordering of the ceremonies of the great +_pardon_, he had conceived the notion he might serve as guide to the +pilgrims, deeming he would surely light on someone compassionate enough +to pay him a supper in guerdon of his fine stories. But the first folk +he had offered his services to had bidden him begone because his ragged +coat bespoke neither good guidance nor clerkly wit; so he had come back, +downhearted and crestfallen, to the Bishop’s wall, where he had his +bit of sunshine and his kind gossip Marguerite. “They reckon,” he said +bitterly, “I am not learned enough to number them the relics and recount +the miracles of Our Lady. Do they think my wits have escaped away +through the holes in my gaberdine?” + +“‘Tis not the wits,” replied Marguerite, “escape by the holes in a +body’s clothes, but the good natural heat. I am sore a-cold. And it +is but too true that, man and woman, they judge us by our dress. The +gallants would find me comely enough yet if I was accoutred like my Lady +the Comtesse de Clermont.” + +Meanwhile, all the length of the street in front of them the pilgrims +were elbowing and fighting their way to the Sanctuary, where they were +to win pardon for their sins. + +“They will surely suffocate anon,” said Marguerite. “Twenty-two years +agone, on the Grand Friday, two hundred persons died stifled under the +porch of _The Annunciation_. God have their souls in keeping! Ay, those +were the good times, when I was young!” + +“‘Tis very true indeed, that year you tell of, two hundred pilgrims +crushed each other to death and departed from this world to the other. +And next day was never a sign to be seen of aught untoward.” + +As he so spake, Florent Guillaume noted a pilgrim, a very fat man, who +was not hurrying to get him assoiled with the same hot haste as the +rest, but kept rolling his wide eyes to right and left with a look of +distress and fear. Florent Guillaume stepped up to him and louted low. + +“Messire,” he accosted him, “one may see at a glance you are a sensible +man and an experienced; you do not rush blindly to the _pardon_ like a +sheep to the slaughter. The rest of the folk go helter-skelter thither, +the nose of one under the tail of the other; but you follow a wiser +fashion. Grant me the boon to be your guide, and you will not repent +your bargain.” + +The pilgrim, who proved to be a gentleman of Limoges, answered in the +patois of his countryside, that he had no use for a scurvy beggarman and +could very well find his own way to _The Annunciation_ for to receive +pardon for his faults. And therewith he set his face resolutely to the +hill. But Florent Guillaume cast himself at his feet, and tearing at his +hair: + +“Stop! stop! messire,” he cried; “i’ God’s name and by all the Saints, +I warn you go no farther! ‘T will be your death, and you are not the man +we could see perish without grief and dolour. A few steps more and you +are a dead man! They are suffocating up yonder. Already full six hundred +pilgrims have given up the ghost. And this is but a small beginning! Do +you not know, messire, that twenty-two years agone, in the year of grace +one thousand four hundred and seven, on the selfsame day and at the +selfsame hour, under yonder porch, nine thousand six hundred and +thirty-eight persons, without reckoning women and children, trampled +each other underfoot and perished miserably? An you met the same fate, +I should never smile again. To see you is to love you, messire; to know +you is to conceive a sudden and overmastering desire to serve you.” + +The Limousin gentleman had halted in no small surprise and turned +pale to hear such discourse and see the fellow tearing out his hair in +fistfuls. In his terror he was for turning back the way he had come. But +Florent Guillaume, on his knees in the mud, held him back by the skirt +of his jacket. + +“Never go that way, messire! not that way. You might meet Jacquet +Coquedouille, and you would be all in an instant turned into stone. +Better encounter the basilisk than Jacquet Coquedouille. I will tell you +what you must do if, like the wise and prudent man your face proclaims +you to be, you would live long and make your peace with God. Hearken +to me; I am a scholar, a Bachelor. To-day the holy relics will be borne +through the streets and crossways of the city. You will find great +solace in touching the carven shrines which enclose the cornelian cup +wherefrom the child Jesus drank, one of the wine-jars of the Marriage at +Cana, the cloth of the Last Supper, and the holy foreskin. If you take +my advice, we will go wait for them, under cover, at a cookshop I wot +of, before which they will pass without fail.” + +Then, in a wheedling voice, without loosing his hold of the pilgrim’s +jacket, he pointed to the lace-maker and said: + +“Messire, you must give six sous to yonder worthy woman, that she may go +buy us wine, for she knows where good liquor is to be gotten.” + +The Limousin gentleman, who was a simple soul after all, went where he +was led, and Florent Guillaume supped on the leg and wing of a goose, +the bones whereof he put in his pocket as a present for Madame Ysabeau, +his fellow lodger in the timbers of the steeple,--to wit, Jean Magne the +bell-ringer’s magpie. + +He found her that night perched on the beam where she was used to roost, +beside the hole in the wall which was her storeroom wherein she hoarded +walnuts and hazel-nuts, almonds and beech-nuts. She had awoke at the +noise of his coming and flapped her wings; so he greeted her very +courteously, addressing her in these obliging terms: + +“Magpie most pious, lady recluse, bird of the cloister, Margot of the +Nunnery, sable-frocked Abbess, Church fowl of the lustrous coat, all +hail!” + +Then offering her the goose bones nicely folded in a cabbage leaf: + +“Lady,” he said, “I bring you here the scraps remaining of a good dinner +a gentleman from Limoges gave me. His countrymen are radish eaters; but +I have taught this one to prefer an Anis goose to all the radishes in +the Limousin.” + +Next day and the rest of the week Florent Guillaume,--for he could never +light on his fat friend again nor yet any other good pilgrim with a +well-lined travelling wallet,--fasted _a solis ortu usque ad occasum_, +from rising sun to dewy eve. Marguerite the lace-maker did likewise. +This was very meet and right, seeing the time was Holy Week. + + + + +II. + +[Illustration: 046] + +Now on Holy Easter Day, Maître Jacquet Coquedouille, a notable citizen +of the place, was peeping through a hole in a shutter of his house and +watching the countless throng of pilgrims passing down the steep street. +They were wending homewards, happy to have won their pardon; and the +sight of them greatly magnified his veneration for the Black Virgin. For +he deemed a lady so much sought after must needs be a puissant dame. +He was old, and his only hope lay in God’s mercy. Yet was he but +ill-assured of his eternal salvation, for he remembered how many a time +he had ruthlessly fleeced the widow and the orphan. Moreover, he had +robbed Florent Guillaume of his scrivenry at the sign of Our Lady. He +was used to lend at high interest on sound security. Yet could no man +infer he was a usurer, forasmuch as he was a Christian, and it was only +the Jews practised usury,--the Jews, and, if you will, the Lombards and +the men of Cahors. + +Now Jacquet Coquedouille went about the matter quite otherwise than the +Jews. He never said, like Jacob, Ephraim, and Manasses, “I am lending +you money.” What he did say was, “I am putting money into your business +to help your trafficking,” a different thing altogether. For usury and +lending upon interest were forbidden by the Church, but trafficking was +lawful and permitted. + +And yet at the thought how he had brought many Christian folk to poverty +and despair, Jacquet Coquedouille felt the pangs of remorse, as he +pictured the sword of Divine Justice hanging over his head. So on this +holy Easter Day he was fain to secure him against the Last Judgment +by winning the protection of Our Lady. He thought to himself she would +plead for him at the judgment seat of her divine Son, if only he gave +her a handsome fee. So he went to the great chest where he kept his +gold, and, after making sure the chamber door was shut fast, he opened +the chest, which was full of angels, flor-ins, esterlings, nobles, gold +crowns, gold ducats, and golden sous, and all the coins ever struck by +Christian or Saracen. He extracted with a sigh of regret twelve +deniers of fine gold and laid them on the table, which was crowded +with balances, files, scissors, gold-scales, and account books. After +shutting his chest again and triple-locking it, he numbered the deniers, +renumbered them, gazed long at them with looks of affection, and +addressed them in words so soft and sweet, so affable and ingratiating, +so gentle and courteous, it seemed rather the music of the spheres than +human speech. + +“Oh, little angels!” sighed the good old man. “Oh, my dear little +angels! Oh, my pretty gold sheep, with the fine, precious fleece!” + +And taking the pieces between his fingers with as much reverence as it +had been the body of Our Lord, he put them in the balance and made sure +they were of the full weight,--or very near, albeit a trifle clipped +already by the Lombards and the Jews, through whose hands they had +passed. After which he spoke to them yet more graciously than before: + +“Oh, my pretty sheep, my sweet, pretty lambs, there, let me shear you! +‘T will do you no hurt at all.” + +Then, seizing his great scissors, he clipped off shreds of gold here and +there, as he was used to clip every piece of money before parting with +it. And he gathered the clippings carefully in a wooden bowl that was +already half full of bits of gold. He was ready to give twelve angels +to the Holy Virgin; but he felt no way bound to depart from his use and +wont. This done, he went to the aumry where his pledges lay, and drew +out a little blue purse, broidered with silver, which a dame of the +petty trading sort had left with him in her distress. He remembered that +blue and white are Our Lady’s colours. + +That day and the next he did nothing further. But in the night, betwixt +Monday and Tuesday, he had cramps, and dreamt the devils were pulling +him by the feet. This he took for a warning of God and our Blessed Lady, +tarried within doors pondering the matter all the day, and then toward +evening went to lay his offering at the feet of the Black Virgin. + + + + +III + +[Illustration: 051] + +THAT same day, as night was closing in, Florent Guillaume thought +ruefully of returning to his airy bedchamber. He had fasted the livelong +day, sore against the grain, holding that a good Christian ought not to +fast in the glorious Resurrection week. Before mounting to his bed in +the steeple, he went to offer a pious prayer to the Lady of Le Puy. She +was still there in the midst of the Church at the spot where she had +offered herself on the Grand Friday to the veneration of the Faithful. +Small and black, crowned with jewels, in a mantle blazing with gold and +precious stones and pearls, she held on her knees the Child Jesus, who +was as black as his mother and passed his head through a slit in her +cloak. It was the miraculous image which St. Louis had received as a +gift from the Soldan of Egypt and had carried with his own hands to the +Church of Anis. + +All the pilgrims were gone now, and the Church was dark and empty. The +last offerings of the Faithful were spread at the feet of the beautiful +Black Virgin, displayed on a table lit with wax tapers. You could see +amongst the rest a head, hearts, hands, feet, a woman’s breasts of +silver, a little boat of gold, eggs, loaves, Aurillac cheeses, and in +a bowl full of deniers, sous, and groats, a little blue purse broidered +with silver. Over against the table, in a huge chair, dozed the priest +who guarded the offerings. + +Florent Guillaume dropped on his knees before the holy image, and said +over to himself this pious prayer: + +“Lady, an it be true that the holy prophet Jeremias, having beheld thee +with the eyes of faith ere ever thou wast conceived, carved with his +hands out of cedar-wood in thy likeness the holy image before which I +am at this present kneeling; an it be true that afterward King Ptolemy, +instructed of the miracles wrought by this same holy image, took it +from the Jewish priests, bare it to Egypt and set it up, covered +with precious stones, in the temple of the idols; an it be true that +Nebuchadnezzar, conqueror of the Egyptians, seized it in his turn and +had it laid amongst his treasure, where the Saracens found it when they +captured Babylon; an it be true that the Soldan loved it in his heart +above all things, and was used to adore it at the least once every day; +an it be true that the said Soldan had never given it to our saintly +King Louis, but that his wife, who was a Saracen dame, yet prized +chivalry and knightly prowess, resolved to make it a gift to the best +knight and worthiest champion of all Christendom; in a word, an this +image be miraculous, as I do firmly credit, have it do a miracle, Lady, +in favour of the poor clerk who hath many a time writ thy praises on +the vellum of the service books. He hath sanctified his sinful hands by +engrossing in a fair writing, with great red capitals at the beginning +of each clause, ‘the fifteen joys of Our Lady,’ in the vulgar tongue +and in rhyme, for the comforting of the afflicted. ‘Tis pious work this. +Think of it, Lady, and heed not his sins. Give him somewhat to eat. +‘Twill both do me much profit, and bring thee great honour, for the +miracle will appear no mean one to all them that know the world. Thou +hast this day gotten gold, eggs, cheeses, and a little blue purse +broidered with silver. Lady, I grudge thee none of the gifts that have +been made thee. Thou dost well deserve them, yea, and more than they. I +do not so much as ask thee to make them give me back what a thief hath +robbed me of, a thief by name Jacquet Coque-douille, one of the most +honoured citizens of this thy town of Le Puy. No, all I ask of thee +is not to let me die of hunger. And if thou grant me this boon, I will +indite a full and fair history of thine holy image here present.” + +So prayed Florent Guillaume. The soft murmur of his petition was +answered only by the deep-chested, placid snore of the sleeping priest. +The poor scrivener rose from his knees, stepped noiselessly adown the +nave, for he was grown so light his footfall could scarce be heard, and, +fasting as he was, climbed the tower stairs that had as many steps as +there are days in the year. + +Meanwhile Madame Ysabeau, slipping under the cloister gate, entered +her Church. The pilgrims had driven her away, for she loved peace and +solitude. The bird came forward cautiously, putting one foot slowly +in front of the other, then stopped and craned her neck, casting a +suspicious look to right and left. Then giving a graceful little jump +and shaking out her tail feathers, she hopped up to the Black Madonna. +Then she stood stock still a few moments, scrutinising the sleeping +watchman and questioning the darkness and silence with eyes and ears +alert. At last with a mighty flutter of wings she alighted on the table +of offerings. + + + + +IV + +[Illustration: 056] + +MEANWHILE Florent Guillaume had settled himself for the night in the +steeple. It was bitter cold. The wind came blowing in through the +luffer-boards and fluted and organed among the bells to rejoice the +heart of the cats and owls. And this was not the only objection to +the lodging. Since the earthquake of 1427, which had shaken the whole +church, the spire was dropping to pieces stone by stone and threatened +to collapse altogether in the first storm. Our Lady suffered this +dilapidation because of the people’s sins. + +Presently Florent Guillaume fell asleep, which is a token of his +innocency of heart. What dreams he dreamt is clean forgot, except that +he had a vision in his sleep of a lady of consummate beauty who came and +kissed him on the mouth. But when his lips opened to return her salute, +he swallowed two or three woodlice that were walking over his face and +by their tickling had deluded his sleeping senses into the agreeable +fancy. He awoke, and hearing a noise of wings beating above his head, he +thought it was a devil, as was very natural for him to opine, seeing how +the evil spirits flock in countless swarms to torment mankind, and above +all at night time. But the moon just then breaking through the clouds, +he recognised Madame Ysabeau and saw she was busy with her beak pushing +into a crack in the wall that served her for storehouse a blue purse +broidered with silver. He let her do as she list; but when she had left +her hoard, he clambered onto a beam, took the purse, opened it, and saw +it contained twelve good gold deniers, which he clapped in his belt, +giving thanks to the incomparable Black Virgin of Le Puy. For he was a +clerk and versed in the Scriptures, and he remembered how the Lord fed +his prophet Elias by a raven; whence he inferred that the Holy Mother +of God had sent by a magpie twelve deniers to her poor penman, Florent +Guillaume. + +On the morrow Florent and Marguerite the lace-maker ate a dish of +tripe,--a treat they had craved for many a long year. + +So ends the Miracle of the Magpie. May he who tells the tale live, as he +would fain live, in good and gentle peace, and all good hap befall such +folk as shall read the same. + + + + +BROTHER JOCONDE + +[Illustration: 062] + +THE Parisians were far from loving the English and found it hard to put +up with them. When, after the obsequies of the late King Charles VI, the +Duke of Bedford had the sword of the King of France borne before him, +the people murmured. But what cannot be cured must be endured. Besides, +though the capital hated the English, it loved the Burgundians. What +more natural for citizen folk, and especially for money-changers and +traders, than to admire Duke Philip, a prince of seemly presence and the +richest nobleman in Christendom. As for the “little King of Bourges,” + a sorry-looking mortal and very poor, strongly suspected, moreover, of +foul murder at the Bridge of Montereau, what had he about him to please +folk withal? Scorn was the sentiment felt for him, and horror and +loathing for his partisans. For ten years now had these been riding and +raiding around the walls, pillaging and holding to ransom. No doubt the +English and Burgun-dians did much the same; when, in the month of +August, 1423, Duke Philip came to Paris, his men-at-arms had ravaged all +the country about. And they were friends and allies of course; but after +all they only came and went. The Armagnacs, on the contrary, were always +in the field, stealing whatever they could lay their hands upon, firing +farmsteads and churches, killing women and children, deflowering virgins +and nuns, hanging men by the thumbs. In 1420 they threw themselves like +devils let loose on the village of Champigny and burnt up altogether +oats, wheat, lambs, cows, oxen, children, and women. They did the like +and worse at Croissy. A very great clerk of the University declared they +wrought all wickedness that can be wrought and conceived, and that more +Christian folk had been martyred at their hands than ever Maximian or +Diocletian did to death. + +At the news that these accursed Armagnacs were at the gates of Compiègne +and occupying the neighbouring castles and their lands, the folk of +Paris were sore afraid. They believed that the Dauphin’s soldiers had +sworn, if they entered Paris, to slay whomsoever they found there. They +affirmed openly that Messire Charles de Valois had given up to his men’s +mercy town and townsmen, great and small, of every rank and condition, +men and women, and that he proposed to drive the plough over the site of +the city. The inhabitants mostly believed the tale; so they set the St. +Andrew’s cross on their coats, in token that they were of the party of +the Burgundians. Their hatred was doubled, and their fears with it, when +they learned that Brother Richard and the Maid Jeanne were at the head +of King Charles’ army. They knew nothing of the Maid save from the +rumour of the victories she was reported to have won at Orleans. But +they deemed she had vanquished the English by the Devil’s aid, by means +of spells and enchantments. + +The Masters of the University all said: “A creature in shape of a woman +is with the Armagnacs. What it is, God knows!” + +For Brother Richard, they knew him well. He had come to Paris before, +and they had hearkened reverently to his sermons. He had even persuaded +them to renounce those games of chance for which they had been used +to forget meat and drink and the services of the Church. Now, at the +tidings that Brother Richard was on foray with the Armagnacs and +winning over for them by his well-hung tongue good towns like Troyes in +Champagne, they called down on him the curse of God and his Saints. They +tore out of their hats the leaden medals inscribed with the holy name +of Jesus, which the good Brother had given them, and to show in what +detestation they held him, resumed dice, bowls, draughts, and all other +games they had renounced at his exhortation. + +The city was strongly fortified, for in the days when King Jean was a +prisoner of the English, the citizens of Paris, seeing the enemy in the +heart of the Kingdom, had feared a siege and had hastened to put the +walls in a state of defence. They had surrounded the place with moats +and counter-moats. The moats, on the left bank of the river, were dug +at the foot of the walls forming the old circle of fortification. But +on the right bank there were faubourgs, both extensive and well built, +outside the walls and almost touching them. The new moats enclosed a +part of these, and the Dauphin Charles, King Jean’s son, afterward had +a wall built along the line of them. Nevertheless there was some feeling +of insecurity, for the Cathedral Chapter took measures to put the relics +and treasure out of reach of the enemy. + +Meantime, on Sunday, August 21st, a Cordelier, by name Brother Joconde, +entered the town. He had made pilgrimage to Jerusalem, and was said, +like Brother Vincent Ferrier and Brother Bernardino of Sienna, to +have enjoyed by the abounding grace of God many revelations anent the +forthcoming end of the world. He gave out that he would preach his first +sermon to the Parisians on Tuesday following, St. Bartholomew’s day, in +the Cloister of “The Innocents.” On the eve of that day more than six +thousand persons spent the night in the Cloister. At the foot of the +platform wherefrom he was to preach, the women sat squatted on their +heels, and amongst them Guillaumette Dyonis, who was blind from birth. +She was the child of an artisan who had been killed by the Burgundians +in the woods of Boulogne-la-Grande. Her mother had been carried off by +a Burgundian man-at-arms, and none knew what had become of her. +Guillaumette was fifteen or sixteen years of age. She lived at “The +Innocents” on what she made by spinning wool, at which trade there was +not a better worker to be found in all the town. She went and came in +the streets without the help of any and knew everything as well as those +who can see. As she lived a good and holy life and fasted often, she +was favoured with visions. In especial she had been accorded notable +revelations by the Apostle St. John concerning the troubles that then +beset the Kingdom of France. Now, as she was reciting her Hours at the +foot of the platform, under the great Dance of Death, a woman called +Simone la Bardine, who was seated on the ground beside her, asked her if +the good Brother was not coming soon. + +Guillaumette Dyonis could not see the tailed gown of green and the +horned wimple which Simone la Bardine wore; yet she knew by instinct the +woman was no honest dame. She felt a natural aversion for light women +and the sort the soldiers called their sweethearts or “doxies,” but it +had been revealed to her that we should hold such in great pity and +deal compassionately with them. Wherefore she answered Simone la Bardine +gently: + +“The good Father will come soon, please God. And we shall have no reason +to regret having waited, for he is eloquent in prayer and his sermons +turn the folk to devotion more even than those of Brother Richard, who +spake in these Cloisters in the springtime. He knows more than any man +living of the times that shall come and shall show us strange portents. +I trow we shall gain great profit of his words.” + +“God grant it,” sighed Simone la Bardine. “But are you not very sorry to +be blind?” + +“No. I wait to see God.” + +Simone la Bardine made her mantle into a cushion, and said: + +“Life is all ups and downs. I live at the top of the Rue Saint-Antoine. +‘T is the finest part of the city and the merriest, for the best +hostelries are in the Place Baudet and thereabout. Before the Wars there +was aye abundance there of hot cakes and fresh herrings and Auxerre +wine by the tun. With the English famine entered the town. Now is there +neither bread in the bin nor firewood on the hearth. One after other the +Armagnacs and the Burgundians have drunk up all the wine, and there is +naught left in the cellar but a little thin, sour cider and sloe-juice. +Knights armed for the tourney, pilgrims with their cockleshells +and staves, traders with their chests full of knives and little +service-books, where are they gone? They never come now to seek a +lodging and good living in the Rue Saint-Antoine. But the wolves quit +covert in the forests and prowl of nights in the faubourgs and devour +little children.” + +“Put your trust in God,” Guillaumette Dyonis answered her. + +“Amen!” returned Simone la Bardine. “But I have not told you the worst. +On the Thursday before St, John’s day, at three after midnight, two +Englishmen came knocking at my door. Not knowing but they had come to +rob me or break up my chests and coffers out of mischief, or do some +other devilment, I shouted to them from my window to go their ways, that +I did not know them and I was not going to open the door. But they only +hammered louder, swearing they were going to break in the door and +come in and cut off my nose and ears. To stop their uproar I emptied a +crockful of water on their heads; but the crock slipped out of my hands +and broke on the back of one fellow’s neck so unchancily that it felled +him. His comrade called up the watch. I was haled to the Châtelet and +clapped in prison, where I was very hardly handled, and only escaped by +paying a heavy sum of money. I found my house pillaged from cellar to +attic. From that day my affairs have gone from bad to worse, and I have +naught in the wide world but the clothes I stand up in. In very despair +I have come hither to hear the good Father, who they say abounds in +comforting words.” + +“God, who loves you,” said Guillaumctte Dyonis, “has moved you in all +this.” + +Then a great silence fell on the crowd as Brother Joconde appeared. His +eyes flashed like lightning. When he opened his lips, his voice pealed +out like thunder. + +“I have come from Jerusalem,” he began; “and to prove it, see in this +wallet are roses of Jericho, a branch of the olive under which Our +Saviour sweated drops of blood, and a handful of the earth of Calvary.” + +He gave a long narrative of his pilgrimage. And he added: + +“In Syria I met Jews travelling in companies; I asked them whither they +were bound, and they told me: ‘We are flocking in crowds to Babylon, +because in very deed the Messiah is born among men, and will restore +us our heritage, and stablish us again in the Land of Promise.’ So said +these Jews of Syria. Now the Scriptures teach us that he they call the +Messiah is, in truth, Antichrist, of whom it is said he must be born at +Babylon, chief city of the kingdom of Persia, be reared at Bethsaida, +and dwell in his youth at Chorazin. That is why Our Lord said: ‘Woe unto +thee, Chor-azin! Woe unto thee, Bethsaida!’ + +“The year that is at hand,” went on Brother Joconde, “will bring the +greatest marvels that have ever been beheld. + +“The times are at hand. He is born, the man of sin, the son of +perdition, the wicked man, the beast from out the abyss, the abomination +of desolation. He comes from the tribe of Dan, of which it is written: +‘Dan shall be a serpent in the way, an adder in the path.’ + +“Brethren, soon shall ye see returning to this earth the Prophets Elias +and Enoch, Moses, Jeremias, and St. John Evangelist. And lo! the day of +wrath is dawning, the day which ‘solvet sæclum in favilla, teste David +et Sibylla.’ Wherefore now is the time to repent and do penance and +renounce the false delights of this world.” + +At the good Brother’s word bosoms heaved with remorse and deep-drawn +sighs were heard. Not a few, both men and women, were near fainting when +the preacher cried: + +“I read in your souls that ye keep mandrakes at home, which will bring +you to hell fire.” + +It was true. Many Parisians paid heavily to the old witch-wives, who +profess unholy knowledge, for to buy mandrakes, and were used to keep +them treasured in a chest. These magic roots have the likeness of +a little man, hideously ugly and misshapen in a weird and diabolic +fashion. They would dress them out magnificently, in fine linen and +silks, and the mannikins brought them riches, chief source of all the +ills of this world. + +Next Brother Joconde thundered against women’s extravagant attire. + +“Leave off,” he bade them, “your horns and your tails! Are ye not shamed +so to bedizen yourselves like she-devils? Light bonfires, I say, in the +public streets, and cast therein and burn your damnable head-gear,--pads +and rolls, erections of leather and whalebone, wherewith ye stiffen out +the front of your hoods.” + +He ended by exhorting them with so much zeal and loving-kindness not to +lose their souls, but put themselves in the grace of God, that all who +heard him wept hot tears. And Simone la Bardine wept more abundantly +than any. + +When, finally, coming down from his platform, Brother Joconde crossed +the cloister and graveyard, the people fell on their knees as he went +by. The women gave him their little ones to bless, or besought him to +touch medals and rosaries for them. Some plucked threads from his gown, +thinking to get healing by putting them, like relics of the Saints, on +the places where they were afflicted. Guillaumette Dyonis followed the +good Father as easily as if she saw him with her bodily eyes. Simone +la Bardine trailed behind her, sobbing. She had pulled off her horned +wimple and tied a kerchief round her head. + +Thus they marched, the three of them, along the streets, where men and +women, who had been at the preaching, were kindling fires before their +doors to cast therein head-gear and mandrake roots. But on reaching +the river bank, Brother Joconde sat down under an elm, and Guillaumette +Dyonis came up to him and said: + +“Father, it hath been revealed to me in vision that you are come to this +Kingdom to restore the same to good peace and concord. I have had myself +many revelations concerning the peace of the Kingdom.” + +Next Simone la Bardine took up her parable and said: + +“Brother Joconde, I lived once in a fine house in the Rue Saint-Antoine, +near by the Place Baudet, which is the fairest quarter of Paris, and the +wealthiest. I had a matted chamber, mantles of cloth of gold, and +gowns trimmed with miniver, enough to fill three great chests; I had a +feather-bed, a dresser loaded with pewter, and a little book wherein you +saw in pictures the story of Our Lord. But since the wars and pillagings +that devastate the Kingdom, I have lost everything. The gallants never +come now to take their pleasure in the Place Baudet. But the wolves come +there instead to devour little children. The Burgundians and the English +are as bad as the Armagnacs. Would you have me go with you?” + +The Monk gazed a while in silence at the two women; and deeming it +was Jesus Christ himself had led them to him, he received them for his +Penitents, and thereafter the twain followed him wherever he went. Every +day he preached to the people, now at “The Innocents,” now at the Porte +Saint-Honoré, or at the Halles. But he never went outside the Walls, by +reason of the Armagnacs, who were raiding all the countryside round the +city. + +His words led many souls to a better life; and at the fourth sermon he +preached in Paris, he received for Penitents Jeannette Chastenier, wife +of a merchant-draper on the Pont-au-Change, and another woman, by name +Opportune Jadoin, who nursed the sick at the Hôtel-Dieu and was no +longer very young. He admitted likewise into his company a gardener of +the Ville-l’Evêque, a lad of about sixteen, Robin by name, who bare on +his feet and hands the stigmata of the crucifixion, and was shaken by +a sore trembling of all his limbs. He often saw the Holy Virgin in +corporeal presence, and heard her speech and savoured the divine odours +of her glorified body. She had entrusted him with a message for the +Regent of England and for the Duke of Burgundy. Meantime the army of +Messire Charles of Valois entered the town of Saint-Denis. And no man +durst from that day go out of Paris to harvest the fields or gather +aught from the market-gardens which covered the plain to the northward +of the city. Instantly famine prices ruled, and the inhabitants began to +suffer cruelly. And they were further exasperated because they believed +themselves betrayed. It was openly said that certain folk, and in +especial certain men of Religion, suborned by Messire Charles of Valois, +were watching for the best time to stir up trouble and bring in the +enemy in an hour of panic and confusion. Haunted by this fear, which +was not perhaps altogether baseless, the citizens who kept guard of the +ramparts showed scant mercy to any men of evil looks whom they found +loitering near the Gates and whom they might suspect, on the most +trivial evidence, of making signals to the Armagnacs. On Thursday, +September 8th, the good people of Paris awoke without any fear of being +attacked before the next day. This day, September 8th, was the Feast of +the Nativity of the Virgin, and it was an established custom with the +two factions that tore the Kingdom in twain to keep holy the feast-days +of Our Lord and His Blessed Mother. + +Yet at this holy season the Parisians, on coming forth from Mass, learnt +that, notwithstanding the sacredness of the day, the Armagnacs had +appeared before the Porte Saint-Honoré and had set fire to the outwork +which defended its approach. It was further reported that Messire +Charles of Valois was posted, for the time being, along with Brother +Richard and the Maid Jeanne, in the Hog Market without the Walls. The +same afternoon, through all the city, on either side the bridges, shouts +of fear arose--“Save yourselves! fly, the enemy are come in, all is +lost!” The cries were heard even inside the Churches, where pious folks +were singing Vespers. These came flying out in terror and ran to their +houses to take refuge behind barred doors. + +Now the men who went about raising these cries were emissaries of +Messire Charles of Valois. In fact, at that very time, the Company of +the Maréchal de Rais was making assault on the Walls near by the Porte +Saint-Honoré. The Armagnacs had brought up in carts great bundles of +faggots and wattled hurdles to fill up the moats, and above six hundred +scaling-ladders for storming the ramparts. The Maid Jeanne, who was +nowise as the Burgundians believed, but lived a pious life and guarded +her chastity, set foot to ground, and was the first down into a dry +moat, which for that cause was easy to cross. But thereupon they found +themselves exposed to the arrows and cross-bolts that rained down thick +and fast from the Walls. Then they had in front of them a second moat. +Wherefore were the Maid and her men-at-arms sore hampered. Jeanne +sounded the great moat with her lance and shouted to throw in faggots. + +Inside the town could be heard the roar of cannon, and all along the +streets the citizens were running, half accoutred, to their posts on +the ramparts, knocking over as they went the brats playing about in the +gutters. The chains were drawn across the roadways, and barricades were +begun. Tribulation and tumult filled all the place. + +But neither the Brother Joconde nor his Penitents saw aught of it, +forasmuch as they took heed only of eternal things, and deemed the vain +agitation of men to be but a foolish game. They marched through the +streets singing the “Veni creator spiritus,” and crying out: “Pray, for +the times are at hand.” + +Thus they made their way in good array down the Rue Saint-Antoine, which +was densely crowded with men, women, and children. Coming presently to +the Place Baudet, Brother Joconde pushed through the throng and mounted +a great stone that stood at the door of the Hôtel de la Truie, which +Messire Florimont Lecocq, the master of the house, used to help him +mount his mule. This Messire Florimont Lecocq was Sergeant at the +Châtelet Prison and a partisan of the English. + +So, standing on the great stone, Brother Joconde preached to the people. +“Sow ye,” he cried, “sow ye, good folk; sow abundantly of beans, for He +which is to come will come quickly.” + +By the beans they were to sow, the good Brother signified the charitable +works it behoved them accomplish before Our Lord should come, in the +clouds of heaven, to judge both the quick and the dead. And it was +urgent to sow these works without tarrying, for that the harvest would +be soon. Guillaumette Dyonis, Simone la Bardine, Jeanne Chastenier, +Opportune Jadoin, and Robin the gardener, stood in a ring about the +Preacher, and cried “Amen!” + +But the citizens, who thronged behind in a great crowd, pricked up their +ears and bent their brows, thinking the Monk was foretelling the entry +of Charles of Valois into his good town of Paris, over which he was +fain--at any rate, so they believed--to drive the ploughshare. + +Meanwhile the good Brother went on with his soul-awakening discourse. + +“Oh! ye men of Paris, ye are worse than the Pagans of old Rome.” + +Just then the mangonels firing from the Porte Saint-Denis mingled their +thunder with Brother Joconde’s voice and shook the bystanders’ +hearts within them. Some one in the press cried out, “Death! death to +traitors!” All this time Messire Florimont Lecocq was within-doors doing +on his armour. He now came forth at the noise, before he had buckled his +leg-pieces. Seeing the Monk standing on his mounting-block, he asked: +“What is this good Father saying?” And a chorus of voices answered: +“Telling us that Messire Charles of Valois is going to enter the city,” + while others cried: + +“He is against the folk of Paris,” and others again: + +“He would fain cozen and betray us, like the Brother Richard, who at +this very time is riding with our enemies.” + +But Brother Joconde made answer: “There be neither Armagnacs, nor +Burgundians, nor French, nor English, but only the sons of light and +the sons of darkness. Ye are lewd fellows and your women wantons.” + +“Go to, thou apostate! thou sorcerer! thou traitor!” yelled Messire +Florimont Lecocq,--and lugging out his sword, he plunged it in the good +Brother’s bosom. + +With pale lips and faltering voice, the man of God still managed to say: + +“Pray, fast, do penance, and ye shall be forgiven, my brethren...” + +Then his voice choked, as the blood poured from his mouth, and he fell +on the stones. Two knights, Sir John Stewart and Sir George Morris, +threw themselves on the body and pierced it with more than a hundred +dagger thrusts, vociferating: + +“Long life to King Henry! Long life to my Lord the Duke of Bedford! Down +with the Dauphin! Down with the mad Maid of the Armagnacs! Up, up! To +the Gates, to the Gates!” + +Therewith they ran to the Walls, drawing off with them Messire Florimont +and the crowd of citizens. + +Meanwhile the holy women and the gardener tarried about the bleeding +corse. Simone la Bardine lay prostrate on the ground, kissing the good +Brother’s feet and wiping away his blood with her unbound hair. + +But Guillaumette Dyonis, standing up with her arms lifted to heaven, +cried in a voice as clear as the sound of bells: + +“My sisters, Jeanne, Opportune and Simone, and you, my brother, Robin +the gardener, let us be going, for the times are at hand. The soul +of this good Father holds me by the hand, and it will lead me aright. +Wherefore ye must follow along with me. And we will say to those who are +making cruel war upon each other: ‘Kiss and make peace. And if ye must +needs use your arms, take up the cross and go forth all together to +fight the Saracens.’ Come! my sisters and my brother.” + +Jeanne Chastenier picked up the shaft of an arrow from the ground, brake +it, and made a cross, which she laid on good Brother Joconde’s bosom. +Then these holy women, and the gardener with them, followed after +Guillaumette Dyonis, who led them by the streets and squares and alleys +as if her eyes had seen the light of day. They reached the foot of the +rampart, and by the stairway of a tower that was left unguarded, they +mounted onto the curtain-wall. There had been no time to furnish it with +its hoardings of wood; so they went along in the open. They proceeded +toward the Porte Saint-Honoré, by this time enveloped in clouds of dust +and smoke. It was there the Maréchal de Rais and his men were making +assault. Their bolts flew thick and fast against the ramparts, and they +were hurling faggots into the water of the great moat. On the hog’s-back +parting the great moat from the little, stood the Maid, crying: “Yield, +yield you to the King of France.” The English had abandoned the top +of the wall in terror, leaving their dead and wounded behind them. +Guillaumette Dyonis walked first, her head high and her left arm +extended before her, while with her right hand she kept signing herself +reverently. Simone la Bardine followed close on her heels. Then came +Jeanne Chastenier and Opportune Jadoin. Robin the gardener brought +up the rear, his body all shaking with his infirmity, and showing +the divine stigmata on his hands. They were singing canticles as they +walked. + +And Guillaumette, turning now toward the city and now toward the open +country, cried: “Brethren, embrace ye one another. Live in peace +and harmony. Take the iron of your spearheads and forge it into +ploughshares!” + +Scarce had she spoken ere a shower of arrows, some from the parapet-way +where a Company of Citizens was defiling, some from the hog’s-back +where the Armagnac men-at-arms were massed, flew in her direction, and +therewith a storm of insults: + +“Wanton! traitress! witch!” + +Meanwhile she went on exhorting the two sides to stablish the Kingdom +of Jesus Christ upon earth and to live in innocency and brotherly love, +till a cross-bow bolt struck her in the throat and she staggered and +fell backward. + +It was which could laugh the louder at this, Armagnacs or Burgundians. +Drawing her gown over her feet, she lay still and made no other stir, +but gave up her soul, sighing the name of Jesus. Her eyes, which +remained open, glowed like two opals. + +Short while after the death of Guillaumette Dyonis the men of Paris +returned in great force to man their Wall, and defended their city right +valorously. Jeanne the Maid was wounded by a cross-bow bolt in the leg, +and Messire Charles of Valois’ men-at-arms fell back upon the Chapelle +Saint-Denis. What became of Jeanne Chastenier and Opportune Jadoin no +one knows. They were never heard of more. Simone la Bardine and Robin +the gardener were taken the same day by the citizens on guard at the +Walls and handed over to the Bishop’s officer, who duly brought them +before the Courts. The Church adjudged Simone heretic, and condemned +her for salutary penance to the bread of suffering and the water of +affliction. Robin was convicted of sorcery, and, persevering in his +error, was burned alive in the Place du Parvis. + + + + +FIVE FAIR LADIES OF PICARDY, OF POITOU, OF TOURAINE, OF LYONS, AND OF PARIS + +[Illustration: 090] + +ONE day the Capuchin, Brother Jean Chavaray, meeting my good master the +Abbé Coign-ard in the cloister of “The Innocents,” fell into talk +with him of the Brother Olivier Maillard, whose sermons, edifying and +macaronic, he had lately been reading. + +“There are good bits to be found in these sermons,” said the Capuchin, +“notably the tale of the five ladies and the go-between...” You will +readily understand that Brother Olivier, who lived in the reign of +Louis XI and whose language smacks of the coarseness of that age, uses a +different word. But our century demands a certain politeness and decency +in speech; wherefore I employ the term I have, to wit, _go-between_. + +“You mean,” replied my good master, “to signify by the expression a +woman who is so obliging as to play intermediary in matters of love +and love-making. The Latin has several names for her,--as _lena, +conciliatrix_, also _internuntia libidinum_, ambassadress of naughty +desires. These prudish dames perform the best of services; but +seeing they busy themselves therein for money, we distrust their +disinterestedness. Call yours a _procuress_, good Father, and have done +with it; ‘t is a word in common use, and has a not unseemly sound.” + +“So I will, Monsieur l’Abbé,” assented Brother Jean Chavaray. “Only +don’t say _mine_, I pray, but the Brother Olivier’s. A procuress then, +who lived on the Pont des Tournelles, was visited one day by a knight, +who put a ring into her hands. ‘It is of fine gold,’ he told her, ‘and +hath a balass ruby mounted in the bezel. An you know any dames of good +estate, go say to the most comely of them that the ring is hers if she +is willing to come to see me and do at my pleasure.’ + +“The procuress knew, by having seen them at Mass, five ladies of an +excellent beauty,--natives the first of Picardy, the second of Poitou, +the third of Touraine, another from the good city of Lyons, and the last +a Parisian, all dwelling in the Cite or its near neighbourhood. + +“She knocked first at the Picard lady’s door. A maid opened, but her +mistress refused to have one word to say to her visitor. She was an +honest woman. + +“The procuress went next to see the lady of Poitiers and solicit her +favours for the gallant knight. This dame answered her: + +“‘Prithee, go tell him who sent you that he is come to the wrong house, +and that I am not the woman he takes me for.’ + +“She too is an honest woman; yet less honest than the first, in that she +tried to appear more so. + +“The procuress then went to see the lady from Tours, made the same offer +to her as to the other, and showed her the ring. + +“‘I’ faith,’ said the lady, ‘but the ring is right lovely.’ + +“‘’T is yours, an you will have it.’ + +“‘I will not have it at the price you set on it. My husband might catch +me, and I should be doing him a grief he doth not deserve.’ + +“This lady of Touraine is a harlot, I trow, at bottom of her heart. + +“The procuress left her and went straight to the dame of Lyons, who +cried: + +“‘Alack! my good friend, my husband is a jealous wight, and he would cut +the nose off my face to hinder me winning any more rings at this pretty +tilting.’ + +“This dame of Lyons, I tell you, is a worthless good-for-naught. + +“Last of all the procuress hurried to the Parisian’s. She was a hussy, +and answered brazenly: + +“‘My husband goes Wednesday to his vineyards; tell the good sir who sent +you I will come that day and see him.’ + +“Such, according to Brother Olivier, from Picardy to Paris, are the +degrees from good to evil amongst women. What think you of the matter, +Monsieur Coignard?” + +To which my good master made answer: + +“‘T is a shrewd matter to consider the acts and impulses of these petty +creatures in their relations with Eternal Justice. I have no lights +thereanent. But methinks the Lyons dame who feared having her nose cut +off was a more good-for-nothing baggage than the Parisian who was afraid +of nothing.” + +“I am far, very far, from allowing it,” replied Brother Jean Chavaray. +“A woman who fears her husband may come to fear hell fire. Her +Confessor, it may be, will bring her to do penance and give alms. For, +after all, that is the end we must come at. But what can a poor Capuchin +hope to get of a woman whom _nothing_ terrifies?” + + + + +A GOOD LESSON WELL LEARNT + +[Illustration: 098] + +IN the days of King Louis XI there lived at Paris, in a matted chamber, +a citizen dame called Violante, who was comely and well-liking in all +her person. She had so bright a face that Master Jacques Tribouillard, +doctor in law and a renowned cosmographer, who was often a visitor at +her house, was used to tell her: + +“Seeing you, madame, I deem credible and even hold it proven, what +Cucurbitus Piger lays down in one of his scholia on Strabo, to wit, that +the famous city and university of Paris was of old known by the name of +Lutetia or Leucecia, or some such like word coming from _Leukê_, that +is to say, ‘the white,’ forasmuch as the ladies of the same had bosoms +white as snow,--yet not so clear and bright and white as is your own, +madame.” + +To which Violante would say in answer: + +“‘T is enough for me if my bosom is not fit to fright folks, like some +I wot of. And, if I show it, why, ‘tis to follow the fashion. I have not +the hardihood to do otherwise than the rest of the world.” + +Now Madame Violante had been wedded, in the flower of her youth, to an +Advocate of the Parlement, a man of a harsh temper and sorely set on the +arraignment and punishing of unfortunate prisoners. For the rest, he +was of sickly habit and a weakling, of such a sort he seemed more fit to +give pain to folks outside his doors than pleasure to his wife within. +The old fellow thought more of his blue bags than of his better +half, though these were far otherwise shapen, being bulgy and fat and +formless. But the lawyer spent his nights over them. + +Madame Violante was too reasonable a woman to love a husband that was +so unlovable. Master Jacques Tribouillard upheld she was a good wife, +as steadfastly and surely confirmed and stablished in conjugal virtue +as Lucretia the Roman. And for proof he alleged that he had altogether +failed to turn her aside from the path of honour. The judicious observed +a prudent silence on the point, holding that what is hid will only be +made manifest at the last Judgment Day. They noted how the lady was over +fond of gewgaws and laces and wore in company and at church gowns of +velvet and silk and cloth of gold, purfled with miniver; but they were +too fair-minded folk to decide whether, damning as she did Christian +men who saw her so comely and so finely dressed to the torments of vain +longing, she was not damning her own soul too with one of them. In a +word, they were well ready to stake Madame Violante’s virtue on the toss +of a coin, cross or pile,--which is greatly to the honour of that fair +lady. + +The truth is her Confessor, Brother Jean Turelure, was for ever +upbraiding her. + +“Think you, madame,” he would ask her, “that the blessed St. Catherine +won heaven by leading such a life as yours, baring her bosom and sending +to Genoa for lace ruffles?” + +But he was a great preacher, very severe on human weaknesses, who could +condone naught and thought he had done everything when he had inspired +terror. He threatened her with hell fire for having washed her face with +ass’s milk. + +As a fact, no one could say if she had given her old husband a meet and +proper head-dress, and Messire Philippe de Coetquis used to warn the +honest dame in a merry vein: + +“See to it, I say! He is bald, he will catch his death of cold!” + +Messire Philippe de Coetquis was a knight of gallant bearing, as +handsome as the knave of hearts in the noble game of cards. He had first +encountered Madame Violante one evening at a ball, and after dancing +with her far into the night, had carried her home on his crupper, while +the Advocate splashed his way through the mud and mire of the kennels +by the dancing light of the torches his four tipsy lackeys bore. In the +course of these merry doings, a-foot and on horseback, Messire Philippe +de Coetquis had formed a shrewd notion that Madame Violante had a limber +waist and a full, firm bosom of her own, and there and then had been +smit by her charms. + +He was a frank and guileless wight and made bold to tell her outright +what he would have of her,--to wit, to hold her naked in his two arms. + +To which she would make answer: + +“Messire Philippe, you know not what you say. I am a virtuous wife,”-- + +Or another time: + +“Messire Philippe, come back again tomorrow,--” + +And when he came next day she would ask innocently: + +“Nay, where is the hurry?” + +These never-ending postponements caused the Chevalier no little distress +and chagrin. He was ready to believe, with Master Tribouillard, that +Madame Violante was indeed a Lucretia, so true is it that all men are +alike in fatuous self-conceit! And we are bound to say she had not so +much as suffered him to kiss her mouth,--only a pretty diversion after +all and a bit of wanton playfulness. + +Things were in this case when Brother Jean Turelure was called to Venice +by the General of his Order, to preach to sundry Turks lately converted +to the true Faith. + +Before setting forth, the good Brother went to take leave of his fair +Penitent, and upbraided her with more than usual sternness for living +a dissolute life. He exhorted her urgently to repent and pressed her to +wear a hair-shirt next her skin,--an incomparable remedy against naughty +cravings and a sovran medicine for natures over prone to the sins of the +flesh. + +She besought him: “Good Brother, never ask too much of me.” + +But he would not hearken, and threatened her with the pains of hell if +she did not amend her ways. Then he told her he would gladly execute any +commissions she might be pleased to entrust him with. He was in hopes +she would beg him to bring her back some consecrated medal, a rosary, +or, better still, a little of the soil of the Holy Sepulchre which the +Turks carry from Jerusalem together with dried roses, and which the +Italian monks sell. + +But Madame Violante preferred a quite other request: + +“Good Brother, dear Brother, as you are going to Venice, where such +cunning workmen in this sort are to be found, I pray you bring me back a +Venetian mirror, the clearest and truest can be gotten.” + +Brother Jean Turelure promised to content her wish. + +While her Confessor was abroad, Madame Violante led the same life as +before. And when Messire Philippe pressed her: “Were it not well to take +our pleasure together?” she would answer: “Nay! ‘t is too hot. Look at +the weathercock if the wind will not change anon.” And the good folk +who watched her ways were in despair of her ever giving a proper pair +of horns to her crabbed old husband. “‘T is a sin and a shame!” they +declared. + +On his return from Italy Brother Jean Turelure presented himself before +Madame Violante and told her he had brought what she desired. + +“Look, madame,” he said, and drew from under his gown a death’s-head. + +“Here, madame, is your mirror. This death’s-head was given me for that +of the prettiest woman in all Venice. She was what you are, and you will +be much like her anon.” + +Madame Violante, mastering her surprise and horror, answered the good +Father in a well-assured voice that she understood the lesson he would +teach her and she would not fail to profit thereby. + +“I shall aye have present in my mind, good Brother, the mirror you +have brought me from Venice, wherein I see my likeness not as I am at +present, but as doubtless I soon shall be. I promise you to govern my +behaviour by this salutary thought.” + +Brother Jean Turelure was far from expecting such pious words. He +expressed some satisfaction. + +“So, madame,” he murmured, “you see yourself the need of altering your +ways. You promise me henceforth to govern your behaviour by the thought +this fleshless skull hath brought home to you. Will you not make the +same promise to God as you have to me?” + +She asked if indeed she must, and he assured her it behoved her so to +do. + +“Well, I will give this promise then,” she declared. + +“Madame, this is very well. There is no going back on your word now.” + +“I shall not go back on it, never fear.” + +Having won this binding promise, Brother Jean Turelure left the place, +radiant with satisfaction. And as he went from the house, he cried out +loud in the street: + +“Here is a good work done! By Our Lord God’s good help, I have turned +and set in the way toward the gate of Paradise a lady, who, albeit not +sinning precisely in the way of fornication spoken of by the Prophet, +yet was wont to employ for men’s temptation the clay whereof the Creator +had kneaded her that she might serve and adore him withal. She will +forsake these naughty habits to adopt a better life. I have throughly +changed her. Praise be to God!” + +Hardly had the good Brother gone down the stairs when Messire Philippe +de Coetquis ran up them and scratched at Madame Violante’s door. She +welcomed him with a beaming smile, and led him into a closet, furnished +with carpets and cushions galore, wherein he had never been admitted +before. From this he augured well. He offered her sweetmeats he had in a +box. + +“Here be sugar-plums to suck, madame; they are sweet and sugared, but +not so sweet as your lips.” + +To which the lady retorted he was a vain, silly fop to make boast of a +fruit he had never tasted. + +He answered her meetly, kissing her forthwith on the mouth. + +She manifested scarce any annoyance and said only she was an honest +woman and a true wife. He congratulated her and advised her not to lock +up this jewel of hers in such close keeping that no man could enjoy it. +“For, of a surety,” he swore, “you will be robbed of it, and that right +soon.” + +“Try then,” said she, cuffing him daintily over the ears with her pretty +pink palms. + +But he was master by this time to take whatsoever he wished of her. She +kept protesting with little cries: + +“I won’t have it. Fie! fie on you, messire! You must not do it. Oh! +sweetheart... oh! my love... my life! You are killing me!” + +Anon, when she had done sighing and dying, she said sweetly: + +“Messire Philippe, never flatter yourself you have mastered me by force +or guile. You have had of me what you craved, but ‘t was of mine own +free will, and I only resisted so much as was needful that I might yield +me as I liked best. Sweetheart, I am yours. If, for all your handsome +face, which I loved from the first, and despite the tenderness of +your wooing, I did not before grant you what you have just won with my +consent, ‘t was because I had no true understanding of things. I had +no thought of the flight of time and the shortness of life and love; +plunged in a soft languor of indolence, I reaped no harvest of my youth +and beauty. However, the good Brother Jean Turelure hath given me a +profitable lesson. He hath taught me the preciousness of the hours. But +now he showed me a death’s-head, saying: ‘Suchlike you will be soon.’ +This taught me we must be quick to enjoy the pleasures of love and make +the most of the little space of time reserved to us for that end.” + +These words and the caresses wherewith Madame Violante seconded them +persuaded Messire Philippe to turn the time to good account, to set to +work afresh to his own honour and profit and the pleasure and glory +of his mistress, and to multiply the sure proofs of prowess which it +behoves every good and loyal servant to give on suchlike an occasion. + +After which, she was ready to cry quits. Taking him by the hand, she +guided him back to the door, kissed him daintily on the eyes, and asked: + +“Sweetheart Philippe, is it not well done to follow the precepts of the +good Brother Jean Turelure?” + + + + +SATAN’S TONGUE-PIE + +[Illustration: 112] + +SATAN lay in his bed with the flaming curtains. The physicians and +apothecaries of Hell, finding their patient had a white tongue, inferred +he was suffering from a weakness of the stomach and prescribed a diet at +once light and nourishing. + +Satan swore he had no appetite for aught but a certain earthly +dish, which women excel in making when they meet in company, to wit, +tongue-pie. + +The doctors agreed there was nothing could better suit His Majesty’s +stomach. + +In an hour’s time the dish was set before the King; but he found it +insipid and tasteless. + +He sent for his Head Cook and asked him where the pie came from. + +“From Paris, sire. It is quite fresh; ‘twas baked this very morning, +in the Marais Quarter, by a dozen gossips gathered round the bed at a +woman’s lying-in.” + +“Ah! now I know the reason it is so flavourless,” returned the Prince of +Darkness. “You have not been to the best cooks for dishes of the sort. +Citizens’ wives, they do their best; but they lack delicacy, they lack +the fine touch of genius. Women of the people are clumsier still. For a +real good tongue-pie a Nunnery is the place to go to. There’s nobody to +match these old maids of Religion for a pretty skill in compounding all +the needful ingredients,--fine spices of rancour, thyme of backbiting, +fennel of insinuation, bay-leaf of calumny.” + +This parable is taken from a sermon of the good Father Gillotin +Landoulle, a poor, unworthy Capuchin. + + + + +CONCERNING AN HORRIBLE PICTURE + +[Illustration: 116] + + THE WHICH WAS SHOWED IN A TEMPLE AND OF SUNDRY LIMNINGS OF A + RIGHT PACIFIC AND AMOROUS SORT THE WHICH THE SAGE PHILEMON + HAD HANGED IN HIS LIBRARIE AND OF A NOBLE PORTRAITURE OF THE + POET HOMER THE WHICH THE AFORESAID PHILEMON DID PRIZE ABOVE + ALL OTHER LIMNINGS + +PHILEMON was used to confess how, in the fire of his callow youth +and fine flower of his lustie springal days, he had been stung with +murderous frenzie at view of a certaine picture of Apelles, the which +in those times was showed in a temple. And the said picture did present +Alexander the Great laying on right shrewdly at Darius, king of the +Indians, whiles round about these twain, soldiers and captains were +a-slaying one another with a savage furie and in divers strange +fashions. And the said work was right cunningly wrought and in very +close mimicrie of nature. And none, an they were in the hot and lustie +season of their life, could cast a look thereon without being stirred +incontinent to be striking and killing poor harmlesse folk for the sole +sake of donning so rich an harnesse and bestriding such high-stepping +chargers as did these good codpieces in their battle,--for that young +blood doth aye take pleasure in horseflesh and the practise of arms. +This had the aforesaid Philemon proven in his day. And he was used to +say how ever after ‘twas his wont to turn aside his eyen of set purpose +from suchlike pictures of wars and bloodshed, and that he did so +heartily loathe these cruelties as that he could not abear to behold +them even set forth in counterfeit presentment. + +And he was used to say that any honest and prudent wight must needs be +sore offended and scandalized by all this appalling array of armour +and bucklers and the horde of warriors Homer calls _Corythaioloi_ +(glancing-helmed) by reason of the terrifying hideousness of their +head-gear, and that the portrayal of these same fighting fellows was +in very truth unseemly, as contrarie to good and peaceable manners, +immodest, no thing in the world being more shameful then homicide, and +eke lascivious, as alluring folk to cruelty, the which is the worst of +all allurements. For to entice to pleasant dalliaunce is a far lesse +heinous fault. + +And the aforesaid Philemon was used to say that it was honest, decent, +of good ensample and entirely modest to show by painting, chiselling, or +any other fine artifice the scenes of the Golden Age, to wit maidens and +young men interlacing limbs in accord with the craving of kindly Nature, +or other the like delectable fancy, as of a Nymph lying laughing in the +grass. And on her ripe smiling mouth a Faun is crushing a purple grape. + +And he was used to say that belike the Golden Age had never flourished +save only in the fond imagining of the poets, and that our first +forebears of human kind, being yet barbarous and silly folk, had known +naught at all thereof; but that, an the said age could not credibly be +deemed to have been at the beginning of the world, we might well wish +it should be at the end, and that meanwhiles it was a gracious boon to +offer us a likeness of the same in pictured image. + +And like as it is (so he would say) obscene,--‘t is the word Virgil +writes of dogs wallowing in the mud and mire,--to depict murderers, +whoreson men-at arms, fighting-men, conquering heroes and plundering +thieves, wreaking their foul and wicked will, yea! and poor devils +licking the dust and swallowing the same in great mouthfuls, and one +unhappie wretch that hath been felled to the earth and is striving to +get to his feet againe, but is pinned down by an horse’s hoof pressing +on his chops, and another that looketh piteously about him for that his +pennon hath been shorn from him and his hand with it,--so is it of right +subtile and so to say heavenly art to exhibit prettie blandishments, +caresses, frolickings, beauties and delights, and the loves of the +Nymphs and Fauns in the woods. And he would have it there was none +offence in these naked bodies, clothed upon enow with their owne grace +and comeliness. + +And he had in his closet, this same Philemon aforesaid, a very +marvellous painting, wherein was limned a young Faun in act to filch +away with a craftie hand a light cloth did cover the belly of a sleeping +Nymph. ‘T was plain to see he was full fain of his freak and seemed to +be saying: The body of this young goddess is so sweet and refreshing +as that the fountaine springing in the shade of the woods is not more +delightsome. How I do love to look upon you, soft sweet lap, and prettie +white thighs, and shady cavern at once terrifying and entrancing! And +over the heads of the twain did hover winged Cupids and watched them +laughingly, whiles fair dames and their gallants, their brows wreathen +with flowers, footed it on the lush grass. + +And he had, the aforesaid Philemon, yet other limnings of cunning +craftsmanship in his closet. And he did prize very high the portraiture +of a good doctor a-sitting in his cabinet writing at a table by +candle-light. The said cabinet was fully furnished with globes, gnomons, +and astrolabes, proper for meting the movements of the orbs of heaven, +the which is a right praiseworthy task and one that doth lift the spirit +to sublime thoughts and the exceeding pure love of Venus Urania. + +And there was hanging from the joists of the said cabinet a great +serpent and crocodile, forasmuch as they be rarities and very needful +for the due understanding of anatomy. And he had likewise, the +said doctor, amid his belongings, the books of the most excellent +philosophers of Antiquity and eke the treatises of Hippocrates. And he +was an ensample to young men which should be fain, by hard swinking, to +stuff their pates with as much high learning and occult lore as he had +under his own bonnet. + +And he had, the aforesaid Philemon, painted on a panel that shined like +a polished mirror a portraiture of Homer in the guise of an old blind +man, his beard white as the flowers of the hawthorn and his temples +bound about with the fillets sacred to the god Apollo, which had loved +him above all other men. And, to look at that good old man, you deemed +verily his lips were presently to ope and break into words of mélodie. + + + + +MADEMOISELLE DE DOUCINE’S NEW YEAR’S PRESENT + +[Illustration: 124] + +ON January 1st, in the forenoon, the good M. Chanterelle sallied out on +foot from his hôtel in the Faubourg Saint-Marcel. He felt the cold and +was a poor walker; so it was a real penance to him to face the chilly +air and the bleak streets which were full of half-melted snow. He had +refused to take his coach by way of mortifying the flesh, having grown +very solicitous since his illness about the salvation of his soul. He +lived in retirement, aloof from all society and company, and paid no +visits save to his niece, Mademoiselle de Doucine, a little girl of +seven. + +Leaning on his walking-cane, he made his way painfully to the Rue +Saint-Honoré and entered the shop of Madame Pinson at the sign of the +_Panier Fleuri_. Here was displayed an abundant stock of children’s toys +to tempt customers seeking presents for this New Year’s Day of 1696. +You could scarce move for the host of mechanical figures of dancers and +tipplers, birds in the bush that clapped their wings and sang, cabinets +full of wax puppets, soldiers in white and blue ranged in battle array, +and dolls dressed some as fine ladies, others as servant wenches, for +the inequality of stations, established by God himself among mankind, +appeared even in these innocent mannikins. + +M. Chanterelle chose a doll. The one he selected was dressed like the +Princess of Savoy on her arrival in France, on November 4th. The head +was a mass of bows and ribbons; she wore a very stiff corsage, covered +with gold filigrees, and a brocade petticoat with an overskirt caught up +by pearl clasps. + +M. Chanterelle smiled to think of the delight such a lovely doll would +give Mademoiselle de Doucine, and when Madame Pinson handed him +the Princess of Savoy wrapped up in silk paper, a gleam of sensuous +satisfaction flitted over his kind face, pinched as it was with illness, +pale with fasting and haggard with the fear of hell. + +He thanked Madame Pinson courteously, clapped the Princess under his arm +and walked away, dragging his leg painfully, towards the house where he +knew Mademoiselle de Doucine was waiting for him to attend her morning +levée. + +At the corner of the Rue de l’ Arbre-Sec, he met M. Spon, whose great +nose dived almost into his lace cravat. + +“Good morning, Monsieur Spon,” he greeted him. “I wish you a happy New +Year, and I pray God everything may turn out according to your wishes.” + +“Oh! my good sir, don’t say that,” cried M. Spon. “‘T is often for our +chastisement that God grants our wishes. _Et tribuit eis petittonem +eorum_.” + +“‘Tis very true,” returned M. Chanterelle, “we do not know our own best +interests. I am an example myself, as I stand before you. I thought at +first that the complaint I have suffered from for the last two years was +a curse; but I see now it is a blessing, since it has removed me from +the abominable life I was leading at the play-houses and in society. +This complaint, which tortures my limbs and is like to turn my brain, is +a signal token of God’s goodness toward me. But, sir, will you not do +me the favour to accompany me as far as the Rue du Roule, whither I am +bound, to carry a New Year’s gift to my niece Mademoiselle de Doucine?” + +At the words M. Spon threw up his arms and gave a great cry of horror. + +“What!” he exclaimed. “Can it be M. Chanterelle I hear say such +things,--and not some profligate libertine? Is it possible, sir, that +living as you do a religious and retired life, I see you all in a moment +plunge into the vices of the day?” + +“Alack! I did not think I was plunging into vice,” faltered M. +Chanterelle, trembling all over. “But I sorely lack a lamp of guidance. +Is it so great a sin then to offer a doll to Mademoiselle de Doucine?” + +“Yes, a great and terrible sin,” replied M. Spon. “And what you are +offering this innocent child to-day is meeter to be called an idol, +a devilish simulacrum, than a doll. Are you not aware, sir, that the +custom of New Year’s gifts is a foul superstition and a hideous survival +of Paganism?” + +“No, I did not know that,” said M. Chanterelle. + +“Let me tell you, then,” resumed M. Spon, “that this custom descends +from the Romans, who seeing something divine in all beginnings, held +the beginning of the year holy also. Hence, to act as they did is to +do idolatry. You make New Year’s offerings, sir, in imitation of the +worshippers of the God Janus. Be consistent, and like them consecrate to +Juno the first day of every month.” + +M. Chanterelle, hardly able to keep his feet, begged M. Spon to give him +his arm, and while they moved on, M. Spon proceeded in the same vein: + +“Is it because the Astrologers have fixed on the first of January +for the beginning of the year that you deem yourself obliged to make +presents on that day? Pray, what call have you to revive at that precise +date the affection of your friends. Was their love dying then with +the dying year? And will it be so much worth the having when you have +reanimated it by dint of cajolements and baneful gifts?” + +“Sir,” returned the good M. Chanterelle, leaning on M. Spon’s arm and +trying hard to make his tottering steps keep pace with his impetuous +companion’s, “sir, before my sickness, I was only a miserable sinner, +taking no heed but to treat my friends with civility and govern my +behaviour by the principles of honesty and honour. Providence hath +deigned to rescue me from this abyss, and I direct my conduct since my +conversion by the admonitions the Director of my conscience gives me. +But I have been so light-minded and thoughtless as not to seek his +advice on this question of New Year’s gifts. What you tell me of them, +sir, with the authority of a man alike admirable for sober living and +sound doctrine, amazes and confounds me.” + +“Nay! that is indeed what I mean to do,” resumed M. Spon,--“to confound +you, and to illumine you, not indeed by my own lights, which burn +feebly, but by those of a great Doctor. Sit you down on that wayside +post.” + +And pushing M. Chanterelle into the archway of a carriage gate, where +he made himself as easy as circumstances allowed, M. Spon drew from his +pocket a little parchment-bound book, which he opened, and after hunting +through the pages, lighted on a passage which he proceeded to read +out loud amid a gaping circle of chimney-sweeps, chamber-maids, and +scullions who had collected at the resounding tones of his voice: + +“‘We who hold in abhorrence the festivals of the Jews, and who would +deem strange and outlandish their Sabbaths and New Moons and other Holy +Days erst loved of the Almighty, we deal familiarly with the Saturnalia +and the Calends of January, with the Matronalia and the Feast of the +Winter Solstice; New Year’s gifts and foolish presents fill all our +thoughts; merrymakings and junketings are in every house. The Heathens +guard their religion better; they are heedful to observe none of our +Feasts, for fear of being taken for Christians, while we never hesitate +to make ourselves look like Heathens by celebrating their Ceremonial +Days.’ + +“You hear what I say,” went on M. Spon. “‘T is Tertullian speaks in this +wise and from the depths of Africa displays before your eyes, sir, the +odiousness of your behaviour. He it is upbraids you, declaring how ‘New +Year’s gifts and foolish presents fill all your thoughts. You keep +holy the feasts of the Heathen.’ I have not the honour to know your +Confessor. But I shudder, sir, to think of the way he neglects his duty +toward you. Tell me this, can you rest assured that at the day of your +death, when you come to stand before God, he will be at your side, to +take upon him the sins he hath suffered you to fall into?” + +After haranguing in this sort, he put back his book in his pocket and +marched off with angry strides, followed at a distance by the astonished +chimney-sweeps and scullions. + +The good M. Chanterelle was left sitting alone on his post with the +Princess of Savoy, and thinking how he was risking the eternal pains of +hell fire for giving a doll to Mademoiselle de Doucine, his niece, he +fell to pondering the unfathomable mysteries of Religion. + +His legs, which had been tottery for several months, refused to carry +him, and he felt as unhappy as ever a well-meaning man possibly can in +this world. + +He had been sitting stranded in this distressful mood on his post for +some minutes when a Capuchin friar stepped up and addressed him: + +“Sir, will you not give New Year’s presents to the Little Brethren who +are poor, for the love of God?” + +“Why! what! good Father,” M. Chan-terelle burst out, “you are a man of +religion, and you ask me for New Year’s gifts?” + +“Sir,” replied the Capuchin, “the good St. Francis bade his sons make +merry with all simplicity. Give the Capuchins wherewith to make a good +meal this day, that they may endure with cheerfulness the abstinence and +fasting they must observe all the rest of the year,--barring, of course, +Sundays and Feast Days.” + +M. Chanterelle gazed at the holy man with wonder: + +“Are you not afraid, Father, that this custom of New Year’s gifts is +baneful to the soul?” + +“No, I am not afraid.” + +“The custom comes to us from the Pagans.” + +“The Pagans sometimes followed good customs. God was pleased to suffer +some faint rays of his light to pierce the darkness of the Gentiles. +Sir, if you refuse to give _us_ presents, never refuse a boon to our +poor little ones. We have a home for foundlings. With this poor crown I +shall buy each child a little paper windmill and a cake. They will owe +you the only pleasure perhaps of all their life; for they are not fated +to have much joy in the world. Their laughter will go up to heaven; when +children laugh, they praise the Lord.” + +M. Chanterelle laid his well-filled purse in the poor friar’s palm and +got him down from his post, saying over softly to himself the word he +had just heard: + +“When children laugh, they praise the Lord.” + +Then his soul was comforted and he marched off with a firmer step to +carry the Princess of Savoy to Mademoiselle de Doucine, his niece. + + + + +MADEMOISELLE ROXANE + +[Illustration: 136] + +MY good master, M. l’Abbé Coignard, had taken me with him to sup +with one of his old fellow-students, who lodged in a garret in the Rue +Gît-le-Cour. Our host, a Premonstratensian Father of much learning and +a fine Theologian, had fallen out with the Prior of his House for having +writ a little book relating the calamities of Mam’zelle Fanchon. The end +of it was he turned tavern-keeper at The Hague. He was now returned to +France and living precariously by the sermons he composed, which were +full of high argument and eloquence. After supper he had read us these +same calamities of Mam’zelle Fanchon, source of his own, and the reading +had kept us there till a late hour. At last I found myself without-doors +with my good master, under a wondrous fine summer’s night, which made +me straightway comprehend the verity of the ancient fables regarding the +loves of Diana and feel how natural it is to employ in soft dalliance +the silent, silvery hours of night. I said as much to M. l’Abbé +Coignard, who retorted that love is to blame for many and great ills. + +“Tournebroche, my son,” he asked me, “have you not just heard from the +mouth of yonder good Monk how, for having loved a recruiting sergeant, +a clerk of M. Gaulot’s mercer at the sign of the Truie-qui-file, and the +younger son of M. le Lieutenant-Criminel Leblanc, Mam’zelle Fanchon was +clapped in hospital? Would you wish to be any of these,--sergeant or +clerk or limb of the law?” + +I answered I would indeed. My good master thanked me for my candid +avowal, and quoted some verses of Lucretius to persuade me that love is +contrary to the tranquillity of a truly philosophical soul. + +Thus discoursing, we were come to the round-point of the Pont-Neuf. +Leaning our elbows on the parapet, we looked over at the great tower of +the Châtelet, which stood out black in the moonlight. + +“There might be much to say,” sighed my good master, “on this justice of +the civilized nations, the punishments whereof in retaliation are often +more cruel than the crime itself I cannot believe that these tortures +and penalties that men inflict on their fellows are necessary for the +safeguarding of States, seeing how from time to time one and another +legal cruelty is done away with without hurt to the commonweal. And I +hold it likely that the severities they still maintain are no whit more +useful than those they have abolished. But men are cruel. Come away, +Tournebroche, my dear lad; it grieves me to think how unhappy prisoners +are even now lying awake behind those walls in anguish and despair. I +know they have done faultily, but this doth not hinder me from pitying +them. Which of us is without offence?” + +We went on our way. The bridge was deserted save for a beggarman and +woman, who met on the causeway. The pair drew stealthily into one of the +recesses over the piers, where they lurked together on the door-step +of a hucksters booth. They seemed well enough content, both of them, to +mingle their joint wretchedness, and when we went by were thinking +of quite other things than craving our charity. Nevertheless my good +master, who was the most compassionate of men, threw them a half +farthing, the last piece of money left in his breeches pocket. + +“They will pick up our obol,” he said, “when they have come back to the +consciousness of their misery. I pray they may not quarrel then over +fiercely for possession of the coin.” + +We passed on without further rencounter till on the Quai des Oiseleurs +we espied a young damsel striding along with a notable air of +resolution. Hastening our pace to get a nearer view, we saw she had a +slim waist and fair hair in which the moonbeams played prettily. She was +dressed like a citizen’s wife or daughter. + +“There goes a pretty girl,” said the Abbé; “how comes it she is out of +doors alone at this hour of night?” + +“Truly,” I agreed, “‘tis not the sort one generally encounters on the +bridges after curfew.” + +Our surprise was changed to alarm when we saw her go down to the river +bank by a little stairway the sailors use. We ran towards her; but she +did not seem to hear us. She halted at the edge; the stream was running +high, and the dull roar of the swollen waters could be heard some +way off. She stood a moment motionless, her head thrown back and arms +hanging, in an attitude of despair. Then, bending her graceful neck, she +put her two hands over her face and kept it hid behind her fingers for +some seconds. Next moment she suddenly grasped her skirts and dragged +them forward with the gesture a woman always uses when she is going to +jump. My good master and I came up with her just as she was taking the +fatal leap, and we hauled her forcibly backward. She struggled to get +free of our arms; and as the bank was all slimy and slippery with ooze +deposited by the receding waters (for the river was already beginning +to fall), M. l’Abbé Coignard came very near being dragged in too. I was +losing my foothold myself. But as luck would have it, my feet lighted on +a root which held me up as I crouched there with my arms round the best +of masters and this despairing young thing. Presently, coming to the +end of her strength and courage, she fell back on M. l’Abbé Coignard’s +breast, and we managed all three to scramble to the top of the bank +again. He helped her up daintily, with a certain easy grace that was +always his. Then he led the way to a great beech-tree at the foot of +which was a wooden bench, on which he seated her. + +Taking his place beside her: + +“Mademoiselle,” he said gently, “you need have no fear. Say nothing just +yet, but be assured it is a friend sits by you.” + +Next, turning to me, my master went on: + +“Tournebroche, my son, we may congratulate ourselves on having brought +this strange adventure to a good end. But I have left my hat down yonder +on the river bank; albeit it has lost pretty near all its lace and is +thread-bare with long service, it was still good to guard my old head, +sorely tried by years and labours, against sun and rain. Go see, my son, +if it may still be found where I dropped it. And if you discover it, +bring it me, I beg,--likewise one of my shoe buckles, which I see I have +lost. For my part I will stay by this damsel we have rescued and watch +over her slumber.” + +I ran back to the spot we had just quitted and was lucky enough to find +my good master’s hat. The buckle I could not espy anywhere. True, I did +not take any very excessive pains to hunt for it, having never all my +life seen my good master with more than one shoe buckle. When I returned +to the tree, I found the damsel still in the same state, sitting quite +motionless with her head leant against the trunk of the beech. I noticed +now that she was of a very perfect beauty. She wore a silk mantle +trimmed with lace, very neat and proper, and on her feet light shoes, +the buckles of which caught the moonbeams. + +I could not have enough of examining her. Suddenly she opened her +drooping lids, and casting a look that was still misty at M. Coignard +and me, she began in a feeble voice, but with the tone and accent, I +thought, of a person of gentility: + +“I am not ungrateful, sirs, for the service you have done me from +feelings of humanity; but I cannot truthfully tell you I am glad, for +the life to which you have restored me is a curse, a hateful, cruel +torment.” + +At these sad words my good master, whose face wore a look of compassion, +smiled softly, for he could not really think life was to be for ever +hateful to so young and pretty a creature. + +“My child,” he told her, “things strike us in a totally different light +according as they are near at hand or far off. It is no time for you to +despair. Such as I am, and brought to this sorry plight by the buffets +of time and fortune, I yet make shift to endure a life wherein my +pleasures are to translate Greek and dine sometimes with sundry very +worthy friends. Look at me, mademoiselle, and say,--would you consent to +live in the same conditions as I?” + +She looked him over; her eyes almost laughed, and she shook her head. +Then, resuming her melancholy and mournfulness, she faltered: + +“There is not in all the world so unhappy a being as I am.” + +“Mademoiselle,” returned my good master, “I am discreet both by calling +and temperament; I will not seek to force your confidence. But your +looks betray you; any one can see you are sick of disappointed love. +Well, ‘t is not an incurable complaint. I have had it myself, and I have +lived many a long year since then.” + +He took her hand, gave her a thousand tokens of his sympathy, and went +on in these terms: + +“There is only one thing I regret for the moment,--that I cannot offer +you a refuge for the night, or what is left of it. My present lodging +is in an old château a long way from here, where I am busy translating a +Greek book along with young Master Tournebroche whom you see here.” + +My master spoke the truth. We were living at the time with M. d’Astarac, +at the Château des Sablons, in the village of Neuilly, and were in the +pay of a great alchemist, who died later under tragic circumstances. + +“At the same time, mademoiselle,” my master added, “if you should know +of any place where you think you could go, I shall be happy to escort +you thither.” + +To which the girl answered she appreciated all his kindness, that she +lived with a kinswoman, to whose house she could count on being admitted +at any hour; but that she had rather not return before daylight. She was +fain, she said, not to disturb quiet folks’ sleep, and dreaded moreover +to have her grief too painfully renewed by the sight of her old, +familiar surroundings. + +As she spoke thus, the tears rained down from her eyes. My good master +bade her: + +“Mademoiselle, give me your handkerchief, if you please, and I will wipe +your eyes. Then I will take you to wait for daybreak under the archways +of the Halles, where we can sit in comfort under shelter from the night +dews.” + +The girl smiled through her tears. + +“I do not like,” she said, “to give you so much trouble. Go your way, +sir, and rest assured you take my best thanks with you.” + +For all that she laid her hand on the arm my good master offered her, +and we set out, all the three of us, for the Halles. The night had +turned much cooler. In the sky, which was beginning to assume a milky +hue, the stars were growing paler and fainter. We could hear the first +of the market-gardeners’ carts rumbling along to the Halles, drawn by a +slow-stepping horse, half asleep in the shafts. Arrived at the archways, +we chose a place in the recess of a porch distinguished by an image of +St. Nicholas, and established ourselves all three on a stone step, on +which M. l’Abbé Coignard took the precaution of spreading his cloak +before he let his young charge sit down. + +Thereupon my good master fell to discoursing on divers subjects, +choosing merry and enlivening themes of set purpose to drive away the +gloomy thoughts that might assail our companion’s mind. He told her he +accounted this rencounter the most fortunate he had ever chanced on all +his life, and that he should ever cherish a fond recollection of one who +had so deeply touched him,--all this, however, without ever asking to +know her name and story. + +My good master thought no doubt that the unknown would presently tell +him what he refrained from asking. She broke into a fresh flood of +weeping, heaved a deep sigh and said: + +“I should be churlish, sir, to reward your kindness with silence. I am +not afraid to trust myself in your hands. My name is Sophie T------. You +have guessed the truth; ‘tis the betrayal of a lover I was too fondly +attached to has brought me to despair. If you deem my grief excessive, +that is because you do not know how great was my assurance, how blind my +infatuation, and you cannot realize how enchanting was the paradise I +have lost.” + +Then, raising her lovely eyes to our faces, she went on: + +“Sirs, I am not such a woman as your meeting me thus at night time might +lead you to suppose. My father was a merchant. He went, in the way of +trade, to America, and was lost on his way home in a shipwreck, he +and his merchandise with him. My mother was so overwhelmed by these +calamities that she fell into a decline and died, leaving me, while +still a child, to the charge of an aunt, who brought me up. I was a +good girl till the hour I met the man whose love was to afford me +indescribable delights, ending in the despair wherein you now see me +plunged.” + +So saying, Sophie hid her face in her handkerchief. Presently she +resumed with a sigh: + +“His worldly rank was so far above my own I could never expect to be +his except in secret. I flattered myself he would be faithful to me. He +swore he loved me, and easily overcame my scruples. My aunt was aware +of our feelings for one another, and raised no obstacles, for two +reasons,--because her affection for me made her indulgent, and because +my dear lover’s high position impressed her imagination. I lived a year +of perfect happiness only equalled by the wretchedness I now endure. +This morning he came to see me at my aunt’s, with whom I live. I was +haunted by dark forebodings. As I dressed my hair but an hour or so +before, I had broken a mirror he had given me. The sight of him only +increased my misgivings, for I noticed instantly that his face wore an +unaccustomed look of constraint... Oh! sir, was ever woman so unhappy as +I?...” + +Her eyes filled again with tears; but she kept them back under her +lids, and was able to finish her tale, which my good master deemed as +touching, but by no means so unique, as she did herself. + +“He informed me coldly, though not without signs of embarrassment, +that his father having bought him a Company, he was leaving to join the +colours. First, however, he said, his family required him to plight his +troth to the daughter of an Intendant of Finances; the connection +was advantageous to his fortune and would bring him means adequate to +support his rank and make a figure in the world. And the traitor, never +deigning to notice my pale looks, added in his soft, caressing voice +which had made me so many vows of affection, that his new obligations +would prevent his seeing me again, at least for some while. He assured +me further that he was still my friend and begged me to accept a sum of +money in memory of the days we had passed together. + +“And with the words he held out a purse to me. + +“I am telling you the truth, sirs, when I assure you I had always +refused to listen to the offers he repeated again and again, to give me +fine clothes, furniture, plate, an establishment, and to take me away +from my aunt’s, where I lived in very narrow circumstances, and settle +me in a most elegant little mansion he had in the Rue di Roule. My wish +was that we should be united only by the ties of affection, and I was +proud to have of his gift nothing but a few jewels whose sole value came +from the fact of his being the donor. My gorge rose at the sight of the +purse he offered me, and the insult gave me strength to banish from my +presence the impostor whom in one moment I had learnt to know and to +despise. He faced my angry looks unabashed, and assured me with the +utmost unconcern that I could know nothing of the paramount obligations +that fill the existence of a man of quality, adding that he hoped +eventually, when I looked at things quietly, I should come to see his +behaviour in a better light. Then, returning the purse to his pocket, +he declared he would readily find a way of putting the contents at my +disposal in such a manner as to make it impossible for me to refuse his +liberality. Thus leaving me with the odious, the intolerable implication +that he was going to make full amends by these sordid means, he made for +the door to which I pointed without a word. When he was gone, I felt a +calmness of mind that surprised myself. It arose from the resolution I +had formed to die. I dressed with some care, wrote a letter to my aunt +asking her forgiveness for the pain I was about to cause her by my +death, and went out into the streets. There I roamed about all the +afternoon and evening and a part of the night, moving from busy +thoroughfare to deserted lane without a trace of fatigue, postponing +the execution of my purpose to make it more sure and certain under the +favouring conditions of darkness and solitude. Possibly too I found a +certain weak pleasure in dallying with the thought of dying and tasting +the mournful satisfaction of my coming release from my troubles. At two +o’clock in the morning, I went down to the river’s brink. Sirs, you know +the rest,--you snatched me from a watery grave. I thank you for your +goodness,--though I am sorry you saved my life. The world is full of +forsaken women. I did not wish to add another to the number.” + +Sophie then fell silent and began weeping afresh. My good master took +her hand with the greatest delicacy. + +“My child,” he said, “I have listened with a tender interest to the +story of your life, and I own ‘tis a sad tale. But I am happy to discern +that your case is curable. Not only was your lover unworthy of the +favours you showed him and has proved himself on trial a selfish, +cruel-hearted libertine, but I see plainly your love for him was only +an impulse of the senses and the effect of your own sensibility, the +particular object of which mattered far less than you imagine. What +there was rare and excellent in the liaison came from you. Well then, +nothing is lost, since the source still remains. Your eyes, which have +thrown a glamour of the fairest hues over, I doubt not, a very ordinary +individual, will not cease to go on shedding abroad elsewhere the same +bright rays of charming self-delusion.” + +My good master said more in the same strain, dropping from his lips the +finest words ever heard anent the tribulations of the senses and the +errors lovers are prone to. But, as he talked on, Sophie, who for some +while had let her pretty head droop on the shoulder of this best of men, +fell softly asleep. When M. l’Abbé Coignard saw his young friend +was wrapped in a sound slumber, he congratulated himself on having +discoursed in a vein so meet to afford repose and peace to a suffering +soul. + +“It must be allowed,” he chuckled, “my sermons have a beneficent +effect.” + +Not to disturb Mademoiselle’s slumbers, he took a thousand pretty +precautions, amongst others constraining himself to talk on +uninterruptedly, not unreasonably apprehensive that a sudden silence +might awake her. + +“Tournebroche, my son,” he said, turning to me, “look, all her sorrows +are vanished away with the consciousness she had of them. You must see +they were all of the imagination and resided in her own thought. +You must understand likewise they sprang from a certain pride and +overweening conceit that goes along with love and makes it very +exacting. For, in truth, if only we loved in humbleness of spirit and +forgetfulness of self, or merely with a simple heart, we should be +content with what is vouchsafed us and should not straightway cry +treason when some slight is put on us. And if some power of loving were +left us still, after our lover had deserted us, we should await the +issue in calmness of mind to make what use of it God should please to +grant.” + +But the day was just breaking by this time, and the song of the birds +grew so loud it drowned my good master’s voice. He made no complaint on +this score. + +“Hearken,” he said, “to the sparrows. They make love more wisely than +men do.” + +Sophie awoke in the white light of dawn, and I admired her lovely eyes, +which fatigue and grief had ringed with a delicate pearly-grey. +She seemed somewhat reconciled to life, and did not refuse a cup of +chocolate which my good master made her drink at Mathurine’s door, the +pretty chocolate-seller of the Halles. + +But as the poor child came into more complete possession of her wits, +she began to trouble about sundry practical difficulties she had not +thought of till then. + +“What will my aunt say? And whatever can I tell her?” she asked +distractedly. + +The aunt lived just opposite Saint-Eustache, less than a hundred yards +from Mathurine’s archway. Thither we escorted her niece; and M. +l’Abbé Coignard, who had quite a venerable look, though one shoe _was_ +unbuckled, accompanied the fair Sophie to the door of her aunt’s lodging +and pitched that lady a fine tale: + +“I had the happy fortune,” he informed her, “to encounter your good +niece at the very moment when she was assailed by four footpads armed +with pistols, and I shouted for the watch so lustily that the thieves +took to their heels in a panic. But they were not quick enough to +escape the sergeants who, by the rarest chance, ran up in answer to my +outcries. They arrested the villains after a desperate tussle. I took my +share of the rough and tumble, and I thought at first I had lost my hat +in the fray. When all was over, we were all taken, your niece, the four +footpads and myself, before his Honour the Lieutenant-Criminel, who +treated us with much consideration and detained us till daylight in his +cabinet, taking down our evidence.” The aunt answered drily: + +“I thank you, sir, for having saved my niece from a peril which, to say +the truth, is not the risk a girl of her age need fear the most, when +she is out alone at night in the streets of Paris.” + +My good master made no answer to this; but Mademoiselle Sophie spoke up +and said in a voice of deep feeling: + +“I do assure you, Aunt, Monsieur l’Abbé saved my life.” + +***** + +Some years after this singular adventure, my master made the fatal +journey to Lyons from which he never returned. He was foully murdered, +and I had the ineffable grief of seeing him expire in my arms. The +incidents of his death have no connexion with the matter I speak of +here. I have taken pains to record them elsewhere; they are indeed +memorable, and will never, I think, be forgotten. I may add that this +journey was in all ways unfortunate, for after losing the best of +masters on the road, I was likewise forsaken by a mistress who loved me, +but did not love me alone, and whose loss nearly broke my heart, coming +after that of my good master. It is a mistake to suppose that a man +who has received one cruel blow grows callous to succeeding strokes +of calamity. Far otherwise; he suffers agonies from the smallest +contrarieties. I returned to Paris in a state of dejection almost beyond +belief. + +Well, one evening, by way of enlivening my spirits, I went to the +Comédie, where they were playing _Bajazet_, one of Racine’s excellent +pieces. I was particularly struck by the charm and beauty, no less than +the originality and talent, of the actress who took the part of Roxane. +She expressed with a delightful naturalness the passion animating that +character, and I shuddered as I heard her declaim in accents that were +harmonious and yet terrible the line: + + Écoutez Bajazet, je sens que je vous aime.{*} + + * “Hearken, Bajazet, I feel I love you.” + +I never wearied of gazing at her all the time she occupied the stage, +and admiring the beauty of her eyes that gleamed below a brow as pure +as marble and crowned by powdered locks all spangled with pearls. Her +slender waist too, which her hoop showed off to perfection, did not +fail to make a vivid impression on my heart. I had the better leisure to +scrutinize these adorable charms as she happened to face in my direction +to deliver several important portions of her rôle. And the more I +looked, the more I felt convinced I had seen her before, though I found +it impossible to recall anything connected with our previous meeting. My +neighbour in the theatre, who was a constant frequenter of the Comédie, +told me the beautiful actress was Mademoiselle B------, the idol of the +pit. He added that she was as great a favourite in society as on the +boards, that M. le Duc de La ------ had made her the fashion and that +she was on the highroad to eclipse Mademoiselle Lecouvreur. + +I was just leaving my seat after the performance when a “femme de +chambre” handed me a note in which I found written in pencil the words: + +“_Mademoiselle Roxane is waiting for you in her coach at the theatre +door_.” + +I could not believe the missive was intended for me; and I asked the +abigail who had delivered it if she was not mistaken in the recipient. + +“If I _am_ mistaken,” she replied confidently, “then you cannot be +Monsieur de Tournebroche, that is all.” + +I ran to the coach which stood waiting in front of the House, and inside +I recognized Mademoiselle B------, her head muffled in a black satin +hood. + +She beckoned to me to get in, and when I was seated beside her: + +“Do you not,” she asked me, “recognize Sophie, whom you rescued from +drowning on the banks of the Seine?” + +“What! you! Sophie--Roxane--Mademoiselle B------, is it possible?--” + +My confusion was extreme, but she appeared to view it without annoyance. + +“I saw you,” she went on, “in one corner of the pit. I knew you +instantly and played for you. Say, did I play well? I am so glad to see +you again!--” + +She asked me news of M. l’Abbé Coignard, and when I told her my good +master had just perished miserably, she burst into tears. + +She was good enough to inform me of the chief events of her life: + +“My aunt,” she said, “used to mend her laces for Madame de Saint-Remi, +who, as you must know, is an admirable actress. A short while after the +night when you did me such yeoman service, I went to her house to take +home some pieces of lace. The lady told me I had a face that interested +her. She then asked me to read some verses, and concluded I was not +without wits. She had me trained. I made my first appearance at the +Comédie last year. I interpret passions I have felt myself, and the +public credits me with some talent. M. le Duc de La ------ exhibits a +very dear friendship for me, and I think he will never cause me pain and +disappointment, because I have learnt to ask of men only what they can +give. At this moment he is expecting me at supper. I must not break my +word.” + +But, reading my vexation in my eyes, she added: + +“However, I have told my people to go the longest way round and to drive +slowly.” + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Merrie Tales Of Jacques +Tournebroche, by Anatole France + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK JACQUES TOURNEBROCHE *** + +***** This file should be named 25407-0.txt or 25407-0.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/2/5/4/0/25407/ + +Produced by David Widger + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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Thus, we do not necessarily +keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition. + + +Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility: + + http://www.gutenberg.org + +This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, +including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary +Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to +subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. diff --git a/25407-0.zip b/25407-0.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..dbf281a --- /dev/null +++ b/25407-0.zip diff --git a/25407-8.txt b/25407-8.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..eb07bde --- /dev/null +++ b/25407-8.txt @@ -0,0 +1,2839 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Merrie Tales Of Jacques Tournebroche, by +Anatole France + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Merrie Tales Of Jacques Tournebroche + 1909 + +Author: Anatole France + +Translator: Alfred Allinson + +Release Date: May 9, 2008 [EBook #25407] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK JACQUES TOURNEBROCHE *** + + + + +Produced by David Widger + + + + + + + + + + +THE MERRIE TALES OF JACQUES TOURNEBROCHE + +AND CHILD LIFE IN TOWN AND COUNTRY + +By Anatole France + +John Lane Company, MCMXIX + +Copyright 1909 + +John Lane Company + + + + +THE MERRIE TALES OF JACQUES TOURNEBROCHE + + + + +OLIVIER'S BRAG + +[Illustration: 016] + +The Emperor Charlemagne and his twelve peers, having taken the palmer's +staff at Saint-Denis, made a pilgrimage to Jerusalem. They prostrated +themselves before the tomb of Our Lord, and sat in the thirteen chairs +of the great hall wherein Jesus Christ and his Apostles met together +to celebrate the blessed sacrifice of the Mass. Then they fared to +Constantinople, being fain to see King Hugo, who was renowned for his +magnificence. + +The King welcomed them in his Palace, where, beneath a golden dome, +birds of ruby, wrought with a wondrous art, sat and sang in bushes of +emerald. + +He seated the Emperor of France and the twelve Counts about a table +loaded with stags, boars, cranes, wild geese, and peacocks, served in +pepper. And he offered his guests, in ox-horns, the wines of Greece and +Asia to drink. Charlemagne and his companions quaffed all these wines +in honour of the King and his daughter, the Princess Helen. After supper +Hugo led them to the chamber where they were to sleep. Now this chamber +was circular, and a column, springing in the midst thereof, carried the +vaulted roof. Nothing could be finer to look upon. Against the walls, +which were hung with gold and purple, twelve beds were ranged, while +another greater than the rest stood beside the pillar. + +Charlemagne lay in this, and the Counts stretched themselves round about +him on the others. The wine they had drunk ran hot in their veins, and +their brains were afire. They could not sleep, and fell to making brags +instead, and laying of wagers, as is the way of the knights of France, +each striving to outdo the other in warranting himself to do some +doughty deed for to manifest his prowess. The Emperor opened the game. +He said: + +"Let them fetch me, a-horseback and fully armed, the best knight King +Hugo hath. I will lift my sword and bring it down upon him in such wise +it shall cleave helm and hauberk, saddle and steed, and the blade shall +delve a foot deep underground." + +Guillaume d'Orange spake up after the Emperor and made the second brag. + +"I will take," said he, "a ball of iron sixty men can scarce lift, and +hurl it so mightily against the Palace wall that it shall beat down +sixty fathoms' length thereof." + +Ogier, the Dane, spake next. + +"Ye see yon proud pillar which bears up the vault. To-morrow will I tear +it down and break it like a straw." + +After which Renaud de Montauban cried with an oath: + +"'Od's life! Count Ogier, whiles you overset the pillar, I will clap the +dome on my shoulders and hale it down to the seashore." + +Grard de Rousillon it was made the fifth brag. + +He boasted he would uproot single-handed, in one hour, all the trees in +the Royal pleasaunce. + +Aimer took up his parable when Grard was done. + +"I have a magic hat," said he, "made of a sea-calf's skin, which renders +me invisible. I will set it on my head, and to-morrow, whenas King Hugo +is seated at meat, I will eat up his fish and drink down his wine, I +will tweak his nose and buffet his ears. Not knowing whom or what +to blame, he will clap all his serving-men in gaol and scourge them +sore,--and we shall laugh." + +"For me," declared Huon de Bordeaux, whose turn it was, "for me, I am +so nimble I will trip up to the King and cut off his beard and eyebrows +without his knowing aught about the matter. 'T is a piece of sport I +will show you to-morrow. And I shall have no need of a sea-calf hat +either!" + +Doolin de Mayence made his brag too. He promised to eat up in one +hour all the figs and all the oranges and all the lemons in the King's +orchards. + +Next the Due Naisme said in this wise: + +"By my faith! _I_ will go into the banquet hall, I will catch up flagons +and cups of gold and fling them so high they will never light down again +save to tumble into the moon." + +Bernard de Brabant then lifted his great voice: + +"I will do better yet," he roared. "Ye know the river that flows by +Constantinople is broad and deep, for it is come nigh its mouth by then, +after traversing Egypt, Babylon, and the Earthly Paradise. Well, I will +turn it from its bed and make it flood the Great Square of the City." + +Grard de Viane said: + +"Put a dozen knights in line of array. And I will tumble all the twelve +on their noses, only by the wind of my sword." + +It was the Count Roland laid the twelfth wager, in the fashion +following: + +"I will take my horn, I will go forth of the city and I will blow such a +blast all the gates of the town will drop from their hinges." + +Olivier alone had said no word yet. He was young and courteous, and the +Emperor loved him dearly. + +"Olivier, my son," he asked, "will you not make your brag like the rest +of us?" + +"Right willingly, sire," Olivier replied. + +"Do you know the name of Hercules of Greece?" + +"Yea, I have heard some discourse of him," said Charlemagne. "He was an +idol of the misbelievers, like the false god Mahound." + +"Not so, sire," said Olivier. "Hercules of Greece was a knight among +the Pagans and King of a Pagan kingdom. He was a gallant champion and +stoutly framed in all his limbs. Visiting the Court of a certain Emperor +who had fifty daughters, virgins, he wedded them all on one and the same +night, and that so well and throughly that next morning they all avowed +themselves well-contented women and with naught left to learn. He had +not slighted ever a one of them. Well, sire, an you will, I will lay my +wager to do after the fashion of Hercules of Greece." + +"Nay, beware, Olivier, my son," cried the Emperor, "beware what you do; +the thing would be a sin. I felt sure this King Hercules was a Saracen!" + +"Sire," returned Olivier, "know this--I warrant me to show in the same +space of time the selfsame prowess with one virgin that Herailes of +Greece did with fifty. And the maid shall be none other but the Princess +Helen, King Hugo's daughter." + +"Good and well," agreed Charlemagne; "that will be to deal honestly and +as a good Christian should. But you were in the wrong, my son, to drag +the fifty virgins of King Hercules into your business, wherein, the +Devil fly away with me else, I can see but one to be concerned." + +"Sire," answered Olivier mildly, "there is but one of a truth. But she +shall win such satisfaction of me that, an I number the tokens of my +love, you will to-morrow see fifty crosses scored on the wall, and that +is _my_ brag." + +The Count Olivier was yet speaking when lo! the column which bare the +vault opened. The pillar was hollow and contrived in such sort that +a man could lie hid therein at his ease to see and hear everything. +Charlemagne and the twelve Counts had never a notion of this; so they +were sore surprised to behold the King of Constantinople step forth. He +was white with anger and his eyes flashed fire. + +He said in a terrible voice: + +"So this is how ye show your gratitude for the hospitality I offer you. +Ye are ill-mannered guests. For a whole hour have ye been insulting me +with your bragging wagers. Well, know this,--you, Sir Emperor, and ye, +his knights; if to-morrow ye do not all of you make good your boasts, I +will have your heads cut off." + +Having said his say, he stepped back within the pillar, which shut to +again closely behind him. For a while the twelve paladins were dumb +with wonder and consternation. The Emperor was the first to break the +silence. + +"Comrades," he said, "'tis true we have bragged too freely. Mayhap we +have spoken things better unsaid. We have drunk overmuch wine, and have +shown unwisdom. The chiefest fault is mine; I am your Emperor, and I +gave you the bad example. I will devise with you to-morrow of the means +whereby we may save us from this perilous pass; meantime, it behoves us +to get to sleep. I wish you a good night. God have you in his keeping!" + +A moment later the Emperor and the twelve peers were snoring under their +coverlets of silk and cloth of gold. + +They awoke on the morrow, their minds still distraught and deeming the +thing was but a nightmare. But anon soldiers came to lead them to the +Palace, that they might make good their brags before the King's face. + +"Come," cried the Emperor, "come; and let us pray God and His Holy +Mother. By Our Lady's help shall we easily make good our brags." + +He marched in front with a more than human majesty of port. Arriving +anon at the King's Palace, Charlemagne, Naisme, Aimer, Huon, Doolin, +Guillaume, Ogier, Bernard, Renaud, the two Grards, and Roland fell on +their knees and, joining their hands in prayer, made this supplication +to the Holy Virgin: + +"Lady, which art in Paradise, look on us now in our extremity; for love +of the Realm of the Lilies, which is thine own, protect the Emperor of +France and his twelve peers, and give them the puissance to make good +their brags." + +Thereafter they rose up comforted and fulfilled of bright courage and +gallant confidence, for they knew that Our Lady would answer their +prayer. + +King Hugo, seated on a golden throne, accosted them, saying: + +"The hour is come to make good your brags. But an if ye fail so to do, I +will have your heads cut off. Begone therefore, straightway, escorted by +my men-at-arms, each one of you to the place meet for the doing of the +fine things ye have insolently boasted ye will accomplish." + +At this order they separated and went divers ways, each followed by a +little troop of armed men. Whiles some returned to the hall where they +had passed the night, others betook them to the gardens and orchards. +Bernard de Brabant made for the river, Roland hied him to the ramparts, +and all marched valiantly. Only Olivier and Charlemagne tarried in the +Palace, waiting, the one for the knight that he had sworn to cleave in +twain, the other for the maiden he was to wed. + +But in very brief while a fearful sound arose, awful as the last trump +that shall proclaim to mankind the end of the world. It reached the +Great Hall of the Palace, set the birds of ruby trembling on their +emerald perches and shook King Hugo on his throne of gold. + +'Twas a noise of walls crumbling into ruin and floods roaring, and +high above the din blared out an ear-splitting trumpet blast. Meanwhile +messengers had come hurrying in from all quarters of the city, and +thrown themselves trembling at the King's feet, bearing strange and +terrible tidings. + +"Sire," said one, "sixty fathoms' length of the city walls is fallen in +at one crash." + +"Sire," cried another, "the pillar which bare up your vaulted hall is +broken down, and the dome thereof we have seen walking like a tortoise +toward the sea." + +"Sire," faltered a third, "the river, with its ships and its fishes, +is pouring through the streets, and will soon be beating against your +Palace walls." + +King Hugo, white with terror, muttered: + +"By my faith! these men are wizards." + +"Well, Sir King," Charlemagne addressed him with a smile on his lips, +"the Knight I wait for is long of coming." + +The King sent for him, and he came. He was a knight of stately stature +and well armed. The good Emperor clave him in twain, as he had said. + +Now while these things were a-doing, Olivier thought to himself: + +"The intervention of Our Most Blessed Lady is plain to see in these +marvels; and I am rejoiced to behold the manifest tokens she vouchsafes +of her love for the Realm of France. Not in vain have the Emperor and +his companions implored the succour of the Holy Virgin, Mother of God. +Alas! _I_ shall pay for all the rest, and have my head cut off. For I +cannot well ask the Virgin Mary to help me make good _my_ brag. 'Tis +an enterprise of a sort wherein 'twould be indiscreet to crave the +interference of Her who is the _Lily of Purity_, the _Tower of Ivory_, +the _Guarded Door_ and the _Fenced Orchard-Close_. And, lacking aid from +on high, I am sore afraid I may not do so much as I have said." + +Thus ran Olivier's thoughts, when King Hugo roughly accosted him with +the words: + +"'T is now your turn, Count, to fulfil your promise." + +"Sire," replied Olivier, "I am waiting with great impatience for the +Princess your daughter. For you must needs do me the priceless grace of +giving me her hand." + +"That is but fair," said King Hugo. "I will therefore bid her come to +you and a chaplain with her for to celebrate the marriage." + +At church, during the ceremony, Olivier reflected: + +"The maid is sweet and comely as ever a man could desire, and too fain +am I to clip her in my arms to regret the brag I have made." + +That evening, after supper, the Princess Helen and the Count Olivier +were escorted by twelve ladies and twelve knights to a chamber, wherein +the twain were left alone together. + +There they passed the night, and on the morrow guards came and led them +both before King Hugo. He was on his throne, surrounded by his knights. +Near by stood Charlemagne and the peers. + +"Well, Count Olivier," demanded the King, "is your brag made good?" + +Olivier held his peace, and already was King Hugo rejoiced at heart +to think his new son-in-law's head must fall. For of all the brags and +boasts, it was Olivier's had angered him worst. + +"Answer," he stormed. "Do you dare to tell me your brag is +accomplished?" + +Thereupon the Princess Helen, blushing and smiling, spake with eyes +downcast and in a faint voice, yet clear withal, and said,--"Yea!" + +Right glad were Charlemagne and the peers to hear the Princess say this +word. + +"Well, well," said Hugo, "these Frenchmen have God and the Devil +o' their side. It was fated I should cut off none of these knights' +heads.... Come hither, son-in-law,"--and he stretched forth his hand to +Olivier, who kissed it. + +The Emperor Charlemagne embraced the Princess and said to her: + +"Helen, I hold you for my daughter and my son's wife. You will go along +with us to France, and you will live at our Court." + +Then, as his lips lay on the Princess's cheek, he rounded softly in her +ear: + +"You spake as a loving-hearted woman should. But tell me this in closest +confidence,--Did you speak the truth?" + +She answered: + +"Sire, Olivier is a gallant man and a courteous. He was so full of +pretty ways and dainty devices for to distract my mind, _I_ never +thought of counting. Nor yet did _he_ keep score. Needs therefore must I +hold him quit of his promise." + +King Hugo made great rejoicings for his daughter's nuptials. Thereafter +Charlemagne and his twelve peers returned back to France, taking with +them the Princess Helen. + + + + +THE MIRACLE OF THE MAGPIE + +[Illustration: 034] + + + + +I + +LENT, of the year 1429, presented a strange marvel of the Calendar, a +conjunction that moved the admiration not only of the common crowd +of the Faithful, but eke of Clerks, well learned in Arithmetic. For +Astronomy, mother of the Calendar, was Christian in those days. In 1429 +Good Friday fell on the Feast of the Annunciation, so that one and the +same day combined the commemoration of the two several mysteries which +did commence and consummate the redemption of mankind, and in wondrous +wise superimposed one on top of the other, Jesus conceived in the +Virgin's womb and Jesus dying on the Cross. This Friday, whereon the +mystery of joy came so to coincide exactly with the mystery of sorrow, +was named the "Grand Friday," and was kept holy with solemn Feasts on +Mount Anis, in the Church of the Annunciation. For many years, by gift +of the Popes of Rome, the sanctuary of Mount Anis had possessed the +privilege of the plenary indulgences of a great jubilee, and the +late-deceased Bishop of Le Puy, lie de Le-strange, had gotten Pope +Martin to restore this _pardon_. It was a favour of the sort the Popes +scarce ever refused, when asked in due and proper form. + +The _pardon_ of the Grand Friday drew a great crowd of pilgrims and +traders to Le Puy-en-Velay. As early as mid February folk from distant +lands set out thither in cold and wind and rain. For the most part +they fared on foot, staff in hand. Whenever they could, these pilgrims +travelled in companies, to the end they might not be robbed and held to +ransom by the armed bands that infested the country parts, and by the +barons who exacted toll on the confines of their lands. Inasmuch as +the mountain districts were especially dangerous, they tarried in the +neighbouring towns, Clermont, Issoire, Brioude, Lyons, Issingeaux, +Alais, till they were gathered in a great host, and then went forth on +their road in the snow. During Holy Week a strange multitude thronged +the hilly streets of Le Puy,--pedlars from Languedoc and Provence and +Catalonia, leading their mules laded with leather goods, oil, wool, webs +of cloth, or wines of Spain in goat-skins; lords a-horseback and ladies +in wains, artisans and traders pacing on their mules, with wife or +daughter perched behind, Then came the poor pilgrim folk, limping along, +halting and hobbling, stick in hand and bag on back, panting up the +stiff climb. Last were the flocks of oxen and sheep being driven to the +slaughterhouses. + +Now, leant against the wall of the Bishop's palace, stood Florent +Guillaume, looking as long and dry and black as an espalier vine in +winter, and devoured pilgrims and cattle with his eyes. + +"Look," he called to Marguerite the lace-maker, "look at yonder fine +heads of bestial." + +And Marguerite, squatted beside her bobbins, called back: + +"Yea, fine beasts, and fat withal!" + +Both the twain were very bare and scant of the goods of this world, and +even then were feeling bitterly the pinch of hunger. And folk said +it came of their own fault. At that very moment Pierre Grandmange the +tripe-seller was saying as much, where he stood in his tripe-shop, +pointing a finger at them. "'T would be sinful," he was crying, "to give +an alms to such good-for-nothing varlets." The tripe-seller would fain +have been very charitable, but he feared to lose his soul by giving to +evil-livers, and all the fat citizens of Le Puy had the selfsame +scruples. + +To say truth, we must needs allow that, in the heyday of her hot youth, +Marguerite the lace-maker had not matched St. Lucy in purity, St. Agatha +in constancy, and St. Catherine in staidness. As for Florent Guillaume, +he had been the best scrivener in the city. For years he had not had his +equal for engrossing the Hours of Our Lady of Le Puy. But he had been +over fond of merrymakings and junketings. Now his hand had lost its +cunning, and his eye its clearness; he could no more trace the letters +on the parchment with the needful steadiness of touch. Even so, he might +have won his livelihood by teaching apprentices in his shop at the +sign of the Image of Our Lady, under the choir buttresses of _The +Annunciation_, for he was a fellow of good counsel and experience. But +having had the ill fortune to borrow of Matre Jacquet Coquedouille the +sum of six livres ten sous, and having paid him back at divers terms +eighty livres two sous, he had found himself at the last to owe yet +six livres two sous to the account of his creditor, which account was +approved correct by the judges, for Jacquet Coquedouille was a sound +arithmetician. This was the reason why the scrivenry of Florent +Guillaume, under the choir buttresses of _The Annunciation_, was sold, +on Saturday the fifth day of March, being the Feast of St. Theophilus, +to the profit of Matre Jacquet Coquedouille. Since that time the poor +penman had never a place to call his own. But by the good help of Jean +Magne the bell-ringer and with the protection of Our Lady, whose Hours +he had aforetime written, Florent Guillaume found a perch o' nights in +the steeple of the Cathedral. + +The scrivener and the lace-maker had much ado to live. Marguerite only +kept body and soul together by chance and charity, for she had long lost +her good looks and she hated the lace-making. They helped each other. +Folks said so by way of reproach; they had been better advised to +account it to them for righteousness. Florent Guillaume was a learned +clerk. Well knowing every word of the history of the beautiful Black +Virgin of Le Puy and the ordering of the ceremonies of the great +_pardon_, he had conceived the notion he might serve as guide to the +pilgrims, deeming he would surely light on someone compassionate enough +to pay him a supper in guerdon of his fine stories. But the first folk +he had offered his services to had bidden him begone because his ragged +coat bespoke neither good guidance nor clerkly wit; so he had come back, +downhearted and crestfallen, to the Bishop's wall, where he had his +bit of sunshine and his kind gossip Marguerite. "They reckon," he said +bitterly, "I am not learned enough to number them the relics and recount +the miracles of Our Lady. Do they think my wits have escaped away +through the holes in my gaberdine?" + +"'Tis not the wits," replied Marguerite, "escape by the holes in a +body's clothes, but the good natural heat. I am sore a-cold. And it +is but too true that, man and woman, they judge us by our dress. The +gallants would find me comely enough yet if I was accoutred like my Lady +the Comtesse de Clermont." + +Meanwhile, all the length of the street in front of them the pilgrims +were elbowing and fighting their way to the Sanctuary, where they were +to win pardon for their sins. + +"They will surely suffocate anon," said Marguerite. "Twenty-two years +agone, on the Grand Friday, two hundred persons died stifled under the +porch of _The Annunciation_. God have their souls in keeping! Ay, those +were the good times, when I was young!" + +"'Tis very true indeed, that year you tell of, two hundred pilgrims +crushed each other to death and departed from this world to the other. +And next day was never a sign to be seen of aught untoward." + +As he so spake, Florent Guillaume noted a pilgrim, a very fat man, who +was not hurrying to get him assoiled with the same hot haste as the +rest, but kept rolling his wide eyes to right and left with a look of +distress and fear. Florent Guillaume stepped up to him and louted low. + +"Messire," he accosted him, "one may see at a glance you are a sensible +man and an experienced; you do not rush blindly to the _pardon_ like a +sheep to the slaughter. The rest of the folk go helter-skelter thither, +the nose of one under the tail of the other; but you follow a wiser +fashion. Grant me the boon to be your guide, and you will not repent +your bargain." + +The pilgrim, who proved to be a gentleman of Limoges, answered in the +patois of his countryside, that he had no use for a scurvy beggarman and +could very well find his own way to _The Annunciation_ for to receive +pardon for his faults. And therewith he set his face resolutely to the +hill. But Florent Guillaume cast himself at his feet, and tearing at his +hair: + +"Stop! stop! messire," he cried; "i' God's name and by all the Saints, +I warn you go no farther! 'T will be your death, and you are not the man +we could see perish without grief and dolour. A few steps more and you +are a dead man! They are suffocating up yonder. Already full six hundred +pilgrims have given up the ghost. And this is but a small beginning! Do +you not know, messire, that twenty-two years agone, in the year of grace +one thousand four hundred and seven, on the selfsame day and at the +selfsame hour, under yonder porch, nine thousand six hundred and +thirty-eight persons, without reckoning women and children, trampled +each other underfoot and perished miserably? An you met the same fate, +I should never smile again. To see you is to love you, messire; to know +you is to conceive a sudden and overmastering desire to serve you." + +The Limousin gentleman had halted in no small surprise and turned +pale to hear such discourse and see the fellow tearing out his hair in +fistfuls. In his terror he was for turning back the way he had come. But +Florent Guillaume, on his knees in the mud, held him back by the skirt +of his jacket. + +"Never go that way, messire! not that way. You might meet Jacquet +Coquedouille, and you would be all in an instant turned into stone. +Better encounter the basilisk than Jacquet Coquedouille. I will tell you +what you must do if, like the wise and prudent man your face proclaims +you to be, you would live long and make your peace with God. Hearken +to me; I am a scholar, a Bachelor. To-day the holy relics will be borne +through the streets and crossways of the city. You will find great +solace in touching the carven shrines which enclose the cornelian cup +wherefrom the child Jesus drank, one of the wine-jars of the Marriage at +Cana, the cloth of the Last Supper, and the holy foreskin. If you take +my advice, we will go wait for them, under cover, at a cookshop I wot +of, before which they will pass without fail." + +Then, in a wheedling voice, without loosing his hold of the pilgrim's +jacket, he pointed to the lace-maker and said: + +"Messire, you must give six sous to yonder worthy woman, that she may go +buy us wine, for she knows where good liquor is to be gotten." + +The Limousin gentleman, who was a simple soul after all, went where he +was led, and Florent Guillaume supped on the leg and wing of a goose, +the bones whereof he put in his pocket as a present for Madame Ysabeau, +his fellow lodger in the timbers of the steeple,--to wit, Jean Magne the +bell-ringer's magpie. + +He found her that night perched on the beam where she was used to roost, +beside the hole in the wall which was her storeroom wherein she hoarded +walnuts and hazel-nuts, almonds and beech-nuts. She had awoke at the +noise of his coming and flapped her wings; so he greeted her very +courteously, addressing her in these obliging terms: + +"Magpie most pious, lady recluse, bird of the cloister, Margot of the +Nunnery, sable-frocked Abbess, Church fowl of the lustrous coat, all +hail!" + +Then offering her the goose bones nicely folded in a cabbage leaf: + +"Lady," he said, "I bring you here the scraps remaining of a good dinner +a gentleman from Limoges gave me. His countrymen are radish eaters; but +I have taught this one to prefer an Anis goose to all the radishes in +the Limousin." + +Next day and the rest of the week Florent Guillaume,--for he could never +light on his fat friend again nor yet any other good pilgrim with a +well-lined travelling wallet,--fasted _a solis ortu usque ad occasum_, +from rising sun to dewy eve. Marguerite the lace-maker did likewise. +This was very meet and right, seeing the time was Holy Week. + + + + +II. + +[Illustration: 046] + +Now on Holy Easter Day, Matre Jacquet Coquedouille, a notable citizen +of the place, was peeping through a hole in a shutter of his house and +watching the countless throng of pilgrims passing down the steep street. +They were wending homewards, happy to have won their pardon; and the +sight of them greatly magnified his veneration for the Black Virgin. For +he deemed a lady so much sought after must needs be a puissant dame. +He was old, and his only hope lay in God's mercy. Yet was he but +ill-assured of his eternal salvation, for he remembered how many a time +he had ruthlessly fleeced the widow and the orphan. Moreover, he had +robbed Florent Guillaume of his scrivenry at the sign of Our Lady. He +was used to lend at high interest on sound security. Yet could no man +infer he was a usurer, forasmuch as he was a Christian, and it was only +the Jews practised usury,--the Jews, and, if you will, the Lombards and +the men of Cahors. + +Now Jacquet Coquedouille went about the matter quite otherwise than the +Jews. He never said, like Jacob, Ephraim, and Manasses, "I am lending +you money." What he did say was, "I am putting money into your business +to help your trafficking," a different thing altogether. For usury and +lending upon interest were forbidden by the Church, but trafficking was +lawful and permitted. + +And yet at the thought how he had brought many Christian folk to poverty +and despair, Jacquet Coquedouille felt the pangs of remorse, as he +pictured the sword of Divine Justice hanging over his head. So on this +holy Easter Day he was fain to secure him against the Last Judgment +by winning the protection of Our Lady. He thought to himself she would +plead for him at the judgment seat of her divine Son, if only he gave +her a handsome fee. So he went to the great chest where he kept his +gold, and, after making sure the chamber door was shut fast, he opened +the chest, which was full of angels, flor-ins, esterlings, nobles, gold +crowns, gold ducats, and golden sous, and all the coins ever struck by +Christian or Saracen. He extracted with a sigh of regret twelve +deniers of fine gold and laid them on the table, which was crowded +with balances, files, scissors, gold-scales, and account books. After +shutting his chest again and triple-locking it, he numbered the deniers, +renumbered them, gazed long at them with looks of affection, and +addressed them in words so soft and sweet, so affable and ingratiating, +so gentle and courteous, it seemed rather the music of the spheres than +human speech. + +"Oh, little angels!" sighed the good old man. "Oh, my dear little +angels! Oh, my pretty gold sheep, with the fine, precious fleece!" + +And taking the pieces between his fingers with as much reverence as it +had been the body of Our Lord, he put them in the balance and made sure +they were of the full weight,--or very near, albeit a trifle clipped +already by the Lombards and the Jews, through whose hands they had +passed. After which he spoke to them yet more graciously than before: + +"Oh, my pretty sheep, my sweet, pretty lambs, there, let me shear you! +'T will do you no hurt at all." + +Then, seizing his great scissors, he clipped off shreds of gold here and +there, as he was used to clip every piece of money before parting with +it. And he gathered the clippings carefully in a wooden bowl that was +already half full of bits of gold. He was ready to give twelve angels +to the Holy Virgin; but he felt no way bound to depart from his use and +wont. This done, he went to the aumry where his pledges lay, and drew +out a little blue purse, broidered with silver, which a dame of the +petty trading sort had left with him in her distress. He remembered that +blue and white are Our Lady's colours. + +That day and the next he did nothing further. But in the night, betwixt +Monday and Tuesday, he had cramps, and dreamt the devils were pulling +him by the feet. This he took for a warning of God and our Blessed Lady, +tarried within doors pondering the matter all the day, and then toward +evening went to lay his offering at the feet of the Black Virgin. + + + + +III + +[Illustration: 051] + +THAT same day, as night was closing in, Florent Guillaume thought +ruefully of returning to his airy bedchamber. He had fasted the livelong +day, sore against the grain, holding that a good Christian ought not to +fast in the glorious Resurrection week. Before mounting to his bed in +the steeple, he went to offer a pious prayer to the Lady of Le Puy. She +was still there in the midst of the Church at the spot where she had +offered herself on the Grand Friday to the veneration of the Faithful. +Small and black, crowned with jewels, in a mantle blazing with gold and +precious stones and pearls, she held on her knees the Child Jesus, who +was as black as his mother and passed his head through a slit in her +cloak. It was the miraculous image which St. Louis had received as a +gift from the Soldan of Egypt and had carried with his own hands to the +Church of Anis. + +All the pilgrims were gone now, and the Church was dark and empty. The +last offerings of the Faithful were spread at the feet of the beautiful +Black Virgin, displayed on a table lit with wax tapers. You could see +amongst the rest a head, hearts, hands, feet, a woman's breasts of +silver, a little boat of gold, eggs, loaves, Aurillac cheeses, and in +a bowl full of deniers, sous, and groats, a little blue purse broidered +with silver. Over against the table, in a huge chair, dozed the priest +who guarded the offerings. + +Florent Guillaume dropped on his knees before the holy image, and said +over to himself this pious prayer: + +"Lady, an it be true that the holy prophet Jeremias, having beheld thee +with the eyes of faith ere ever thou wast conceived, carved with his +hands out of cedar-wood in thy likeness the holy image before which I +am at this present kneeling; an it be true that afterward King Ptolemy, +instructed of the miracles wrought by this same holy image, took it +from the Jewish priests, bare it to Egypt and set it up, covered +with precious stones, in the temple of the idols; an it be true that +Nebuchadnezzar, conqueror of the Egyptians, seized it in his turn and +had it laid amongst his treasure, where the Saracens found it when they +captured Babylon; an it be true that the Soldan loved it in his heart +above all things, and was used to adore it at the least once every day; +an it be true that the said Soldan had never given it to our saintly +King Louis, but that his wife, who was a Saracen dame, yet prized +chivalry and knightly prowess, resolved to make it a gift to the best +knight and worthiest champion of all Christendom; in a word, an this +image be miraculous, as I do firmly credit, have it do a miracle, Lady, +in favour of the poor clerk who hath many a time writ thy praises on +the vellum of the service books. He hath sanctified his sinful hands by +engrossing in a fair writing, with great red capitals at the beginning +of each clause, 'the fifteen joys of Our Lady,' in the vulgar tongue +and in rhyme, for the comforting of the afflicted. 'Tis pious work this. +Think of it, Lady, and heed not his sins. Give him somewhat to eat. +'Twill both do me much profit, and bring thee great honour, for the +miracle will appear no mean one to all them that know the world. Thou +hast this day gotten gold, eggs, cheeses, and a little blue purse +broidered with silver. Lady, I grudge thee none of the gifts that have +been made thee. Thou dost well deserve them, yea, and more than they. I +do not so much as ask thee to make them give me back what a thief hath +robbed me of, a thief by name Jacquet Coque-douille, one of the most +honoured citizens of this thy town of Le Puy. No, all I ask of thee +is not to let me die of hunger. And if thou grant me this boon, I will +indite a full and fair history of thine holy image here present." + +So prayed Florent Guillaume. The soft murmur of his petition was +answered only by the deep-chested, placid snore of the sleeping priest. +The poor scrivener rose from his knees, stepped noiselessly adown the +nave, for he was grown so light his footfall could scarce be heard, and, +fasting as he was, climbed the tower stairs that had as many steps as +there are days in the year. + +Meanwhile Madame Ysabeau, slipping under the cloister gate, entered +her Church. The pilgrims had driven her away, for she loved peace and +solitude. The bird came forward cautiously, putting one foot slowly +in front of the other, then stopped and craned her neck, casting a +suspicious look to right and left. Then giving a graceful little jump +and shaking out her tail feathers, she hopped up to the Black Madonna. +Then she stood stock still a few moments, scrutinising the sleeping +watchman and questioning the darkness and silence with eyes and ears +alert. At last with a mighty flutter of wings she alighted on the table +of offerings. + + + + +IV + +[Illustration: 056] + +MEANWHILE Florent Guillaume had settled himself for the night in the +steeple. It was bitter cold. The wind came blowing in through the +luffer-boards and fluted and organed among the bells to rejoice the +heart of the cats and owls. And this was not the only objection to +the lodging. Since the earthquake of 1427, which had shaken the whole +church, the spire was dropping to pieces stone by stone and threatened +to collapse altogether in the first storm. Our Lady suffered this +dilapidation because of the people's sins. + +Presently Florent Guillaume fell asleep, which is a token of his +innocency of heart. What dreams he dreamt is clean forgot, except that +he had a vision in his sleep of a lady of consummate beauty who came and +kissed him on the mouth. But when his lips opened to return her salute, +he swallowed two or three woodlice that were walking over his face and +by their tickling had deluded his sleeping senses into the agreeable +fancy. He awoke, and hearing a noise of wings beating above his head, he +thought it was a devil, as was very natural for him to opine, seeing how +the evil spirits flock in countless swarms to torment mankind, and above +all at night time. But the moon just then breaking through the clouds, +he recognised Madame Ysabeau and saw she was busy with her beak pushing +into a crack in the wall that served her for storehouse a blue purse +broidered with silver. He let her do as she list; but when she had left +her hoard, he clambered onto a beam, took the purse, opened it, and saw +it contained twelve good gold deniers, which he clapped in his belt, +giving thanks to the incomparable Black Virgin of Le Puy. For he was a +clerk and versed in the Scriptures, and he remembered how the Lord fed +his prophet Elias by a raven; whence he inferred that the Holy Mother +of God had sent by a magpie twelve deniers to her poor penman, Florent +Guillaume. + +On the morrow Florent and Marguerite the lace-maker ate a dish of +tripe,--a treat they had craved for many a long year. + +So ends the Miracle of the Magpie. May he who tells the tale live, as he +would fain live, in good and gentle peace, and all good hap befall such +folk as shall read the same. + + + + +BROTHER JOCONDE + +[Illustration: 062] + +THE Parisians were far from loving the English and found it hard to put +up with them. When, after the obsequies of the late King Charles VI, the +Duke of Bedford had the sword of the King of France borne before him, +the people murmured. But what cannot be cured must be endured. Besides, +though the capital hated the English, it loved the Burgundians. What +more natural for citizen folk, and especially for money-changers and +traders, than to admire Duke Philip, a prince of seemly presence and the +richest nobleman in Christendom. As for the "little King of Bourges," +a sorry-looking mortal and very poor, strongly suspected, moreover, of +foul murder at the Bridge of Montereau, what had he about him to please +folk withal? Scorn was the sentiment felt for him, and horror and +loathing for his partisans. For ten years now had these been riding and +raiding around the walls, pillaging and holding to ransom. No doubt the +English and Burgun-dians did much the same; when, in the month of +August, 1423, Duke Philip came to Paris, his men-at-arms had ravaged all +the country about. And they were friends and allies of course; but after +all they only came and went. The Armagnacs, on the contrary, were always +in the field, stealing whatever they could lay their hands upon, firing +farmsteads and churches, killing women and children, deflowering virgins +and nuns, hanging men by the thumbs. In 1420 they threw themselves like +devils let loose on the village of Champigny and burnt up altogether +oats, wheat, lambs, cows, oxen, children, and women. They did the like +and worse at Croissy. A very great clerk of the University declared they +wrought all wickedness that can be wrought and conceived, and that more +Christian folk had been martyred at their hands than ever Maximian or +Diocletian did to death. + +At the news that these accursed Armagnacs were at the gates of Compigne +and occupying the neighbouring castles and their lands, the folk of +Paris were sore afraid. They believed that the Dauphin's soldiers had +sworn, if they entered Paris, to slay whomsoever they found there. They +affirmed openly that Messire Charles de Valois had given up to his men's +mercy town and townsmen, great and small, of every rank and condition, +men and women, and that he proposed to drive the plough over the site of +the city. The inhabitants mostly believed the tale; so they set the St. +Andrew's cross on their coats, in token that they were of the party of +the Burgundians. Their hatred was doubled, and their fears with it, when +they learned that Brother Richard and the Maid Jeanne were at the head +of King Charles' army. They knew nothing of the Maid save from the +rumour of the victories she was reported to have won at Orleans. But +they deemed she had vanquished the English by the Devil's aid, by means +of spells and enchantments. + +The Masters of the University all said: "A creature in shape of a woman +is with the Armagnacs. What it is, God knows!" + +For Brother Richard, they knew him well. He had come to Paris before, +and they had hearkened reverently to his sermons. He had even persuaded +them to renounce those games of chance for which they had been used +to forget meat and drink and the services of the Church. Now, at the +tidings that Brother Richard was on foray with the Armagnacs and +winning over for them by his well-hung tongue good towns like Troyes in +Champagne, they called down on him the curse of God and his Saints. They +tore out of their hats the leaden medals inscribed with the holy name +of Jesus, which the good Brother had given them, and to show in what +detestation they held him, resumed dice, bowls, draughts, and all other +games they had renounced at his exhortation. + +The city was strongly fortified, for in the days when King Jean was a +prisoner of the English, the citizens of Paris, seeing the enemy in the +heart of the Kingdom, had feared a siege and had hastened to put the +walls in a state of defence. They had surrounded the place with moats +and counter-moats. The moats, on the left bank of the river, were dug +at the foot of the walls forming the old circle of fortification. But +on the right bank there were faubourgs, both extensive and well built, +outside the walls and almost touching them. The new moats enclosed a +part of these, and the Dauphin Charles, King Jean's son, afterward had +a wall built along the line of them. Nevertheless there was some feeling +of insecurity, for the Cathedral Chapter took measures to put the relics +and treasure out of reach of the enemy. + +Meantime, on Sunday, August 21st, a Cordelier, by name Brother Joconde, +entered the town. He had made pilgrimage to Jerusalem, and was said, +like Brother Vincent Ferrier and Brother Bernardino of Sienna, to +have enjoyed by the abounding grace of God many revelations anent the +forthcoming end of the world. He gave out that he would preach his first +sermon to the Parisians on Tuesday following, St. Bartholomew's day, in +the Cloister of "The Innocents." On the eve of that day more than six +thousand persons spent the night in the Cloister. At the foot of the +platform wherefrom he was to preach, the women sat squatted on their +heels, and amongst them Guillaumette Dyonis, who was blind from birth. +She was the child of an artisan who had been killed by the Burgundians +in the woods of Boulogne-la-Grande. Her mother had been carried off by +a Burgundian man-at-arms, and none knew what had become of her. +Guillaumette was fifteen or sixteen years of age. She lived at "The +Innocents" on what she made by spinning wool, at which trade there was +not a better worker to be found in all the town. She went and came in +the streets without the help of any and knew everything as well as those +who can see. As she lived a good and holy life and fasted often, she +was favoured with visions. In especial she had been accorded notable +revelations by the Apostle St. John concerning the troubles that then +beset the Kingdom of France. Now, as she was reciting her Hours at the +foot of the platform, under the great Dance of Death, a woman called +Simone la Bardine, who was seated on the ground beside her, asked her if +the good Brother was not coming soon. + +Guillaumette Dyonis could not see the tailed gown of green and the +horned wimple which Simone la Bardine wore; yet she knew by instinct the +woman was no honest dame. She felt a natural aversion for light women +and the sort the soldiers called their sweethearts or "doxies," but it +had been revealed to her that we should hold such in great pity and +deal compassionately with them. Wherefore she answered Simone la Bardine +gently: + +"The good Father will come soon, please God. And we shall have no reason +to regret having waited, for he is eloquent in prayer and his sermons +turn the folk to devotion more even than those of Brother Richard, who +spake in these Cloisters in the springtime. He knows more than any man +living of the times that shall come and shall show us strange portents. +I trow we shall gain great profit of his words." + +"God grant it," sighed Simone la Bardine. "But are you not very sorry to +be blind?" + +"No. I wait to see God." + +Simone la Bardine made her mantle into a cushion, and said: + +"Life is all ups and downs. I live at the top of the Rue Saint-Antoine. +'T is the finest part of the city and the merriest, for the best +hostelries are in the Place Baudet and thereabout. Before the Wars there +was aye abundance there of hot cakes and fresh herrings and Auxerre +wine by the tun. With the English famine entered the town. Now is there +neither bread in the bin nor firewood on the hearth. One after other the +Armagnacs and the Burgundians have drunk up all the wine, and there is +naught left in the cellar but a little thin, sour cider and sloe-juice. +Knights armed for the tourney, pilgrims with their cockleshells +and staves, traders with their chests full of knives and little +service-books, where are they gone? They never come now to seek a +lodging and good living in the Rue Saint-Antoine. But the wolves quit +covert in the forests and prowl of nights in the faubourgs and devour +little children." + +"Put your trust in God," Guillaumette Dyonis answered her. + +"Amen!" returned Simone la Bardine. "But I have not told you the worst. +On the Thursday before St, John's day, at three after midnight, two +Englishmen came knocking at my door. Not knowing but they had come to +rob me or break up my chests and coffers out of mischief, or do some +other devilment, I shouted to them from my window to go their ways, that +I did not know them and I was not going to open the door. But they only +hammered louder, swearing they were going to break in the door and +come in and cut off my nose and ears. To stop their uproar I emptied a +crockful of water on their heads; but the crock slipped out of my hands +and broke on the back of one fellow's neck so unchancily that it felled +him. His comrade called up the watch. I was haled to the Chtelet and +clapped in prison, where I was very hardly handled, and only escaped by +paying a heavy sum of money. I found my house pillaged from cellar to +attic. From that day my affairs have gone from bad to worse, and I have +naught in the wide world but the clothes I stand up in. In very despair +I have come hither to hear the good Father, who they say abounds in +comforting words." + +"God, who loves you," said Guillaumctte Dyonis, "has moved you in all +this." + +Then a great silence fell on the crowd as Brother Joconde appeared. His +eyes flashed like lightning. When he opened his lips, his voice pealed +out like thunder. + +"I have come from Jerusalem," he began; "and to prove it, see in this +wallet are roses of Jericho, a branch of the olive under which Our +Saviour sweated drops of blood, and a handful of the earth of Calvary." + +He gave a long narrative of his pilgrimage. And he added: + +"In Syria I met Jews travelling in companies; I asked them whither they +were bound, and they told me: 'We are flocking in crowds to Babylon, +because in very deed the Messiah is born among men, and will restore +us our heritage, and stablish us again in the Land of Promise.' So said +these Jews of Syria. Now the Scriptures teach us that he they call the +Messiah is, in truth, Antichrist, of whom it is said he must be born at +Babylon, chief city of the kingdom of Persia, be reared at Bethsaida, +and dwell in his youth at Chorazin. That is why Our Lord said: 'Woe unto +thee, Chor-azin! Woe unto thee, Bethsaida!' + +"The year that is at hand," went on Brother Joconde, "will bring the +greatest marvels that have ever been beheld. + +"The times are at hand. He is born, the man of sin, the son of +perdition, the wicked man, the beast from out the abyss, the abomination +of desolation. He comes from the tribe of Dan, of which it is written: +'Dan shall be a serpent in the way, an adder in the path.' + +"Brethren, soon shall ye see returning to this earth the Prophets Elias +and Enoch, Moses, Jeremias, and St. John Evangelist. And lo! the day of +wrath is dawning, the day which 'solvet sclum in favilla, teste David +et Sibylla.' Wherefore now is the time to repent and do penance and +renounce the false delights of this world." + +At the good Brother's word bosoms heaved with remorse and deep-drawn +sighs were heard. Not a few, both men and women, were near fainting when +the preacher cried: + +"I read in your souls that ye keep mandrakes at home, which will bring +you to hell fire." + +It was true. Many Parisians paid heavily to the old witch-wives, who +profess unholy knowledge, for to buy mandrakes, and were used to keep +them treasured in a chest. These magic roots have the likeness of +a little man, hideously ugly and misshapen in a weird and diabolic +fashion. They would dress them out magnificently, in fine linen and +silks, and the mannikins brought them riches, chief source of all the +ills of this world. + +Next Brother Joconde thundered against women's extravagant attire. + +"Leave off," he bade them, "your horns and your tails! Are ye not shamed +so to bedizen yourselves like she-devils? Light bonfires, I say, in the +public streets, and cast therein and burn your damnable head-gear,--pads +and rolls, erections of leather and whalebone, wherewith ye stiffen out +the front of your hoods." + +He ended by exhorting them with so much zeal and loving-kindness not to +lose their souls, but put themselves in the grace of God, that all who +heard him wept hot tears. And Simone la Bardine wept more abundantly +than any. + +When, finally, coming down from his platform, Brother Joconde crossed +the cloister and graveyard, the people fell on their knees as he went +by. The women gave him their little ones to bless, or besought him to +touch medals and rosaries for them. Some plucked threads from his gown, +thinking to get healing by putting them, like relics of the Saints, on +the places where they were afflicted. Guillaumette Dyonis followed the +good Father as easily as if she saw him with her bodily eyes. Simone +la Bardine trailed behind her, sobbing. She had pulled off her horned +wimple and tied a kerchief round her head. + +Thus they marched, the three of them, along the streets, where men and +women, who had been at the preaching, were kindling fires before their +doors to cast therein head-gear and mandrake roots. But on reaching +the river bank, Brother Joconde sat down under an elm, and Guillaumette +Dyonis came up to him and said: + +"Father, it hath been revealed to me in vision that you are come to this +Kingdom to restore the same to good peace and concord. I have had myself +many revelations concerning the peace of the Kingdom." + +Next Simone la Bardine took up her parable and said: + +"Brother Joconde, I lived once in a fine house in the Rue Saint-Antoine, +near by the Place Baudet, which is the fairest quarter of Paris, and the +wealthiest. I had a matted chamber, mantles of cloth of gold, and +gowns trimmed with miniver, enough to fill three great chests; I had a +feather-bed, a dresser loaded with pewter, and a little book wherein you +saw in pictures the story of Our Lord. But since the wars and pillagings +that devastate the Kingdom, I have lost everything. The gallants never +come now to take their pleasure in the Place Baudet. But the wolves come +there instead to devour little children. The Burgundians and the English +are as bad as the Armagnacs. Would you have me go with you?" + +The Monk gazed a while in silence at the two women; and deeming it +was Jesus Christ himself had led them to him, he received them for his +Penitents, and thereafter the twain followed him wherever he went. Every +day he preached to the people, now at "The Innocents," now at the Porte +Saint-Honor, or at the Halles. But he never went outside the Walls, by +reason of the Armagnacs, who were raiding all the countryside round the +city. + +His words led many souls to a better life; and at the fourth sermon he +preached in Paris, he received for Penitents Jeannette Chastenier, wife +of a merchant-draper on the Pont-au-Change, and another woman, by name +Opportune Jadoin, who nursed the sick at the Htel-Dieu and was no +longer very young. He admitted likewise into his company a gardener of +the Ville-l'Evque, a lad of about sixteen, Robin by name, who bare on +his feet and hands the stigmata of the crucifixion, and was shaken by +a sore trembling of all his limbs. He often saw the Holy Virgin in +corporeal presence, and heard her speech and savoured the divine odours +of her glorified body. She had entrusted him with a message for the +Regent of England and for the Duke of Burgundy. Meantime the army of +Messire Charles of Valois entered the town of Saint-Denis. And no man +durst from that day go out of Paris to harvest the fields or gather +aught from the market-gardens which covered the plain to the northward +of the city. Instantly famine prices ruled, and the inhabitants began to +suffer cruelly. And they were further exasperated because they believed +themselves betrayed. It was openly said that certain folk, and in +especial certain men of Religion, suborned by Messire Charles of Valois, +were watching for the best time to stir up trouble and bring in the +enemy in an hour of panic and confusion. Haunted by this fear, which +was not perhaps altogether baseless, the citizens who kept guard of the +ramparts showed scant mercy to any men of evil looks whom they found +loitering near the Gates and whom they might suspect, on the most +trivial evidence, of making signals to the Armagnacs. On Thursday, +September 8th, the good people of Paris awoke without any fear of being +attacked before the next day. This day, September 8th, was the Feast of +the Nativity of the Virgin, and it was an established custom with the +two factions that tore the Kingdom in twain to keep holy the feast-days +of Our Lord and His Blessed Mother. + +Yet at this holy season the Parisians, on coming forth from Mass, learnt +that, notwithstanding the sacredness of the day, the Armagnacs had +appeared before the Porte Saint-Honor and had set fire to the outwork +which defended its approach. It was further reported that Messire +Charles of Valois was posted, for the time being, along with Brother +Richard and the Maid Jeanne, in the Hog Market without the Walls. The +same afternoon, through all the city, on either side the bridges, shouts +of fear arose--"Save yourselves! fly, the enemy are come in, all is +lost!" The cries were heard even inside the Churches, where pious folks +were singing Vespers. These came flying out in terror and ran to their +houses to take refuge behind barred doors. + +Now the men who went about raising these cries were emissaries of +Messire Charles of Valois. In fact, at that very time, the Company of +the Marchal de Rais was making assault on the Walls near by the Porte +Saint-Honor. The Armagnacs had brought up in carts great bundles of +faggots and wattled hurdles to fill up the moats, and above six hundred +scaling-ladders for storming the ramparts. The Maid Jeanne, who was +nowise as the Burgundians believed, but lived a pious life and guarded +her chastity, set foot to ground, and was the first down into a dry +moat, which for that cause was easy to cross. But thereupon they found +themselves exposed to the arrows and cross-bolts that rained down thick +and fast from the Walls. Then they had in front of them a second moat. +Wherefore were the Maid and her men-at-arms sore hampered. Jeanne +sounded the great moat with her lance and shouted to throw in faggots. + +Inside the town could be heard the roar of cannon, and all along the +streets the citizens were running, half accoutred, to their posts on +the ramparts, knocking over as they went the brats playing about in the +gutters. The chains were drawn across the roadways, and barricades were +begun. Tribulation and tumult filled all the place. + +But neither the Brother Joconde nor his Penitents saw aught of it, +forasmuch as they took heed only of eternal things, and deemed the vain +agitation of men to be but a foolish game. They marched through the +streets singing the "Veni creator spiritus," and crying out: "Pray, for +the times are at hand." + +Thus they made their way in good array down the Rue Saint-Antoine, which +was densely crowded with men, women, and children. Coming presently to +the Place Baudet, Brother Joconde pushed through the throng and mounted +a great stone that stood at the door of the Htel de la Truie, which +Messire Florimont Lecocq, the master of the house, used to help him +mount his mule. This Messire Florimont Lecocq was Sergeant at the +Chtelet Prison and a partisan of the English. + +So, standing on the great stone, Brother Joconde preached to the people. +"Sow ye," he cried, "sow ye, good folk; sow abundantly of beans, for He +which is to come will come quickly." + +By the beans they were to sow, the good Brother signified the charitable +works it behoved them accomplish before Our Lord should come, in the +clouds of heaven, to judge both the quick and the dead. And it was +urgent to sow these works without tarrying, for that the harvest would +be soon. Guillaumette Dyonis, Simone la Bardine, Jeanne Chastenier, +Opportune Jadoin, and Robin the gardener, stood in a ring about the +Preacher, and cried "Amen!" + +But the citizens, who thronged behind in a great crowd, pricked up their +ears and bent their brows, thinking the Monk was foretelling the entry +of Charles of Valois into his good town of Paris, over which he was +fain--at any rate, so they believed--to drive the ploughshare. + +Meanwhile the good Brother went on with his soul-awakening discourse. + +"Oh! ye men of Paris, ye are worse than the Pagans of old Rome." + +Just then the mangonels firing from the Porte Saint-Denis mingled their +thunder with Brother Joconde's voice and shook the bystanders' +hearts within them. Some one in the press cried out, "Death! death to +traitors!" All this time Messire Florimont Lecocq was within-doors doing +on his armour. He now came forth at the noise, before he had buckled his +leg-pieces. Seeing the Monk standing on his mounting-block, he asked: +"What is this good Father saying?" And a chorus of voices answered: +"Telling us that Messire Charles of Valois is going to enter the city," +while others cried: + +"He is against the folk of Paris," and others again: + +"He would fain cozen and betray us, like the Brother Richard, who at +this very time is riding with our enemies." + +But Brother Joconde made answer: "There be neither Armagnacs, nor +Burgundians, nor French, nor English, but only the sons of light and +the sons of darkness. Ye are lewd fellows and your women wantons." + +"Go to, thou apostate! thou sorcerer! thou traitor!" yelled Messire +Florimont Lecocq,--and lugging out his sword, he plunged it in the good +Brother's bosom. + +With pale lips and faltering voice, the man of God still managed to say: + +"Pray, fast, do penance, and ye shall be forgiven, my brethren..." + +Then his voice choked, as the blood poured from his mouth, and he fell +on the stones. Two knights, Sir John Stewart and Sir George Morris, +threw themselves on the body and pierced it with more than a hundred +dagger thrusts, vociferating: + +"Long life to King Henry! Long life to my Lord the Duke of Bedford! Down +with the Dauphin! Down with the mad Maid of the Armagnacs! Up, up! To +the Gates, to the Gates!" + +Therewith they ran to the Walls, drawing off with them Messire Florimont +and the crowd of citizens. + +Meanwhile the holy women and the gardener tarried about the bleeding +corse. Simone la Bardine lay prostrate on the ground, kissing the good +Brother's feet and wiping away his blood with her unbound hair. + +But Guillaumette Dyonis, standing up with her arms lifted to heaven, +cried in a voice as clear as the sound of bells: + +"My sisters, Jeanne, Opportune and Simone, and you, my brother, Robin +the gardener, let us be going, for the times are at hand. The soul +of this good Father holds me by the hand, and it will lead me aright. +Wherefore ye must follow along with me. And we will say to those who are +making cruel war upon each other: 'Kiss and make peace. And if ye must +needs use your arms, take up the cross and go forth all together to +fight the Saracens.' Come! my sisters and my brother." + +Jeanne Chastenier picked up the shaft of an arrow from the ground, brake +it, and made a cross, which she laid on good Brother Joconde's bosom. +Then these holy women, and the gardener with them, followed after +Guillaumette Dyonis, who led them by the streets and squares and alleys +as if her eyes had seen the light of day. They reached the foot of the +rampart, and by the stairway of a tower that was left unguarded, they +mounted onto the curtain-wall. There had been no time to furnish it with +its hoardings of wood; so they went along in the open. They proceeded +toward the Porte Saint-Honor, by this time enveloped in clouds of dust +and smoke. It was there the Marchal de Rais and his men were making +assault. Their bolts flew thick and fast against the ramparts, and they +were hurling faggots into the water of the great moat. On the hog's-back +parting the great moat from the little, stood the Maid, crying: "Yield, +yield you to the King of France." The English had abandoned the top +of the wall in terror, leaving their dead and wounded behind them. +Guillaumette Dyonis walked first, her head high and her left arm +extended before her, while with her right hand she kept signing herself +reverently. Simone la Bardine followed close on her heels. Then came +Jeanne Chastenier and Opportune Jadoin. Robin the gardener brought +up the rear, his body all shaking with his infirmity, and showing +the divine stigmata on his hands. They were singing canticles as they +walked. + +And Guillaumette, turning now toward the city and now toward the open +country, cried: "Brethren, embrace ye one another. Live in peace +and harmony. Take the iron of your spearheads and forge it into +ploughshares!" + +Scarce had she spoken ere a shower of arrows, some from the parapet-way +where a Company of Citizens was defiling, some from the hog's-back +where the Armagnac men-at-arms were massed, flew in her direction, and +therewith a storm of insults: + +"Wanton! traitress! witch!" + +Meanwhile she went on exhorting the two sides to stablish the Kingdom +of Jesus Christ upon earth and to live in innocency and brotherly love, +till a cross-bow bolt struck her in the throat and she staggered and +fell backward. + +It was which could laugh the louder at this, Armagnacs or Burgundians. +Drawing her gown over her feet, she lay still and made no other stir, +but gave up her soul, sighing the name of Jesus. Her eyes, which +remained open, glowed like two opals. + +Short while after the death of Guillaumette Dyonis the men of Paris +returned in great force to man their Wall, and defended their city right +valorously. Jeanne the Maid was wounded by a cross-bow bolt in the leg, +and Messire Charles of Valois' men-at-arms fell back upon the Chapelle +Saint-Denis. What became of Jeanne Chastenier and Opportune Jadoin no +one knows. They were never heard of more. Simone la Bardine and Robin +the gardener were taken the same day by the citizens on guard at the +Walls and handed over to the Bishop's officer, who duly brought them +before the Courts. The Church adjudged Simone heretic, and condemned +her for salutary penance to the bread of suffering and the water of +affliction. Robin was convicted of sorcery, and, persevering in his +error, was burned alive in the Place du Parvis. + + + + +FIVE FAIR LADIES OF PICARDY, OF POITOU, OF TOURAINE, OF LYONS, AND OF PARIS + +[Illustration: 090] + +ONE day the Capuchin, Brother Jean Chavaray, meeting my good master the +Abb Coign-ard in the cloister of "The Innocents," fell into talk +with him of the Brother Olivier Maillard, whose sermons, edifying and +macaronic, he had lately been reading. + +"There are good bits to be found in these sermons," said the Capuchin, +"notably the tale of the five ladies and the go-between..." You will +readily understand that Brother Olivier, who lived in the reign of +Louis XI and whose language smacks of the coarseness of that age, uses a +different word. But our century demands a certain politeness and decency +in speech; wherefore I employ the term I have, to wit, _go-between_. + +"You mean," replied my good master, "to signify by the expression a +woman who is so obliging as to play intermediary in matters of love +and love-making. The Latin has several names for her,--as _lena, +conciliatrix_, also _internuntia libidinum_, ambassadress of naughty +desires. These prudish dames perform the best of services; but +seeing they busy themselves therein for money, we distrust their +disinterestedness. Call yours a _procuress_, good Father, and have done +with it; 't is a word in common use, and has a not unseemly sound." + +"So I will, Monsieur l'Abb," assented Brother Jean Chavaray. "Only +don't say _mine_, I pray, but the Brother Olivier's. A procuress then, +who lived on the Pont des Tournelles, was visited one day by a knight, +who put a ring into her hands. 'It is of fine gold,' he told her, 'and +hath a balass ruby mounted in the bezel. An you know any dames of good +estate, go say to the most comely of them that the ring is hers if she +is willing to come to see me and do at my pleasure.' + +"The procuress knew, by having seen them at Mass, five ladies of an +excellent beauty,--natives the first of Picardy, the second of Poitou, +the third of Touraine, another from the good city of Lyons, and the last +a Parisian, all dwelling in the Cite or its near neighbourhood. + +"She knocked first at the Picard lady's door. A maid opened, but her +mistress refused to have one word to say to her visitor. She was an +honest woman. + +"The procuress went next to see the lady of Poitiers and solicit her +favours for the gallant knight. This dame answered her: + +"'Prithee, go tell him who sent you that he is come to the wrong house, +and that I am not the woman he takes me for.' + +"She too is an honest woman; yet less honest than the first, in that she +tried to appear more so. + +"The procuress then went to see the lady from Tours, made the same offer +to her as to the other, and showed her the ring. + +"'I' faith,' said the lady, 'but the ring is right lovely.' + +"''T is yours, an you will have it.' + +"'I will not have it at the price you set on it. My husband might catch +me, and I should be doing him a grief he doth not deserve.' + +"This lady of Touraine is a harlot, I trow, at bottom of her heart. + +"The procuress left her and went straight to the dame of Lyons, who +cried: + +"'Alack! my good friend, my husband is a jealous wight, and he would cut +the nose off my face to hinder me winning any more rings at this pretty +tilting.' + +"This dame of Lyons, I tell you, is a worthless good-for-naught. + +"Last of all the procuress hurried to the Parisian's. She was a hussy, +and answered brazenly: + +"'My husband goes Wednesday to his vineyards; tell the good sir who sent +you I will come that day and see him.' + +"Such, according to Brother Olivier, from Picardy to Paris, are the +degrees from good to evil amongst women. What think you of the matter, +Monsieur Coignard?" + +To which my good master made answer: + +"'T is a shrewd matter to consider the acts and impulses of these petty +creatures in their relations with Eternal Justice. I have no lights +thereanent. But methinks the Lyons dame who feared having her nose cut +off was a more good-for-nothing baggage than the Parisian who was afraid +of nothing." + +"I am far, very far, from allowing it," replied Brother Jean Chavaray. +"A woman who fears her husband may come to fear hell fire. Her +Confessor, it may be, will bring her to do penance and give alms. For, +after all, that is the end we must come at. But what can a poor Capuchin +hope to get of a woman whom _nothing_ terrifies?" + + + + +A GOOD LESSON WELL LEARNT + +[Illustration: 098] + +IN the days of King Louis XI there lived at Paris, in a matted chamber, +a citizen dame called Violante, who was comely and well-liking in all +her person. She had so bright a face that Master Jacques Tribouillard, +doctor in law and a renowned cosmographer, who was often a visitor at +her house, was used to tell her: + +"Seeing you, madame, I deem credible and even hold it proven, what +Cucurbitus Piger lays down in one of his scholia on Strabo, to wit, that +the famous city and university of Paris was of old known by the name of +Lutetia or Leucecia, or some such like word coming from _Leuk_, that +is to say, 'the white,' forasmuch as the ladies of the same had bosoms +white as snow,--yet not so clear and bright and white as is your own, +madame." + +To which Violante would say in answer: + +"'T is enough for me if my bosom is not fit to fright folks, like some +I wot of. And, if I show it, why,'tis to follow the fashion. I have not +the hardihood to do otherwise than the rest of the world." + +Now Madame Violante had been wedded, in the flower of her youth, to an +Advocate of the Parlement, a man of a harsh temper and sorely set on the +arraignment and punishing of unfortunate prisoners. For the rest, he +was of sickly habit and a weakling, of such a sort he seemed more fit to +give pain to folks outside his doors than pleasure to his wife within. +The old fellow thought more of his blue bags than of his better +half, though these were far otherwise shapen, being bulgy and fat and +formless. But the lawyer spent his nights over them. + +Madame Violante was too reasonable a woman to love a husband that was +so unlovable. Master Jacques Tribouillard upheld she was a good wife, +as steadfastly and surely confirmed and stablished in conjugal virtue +as Lucretia the Roman. And for proof he alleged that he had altogether +failed to turn her aside from the path of honour. The judicious observed +a prudent silence on the point, holding that what is hid will only be +made manifest at the last Judgment Day. They noted how the lady was over +fond of gewgaws and laces and wore in company and at church gowns of +velvet and silk and cloth of gold, purfled with miniver; but they were +too fair-minded folk to decide whether, damning as she did Christian +men who saw her so comely and so finely dressed to the torments of vain +longing, she was not damning her own soul too with one of them. In a +word, they were well ready to stake Madame Violante's virtue on the toss +of a coin, cross or pile,--which is greatly to the honour of that fair +lady. + +The truth is her Confessor, Brother Jean Turelure, was for ever +upbraiding her. + +"Think you, madame," he would ask her, "that the blessed St. Catherine +won heaven by leading such a life as yours, baring her bosom and sending +to Genoa for lace ruffles?" + +But he was a great preacher, very severe on human weaknesses, who could +condone naught and thought he had done everything when he had inspired +terror. He threatened her with hell fire for having washed her face with +ass's milk. + +As a fact, no one could say if she had given her old husband a meet and +proper head-dress, and Messire Philippe de Coetquis used to warn the +honest dame in a merry vein: + +"See to it, I say! He is bald, he will catch his death of cold!" + +Messire Philippe de Coetquis was a knight of gallant bearing, as +handsome as the knave of hearts in the noble game of cards. He had first +encountered Madame Violante one evening at a ball, and after dancing +with her far into the night, had carried her home on his crupper, while +the Advocate splashed his way through the mud and mire of the kennels +by the dancing light of the torches his four tipsy lackeys bore. In the +course of these merry doings, a-foot and on horseback, Messire Philippe +de Coetquis had formed a shrewd notion that Madame Violante had a limber +waist and a full, firm bosom of her own, and there and then had been +smit by her charms. + +He was a frank and guileless wight and made bold to tell her outright +what he would have of her,--to wit, to hold her naked in his two arms. + +To which she would make answer: + +"Messire Philippe, you know not what you say. I am a virtuous wife,"-- + +Or another time: + +"Messire Philippe, come back again tomorrow,--" + +And when he came next day she would ask innocently: + +"Nay, where is the hurry?" + +These never-ending postponements caused the Chevalier no little distress +and chagrin. He was ready to believe, with Master Tribouillard, that +Madame Violante was indeed a Lucretia, so true is it that all men are +alike in fatuous self-conceit! And we are bound to say she had not so +much as suffered him to kiss her mouth,--only a pretty diversion after +all and a bit of wanton playfulness. + +Things were in this case when Brother Jean Turelure was called to Venice +by the General of his Order, to preach to sundry Turks lately converted +to the true Faith. + +Before setting forth, the good Brother went to take leave of his fair +Penitent, and upbraided her with more than usual sternness for living +a dissolute life. He exhorted her urgently to repent and pressed her to +wear a hair-shirt next her skin,--an incomparable remedy against naughty +cravings and a sovran medicine for natures over prone to the sins of the +flesh. + +She besought him: "Good Brother, never ask too much of me." + +But he would not hearken, and threatened her with the pains of hell if +she did not amend her ways. Then he told her he would gladly execute any +commissions she might be pleased to entrust him with. He was in hopes +she would beg him to bring her back some consecrated medal, a rosary, +or, better still, a little of the soil of the Holy Sepulchre which the +Turks carry from Jerusalem together with dried roses, and which the +Italian monks sell. + +But Madame Violante preferred a quite other request: + +"Good Brother, dear Brother, as you are going to Venice, where such +cunning workmen in this sort are to be found, I pray you bring me back a +Venetian mirror, the clearest and truest can be gotten." + +Brother Jean Turelure promised to content her wish. + +While her Confessor was abroad, Madame Violante led the same life as +before. And when Messire Philippe pressed her: "Were it not well to take +our pleasure together?" she would answer: "Nay! 't is too hot. Look at +the weathercock if the wind will not change anon." And the good folk +who watched her ways were in despair of her ever giving a proper pair +of horns to her crabbed old husband. "'T is a sin and a shame!" they +declared. + +On his return from Italy Brother Jean Turelure presented himself before +Madame Violante and told her he had brought what she desired. + +"Look, madame," he said, and drew from under his gown a death's-head. + +"Here, madame, is your mirror. This death's-head was given me for that +of the prettiest woman in all Venice. She was what you are, and you will +be much like her anon." + +Madame Violante, mastering her surprise and horror, answered the good +Father in a well-assured voice that she understood the lesson he would +teach her and she would not fail to profit thereby. + +"I shall aye have present in my mind, good Brother, the mirror you +have brought me from Venice, wherein I see my likeness not as I am at +present, but as doubtless I soon shall be. I promise you to govern my +behaviour by this salutary thought." + +Brother Jean Turelure was far from expecting such pious words. He +expressed some satisfaction. + +"So, madame," he murmured, "you see yourself the need of altering your +ways. You promise me henceforth to govern your behaviour by the thought +this fleshless skull hath brought home to you. Will you not make the +same promise to God as you have to me?" + +She asked if indeed she must, and he assured her it behoved her so to +do. + +"Well, I will give this promise then," she declared. + +"Madame, this is very well. There is no going back on your word now." + +"I shall not go back on it, never fear." + +Having won this binding promise, Brother Jean Turelure left the place, +radiant with satisfaction. And as he went from the house, he cried out +loud in the street: + +"Here is a good work done! By Our Lord God's good help, I have turned +and set in the way toward the gate of Paradise a lady, who, albeit not +sinning precisely in the way of fornication spoken of by the Prophet, +yet was wont to employ for men's temptation the clay whereof the Creator +had kneaded her that she might serve and adore him withal. She will +forsake these naughty habits to adopt a better life. I have throughly +changed her. Praise be to God!" + +Hardly had the good Brother gone down the stairs when Messire Philippe +de Coetquis ran up them and scratched at Madame Violante's door. She +welcomed him with a beaming smile, and led him into a closet, furnished +with carpets and cushions galore, wherein he had never been admitted +before. From this he augured well. He offered her sweetmeats he had in a +box. + +"Here be sugar-plums to suck, madame; they are sweet and sugared, but +not so sweet as your lips." + +To which the lady retorted he was a vain, silly fop to make boast of a +fruit he had never tasted. + +He answered her meetly, kissing her forthwith on the mouth. + +She manifested scarce any annoyance and said only she was an honest +woman and a true wife. He congratulated her and advised her not to lock +up this jewel of hers in such close keeping that no man could enjoy it. +"For, of a surety," he swore, "you will be robbed of it, and that right +soon." + +"Try then," said she, cuffing him daintily over the ears with her pretty +pink palms. + +But he was master by this time to take whatsoever he wished of her. She +kept protesting with little cries: + +"I won't have it. Fie! fie on you, messire! You must not do it. Oh! +sweetheart... oh! my love... my life! You are killing me!" + +Anon, when she had done sighing and dying, she said sweetly: + +"Messire Philippe, never flatter yourself you have mastered me by force +or guile. You have had of me what you craved, but 't was of mine own +free will, and I only resisted so much as was needful that I might yield +me as I liked best. Sweetheart, I am yours. If, for all your handsome +face, which I loved from the first, and despite the tenderness of +your wooing, I did not before grant you what you have just won with my +consent, 't was because I had no true understanding of things. I had +no thought of the flight of time and the shortness of life and love; +plunged in a soft languor of indolence, I reaped no harvest of my youth +and beauty. However, the good Brother Jean Turelure hath given me a +profitable lesson. He hath taught me the preciousness of the hours. But +now he showed me a death's-head, saying: 'Suchlike you will be soon.' +This taught me we must be quick to enjoy the pleasures of love and make +the most of the little space of time reserved to us for that end." + +These words and the caresses wherewith Madame Violante seconded them +persuaded Messire Philippe to turn the time to good account, to set to +work afresh to his own honour and profit and the pleasure and glory +of his mistress, and to multiply the sure proofs of prowess which it +behoves every good and loyal servant to give on suchlike an occasion. + +After which, she was ready to cry quits. Taking him by the hand, she +guided him back to the door, kissed him daintily on the eyes, and asked: + +"Sweetheart Philippe, is it not well done to follow the precepts of the +good Brother Jean Turelure?" + + + + +SATAN'S TONGUE-PIE + +[Illustration: 112] + +SATAN lay in his bed with the flaming curtains. The physicians and +apothecaries of Hell, finding their patient had a white tongue, inferred +he was suffering from a weakness of the stomach and prescribed a diet at +once light and nourishing. + +Satan swore he had no appetite for aught but a certain earthly +dish, which women excel in making when they meet in company, to wit, +tongue-pie. + +The doctors agreed there was nothing could better suit His Majesty's +stomach. + +In an hour's time the dish was set before the King; but he found it +insipid and tasteless. + +He sent for his Head Cook and asked him where the pie came from. + +"From Paris, sire. It is quite fresh; 'twas baked this very morning, +in the Marais Quarter, by a dozen gossips gathered round the bed at a +woman's lying-in." + +"Ah! now I know the reason it is so flavourless," returned the Prince of +Darkness. "You have not been to the best cooks for dishes of the sort. +Citizens' wives, they do their best; but they lack delicacy, they lack +the fine touch of genius. Women of the people are clumsier still. For a +real good tongue-pie a Nunnery is the place to go to. There's nobody to +match these old maids of Religion for a pretty skill in compounding all +the needful ingredients,--fine spices of rancour, thyme of backbiting, +fennel of insinuation, bay-leaf of calumny." + +This parable is taken from a sermon of the good Father Gillotin +Landoulle, a poor, unworthy Capuchin. + + + + +CONCERNING AN HORRIBLE PICTURE + +[Illustration: 116] + + THE WHICH WAS SHOWED IN A TEMPLE AND OF SUNDRY LIMNINGS OF A + RIGHT PACIFIC AND AMOROUS SORT THE WHICH THE SAGE PHILEMON + HAD HANGED IN HIS LIBRARIE AND OF A NOBLE PORTRAITURE OF THE + POET HOMER THE WHICH THE AFORESAID PHILEMON DID PRIZE ABOVE + ALL OTHER LIMNINGS + +PHILEMON was used to confess how, in the fire of his callow youth +and fine flower of his lustie springal days, he had been stung with +murderous frenzie at view of a certaine picture of Apelles, the which +in those times was showed in a temple. And the said picture did present +Alexander the Great laying on right shrewdly at Darius, king of the +Indians, whiles round about these twain, soldiers and captains were +a-slaying one another with a savage furie and in divers strange +fashions. And the said work was right cunningly wrought and in very +close mimicrie of nature. And none, an they were in the hot and lustie +season of their life, could cast a look thereon without being stirred +incontinent to be striking and killing poor harmlesse folk for the sole +sake of donning so rich an harnesse and bestriding such high-stepping +chargers as did these good codpieces in their battle,--for that young +blood doth aye take pleasure in horseflesh and the practise of arms. +This had the aforesaid Philemon proven in his day. And he was used to +say how ever after 'twas his wont to turn aside his eyen of set purpose +from suchlike pictures of wars and bloodshed, and that he did so +heartily loathe these cruelties as that he could not abear to behold +them even set forth in counterfeit presentment. + +And he was used to say that any honest and prudent wight must needs be +sore offended and scandalized by all this appalling array of armour +and bucklers and the horde of warriors Homer calls _Corythaioloi_ +(glancing-helmed) by reason of the terrifying hideousness of their +head-gear, and that the portrayal of these same fighting fellows was +in very truth unseemly, as contrarie to good and peaceable manners, +immodest, no thing in the world being more shameful then homicide, and +eke lascivious, as alluring folk to cruelty, the which is the worst of +all allurements. For to entice to pleasant dalliaunce is a far lesse +heinous fault. + +And the aforesaid Philemon was used to say that it was honest, decent, +of good ensample and entirely modest to show by painting, chiselling, or +any other fine artifice the scenes of the Golden Age, to wit maidens and +young men interlacing limbs in accord with the craving of kindly Nature, +or other the like delectable fancy, as of a Nymph lying laughing in the +grass. And on her ripe smiling mouth a Faun is crushing a purple grape. + +And he was used to say that belike the Golden Age had never flourished +save only in the fond imagining of the poets, and that our first +forebears of human kind, being yet barbarous and silly folk, had known +naught at all thereof; but that, an the said age could not credibly be +deemed to have been at the beginning of the world, we might well wish +it should be at the end, and that meanwhiles it was a gracious boon to +offer us a likeness of the same in pictured image. + +And like as it is (so he would say) obscene,--'t is the word Virgil +writes of dogs wallowing in the mud and mire,--to depict murderers, +whoreson men-at arms, fighting-men, conquering heroes and plundering +thieves, wreaking their foul and wicked will, yea! and poor devils +licking the dust and swallowing the same in great mouthfuls, and one +unhappie wretch that hath been felled to the earth and is striving to +get to his feet againe, but is pinned down by an horse's hoof pressing +on his chops, and another that looketh piteously about him for that his +pennon hath been shorn from him and his hand with it,--so is it of right +subtile and so to say heavenly art to exhibit prettie blandishments, +caresses, frolickings, beauties and delights, and the loves of the +Nymphs and Fauns in the woods. And he would have it there was none +offence in these naked bodies, clothed upon enow with their owne grace +and comeliness. + +And he had in his closet, this same Philemon aforesaid, a very +marvellous painting, wherein was limned a young Faun in act to filch +away with a craftie hand a light cloth did cover the belly of a sleeping +Nymph. 'T was plain to see he was full fain of his freak and seemed to +be saying: The body of this young goddess is so sweet and refreshing +as that the fountaine springing in the shade of the woods is not more +delightsome. How I do love to look upon you, soft sweet lap, and prettie +white thighs, and shady cavern at once terrifying and entrancing! And +over the heads of the twain did hover winged Cupids and watched them +laughingly, whiles fair dames and their gallants, their brows wreathen +with flowers, footed it on the lush grass. + +And he had, the aforesaid Philemon, yet other limnings of cunning +craftsmanship in his closet. And he did prize very high the portraiture +of a good doctor a-sitting in his cabinet writing at a table by +candle-light. The said cabinet was fully furnished with globes, gnomons, +and astrolabes, proper for meting the movements of the orbs of heaven, +the which is a right praiseworthy task and one that doth lift the spirit +to sublime thoughts and the exceeding pure love of Venus Urania. + +And there was hanging from the joists of the said cabinet a great +serpent and crocodile, forasmuch as they be rarities and very needful +for the due understanding of anatomy. And he had likewise, the +said doctor, amid his belongings, the books of the most excellent +philosophers of Antiquity and eke the treatises of Hippocrates. And he +was an ensample to young men which should be fain, by hard swinking, to +stuff their pates with as much high learning and occult lore as he had +under his own bonnet. + +And he had, the aforesaid Philemon, painted on a panel that shined like +a polished mirror a portraiture of Homer in the guise of an old blind +man, his beard white as the flowers of the hawthorn and his temples +bound about with the fillets sacred to the god Apollo, which had loved +him above all other men. And, to look at that good old man, you deemed +verily his lips were presently to ope and break into words of mlodie. + + + + +MADEMOISELLE DE DOUCINE'S NEW YEAR'S PRESENT + +[Illustration: 124] + +ON January 1st, in the forenoon, the good M. Chanterelle sallied out on +foot from his htel in the Faubourg Saint-Marcel. He felt the cold and +was a poor walker; so it was a real penance to him to face the chilly +air and the bleak streets which were full of half-melted snow. He had +refused to take his coach by way of mortifying the flesh, having grown +very solicitous since his illness about the salvation of his soul. He +lived in retirement, aloof from all society and company, and paid no +visits save to his niece, Mademoiselle de Doucine, a little girl of +seven. + +Leaning on his walking-cane, he made his way painfully to the Rue +Saint-Honor and entered the shop of Madame Pinson at the sign of the +_Panier Fleuri_. Here was displayed an abundant stock of children's toys +to tempt customers seeking presents for this New Year's Day of 1696. +You could scarce move for the host of mechanical figures of dancers and +tipplers, birds in the bush that clapped their wings and sang, cabinets +full of wax puppets, soldiers in white and blue ranged in battle array, +and dolls dressed some as fine ladies, others as servant wenches, for +the inequality of stations, established by God himself among mankind, +appeared even in these innocent mannikins. + +M. Chanterelle chose a doll. The one he selected was dressed like the +Princess of Savoy on her arrival in France, on November 4th. The head +was a mass of bows and ribbons; she wore a very stiff corsage, covered +with gold filigrees, and a brocade petticoat with an overskirt caught up +by pearl clasps. + +M. Chanterelle smiled to think of the delight such a lovely doll would +give Mademoiselle de Doucine, and when Madame Pinson handed him +the Princess of Savoy wrapped up in silk paper, a gleam of sensuous +satisfaction flitted over his kind face, pinched as it was with illness, +pale with fasting and haggard with the fear of hell. + +He thanked Madame Pinson courteously, clapped the Princess under his arm +and walked away, dragging his leg painfully, towards the house where he +knew Mademoiselle de Doucine was waiting for him to attend her morning +leve. + +At the corner of the Rue de l' Arbre-Sec, he met M. Spon, whose great +nose dived almost into his lace cravat. + +"Good morning, Monsieur Spon," he greeted him. "I wish you a happy New +Year, and I pray God everything may turn out according to your wishes." + +"Oh! my good sir, don't say that," cried M. Spon. "'T is often for our +chastisement that God grants our wishes. _Et tribuit eis petittonem +eorum_." + +"'Tis very true," returned M. Chanterelle, "we do not know our own best +interests. I am an example myself, as I stand before you. I thought at +first that the complaint I have suffered from for the last two years was +a curse; but I see now it is a blessing, since it has removed me from +the abominable life I was leading at the play-houses and in society. +This complaint, which tortures my limbs and is like to turn my brain, is +a signal token of God's goodness toward me. But, sir, will you not do +me the favour to accompany me as far as the Rue du Roule, whither I am +bound, to carry a New Year's gift to my niece Mademoiselle de Doucine?" + +At the words M. Spon threw up his arms and gave a great cry of horror. + +"What!" he exclaimed. "Can it be M. Chanterelle I hear say such +things,--and not some profligate libertine? Is it possible, sir, that +living as you do a religious and retired life, I see you all in a moment +plunge into the vices of the day?" + +"Alack! I did not think I was plunging into vice," faltered M. +Chanterelle, trembling all over. "But I sorely lack a lamp of guidance. +Is it so great a sin then to offer a doll to Mademoiselle de Doucine?" + +"Yes, a great and terrible sin," replied M. Spon. "And what you are +offering this innocent child to-day is meeter to be called an idol, +a devilish simulacrum, than a doll. Are you not aware, sir, that the +custom of New Year's gifts is a foul superstition and a hideous survival +of Paganism?" + +"No, I did not know that," said M. Chanterelle. + +"Let me tell you, then," resumed M. Spon, "that this custom descends +from the Romans, who seeing something divine in all beginnings, held +the beginning of the year holy also. Hence, to act as they did is to +do idolatry. You make New Year's offerings, sir, in imitation of the +worshippers of the God Janus. Be consistent, and like them consecrate to +Juno the first day of every month." + +M. Chanterelle, hardly able to keep his feet, begged M. Spon to give him +his arm, and while they moved on, M. Spon proceeded in the same vein: + +"Is it because the Astrologers have fixed on the first of January +for the beginning of the year that you deem yourself obliged to make +presents on that day? Pray, what call have you to revive at that precise +date the affection of your friends. Was their love dying then with +the dying year? And will it be so much worth the having when you have +reanimated it by dint of cajolements and baneful gifts?" + +"Sir," returned the good M. Chanterelle, leaning on M. Spon's arm and +trying hard to make his tottering steps keep pace with his impetuous +companion's, "sir, before my sickness, I was only a miserable sinner, +taking no heed but to treat my friends with civility and govern my +behaviour by the principles of honesty and honour. Providence hath +deigned to rescue me from this abyss, and I direct my conduct since my +conversion by the admonitions the Director of my conscience gives me. +But I have been so light-minded and thoughtless as not to seek his +advice on this question of New Year's gifts. What you tell me of them, +sir, with the authority of a man alike admirable for sober living and +sound doctrine, amazes and confounds me." + +"Nay! that is indeed what I mean to do," resumed M. Spon,--"to confound +you, and to illumine you, not indeed by my own lights, which burn +feebly, but by those of a great Doctor. Sit you down on that wayside +post." + +And pushing M. Chanterelle into the archway of a carriage gate, where +he made himself as easy as circumstances allowed, M. Spon drew from his +pocket a little parchment-bound book, which he opened, and after hunting +through the pages, lighted on a passage which he proceeded to read +out loud amid a gaping circle of chimney-sweeps, chamber-maids, and +scullions who had collected at the resounding tones of his voice: + +"'We who hold in abhorrence the festivals of the Jews, and who would +deem strange and outlandish their Sabbaths and New Moons and other Holy +Days erst loved of the Almighty, we deal familiarly with the Saturnalia +and the Calends of January, with the Matronalia and the Feast of the +Winter Solstice; New Year's gifts and foolish presents fill all our +thoughts; merrymakings and junketings are in every house. The Heathens +guard their religion better; they are heedful to observe none of our +Feasts, for fear of being taken for Christians, while we never hesitate +to make ourselves look like Heathens by celebrating their Ceremonial +Days.' + +"You hear what I say," went on M. Spon. "'T is Tertullian speaks in this +wise and from the depths of Africa displays before your eyes, sir, the +odiousness of your behaviour. He it is upbraids you, declaring how 'New +Year's gifts and foolish presents fill all your thoughts. You keep +holy the feasts of the Heathen.' I have not the honour to know your +Confessor. But I shudder, sir, to think of the way he neglects his duty +toward you. Tell me this, can you rest assured that at the day of your +death, when you come to stand before God, he will be at your side, to +take upon him the sins he hath suffered you to fall into?" + +After haranguing in this sort, he put back his book in his pocket and +marched off with angry strides, followed at a distance by the astonished +chimney-sweeps and scullions. + +The good M. Chanterelle was left sitting alone on his post with the +Princess of Savoy, and thinking how he was risking the eternal pains of +hell fire for giving a doll to Mademoiselle de Doucine, his niece, he +fell to pondering the unfathomable mysteries of Religion. + +His legs, which had been tottery for several months, refused to carry +him, and he felt as unhappy as ever a well-meaning man possibly can in +this world. + +He had been sitting stranded in this distressful mood on his post for +some minutes when a Capuchin friar stepped up and addressed him: + +"Sir, will you not give New Year's presents to the Little Brethren who +are poor, for the love of God?" + +"Why! what! good Father," M. Chan-terelle burst out, "you are a man of +religion, and you ask me for New Year's gifts?" + +"Sir," replied the Capuchin, "the good St. Francis bade his sons make +merry with all simplicity. Give the Capuchins wherewith to make a good +meal this day, that they may endure with cheerfulness the abstinence and +fasting they must observe all the rest of the year,--barring, of course, +Sundays and Feast Days." + +M. Chanterelle gazed at the holy man with wonder: + +"Are you not afraid, Father, that this custom of New Year's gifts is +baneful to the soul?" + +"No, I am not afraid." + +"The custom comes to us from the Pagans." + +"The Pagans sometimes followed good customs. God was pleased to suffer +some faint rays of his light to pierce the darkness of the Gentiles. +Sir, if you refuse to give _us_ presents, never refuse a boon to our +poor little ones. We have a home for foundlings. With this poor crown I +shall buy each child a little paper windmill and a cake. They will owe +you the only pleasure perhaps of all their life; for they are not fated +to have much joy in the world. Their laughter will go up to heaven; when +children laugh, they praise the Lord." + +M. Chanterelle laid his well-filled purse in the poor friar's palm and +got him down from his post, saying over softly to himself the word he +had just heard: + +"When children laugh, they praise the Lord." + +Then his soul was comforted and he marched off with a firmer step to +carry the Princess of Savoy to Mademoiselle de Doucine, his niece. + + + + +MADEMOISELLE ROXANE + +[Illustration: 136] + +MY good master, M. l'Abb Coignard, had taken me with him to sup +with one of his old fellow-students, who lodged in a garret in the Rue +Gt-le-Cour. Our host, a Premonstratensian Father of much learning and +a fine Theologian, had fallen out with the Prior of his House for having +writ a little book relating the calamities of Mam'zelle Fanchon. The end +of it was he turned tavern-keeper at The Hague. He was now returned to +France and living precariously by the sermons he composed, which were +full of high argument and eloquence. After supper he had read us these +same calamities of Mam'zelle Fanchon, source of his own, and the reading +had kept us there till a late hour. At last I found myself without-doors +with my good master, under a wondrous fine summer's night, which made +me straightway comprehend the verity of the ancient fables regarding the +loves of Diana and feel how natural it is to employ in soft dalliance +the silent, silvery hours of night. I said as much to M. l'Abb +Coignard, who retorted that love is to blame for many and great ills. + +"Tournebroche, my son," he asked me, "have you not just heard from the +mouth of yonder good Monk how, for having loved a recruiting sergeant, +a clerk of M. Gaulot's mercer at the sign of the Truie-qui-file, and the +younger son of M. le Lieutenant-Criminel Leblanc, Mam'zelle Fanchon was +clapped in hospital? Would you wish to be any of these,--sergeant or +clerk or limb of the law?" + +I answered I would indeed. My good master thanked me for my candid +avowal, and quoted some verses of Lucretius to persuade me that love is +contrary to the tranquillity of a truly philosophical soul. + +Thus discoursing, we were come to the round-point of the Pont-Neuf. +Leaning our elbows on the parapet, we looked over at the great tower of +the Chtelet, which stood out black in the moonlight. + +"There might be much to say," sighed my good master, "on this justice of +the civilized nations, the punishments whereof in retaliation are often +more cruel than the crime itself I cannot believe that these tortures +and penalties that men inflict on their fellows are necessary for the +safeguarding of States, seeing how from time to time one and another +legal cruelty is done away with without hurt to the commonweal. And I +hold it likely that the severities they still maintain are no whit more +useful than those they have abolished. But men are cruel. Come away, +Tournebroche, my dear lad; it grieves me to think how unhappy prisoners +are even now lying awake behind those walls in anguish and despair. I +know they have done faultily, but this doth not hinder me from pitying +them. Which of us is without offence?" + +We went on our way. The bridge was deserted save for a beggarman and +woman, who met on the causeway. The pair drew stealthily into one of the +recesses over the piers, where they lurked together on the door-step +of a hucksters booth. They seemed well enough content, both of them, to +mingle their joint wretchedness, and when we went by were thinking +of quite other things than craving our charity. Nevertheless my good +master, who was the most compassionate of men, threw them a half +farthing, the last piece of money left in his breeches pocket. + +"They will pick up our obol," he said, "when they have come back to the +consciousness of their misery. I pray they may not quarrel then over +fiercely for possession of the coin." + +We passed on without further rencounter till on the Quai des Oiseleurs +we espied a young damsel striding along with a notable air of +resolution. Hastening our pace to get a nearer view, we saw she had a +slim waist and fair hair in which the moonbeams played prettily. She was +dressed like a citizen's wife or daughter. + +"There goes a pretty girl," said the Abb; "how comes it she is out of +doors alone at this hour of night?" + +"Truly," I agreed, "'tis not the sort one generally encounters on the +bridges after curfew." + +Our surprise was changed to alarm when we saw her go down to the river +bank by a little stairway the sailors use. We ran towards her; but she +did not seem to hear us. She halted at the edge; the stream was running +high, and the dull roar of the swollen waters could be heard some +way off. She stood a moment motionless, her head thrown back and arms +hanging, in an attitude of despair. Then, bending her graceful neck, she +put her two hands over her face and kept it hid behind her fingers for +some seconds. Next moment she suddenly grasped her skirts and dragged +them forward with the gesture a woman always uses when she is going to +jump. My good master and I came up with her just as she was taking the +fatal leap, and we hauled her forcibly backward. She struggled to get +free of our arms; and as the bank was all slimy and slippery with ooze +deposited by the receding waters (for the river was already beginning +to fall), M. l'Abb Coignard came very near being dragged in too. I was +losing my foothold myself. But as luck would have it, my feet lighted on +a root which held me up as I crouched there with my arms round the best +of masters and this despairing young thing. Presently, coming to the +end of her strength and courage, she fell back on M. l'Abb Coignard's +breast, and we managed all three to scramble to the top of the bank +again. He helped her up daintily, with a certain easy grace that was +always his. Then he led the way to a great beech-tree at the foot of +which was a wooden bench, on which he seated her. + +Taking his place beside her: + +"Mademoiselle," he said gently, "you need have no fear. Say nothing just +yet, but be assured it is a friend sits by you." + +Next, turning to me, my master went on: + +"Tournebroche, my son, we may congratulate ourselves on having brought +this strange adventure to a good end. But I have left my hat down yonder +on the river bank; albeit it has lost pretty near all its lace and is +thread-bare with long service, it was still good to guard my old head, +sorely tried by years and labours, against sun and rain. Go see, my son, +if it may still be found where I dropped it. And if you discover it, +bring it me, I beg,--likewise one of my shoe buckles, which I see I have +lost. For my part I will stay by this damsel we have rescued and watch +over her slumber." + +I ran back to the spot we had just quitted and was lucky enough to find +my good master's hat. The buckle I could not espy anywhere. True, I did +not take any very excessive pains to hunt for it, having never all my +life seen my good master with more than one shoe buckle. When I returned +to the tree, I found the damsel still in the same state, sitting quite +motionless with her head leant against the trunk of the beech. I noticed +now that she was of a very perfect beauty. She wore a silk mantle +trimmed with lace, very neat and proper, and on her feet light shoes, +the buckles of which caught the moonbeams. + +I could not have enough of examining her. Suddenly she opened her +drooping lids, and casting a look that was still misty at M. Coignard +and me, she began in a feeble voice, but with the tone and accent, I +thought, of a person of gentility: + +"I am not ungrateful, sirs, for the service you have done me from +feelings of humanity; but I cannot truthfully tell you I am glad, for +the life to which you have restored me is a curse, a hateful, cruel +torment." + +At these sad words my good master, whose face wore a look of compassion, +smiled softly, for he could not really think life was to be for ever +hateful to so young and pretty a creature. + +"My child," he told her, "things strike us in a totally different light +according as they are near at hand or far off. It is no time for you to +despair. Such as I am, and brought to this sorry plight by the buffets +of time and fortune, I yet make shift to endure a life wherein my +pleasures are to translate Greek and dine sometimes with sundry very +worthy friends. Look at me, mademoiselle, and say,--would you consent to +live in the same conditions as I?" + +She looked him over; her eyes almost laughed, and she shook her head. +Then, resuming her melancholy and mournfulness, she faltered: + +"There is not in all the world so unhappy a being as I am." + +"Mademoiselle," returned my good master, "I am discreet both by calling +and temperament; I will not seek to force your confidence. But your +looks betray you; any one can see you are sick of disappointed love. +Well, 't is not an incurable complaint. I have had it myself, and I have +lived many a long year since then." + +He took her hand, gave her a thousand tokens of his sympathy, and went +on in these terms: + +"There is only one thing I regret for the moment,--that I cannot offer +you a refuge for the night, or what is left of it. My present lodging +is in an old chteau a long way from here, where I am busy translating a +Greek book along with young Master Tournebroche whom you see here." + +My master spoke the truth. We were living at the time with M. d'Astarac, +at the Chteau des Sablons, in the village of Neuilly, and were in the +pay of a great alchemist, who died later under tragic circumstances. + +"At the same time, mademoiselle," my master added, "if you should know +of any place where you think you could go, I shall be happy to escort +you thither." + +To which the girl answered she appreciated all his kindness, that she +lived with a kinswoman, to whose house she could count on being admitted +at any hour; but that she had rather not return before daylight. She was +fain, she said, not to disturb quiet folks' sleep, and dreaded moreover +to have her grief too painfully renewed by the sight of her old, +familiar surroundings. + +As she spoke thus, the tears rained down from her eyes. My good master +bade her: + +"Mademoiselle, give me your handkerchief, if you please, and I will wipe +your eyes. Then I will take you to wait for daybreak under the archways +of the Halles, where we can sit in comfort under shelter from the night +dews." + +The girl smiled through her tears. + +"I do not like," she said, "to give you so much trouble. Go your way, +sir, and rest assured you take my best thanks with you." + +For all that she laid her hand on the arm my good master offered her, +and we set out, all the three of us, for the Halles. The night had +turned much cooler. In the sky, which was beginning to assume a milky +hue, the stars were growing paler and fainter. We could hear the first +of the market-gardeners' carts rumbling along to the Halles, drawn by a +slow-stepping horse, half asleep in the shafts. Arrived at the archways, +we chose a place in the recess of a porch distinguished by an image of +St. Nicholas, and established ourselves all three on a stone step, on +which M. l'Abb Coignard took the precaution of spreading his cloak +before he let his young charge sit down. + +Thereupon my good master fell to discoursing on divers subjects, +choosing merry and enlivening themes of set purpose to drive away the +gloomy thoughts that might assail our companion's mind. He told her he +accounted this rencounter the most fortunate he had ever chanced on all +his life, and that he should ever cherish a fond recollection of one who +had so deeply touched him,--all this, however, without ever asking to +know her name and story. + +My good master thought no doubt that the unknown would presently tell +him what he refrained from asking. She broke into a fresh flood of +weeping, heaved a deep sigh and said: + +"I should be churlish, sir, to reward your kindness with silence. I am +not afraid to trust myself in your hands. My name is Sophie T------. You +have guessed the truth; 'tis the betrayal of a lover I was too fondly +attached to has brought me to despair. If you deem my grief excessive, +that is because you do not know how great was my assurance, how blind my +infatuation, and you cannot realize how enchanting was the paradise I +have lost." + +Then, raising her lovely eyes to our faces, she went on: + +"Sirs, I am not such a woman as your meeting me thus at night time might +lead you to suppose. My father was a merchant. He went, in the way of +trade, to America, and was lost on his way home in a shipwreck, he +and his merchandise with him. My mother was so overwhelmed by these +calamities that she fell into a decline and died, leaving me, while +still a child, to the charge of an aunt, who brought me up. I was a +good girl till the hour I met the man whose love was to afford me +indescribable delights, ending in the despair wherein you now see me +plunged." + +So saying, Sophie hid her face in her handkerchief. Presently she +resumed with a sigh: + +"His worldly rank was so far above my own I could never expect to be +his except in secret. I flattered myself he would be faithful to me. He +swore he loved me, and easily overcame my scruples. My aunt was aware +of our feelings for one another, and raised no obstacles, for two +reasons,--because her affection for me made her indulgent, and because +my dear lover's high position impressed her imagination. I lived a year +of perfect happiness only equalled by the wretchedness I now endure. +This morning he came to see me at my aunt's, with whom I live. I was +haunted by dark forebodings. As I dressed my hair but an hour or so +before, I had broken a mirror he had given me. The sight of him only +increased my misgivings, for I noticed instantly that his face wore an +unaccustomed look of constraint... Oh! sir, was ever woman so unhappy as +I?..." + +Her eyes filled again with tears; but she kept them back under her +lids, and was able to finish her tale, which my good master deemed as +touching, but by no means so unique, as she did herself. + +"He informed me coldly, though not without signs of embarrassment, +that his father having bought him a Company, he was leaving to join the +colours. First, however, he said, his family required him to plight his +troth to the daughter of an Intendant of Finances; the connection +was advantageous to his fortune and would bring him means adequate to +support his rank and make a figure in the world. And the traitor, never +deigning to notice my pale looks, added in his soft, caressing voice +which had made me so many vows of affection, that his new obligations +would prevent his seeing me again, at least for some while. He assured +me further that he was still my friend and begged me to accept a sum of +money in memory of the days we had passed together. + +"And with the words he held out a purse to me. + +"I am telling you the truth, sirs, when I assure you I had always +refused to listen to the offers he repeated again and again, to give me +fine clothes, furniture, plate, an establishment, and to take me away +from my aunt's, where I lived in very narrow circumstances, and settle +me in a most elegant little mansion he had in the Rue di Roule. My wish +was that we should be united only by the ties of affection, and I was +proud to have of his gift nothing but a few jewels whose sole value came +from the fact of his being the donor. My gorge rose at the sight of the +purse he offered me, and the insult gave me strength to banish from my +presence the impostor whom in one moment I had learnt to know and to +despise. He faced my angry looks unabashed, and assured me with the +utmost unconcern that I could know nothing of the paramount obligations +that fill the existence of a man of quality, adding that he hoped +eventually, when I looked at things quietly, I should come to see his +behaviour in a better light. Then, returning the purse to his pocket, +he declared he would readily find a way of putting the contents at my +disposal in such a manner as to make it impossible for me to refuse his +liberality. Thus leaving me with the odious, the intolerable implication +that he was going to make full amends by these sordid means, he made for +the door to which I pointed without a word. When he was gone, I felt a +calmness of mind that surprised myself. It arose from the resolution I +had formed to die. I dressed with some care, wrote a letter to my aunt +asking her forgiveness for the pain I was about to cause her by my +death, and went out into the streets. There I roamed about all the +afternoon and evening and a part of the night, moving from busy +thoroughfare to deserted lane without a trace of fatigue, postponing +the execution of my purpose to make it more sure and certain under the +favouring conditions of darkness and solitude. Possibly too I found a +certain weak pleasure in dallying with the thought of dying and tasting +the mournful satisfaction of my coming release from my troubles. At two +o'clock in the morning, I went down to the river's brink. Sirs, you know +the rest,--you snatched me from a watery grave. I thank you for your +goodness,--though I am sorry you saved my life. The world is full of +forsaken women. I did not wish to add another to the number." + +Sophie then fell silent and began weeping afresh. My good master took +her hand with the greatest delicacy. + +"My child," he said, "I have listened with a tender interest to the +story of your life, and I own 'tis a sad tale. But I am happy to discern +that your case is curable. Not only was your lover unworthy of the +favours you showed him and has proved himself on trial a selfish, +cruel-hearted libertine, but I see plainly your love for him was only +an impulse of the senses and the effect of your own sensibility, the +particular object of which mattered far less than you imagine. What +there was rare and excellent in the liaison came from you. Well then, +nothing is lost, since the source still remains. Your eyes, which have +thrown a glamour of the fairest hues over, I doubt not, a very ordinary +individual, will not cease to go on shedding abroad elsewhere the same +bright rays of charming self-delusion." + +My good master said more in the same strain, dropping from his lips the +finest words ever heard anent the tribulations of the senses and the +errors lovers are prone to. But, as he talked on, Sophie, who for some +while had let her pretty head droop on the shoulder of this best of men, +fell softly asleep. When M. l'Abb Coignard saw his young friend +was wrapped in a sound slumber, he congratulated himself on having +discoursed in a vein so meet to afford repose and peace to a suffering +soul. + +"It must be allowed," he chuckled, "my sermons have a beneficent +effect." + +Not to disturb Mademoiselle's slumbers, he took a thousand pretty +precautions, amongst others constraining himself to talk on +uninterruptedly, not unreasonably apprehensive that a sudden silence +might awake her. + +"Tournebroche, my son," he said, turning to me, "look, all her sorrows +are vanished away with the consciousness she had of them. You must see +they were all of the imagination and resided in her own thought. +You must understand likewise they sprang from a certain pride and +overweening conceit that goes along with love and makes it very +exacting. For, in truth, if only we loved in humbleness of spirit and +forgetfulness of self, or merely with a simple heart, we should be +content with what is vouchsafed us and should not straightway cry +treason when some slight is put on us. And if some power of loving were +left us still, after our lover had deserted us, we should await the +issue in calmness of mind to make what use of it God should please to +grant." + +But the day was just breaking by this time, and the song of the birds +grew so loud it drowned my good master's voice. He made no complaint on +this score. + +"Hearken," he said, "to the sparrows. They make love more wisely than +men do." + +Sophie awoke in the white light of dawn, and I admired her lovely eyes, +which fatigue and grief had ringed with a delicate pearly-grey. +She seemed somewhat reconciled to life, and did not refuse a cup of +chocolate which my good master made her drink at Mathurine's door, the +pretty chocolate-seller of the Halles. + +But as the poor child came into more complete possession of her wits, +she began to trouble about sundry practical difficulties she had not +thought of till then. + +"What will my aunt say? And whatever can I tell her?" she asked +distractedly. + +The aunt lived just opposite Saint-Eustache, less than a hundred yards +from Mathurine's archway. Thither we escorted her niece; and M. +l'Abb Coignard, who had quite a venerable look, though one shoe _was_ +unbuckled, accompanied the fair Sophie to the door of her aunt's lodging +and pitched that lady a fine tale: + +"I had the happy fortune," he informed her, "to encounter your good +niece at the very moment when she was assailed by four footpads armed +with pistols, and I shouted for the watch so lustily that the thieves +took to their heels in a panic. But they were not quick enough to +escape the sergeants who, by the rarest chance, ran up in answer to my +outcries. They arrested the villains after a desperate tussle. I took my +share of the rough and tumble, and I thought at first I had lost my hat +in the fray. When all was over, we were all taken, your niece, the four +footpads and myself, before his Honour the Lieutenant-Criminel, who +treated us with much consideration and detained us till daylight in his +cabinet, taking down our evidence." The aunt answered drily: + +"I thank you, sir, for having saved my niece from a peril which, to say +the truth, is not the risk a girl of her age need fear the most, when +she is out alone at night in the streets of Paris." + +My good master made no answer to this; but Mademoiselle Sophie spoke up +and said in a voice of deep feeling: + +"I do assure you, Aunt, Monsieur l'Abb saved my life." + +***** + +Some years after this singular adventure, my master made the fatal +journey to Lyons from which he never returned. He was foully murdered, +and I had the ineffable grief of seeing him expire in my arms. The +incidents of his death have no connexion with the matter I speak of +here. I have taken pains to record them elsewhere; they are indeed +memorable, and will never, I think, be forgotten. I may add that this +journey was in all ways unfortunate, for after losing the best of +masters on the road, I was likewise forsaken by a mistress who loved me, +but did not love me alone, and whose loss nearly broke my heart, coming +after that of my good master. It is a mistake to suppose that a man +who has received one cruel blow grows callous to succeeding strokes +of calamity. Far otherwise; he suffers agonies from the smallest +contrarieties. I returned to Paris in a state of dejection almost beyond +belief. + +Well, one evening, by way of enlivening my spirits, I went to the +Comdie, where they were playing _Bajazet_, one of Racine's excellent +pieces. I was particularly struck by the charm and beauty, no less than +the originality and talent, of the actress who took the part of Roxane. +She expressed with a delightful naturalness the passion animating that +character, and I shuddered as I heard her declaim in accents that were +harmonious and yet terrible the line: + + coutez Bajazet, je sens que je vous aime.{*} + + * "Hearken, Bajazet, I feel I love you." + +I never wearied of gazing at her all the time she occupied the stage, +and admiring the beauty of her eyes that gleamed below a brow as pure +as marble and crowned by powdered locks all spangled with pearls. Her +slender waist too, which her hoop showed off to perfection, did not +fail to make a vivid impression on my heart. I had the better leisure to +scrutinize these adorable charms as she happened to face in my direction +to deliver several important portions of her rle. And the more I +looked, the more I felt convinced I had seen her before, though I found +it impossible to recall anything connected with our previous meeting. My +neighbour in the theatre, who was a constant frequenter of the Comdie, +told me the beautiful actress was Mademoiselle B------, the idol of the +pit. He added that she was as great a favourite in society as on the +boards, that M. le Duc de La ------ had made her the fashion and that +she was on the highroad to eclipse Mademoiselle Lecouvreur. + +I was just leaving my seat after the performance when a "femme de +chambre" handed me a note in which I found written in pencil the words: + +"_Mademoiselle Roxane is waiting for you in her coach at the theatre +door_." + +I could not believe the missive was intended for me; and I asked the +abigail who had delivered it if she was not mistaken in the recipient. + +"If I _am_ mistaken," she replied confidently, "then you cannot be +Monsieur de Tournebroche, that is all." + +I ran to the coach which stood waiting in front of the House, and inside +I recognized Mademoiselle B------, her head muffled in a black satin +hood. + +She beckoned to me to get in, and when I was seated beside her: + +"Do you not," she asked me, "recognize Sophie, whom you rescued from +drowning on the banks of the Seine?" + +"What! you! Sophie--Roxane--Mademoiselle B------, is it possible?--" + +My confusion was extreme, but she appeared to view it without annoyance. + +"I saw you," she went on, "in one corner of the pit. I knew you +instantly and played for you. Say, did I play well? I am so glad to see +you again!--" + +She asked me news of M. l'Abb Coignard, and when I told her my good +master had just perished miserably, she burst into tears. + +She was good enough to inform me of the chief events of her life: + +"My aunt," she said, "used to mend her laces for Madame de Saint-Remi, +who, as you must know, is an admirable actress. A short while after the +night when you did me such yeoman service, I went to her house to take +home some pieces of lace. The lady told me I had a face that interested +her. She then asked me to read some verses, and concluded I was not +without wits. She had me trained. I made my first appearance at the +Comdie last year. I interpret passions I have felt myself, and the +public credits me with some talent. M. le Duc de La ------ exhibits a +very dear friendship for me, and I think he will never cause me pain and +disappointment, because I have learnt to ask of men only what they can +give. At this moment he is expecting me at supper. I must not break my +word." + +But, reading my vexation in my eyes, she added: + +"However, I have told my people to go the longest way round and to drive +slowly." + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Merrie Tales Of Jacques +Tournebroche, by Anatole France + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK JACQUES TOURNEBROCHE *** + +***** This file should be named 25407-8.txt or 25407-8.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/2/5/4/0/25407/ + +Produced by David Widger + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Merrie Tales Of Jacques Tournebroche + 1909 + +Author: Anatole France + +Translator: Alfred Allinson + +Release Date: May 9, 2008 [EBook #25407] +Last Updated: October 5, 2016 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK JACQUES TOURNEBROCHE *** + + + + +Produced by David Widger + + + + + +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> <br /> + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:60%"> + <img alt="titelpage (112K)" src="images/titelpage.jpg" width="100%" /><br /> + </div> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <h1> + THE MERRIE TALES OF JACQUES TOURNEBROCHE + </h1> + <h2> + By Anatole France + </h2> + <h4> + John Lane Company, MCMXIX <br /> <br /> Copyright 1909 + </h4> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <h2> + Contents + </h2> + <table summary="" style="margin-right: auto; margin-left: auto"> + <tr> + <td> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0001"> <big><b>THE MERRIE TALES OF JACQUES + TOURNEBROCHE</b></big> </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0002"> OLIVIER’S BRAG </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0003"> THE MIRACLE OF THE MAGPIE </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0004"> I + </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0005"> II. + </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0006"> III + </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0007"> IV + </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0008"> BROTHER JOCONDE </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0009"> FIVE FAIR LADIES OF PICARDY, POITOU, + TOURAINE, LYONS, AND PARIS </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0010"> A GOOD LESSON WELL LEARNT </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0011"> SATAN’S TONGUE-PIE </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0012"> CONCERNING AN HORRIBLE PICTURE </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0013"> MADEMOISELLE DE DOUCINE’S NEW YEAR’S + PRESENT </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0014"> MADEMOISELLE ROXANE </a> + </p> + </td> + </tr> + </table> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> <a name="link2H_4_0001" id="link2H_4_0001"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h1> + THE MERRIE TALES OF JACQUES TOURNEBROCHE + </h1> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0002" id="link2H_4_0002"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + OLIVIER’S BRAG + </h2> + <p> + <a name="linkimage-0001" id="linkimage-0001"> + <!-- IMG --></a> + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:60%"> + <img src="images/016.jpg" alt="016 " width="100%" /><br /> + </div> + <p> + The Emperor Charlemagne and his twelve peers, having taken the palmer’s + staff at Saint-Denis, made a pilgrimage to Jerusalem. They prostrated + themselves before the tomb of Our Lord, and sat in the thirteen chairs of + the great hall wherein Jesus Christ and his Apostles met together to + celebrate the blessed sacrifice of the Mass. Then they fared to + Constantinople, being fain to see King Hugo, who was renowned for his + magnificence. + </p> + <p> + The King welcomed them in his Palace, where, beneath a golden dome, birds + of ruby, wrought with a wondrous art, sat and sang in bushes of emerald. + </p> + <p> + He seated the Emperor of France and the twelve Counts about a table loaded + with stags, boars, cranes, wild geese, and peacocks, served in pepper. And + he offered his guests, in ox-horns, the wines of Greece and Asia to drink. + Charlemagne and his companions quaffed all these wines in honour of the + King and his daughter, the Princess Helen. After supper Hugo led them to + the chamber where they were to sleep. Now this chamber was circular, and a + column, springing in the midst thereof, carried the vaulted roof. Nothing + could be finer to look upon. Against the walls, which were hung with gold + and purple, twelve beds were ranged, while another greater than the rest + stood beside the pillar. + </p> + <p> + Charlemagne lay in this, and the Counts stretched themselves round about + him on the others. The wine they had drunk ran hot in their veins, and + their brains were afire. They could not sleep, and fell to making brags + instead, and laying of wagers, as is the way of the knights of France, + each striving to outdo the other in warranting himself to do some doughty + deed for to manifest his prowess. The Emperor opened the game. He said: + </p> + <p> + “Let them fetch me, a-horseback and fully armed, the best knight King Hugo + hath. I will lift my sword and bring it down upon him in such wise it + shall cleave helm and hauberk, saddle and steed, and the blade shall delve + a foot deep underground.” + </p> + <p> + Guillaume d’Orange spake up after the Emperor and made the second brag. + </p> + <p> + “I will take,” said he, “a ball of iron sixty men can scarce lift, and + hurl it so mightily against the Palace wall that it shall beat down sixty + fathoms’ length thereof.” + </p> + <p> + Ogier, the Dane, spake next. + </p> + <p> + “Ye see yon proud pillar which bears up the vault. To-morrow will I tear + it down and break it like a straw.” + </p> + <p> + After which Renaud de Montauban cried with an oath: + </p> + <p> + “‘Od’s life! Count Ogier, whiles you overset the pillar, I will clap the + dome on my shoulders and hale it down to the seashore.” + </p> + <p> + Gérard de Rousillon it was made the fifth brag. + </p> + <p> + He boasted he would uproot single-handed, in one hour, all the trees in + the Royal pleasaunce. + </p> + <p> + Aimer took up his parable when Gérard was done. + </p> + <p> + “I have a magic hat,” said he, “made of a sea-calf’s skin, which renders + me invisible. I will set it on my head, and to-morrow, whenas King Hugo is + seated at meat, I will eat up his fish and drink down his wine, I will + tweak his nose and buffet his ears. Not knowing whom or what to blame, he + will clap all his serving-men in gaol and scourge them sore,—and we + shall laugh.” + </p> + <p> + “For me,” declared Huon de Bordeaux, whose turn it was, “for me, I am so + nimble I will trip up to the King and cut off his beard and eyebrows + without his knowing aught about the matter. ‘T is a piece of sport I will + show you to-morrow. And I shall have no need of a sea-calf hat either!” + </p> + <p> + Doolin de Mayence made his brag too. He promised to eat up in one hour all + the figs and all the oranges and all the lemons in the King’s orchards. + </p> + <p> + Next the Due Naisme said in this wise: + </p> + <p> + “By my faith! <i>I</i> will go into the banquet hall, I will catch up + flagons and cups of gold and fling them so high they will never light down + again save to tumble into the moon.” + </p> + <p> + Bernard de Brabant then lifted his great voice: + </p> + <p> + “I will do better yet,” he roared. “Ye know the river that flows by + Constantinople is broad and deep, for it is come nigh its mouth by then, + after traversing Egypt, Babylon, and the Earthly Paradise. Well, I will + turn it from its bed and make it flood the Great Square of the City.” + </p> + <p> + Gérard de Viane said: + </p> + <p> + “Put a dozen knights in line of array. And I will tumble all the twelve on + their noses, only by the wind of my sword.” + </p> + <p> + It was the Count Roland laid the twelfth wager, in the fashion following: + </p> + <p> + “I will take my horn, I will go forth of the city and I will blow such a + blast all the gates of the town will drop from their hinges.” + </p> + <p> + Olivier alone had said no word yet. He was young and courteous, and the + Emperor loved him dearly. + </p> + <p> + “Olivier, my son,” he asked, “will you not make your brag like the rest of + us?” + </p> + <p> + “Right willingly, sire,” Olivier replied. + </p> + <p> + “Do you know the name of Hercules of Greece?” + </p> + <p> + “Yea, I have heard some discourse of him,” said Charlemagne. “He was an + idol of the misbelievers, like the false god Mahound.” + </p> + <p> + “Not so, sire,” said Olivier. “Hercules of Greece was a knight among the + Pagans and King of a Pagan kingdom. He was a gallant champion and stoutly + framed in all his limbs. Visiting the Court of a certain Emperor who had + fifty daughters, virgins, he wedded them all on one and the same night, + and that so well and throughly that next morning they all avowed + themselves well-contented women and with naught left to learn. He had not + slighted ever a one of them. Well, sire, an you will, I will lay my wager + to do after the fashion of Hercules of Greece.” + </p> + <p> + “Nay, beware, Olivier, my son,” cried the Emperor, “beware what you do; + the thing would be a sin. I felt sure this King Hercules was a Saracen!” + </p> + <p> + “Sire,” returned Olivier, “know this—I warrant me to show in the + same space of time the selfsame prowess with one virgin that Herailes of + Greece did with fifty. And the maid shall be none other but the Princess + Helen, King Hugo’s daughter.” + </p> + <p> + “Good and well,” agreed Charlemagne; “that will be to deal honestly and as + a good Christian should. But you were in the wrong, my son, to drag the + fifty virgins of King Hercules into your business, wherein, the Devil fly + away with me else, I can see but one to be concerned.” + </p> + <p> + “Sire,” answered Olivier mildly, “there is but one of a truth. But she + shall win such satisfaction of me that, an I number the tokens of my love, + you will to-morrow see fifty crosses scored on the wall, and that is <i>my</i> + brag.” + </p> + <p> + The Count Olivier was yet speaking when lo! the column which bare the + vault opened. The pillar was hollow and contrived in such sort that a man + could lie hid therein at his ease to see and hear everything. Charlemagne + and the twelve Counts had never a notion of this; so they were sore + surprised to behold the King of Constantinople step forth. He was white + with anger and his eyes flashed fire. + </p> + <p> + He said in a terrible voice: + </p> + <p> + “So this is how ye show your gratitude for the hospitality I offer you. Ye + are ill-mannered guests. For a whole hour have ye been insulting me with + your bragging wagers. Well, know this,—you, Sir Emperor, and ye, his + knights; if to-morrow ye do not all of you make good your boasts, I will + have your heads cut off.” + </p> + <p> + Having said his say, he stepped back within the pillar, which shut to + again closely behind him. For a while the twelve paladins were dumb with + wonder and consternation. The Emperor was the first to break the silence. + </p> + <p> + “Comrades,” he said, “‘tis true we have bragged too freely. Mayhap we have + spoken things better unsaid. We have drunk overmuch wine, and have shown + unwisdom. The chiefest fault is mine; I am your Emperor, and I gave you + the bad example. I will devise with you to-morrow of the means whereby we + may save us from this perilous pass; meantime, it behoves us to get to + sleep. I wish you a good night. God have you in his keeping!” + </p> + <p> + A moment later the Emperor and the twelve peers were snoring under their + coverlets of silk and cloth of gold. + </p> + <p> + They awoke on the morrow, their minds still distraught and deeming the + thing was but a nightmare. But anon soldiers came to lead them to the + Palace, that they might make good their brags before the King’s face. + </p> + <p> + “Come,” cried the Emperor, “come; and let us pray God and His Holy Mother. + By Our Lady’s help shall we easily make good our brags.” + </p> + <p> + He marched in front with a more than human majesty of port. Arriving anon + at the King’s Palace, Charlemagne, Naisme, Aimer, Huon, Doolin, Guillaume, + Ogier, Bernard, Renaud, the two Gérards, and Roland fell on their knees + and, joining their hands in prayer, made this supplication to the Holy + Virgin: + </p> + <p> + “Lady, which art in Paradise, look on us now in our extremity; for love of + the Realm of the Lilies, which is thine own, protect the Emperor of France + and his twelve peers, and give them the puissance to make good their + brags.” + </p> + <p> + Thereafter they rose up comforted and fulfilled of bright courage and + gallant confidence, for they knew that Our Lady would answer their prayer. + </p> + <p> + King Hugo, seated on a golden throne, accosted them, saying: + </p> + <p> + “The hour is come to make good your brags. But an if ye fail so to do, I + will have your heads cut off. Begone therefore, straightway, escorted by + my men-at-arms, each one of you to the place meet for the doing of the + fine things ye have insolently boasted ye will accomplish.” + </p> + <p> + At this order they separated and went divers ways, each followed by a + little troop of armed men. Whiles some returned to the hall where they had + passed the night, others betook them to the gardens and orchards. Bernard + de Brabant made for the river, Roland hied him to the ramparts, and all + marched valiantly. Only Olivier and Charlemagne tarried in the Palace, + waiting, the one for the knight that he had sworn to cleave in twain, the + other for the maiden he was to wed. + </p> + <p> + But in very brief while a fearful sound arose, awful as the last trump + that shall proclaim to mankind the end of the world. It reached the Great + Hall of the Palace, set the birds of ruby trembling on their emerald + perches and shook King Hugo on his throne of gold. + </p> + <p> + ‘Twas a noise of walls crumbling into ruin and floods roaring, and high + above the din blared out an ear-splitting trumpet blast. Meanwhile + messengers had come hurrying in from all quarters of the city, and thrown + themselves trembling at the King’s feet, bearing strange and terrible + tidings. + </p> + <p> + “Sire,” said one, “sixty fathoms’ length of the city walls is fallen in at + one crash.” + </p> + <p> + “Sire,” cried another, “the pillar which bare up your vaulted hall is + broken down, and the dome thereof we have seen walking like a tortoise + toward the sea.” + </p> + <p> + “Sire,” faltered a third, “the river, with its ships and its fishes, is + pouring through the streets, and will soon be beating against your Palace + walls.” + </p> + <p> + King Hugo, white with terror, muttered: + </p> + <p> + “By my faith! these men are wizards.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, Sir King,” Charlemagne addressed him with a smile on his lips, “the + Knight I wait for is long of coming.” + </p> + <p> + The King sent for him, and he came. He was a knight of stately stature and + well armed. The good Emperor clave him in twain, as he had said. + </p> + <p> + Now while these things were a-doing, Olivier thought to himself: + </p> + <p> + “The intervention of Our Most Blessed Lady is plain to see in these + marvels; and I am rejoiced to behold the manifest tokens she vouchsafes of + her love for the Realm of France. Not in vain have the Emperor and his + companions implored the succour of the Holy Virgin, Mother of God. Alas! + <i>I</i> shall pay for all the rest, and have my head cut off. For I + cannot well ask the Virgin Mary to help me make good <i>my</i> brag. ‘Tis + an enterprise of a sort wherein ‘twould be indiscreet to crave the + interference of Her who is the <i>Lily of Purity</i>, the <i>Tower of + Ivory</i>, the <i>Guarded Door</i> and the <i>Fenced Orchard-Close</i>. + And, lacking aid from on high, I am sore afraid I may not do so much as I + have said.” + </p> + <p> + Thus ran Olivier’s thoughts, when King Hugo roughly accosted him with the + words: + </p> + <p> + “‘T is now your turn, Count, to fulfil your promise.” + </p> + <p> + “Sire,” replied Olivier, “I am waiting with great impatience for the + Princess your daughter. For you must needs do me the priceless grace of + giving me her hand.” + </p> + <p> + “That is but fair,” said King Hugo. “I will therefore bid her come to you + and a chaplain with her for to celebrate the marriage.” + </p> + <p> + At church, during the ceremony, Olivier reflected: + </p> + <p> + “The maid is sweet and comely as ever a man could desire, and too fain am + I to clip her in my arms to regret the brag I have made.” + </p> + <p> + That evening, after supper, the Princess Helen and the Count Olivier were + escorted by twelve ladies and twelve knights to a chamber, wherein the + twain were left alone together. + </p> + <p> + There they passed the night, and on the morrow guards came and led them + both before King Hugo. He was on his throne, surrounded by his knights. + Near by stood Charlemagne and the peers. + </p> + <p> + “Well, Count Olivier,” demanded the King, “is your brag made good?” + </p> + <p> + Olivier held his peace, and already was King Hugo rejoiced at heart to + think his new son-in-law’s head must fall. For of all the brags and + boasts, it was Olivier’s had angered him worst. + </p> + <p> + “Answer,” he stormed. “Do you dare to tell me your brag is accomplished?” + </p> + <p> + Thereupon the Princess Helen, blushing and smiling, spake with eyes + downcast and in a faint voice, yet clear withal, and said,—“Yea!” + </p> + <p> + Right glad were Charlemagne and the peers to hear the Princess say this + word. + </p> + <p> + “Well, well,” said Hugo, “these Frenchmen have God and the Devil o’ their + side. It was fated I should cut off none of these knights’ heads.... Come + hither, son-in-law,”—and he stretched forth his hand to Olivier, who + kissed it. + </p> + <p> + The Emperor Charlemagne embraced the Princess and said to her: + </p> + <p> + “Helen, I hold you for my daughter and my son’s wife. You will go along + with us to France, and you will live at our Court.” + </p> + <p> + Then, as his lips lay on the Princess’s cheek, he rounded softly in her + ear: + </p> + <p> + “You spake as a loving-hearted woman should. But tell me this in closest + confidence,—Did you speak the truth?” + </p> + <p> + She answered: + </p> + <p> + “Sire, Olivier is a gallant man and a courteous. He was so full of pretty + ways and dainty devices for to distract my mind, <i>I</i> never thought of + counting. Nor yet did <i>he</i> keep score. Needs therefore must I hold + him quit of his promise.” + </p> + <p> + King Hugo made great rejoicings for his daughter’s nuptials. Thereafter + Charlemagne and his twelve peers returned back to France, taking with them + the Princess Helen. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0003" id="link2H_4_0003"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + THE MIRACLE OF THE MAGPIE + </h2> + <p> + <a name="linkimage-0002" id="linkimage-0002"> + <!-- IMG --></a> + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:60%"> + <img src="images/034.jpg" alt="034 " width="100%" /><br /> + </div> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0004" id="link2H_4_0004"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + I + </h2> + <p> + LENT, of the year 1429, presented a strange marvel of the Calendar, a + conjunction that moved the admiration not only of the common crowd of the + Faithful, but eke of Clerks, well learned in Arithmetic. For Astronomy, + mother of the Calendar, was Christian in those days. In 1429 Good Friday + fell on the Feast of the Annunciation, so that one and the same day + combined the commemoration of the two several mysteries which did commence + and consummate the redemption of mankind, and in wondrous wise + superimposed one on top of the other, Jesus conceived in the Virgin’s womb + and Jesus dying on the Cross. This Friday, whereon the mystery of joy came + so to coincide exactly with the mystery of sorrow, was named the “Grand + Friday,” and was kept holy with solemn Feasts on Mount Anis, in the Church + of the Annunciation. For many years, by gift of the Popes of Rome, the + sanctuary of Mount Anis had possessed the privilege of the plenary + indulgences of a great jubilee, and the late-deceased Bishop of Le Puy, + Élie de Le-strange, had gotten Pope Martin to restore this <i>pardon</i>. + It was a favour of the sort the Popes scarce ever refused, when asked in + due and proper form. + </p> + <p> + The <i>pardon</i> of the Grand Friday drew a great crowd of pilgrims and + traders to Le Puy-en-Velay. As early as mid February folk from distant + lands set out thither in cold and wind and rain. For the most part they + fared on foot, staff in hand. Whenever they could, these pilgrims + travelled in companies, to the end they might not be robbed and held to + ransom by the armed bands that infested the country parts, and by the + barons who exacted toll on the confines of their lands. Inasmuch as the + mountain districts were especially dangerous, they tarried in the + neighbouring towns, Clermont, Issoire, Brioude, Lyons, Issingeaux, Alais, + till they were gathered in a great host, and then went forth on their road + in the snow. During Holy Week a strange multitude thronged the hilly + streets of Le Puy,—pedlars from Languedoc and Provence and + Catalonia, leading their mules laded with leather goods, oil, wool, webs + of cloth, or wines of Spain in goat-skins; lords a-horseback and ladies in + wains, artisans and traders pacing on their mules, with wife or daughter + perched behind, Then came the poor pilgrim folk, limping along, halting + and hobbling, stick in hand and bag on back, panting up the stiff climb. + Last were the flocks of oxen and sheep being driven to the + slaughterhouses. + </p> + <p> + Now, leant against the wall of the Bishop’s palace, stood Florent + Guillaume, looking as long and dry and black as an espalier vine in + winter, and devoured pilgrims and cattle with his eyes. + </p> + <p> + “Look,” he called to Marguerite the lace-maker, “look at yonder fine heads + of bestial.” + </p> + <p> + And Marguerite, squatted beside her bobbins, called back: + </p> + <p> + “Yea, fine beasts, and fat withal!” + </p> + <p> + Both the twain were very bare and scant of the goods of this world, and + even then were feeling bitterly the pinch of hunger. And folk said it came + of their own fault. At that very moment Pierre Grandmange the tripe-seller + was saying as much, where he stood in his tripe-shop, pointing a finger at + them. “‘T would be sinful,” he was crying, “to give an alms to such + good-for-nothing varlets.” The tripe-seller would fain have been very + charitable, but he feared to lose his soul by giving to evil-livers, and + all the fat citizens of Le Puy had the selfsame scruples. + </p> + <p> + To say truth, we must needs allow that, in the heyday of her hot youth, + Marguerite the lace-maker had not matched St. Lucy in purity, St. Agatha + in constancy, and St. Catherine in staidness. As for Florent Guillaume, he + had been the best scrivener in the city. For years he had not had his + equal for engrossing the Hours of Our Lady of Le Puy. But he had been over + fond of merrymakings and junketings. Now his hand had lost its cunning, + and his eye its clearness; he could no more trace the letters on the + parchment with the needful steadiness of touch. Even so, he might have won + his livelihood by teaching apprentices in his shop at the sign of the + Image of Our Lady, under the choir buttresses of <i>The Annunciation</i>, + for he was a fellow of good counsel and experience. But having had the ill + fortune to borrow of Maître Jacquet Coquedouille the sum of six livres ten + sous, and having paid him back at divers terms eighty livres two sous, he + had found himself at the last to owe yet six livres two sous to the + account of his creditor, which account was approved correct by the judges, + for Jacquet Coquedouille was a sound arithmetician. This was the reason + why the scrivenry of Florent Guillaume, under the choir buttresses of <i>The + Annunciation</i>, was sold, on Saturday the fifth day of March, being the + Feast of St. Theophilus, to the profit of Maître Jacquet Coquedouille. + Since that time the poor penman had never a place to call his own. But by + the good help of Jean Magne the bell-ringer and with the protection of Our + Lady, whose Hours he had aforetime written, Florent Guillaume found a + perch o’ nights in the steeple of the Cathedral. + </p> + <p> + The scrivener and the lace-maker had much ado to live. Marguerite only + kept body and soul together by chance and charity, for she had long lost + her good looks and she hated the lace-making. They helped each other. + Folks said so by way of reproach; they had been better advised to account + it to them for righteousness. Florent Guillaume was a learned clerk. Well + knowing every word of the history of the beautiful Black Virgin of Le Puy + and the ordering of the ceremonies of the great <i>pardon</i>, he had + conceived the notion he might serve as guide to the pilgrims, deeming he + would surely light on someone compassionate enough to pay him a supper in + guerdon of his fine stories. But the first folk he had offered his + services to had bidden him begone because his ragged coat bespoke neither + good guidance nor clerkly wit; so he had come back, downhearted and + crestfallen, to the Bishop’s wall, where he had his bit of sunshine and + his kind gossip Marguerite. “They reckon,” he said bitterly, “I am not + learned enough to number them the relics and recount the miracles of Our + Lady. Do they think my wits have escaped away through the holes in my + gaberdine?” + </p> + <p> + “‘Tis not the wits,” replied Marguerite, “escape by the holes in a body’s + clothes, but the good natural heat. I am sore a-cold. And it is but too + true that, man and woman, they judge us by our dress. The gallants would + find me comely enough yet if I was accoutred like my Lady the Comtesse de + Clermont.” + </p> + <p> + Meanwhile, all the length of the street in front of them the pilgrims were + elbowing and fighting their way to the Sanctuary, where they were to win + pardon for their sins. + </p> + <p> + “They will surely suffocate anon,” said Marguerite. “Twenty-two years + agone, on the Grand Friday, two hundred persons died stifled under the + porch of <i>The Annunciation</i>. God have their souls in keeping! Ay, + those were the good times, when I was young!” + </p> + <p> + “‘Tis very true indeed, that year you tell of, two hundred pilgrims + crushed each other to death and departed from this world to the other. And + next day was never a sign to be seen of aught untoward.” + </p> + <p> + As he so spake, Florent Guillaume noted a pilgrim, a very fat man, who was + not hurrying to get him assoiled with the same hot haste as the rest, but + kept rolling his wide eyes to right and left with a look of distress and + fear. Florent Guillaume stepped up to him and louted low. + </p> + <p> + “Messire,” he accosted him, “one may see at a glance you are a sensible + man and an experienced; you do not rush blindly to the <i>pardon</i> like + a sheep to the slaughter. The rest of the folk go helter-skelter thither, + the nose of one under the tail of the other; but you follow a wiser + fashion. Grant me the boon to be your guide, and you will not repent your + bargain.” + </p> + <p> + The pilgrim, who proved to be a gentleman of Limoges, answered in the + patois of his countryside, that he had no use for a scurvy beggarman and + could very well find his own way to <i>The Annunciation</i> for to receive + pardon for his faults. And therewith he set his face resolutely to the + hill. But Florent Guillaume cast himself at his feet, and tearing at his + hair: + </p> + <p> + “Stop! stop! messire,” he cried; “i’ God’s name and by all the Saints, I + warn you go no farther! ‘T will be your death, and you are not the man we + could see perish without grief and dolour. A few steps more and you are a + dead man! They are suffocating up yonder. Already full six hundred + pilgrims have given up the ghost. And this is but a small beginning! Do + you not know, messire, that twenty-two years agone, in the year of grace + one thousand four hundred and seven, on the selfsame day and at the + selfsame hour, under yonder porch, nine thousand six hundred and + thirty-eight persons, without reckoning women and children, trampled each + other underfoot and perished miserably? An you met the same fate, I should + never smile again. To see you is to love you, messire; to know you is to + conceive a sudden and overmastering desire to serve you.” + </p> + <p> + The Limousin gentleman had halted in no small surprise and turned pale to + hear such discourse and see the fellow tearing out his hair in fistfuls. + In his terror he was for turning back the way he had come. But Florent + Guillaume, on his knees in the mud, held him back by the skirt of his + jacket. + </p> + <p> + “Never go that way, messire! not that way. You might meet Jacquet + Coquedouille, and you would be all in an instant turned into stone. Better + encounter the basilisk than Jacquet Coquedouille. I will tell you what you + must do if, like the wise and prudent man your face proclaims you to be, + you would live long and make your peace with God. Hearken to me; I am a + scholar, a Bachelor. To-day the holy relics will be borne through the + streets and crossways of the city. You will find great solace in touching + the carven shrines which enclose the cornelian cup wherefrom the child + Jesus drank, one of the wine-jars of the Marriage at Cana, the cloth of + the Last Supper, and the holy foreskin. If you take my advice, we will go + wait for them, under cover, at a cookshop I wot of, before which they will + pass without fail.” + </p> + <p> + Then, in a wheedling voice, without loosing his hold of the pilgrim’s + jacket, he pointed to the lace-maker and said: + </p> + <p> + “Messire, you must give six sous to yonder worthy woman, that she may go + buy us wine, for she knows where good liquor is to be gotten.” + </p> + <p> + The Limousin gentleman, who was a simple soul after all, went where he was + led, and Florent Guillaume supped on the leg and wing of a goose, the + bones whereof he put in his pocket as a present for Madame Ysabeau, his + fellow lodger in the timbers of the steeple,—to wit, Jean Magne the + bell-ringer’s magpie. + </p> + <p> + He found her that night perched on the beam where she was used to roost, + beside the hole in the wall which was her storeroom wherein she hoarded + walnuts and hazel-nuts, almonds and beech-nuts. She had awoke at the noise + of his coming and flapped her wings; so he greeted her very courteously, + addressing her in these obliging terms: + </p> + <p> + “Magpie most pious, lady recluse, bird of the cloister, Margot of the + Nunnery, sable-frocked Abbess, Church fowl of the lustrous coat, all + hail!” + </p> + <p> + Then offering her the goose bones nicely folded in a cabbage leaf: + </p> + <p> + “Lady,” he said, “I bring you here the scraps remaining of a good dinner a + gentleman from Limoges gave me. His countrymen are radish eaters; but I + have taught this one to prefer an Anis goose to all the radishes in the + Limousin.” + </p> + <p> + Next day and the rest of the week Florent Guillaume,—for he could + never light on his fat friend again nor yet any other good pilgrim with a + well-lined travelling wallet,—fasted <i>a solis ortu usque ad + occasum</i>, from rising sun to dewy eve. Marguerite the lace-maker did + likewise. This was very meet and right, seeing the time was Holy Week. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0005" id="link2H_4_0005"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + II. + </h2> + <p> + <a name="linkimage-0003" id="linkimage-0003"> + <!-- IMG --></a> + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:60%"> + <img src="images/046.jpg" alt="046 " width="100%" /><br /> + </div> + <p> + Now on Holy Easter Day, Maître Jacquet Coquedouille, a notable citizen of + the place, was peeping through a hole in a shutter of his house and + watching the countless throng of pilgrims passing down the steep street. + They were wending homewards, happy to have won their pardon; and the sight + of them greatly magnified his veneration for the Black Virgin. For he + deemed a lady so much sought after must needs be a puissant dame. He was + old, and his only hope lay in God’s mercy. Yet was he but ill-assured of + his eternal salvation, for he remembered how many a time he had ruthlessly + fleeced the widow and the orphan. Moreover, he had robbed Florent + Guillaume of his scrivenry at the sign of Our Lady. He was used to lend at + high interest on sound security. Yet could no man infer he was a usurer, + forasmuch as he was a Christian, and it was only the Jews practised usury,—the + Jews, and, if you will, the Lombards and the men of Cahors. + </p> + <p> + Now Jacquet Coquedouille went about the matter quite otherwise than the + Jews. He never said, like Jacob, Ephraim, and Manasses, “I am lending you + money.” What he did say was, “I am putting money into your business to + help your trafficking,” a different thing altogether. For usury and + lending upon interest were forbidden by the Church, but trafficking was + lawful and permitted. + </p> + <p> + And yet at the thought how he had brought many Christian folk to poverty + and despair, Jacquet Coquedouille felt the pangs of remorse, as he + pictured the sword of Divine Justice hanging over his head. So on this + holy Easter Day he was fain to secure him against the Last Judgment by + winning the protection of Our Lady. He thought to himself she would plead + for him at the judgment seat of her divine Son, if only he gave her a + handsome fee. So he went to the great chest where he kept his gold, and, + after making sure the chamber door was shut fast, he opened the chest, + which was full of angels, flor-ins, esterlings, nobles, gold crowns, gold + ducats, and golden sous, and all the coins ever struck by Christian or + Saracen. He extracted with a sigh of regret twelve deniers of fine gold + and laid them on the table, which was crowded with balances, files, + scissors, gold-scales, and account books. After shutting his chest again + and triple-locking it, he numbered the deniers, renumbered them, gazed + long at them with looks of affection, and addressed them in words so soft + and sweet, so affable and ingratiating, so gentle and courteous, it seemed + rather the music of the spheres than human speech. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, little angels!” sighed the good old man. “Oh, my dear little angels! + Oh, my pretty gold sheep, with the fine, precious fleece!” + </p> + <p> + And taking the pieces between his fingers with as much reverence as it had + been the body of Our Lord, he put them in the balance and made sure they + were of the full weight,—or very near, albeit a trifle clipped + already by the Lombards and the Jews, through whose hands they had passed. + After which he spoke to them yet more graciously than before: + </p> + <p> + “Oh, my pretty sheep, my sweet, pretty lambs, there, let me shear you! ‘T + will do you no hurt at all.” + </p> + <p> + Then, seizing his great scissors, he clipped off shreds of gold here and + there, as he was used to clip every piece of money before parting with it. + And he gathered the clippings carefully in a wooden bowl that was already + half full of bits of gold. He was ready to give twelve angels to the Holy + Virgin; but he felt no way bound to depart from his use and wont. This + done, he went to the aumry where his pledges lay, and drew out a little + blue purse, broidered with silver, which a dame of the petty trading sort + had left with him in her distress. He remembered that blue and white are + Our Lady’s colours. + </p> + <p> + That day and the next he did nothing further. But in the night, betwixt + Monday and Tuesday, he had cramps, and dreamt the devils were pulling him + by the feet. This he took for a warning of God and our Blessed Lady, + tarried within doors pondering the matter all the day, and then toward + evening went to lay his offering at the feet of the Black Virgin. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0006" id="link2H_4_0006"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + III + </h2> + <p> + <a name="linkimage-0004" id="linkimage-0004"> + <!-- IMG --></a> + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:60%"> + <img src="images/051.jpg" alt="051 " width="100%" /><br /> + </div> + <p> + THAT same day, as night was closing in, Florent Guillaume thought ruefully + of returning to his airy bedchamber. He had fasted the livelong day, sore + against the grain, holding that a good Christian ought not to fast in the + glorious Resurrection week. Before mounting to his bed in the steeple, he + went to offer a pious prayer to the Lady of Le Puy. She was still there in + the midst of the Church at the spot where she had offered herself on the + Grand Friday to the veneration of the Faithful. Small and black, crowned + with jewels, in a mantle blazing with gold and precious stones and pearls, + she held on her knees the Child Jesus, who was as black as his mother and + passed his head through a slit in her cloak. It was the miraculous image + which St. Louis had received as a gift from the Soldan of Egypt and had + carried with his own hands to the Church of Anis. + </p> + <p> + All the pilgrims were gone now, and the Church was dark and empty. The + last offerings of the Faithful were spread at the feet of the beautiful + Black Virgin, displayed on a table lit with wax tapers. You could see + amongst the rest a head, hearts, hands, feet, a woman’s breasts of silver, + a little boat of gold, eggs, loaves, Aurillac cheeses, and in a bowl full + of deniers, sous, and groats, a little blue purse broidered with silver. + Over against the table, in a huge chair, dozed the priest who guarded the + offerings. + </p> + <p> + Florent Guillaume dropped on his knees before the holy image, and said + over to himself this pious prayer: + </p> + <p> + “Lady, an it be true that the holy prophet Jeremias, having beheld thee + with the eyes of faith ere ever thou wast conceived, carved with his hands + out of cedar-wood in thy likeness the holy image before which I am at this + present kneeling; an it be true that afterward King Ptolemy, instructed of + the miracles wrought by this same holy image, took it from the Jewish + priests, bare it to Egypt and set it up, covered with precious stones, in + the temple of the idols; an it be true that Nebuchadnezzar, conqueror of + the Egyptians, seized it in his turn and had it laid amongst his treasure, + where the Saracens found it when they captured Babylon; an it be true that + the Soldan loved it in his heart above all things, and was used to adore + it at the least once every day; an it be true that the said Soldan had + never given it to our saintly King Louis, but that his wife, who was a + Saracen dame, yet prized chivalry and knightly prowess, resolved to make + it a gift to the best knight and worthiest champion of all Christendom; in + a word, an this image be miraculous, as I do firmly credit, have it do a + miracle, Lady, in favour of the poor clerk who hath many a time writ thy + praises on the vellum of the service books. He hath sanctified his sinful + hands by engrossing in a fair writing, with great red capitals at the + beginning of each clause, ‘the fifteen joys of Our Lady,’ in the vulgar + tongue and in rhyme, for the comforting of the afflicted. ‘Tis pious work + this. Think of it, Lady, and heed not his sins. Give him somewhat to eat. + ‘Twill both do me much profit, and bring thee great honour, for the + miracle will appear no mean one to all them that know the world. Thou hast + this day gotten gold, eggs, cheeses, and a little blue purse broidered + with silver. Lady, I grudge thee none of the gifts that have been made + thee. Thou dost well deserve them, yea, and more than they. I do not so + much as ask thee to make them give me back what a thief hath robbed me of, + a thief by name Jacquet Coque-douille, one of the most honoured citizens + of this thy town of Le Puy. No, all I ask of thee is not to let me die of + hunger. And if thou grant me this boon, I will indite a full and fair + history of thine holy image here present.” + </p> + <p> + So prayed Florent Guillaume. The soft murmur of his petition was answered + only by the deep-chested, placid snore of the sleeping priest. The poor + scrivener rose from his knees, stepped noiselessly adown the nave, for he + was grown so light his footfall could scarce be heard, and, fasting as he + was, climbed the tower stairs that had as many steps as there are days in + the year. + </p> + <p> + Meanwhile Madame Ysabeau, slipping under the cloister gate, entered her + Church. The pilgrims had driven her away, for she loved peace and + solitude. The bird came forward cautiously, putting one foot slowly in + front of the other, then stopped and craned her neck, casting a suspicious + look to right and left. Then giving a graceful little jump and shaking out + her tail feathers, she hopped up to the Black Madonna. Then she stood + stock still a few moments, scrutinising the sleeping watchman and + questioning the darkness and silence with eyes and ears alert. At last + with a mighty flutter of wings she alighted on the table of offerings. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0007" id="link2H_4_0007"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + IV + </h2> + <p> + <a name="linkimage-0005" id="linkimage-0005"> + <!-- IMG --></a> + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:60%"> + <img src="images/056.jpg" alt="056 " width="100%" /><br /> + </div> + <p> + MEANWHILE Florent Guillaume had settled himself for the night in the + steeple. It was bitter cold. The wind came blowing in through the + luffer-boards and fluted and organed among the bells to rejoice the heart + of the cats and owls. And this was not the only objection to the lodging. + Since the earthquake of 1427, which had shaken the whole church, the spire + was dropping to pieces stone by stone and threatened to collapse + altogether in the first storm. Our Lady suffered this dilapidation because + of the people’s sins. + </p> + <p> + Presently Florent Guillaume fell asleep, which is a token of his innocency + of heart. What dreams he dreamt is clean forgot, except that he had a + vision in his sleep of a lady of consummate beauty who came and kissed him + on the mouth. But when his lips opened to return her salute, he swallowed + two or three woodlice that were walking over his face and by their + tickling had deluded his sleeping senses into the agreeable fancy. He + awoke, and hearing a noise of wings beating above his head, he thought it + was a devil, as was very natural for him to opine, seeing how the evil + spirits flock in countless swarms to torment mankind, and above all at + night time. But the moon just then breaking through the clouds, he + recognised Madame Ysabeau and saw she was busy with her beak pushing into + a crack in the wall that served her for storehouse a blue purse broidered + with silver. He let her do as she list; but when she had left her hoard, + he clambered onto a beam, took the purse, opened it, and saw it contained + twelve good gold deniers, which he clapped in his belt, giving thanks to + the incomparable Black Virgin of Le Puy. For he was a clerk and versed in + the Scriptures, and he remembered how the Lord fed his prophet Elias by a + raven; whence he inferred that the Holy Mother of God had sent by a magpie + twelve deniers to her poor penman, Florent Guillaume. + </p> + <p> + On the morrow Florent and Marguerite the lace-maker ate a dish of tripe,—a + treat they had craved for many a long year. + </p> + <p> + So ends the Miracle of the Magpie. May he who tells the tale live, as he + would fain live, in good and gentle peace, and all good hap befall such + folk as shall read the same. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0008" id="link2H_4_0008"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + BROTHER JOCONDE + </h2> + <p> + <a name="linkimage-0006" id="linkimage-0006"> + <!-- IMG --></a> + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:60%"> + <img src="images/062.jpg" alt="062 " width="100%" /><br /> + </div> + <p> + THE Parisians were far from loving the English and found it hard to put up + with them. When, after the obsequies of the late King Charles VI, the Duke + of Bedford had the sword of the King of France borne before him, the + people murmured. But what cannot be cured must be endured. Besides, though + the capital hated the English, it loved the Burgundians. What more natural + for citizen folk, and especially for money-changers and traders, than to + admire Duke Philip, a prince of seemly presence and the richest nobleman + in Christendom. As for the “little King of Bourges,” a sorry-looking + mortal and very poor, strongly suspected, moreover, of foul murder at the + Bridge of Montereau, what had he about him to please folk withal? Scorn + was the sentiment felt for him, and horror and loathing for his partisans. + For ten years now had these been riding and raiding around the walls, + pillaging and holding to ransom. No doubt the English and Burgun-dians did + much the same; when, in the month of August, 1423, Duke Philip came to + Paris, his men-at-arms had ravaged all the country about. And they were + friends and allies of course; but after all they only came and went. The + Armagnacs, on the contrary, were always in the field, stealing whatever + they could lay their hands upon, firing farmsteads and churches, killing + women and children, deflowering virgins and nuns, hanging men by the + thumbs. In 1420 they threw themselves like devils let loose on the village + of Champigny and burnt up altogether oats, wheat, lambs, cows, oxen, + children, and women. They did the like and worse at Croissy. A very great + clerk of the University declared they wrought all wickedness that can be + wrought and conceived, and that more Christian folk had been martyred at + their hands than ever Maximian or Diocletian did to death. + </p> + <p> + At the news that these accursed Armagnacs were at the gates of Compiègne + and occupying the neighbouring castles and their lands, the folk of Paris + were sore afraid. They believed that the Dauphin’s soldiers had sworn, if + they entered Paris, to slay whomsoever they found there. They affirmed + openly that Messire Charles de Valois had given up to his men’s mercy town + and townsmen, great and small, of every rank and condition, men and women, + and that he proposed to drive the plough over the site of the city. The + inhabitants mostly believed the tale; so they set the St. Andrew’s cross + on their coats, in token that they were of the party of the Burgundians. + Their hatred was doubled, and their fears with it, when they learned that + Brother Richard and the Maid Jeanne were at the head of King Charles’ + army. They knew nothing of the Maid save from the rumour of the victories + she was reported to have won at Orleans. But they deemed she had + vanquished the English by the Devil’s aid, by means of spells and + enchantments. + </p> + <p> + The Masters of the University all said: “A creature in shape of a woman is + with the Armagnacs. What it is, God knows!” + </p> + <p> + For Brother Richard, they knew him well. He had come to Paris before, and + they had hearkened reverently to his sermons. He had even persuaded them + to renounce those games of chance for which they had been used to forget + meat and drink and the services of the Church. Now, at the tidings that + Brother Richard was on foray with the Armagnacs and winning over for them + by his well-hung tongue good towns like Troyes in Champagne, they called + down on him the curse of God and his Saints. They tore out of their hats + the leaden medals inscribed with the holy name of Jesus, which the good + Brother had given them, and to show in what detestation they held him, + resumed dice, bowls, draughts, and all other games they had renounced at + his exhortation. + </p> + <p> + The city was strongly fortified, for in the days when King Jean was a + prisoner of the English, the citizens of Paris, seeing the enemy in the + heart of the Kingdom, had feared a siege and had hastened to put the walls + in a state of defence. They had surrounded the place with moats and + counter-moats. The moats, on the left bank of the river, were dug at the + foot of the walls forming the old circle of fortification. But on the + right bank there were faubourgs, both extensive and well built, outside + the walls and almost touching them. The new moats enclosed a part of + these, and the Dauphin Charles, King Jean’s son, afterward had a wall + built along the line of them. Nevertheless there was some feeling of + insecurity, for the Cathedral Chapter took measures to put the relics and + treasure out of reach of the enemy. + </p> + <p> + Meantime, on Sunday, August 21st, a Cordelier, by name Brother Joconde, + entered the town. He had made pilgrimage to Jerusalem, and was said, like + Brother Vincent Ferrier and Brother Bernardino of Sienna, to have enjoyed + by the abounding grace of God many revelations anent the forthcoming end + of the world. He gave out that he would preach his first sermon to the + Parisians on Tuesday following, St. Bartholomew’s day, in the Cloister of + “The Innocents.” On the eve of that day more than six thousand persons + spent the night in the Cloister. At the foot of the platform wherefrom he + was to preach, the women sat squatted on their heels, and amongst them + Guillaumette Dyonis, who was blind from birth. She was the child of an + artisan who had been killed by the Burgundians in the woods of + Boulogne-la-Grande. Her mother had been carried off by a Burgundian + man-at-arms, and none knew what had become of her. Guillaumette was + fifteen or sixteen years of age. She lived at “The Innocents” on what she + made by spinning wool, at which trade there was not a better worker to be + found in all the town. She went and came in the streets without the help + of any and knew everything as well as those who can see. As she lived a + good and holy life and fasted often, she was favoured with visions. In + especial she had been accorded notable revelations by the Apostle St. John + concerning the troubles that then beset the Kingdom of France. Now, as she + was reciting her Hours at the foot of the platform, under the great Dance + of Death, a woman called Simone la Bardine, who was seated on the ground + beside her, asked her if the good Brother was not coming soon. + </p> + <p> + Guillaumette Dyonis could not see the tailed gown of green and the horned + wimple which Simone la Bardine wore; yet she knew by instinct the woman + was no honest dame. She felt a natural aversion for light women and the + sort the soldiers called their sweethearts or “doxies,” but it had been + revealed to her that we should hold such in great pity and deal + compassionately with them. Wherefore she answered Simone la Bardine + gently: + </p> + <p> + “The good Father will come soon, please God. And we shall have no reason + to regret having waited, for he is eloquent in prayer and his sermons turn + the folk to devotion more even than those of Brother Richard, who spake in + these Cloisters in the springtime. He knows more than any man living of + the times that shall come and shall show us strange portents. I trow we + shall gain great profit of his words.” + </p> + <p> + “God grant it,” sighed Simone la Bardine. “But are you not very sorry to + be blind?” + </p> + <p> + “No. I wait to see God.” + </p> + <p> + Simone la Bardine made her mantle into a cushion, and said: + </p> + <p> + “Life is all ups and downs. I live at the top of the Rue Saint-Antoine. ‘T + is the finest part of the city and the merriest, for the best hostelries + are in the Place Baudet and thereabout. Before the Wars there was aye + abundance there of hot cakes and fresh herrings and Auxerre wine by the + tun. With the English famine entered the town. Now is there neither bread + in the bin nor firewood on the hearth. One after other the Armagnacs and + the Burgundians have drunk up all the wine, and there is naught left in + the cellar but a little thin, sour cider and sloe-juice. Knights armed for + the tourney, pilgrims with their cockleshells and staves, traders with + their chests full of knives and little service-books, where are they gone? + They never come now to seek a lodging and good living in the Rue + Saint-Antoine. But the wolves quit covert in the forests and prowl of + nights in the faubourgs and devour little children.” + </p> + <p> + “Put your trust in God,” Guillaumette Dyonis answered her. + </p> + <p> + “Amen!” returned Simone la Bardine. “But I have not told you the worst. On + the Thursday before St, John’s day, at three after midnight, two + Englishmen came knocking at my door. Not knowing but they had come to rob + me or break up my chests and coffers out of mischief, or do some other + devilment, I shouted to them from my window to go their ways, that I did + not know them and I was not going to open the door. But they only hammered + louder, swearing they were going to break in the door and come in and cut + off my nose and ears. To stop their uproar I emptied a crockful of water + on their heads; but the crock slipped out of my hands and broke on the + back of one fellow’s neck so unchancily that it felled him. His comrade + called up the watch. I was haled to the Châtelet and clapped in prison, + where I was very hardly handled, and only escaped by paying a heavy sum of + money. I found my house pillaged from cellar to attic. From that day my + affairs have gone from bad to worse, and I have naught in the wide world + but the clothes I stand up in. In very despair I have come hither to hear + the good Father, who they say abounds in comforting words.” + </p> + <p> + “God, who loves you,” said Guillaumctte Dyonis, “has moved you in all + this.” + </p> + <p> + Then a great silence fell on the crowd as Brother Joconde appeared. His + eyes flashed like lightning. When he opened his lips, his voice pealed out + like thunder. + </p> + <p> + “I have come from Jerusalem,” he began; “and to prove it, see in this + wallet are roses of Jericho, a branch of the olive under which Our Saviour + sweated drops of blood, and a handful of the earth of Calvary.” + </p> + <p> + He gave a long narrative of his pilgrimage. And he added: + </p> + <p> + “In Syria I met Jews travelling in companies; I asked them whither they + were bound, and they told me: ‘We are flocking in crowds to Babylon, + because in very deed the Messiah is born among men, and will restore us + our heritage, and stablish us again in the Land of Promise.’ So said these + Jews of Syria. Now the Scriptures teach us that he they call the Messiah + is, in truth, Antichrist, of whom it is said he must be born at Babylon, + chief city of the kingdom of Persia, be reared at Bethsaida, and dwell in + his youth at Chorazin. That is why Our Lord said: ‘Woe unto thee, + Chor-azin! Woe unto thee, Bethsaida!’ + </p> + <p> + “The year that is at hand,” went on Brother Joconde, “will bring the + greatest marvels that have ever been beheld. + </p> + <p> + “The times are at hand. He is born, the man of sin, the son of perdition, + the wicked man, the beast from out the abyss, the abomination of + desolation. He comes from the tribe of Dan, of which it is written: ‘Dan + shall be a serpent in the way, an adder in the path.’ + </p> + <p> + “Brethren, soon shall ye see returning to this earth the Prophets Elias + and Enoch, Moses, Jeremias, and St. John Evangelist. And lo! the day of + wrath is dawning, the day which ‘solvet sæclum in favilla, teste David et + Sibylla.’ Wherefore now is the time to repent and do penance and renounce + the false delights of this world.” + </p> + <p> + At the good Brother’s word bosoms heaved with remorse and deep-drawn sighs + were heard. Not a few, both men and women, were near fainting when the + preacher cried: + </p> + <p> + “I read in your souls that ye keep mandrakes at home, which will bring you + to hell fire.” + </p> + <p> + It was true. Many Parisians paid heavily to the old witch-wives, who + profess unholy knowledge, for to buy mandrakes, and were used to keep them + treasured in a chest. These magic roots have the likeness of a little man, + hideously ugly and misshapen in a weird and diabolic fashion. They would + dress them out magnificently, in fine linen and silks, and the mannikins + brought them riches, chief source of all the ills of this world. + </p> + <p> + Next Brother Joconde thundered against women’s extravagant attire. + </p> + <p> + “Leave off,” he bade them, “your horns and your tails! Are ye not shamed + so to bedizen yourselves like she-devils? Light bonfires, I say, in the + public streets, and cast therein and burn your damnable head-gear,—pads + and rolls, erections of leather and whalebone, wherewith ye stiffen out + the front of your hoods.” + </p> + <p> + He ended by exhorting them with so much zeal and loving-kindness not to + lose their souls, but put themselves in the grace of God, that all who + heard him wept hot tears. And Simone la Bardine wept more abundantly than + any. + </p> + <p> + When, finally, coming down from his platform, Brother Joconde crossed the + cloister and graveyard, the people fell on their knees as he went by. The + women gave him their little ones to bless, or besought him to touch medals + and rosaries for them. Some plucked threads from his gown, thinking to get + healing by putting them, like relics of the Saints, on the places where + they were afflicted. Guillaumette Dyonis followed the good Father as + easily as if she saw him with her bodily eyes. Simone la Bardine trailed + behind her, sobbing. She had pulled off her horned wimple and tied a + kerchief round her head. + </p> + <p> + Thus they marched, the three of them, along the streets, where men and + women, who had been at the preaching, were kindling fires before their + doors to cast therein head-gear and mandrake roots. But on reaching the + river bank, Brother Joconde sat down under an elm, and Guillaumette Dyonis + came up to him and said: + </p> + <p> + “Father, it hath been revealed to me in vision that you are come to this + Kingdom to restore the same to good peace and concord. I have had myself + many revelations concerning the peace of the Kingdom.” + </p> + <p> + Next Simone la Bardine took up her parable and said: + </p> + <p> + “Brother Joconde, I lived once in a fine house in the Rue Saint-Antoine, + near by the Place Baudet, which is the fairest quarter of Paris, and the + wealthiest. I had a matted chamber, mantles of cloth of gold, and gowns + trimmed with miniver, enough to fill three great chests; I had a + feather-bed, a dresser loaded with pewter, and a little book wherein you + saw in pictures the story of Our Lord. But since the wars and pillagings + that devastate the Kingdom, I have lost everything. The gallants never + come now to take their pleasure in the Place Baudet. But the wolves come + there instead to devour little children. The Burgundians and the English + are as bad as the Armagnacs. Would you have me go with you?” + </p> + <p> + The Monk gazed a while in silence at the two women; and deeming it was + Jesus Christ himself had led them to him, he received them for his + Penitents, and thereafter the twain followed him wherever he went. Every + day he preached to the people, now at “The Innocents,” now at the Porte + Saint-Honoré, or at the Halles. But he never went outside the Walls, by + reason of the Armagnacs, who were raiding all the countryside round the + city. + </p> + <p> + His words led many souls to a better life; and at the fourth sermon he + preached in Paris, he received for Penitents Jeannette Chastenier, wife of + a merchant-draper on the Pont-au-Change, and another woman, by name + Opportune Jadoin, who nursed the sick at the Hôtel-Dieu and was no longer + very young. He admitted likewise into his company a gardener of the + Ville-l’Evêque, a lad of about sixteen, Robin by name, who bare on his + feet and hands the stigmata of the crucifixion, and was shaken by a sore + trembling of all his limbs. He often saw the Holy Virgin in corporeal + presence, and heard her speech and savoured the divine odours of her + glorified body. She had entrusted him with a message for the Regent of + England and for the Duke of Burgundy. Meantime the army of Messire Charles + of Valois entered the town of Saint-Denis. And no man durst from that day + go out of Paris to harvest the fields or gather aught from the + market-gardens which covered the plain to the northward of the city. + Instantly famine prices ruled, and the inhabitants began to suffer + cruelly. And they were further exasperated because they believed + themselves betrayed. It was openly said that certain folk, and in especial + certain men of Religion, suborned by Messire Charles of Valois, were + watching for the best time to stir up trouble and bring in the enemy in an + hour of panic and confusion. Haunted by this fear, which was not perhaps + altogether baseless, the citizens who kept guard of the ramparts showed + scant mercy to any men of evil looks whom they found loitering near the + Gates and whom they might suspect, on the most trivial evidence, of making + signals to the Armagnacs. On Thursday, September 8th, the good people of + Paris awoke without any fear of being attacked before the next day. This + day, September 8th, was the Feast of the Nativity of the Virgin, and it + was an established custom with the two factions that tore the Kingdom in + twain to keep holy the feast-days of Our Lord and His Blessed Mother. + </p> + <p> + Yet at this holy season the Parisians, on coming forth from Mass, learnt + that, notwithstanding the sacredness of the day, the Armagnacs had + appeared before the Porte Saint-Honoré and had set fire to the outwork + which defended its approach. It was further reported that Messire Charles + of Valois was posted, for the time being, along with Brother Richard and + the Maid Jeanne, in the Hog Market without the Walls. The same afternoon, + through all the city, on either side the bridges, shouts of fear arose—“Save + yourselves! fly, the enemy are come in, all is lost!” The cries were heard + even inside the Churches, where pious folks were singing Vespers. These + came flying out in terror and ran to their houses to take refuge behind + barred doors. + </p> + <p> + Now the men who went about raising these cries were emissaries of Messire + Charles of Valois. In fact, at that very time, the Company of the Maréchal + de Rais was making assault on the Walls near by the Porte Saint-Honoré. + The Armagnacs had brought up in carts great bundles of faggots and wattled + hurdles to fill up the moats, and above six hundred scaling-ladders for + storming the ramparts. The Maid Jeanne, who was nowise as the Burgundians + believed, but lived a pious life and guarded her chastity, set foot to + ground, and was the first down into a dry moat, which for that cause was + easy to cross. But thereupon they found themselves exposed to the arrows + and cross-bolts that rained down thick and fast from the Walls. Then they + had in front of them a second moat. Wherefore were the Maid and her + men-at-arms sore hampered. Jeanne sounded the great moat with her lance + and shouted to throw in faggots. + </p> + <p> + Inside the town could be heard the roar of cannon, and all along the + streets the citizens were running, half accoutred, to their posts on the + ramparts, knocking over as they went the brats playing about in the + gutters. The chains were drawn across the roadways, and barricades were + begun. Tribulation and tumult filled all the place. + </p> + <p> + But neither the Brother Joconde nor his Penitents saw aught of it, + forasmuch as they took heed only of eternal things, and deemed the vain + agitation of men to be but a foolish game. They marched through the + streets singing the “Veni creator spiritus,” and crying out: “Pray, for + the times are at hand.” + </p> + <p> + Thus they made their way in good array down the Rue Saint-Antoine, which + was densely crowded with men, women, and children. Coming presently to the + Place Baudet, Brother Joconde pushed through the throng and mounted a + great stone that stood at the door of the Hôtel de la Truie, which Messire + Florimont Lecocq, the master of the house, used to help him mount his + mule. This Messire Florimont Lecocq was Sergeant at the Châtelet Prison + and a partisan of the English. + </p> + <p> + So, standing on the great stone, Brother Joconde preached to the people. + “Sow ye,” he cried, “sow ye, good folk; sow abundantly of beans, for He + which is to come will come quickly.” + </p> + <p> + By the beans they were to sow, the good Brother signified the charitable + works it behoved them accomplish before Our Lord should come, in the + clouds of heaven, to judge both the quick and the dead. And it was urgent + to sow these works without tarrying, for that the harvest would be soon. + Guillaumette Dyonis, Simone la Bardine, Jeanne Chastenier, Opportune + Jadoin, and Robin the gardener, stood in a ring about the Preacher, and + cried “Amen!” + </p> + <p> + But the citizens, who thronged behind in a great crowd, pricked up their + ears and bent their brows, thinking the Monk was foretelling the entry of + Charles of Valois into his good town of Paris, over which he was fain—at + any rate, so they believed—to drive the ploughshare. + </p> + <p> + Meanwhile the good Brother went on with his soul-awakening discourse. + </p> + <p> + “Oh! ye men of Paris, ye are worse than the Pagans of old Rome.” + </p> + <p> + Just then the mangonels firing from the Porte Saint-Denis mingled their + thunder with Brother Joconde’s voice and shook the bystanders’ hearts + within them. Some one in the press cried out, “Death! death to traitors!” + All this time Messire Florimont Lecocq was within-doors doing on his + armour. He now came forth at the noise, before he had buckled his + leg-pieces. Seeing the Monk standing on his mounting-block, he asked: + “What is this good Father saying?” And a chorus of voices answered: + “Telling us that Messire Charles of Valois is going to enter the city,” + while others cried: + </p> + <p> + “He is against the folk of Paris,” and others again: + </p> + <p> + “He would fain cozen and betray us, like the Brother Richard, who at this + very time is riding with our enemies.” + </p> + <p> + But Brother Joconde made answer: “There be neither Armagnacs, nor + Burgundians, nor French, nor English, but only the sons of light and the + sons of darkness. Ye are lewd fellows and your women wantons.” + </p> + <p> + “Go to, thou apostate! thou sorcerer! thou traitor!” yelled Messire + Florimont Lecocq,—and lugging out his sword, he plunged it in the + good Brother’s bosom. + </p> + <p> + With pale lips and faltering voice, the man of God still managed to say: + </p> + <p> + “Pray, fast, do penance, and ye shall be forgiven, my brethren...” + </p> + <p> + Then his voice choked, as the blood poured from his mouth, and he fell on + the stones. Two knights, Sir John Stewart and Sir George Morris, threw + themselves on the body and pierced it with more than a hundred dagger + thrusts, vociferating: + </p> + <p> + “Long life to King Henry! Long life to my Lord the Duke of Bedford! Down + with the Dauphin! Down with the mad Maid of the Armagnacs! Up, up! To the + Gates, to the Gates!” + </p> + <p> + Therewith they ran to the Walls, drawing off with them Messire Florimont + and the crowd of citizens. + </p> + <p> + Meanwhile the holy women and the gardener tarried about the bleeding + corse. Simone la Bardine lay prostrate on the ground, kissing the good + Brother’s feet and wiping away his blood with her unbound hair. + </p> + <p> + But Guillaumette Dyonis, standing up with her arms lifted to heaven, cried + in a voice as clear as the sound of bells: + </p> + <p> + “My sisters, Jeanne, Opportune and Simone, and you, my brother, Robin the + gardener, let us be going, for the times are at hand. The soul of this + good Father holds me by the hand, and it will lead me aright. Wherefore ye + must follow along with me. And we will say to those who are making cruel + war upon each other: ‘Kiss and make peace. And if ye must needs use your + arms, take up the cross and go forth all together to fight the Saracens.’ + Come! my sisters and my brother.” + </p> + <p> + Jeanne Chastenier picked up the shaft of an arrow from the ground, brake + it, and made a cross, which she laid on good Brother Joconde’s bosom. Then + these holy women, and the gardener with them, followed after Guillaumette + Dyonis, who led them by the streets and squares and alleys as if her eyes + had seen the light of day. They reached the foot of the rampart, and by + the stairway of a tower that was left unguarded, they mounted onto the + curtain-wall. There had been no time to furnish it with its hoardings of + wood; so they went along in the open. They proceeded toward the Porte + Saint-Honoré, by this time enveloped in clouds of dust and smoke. It was + there the Maréchal de Rais and his men were making assault. Their bolts + flew thick and fast against the ramparts, and they were hurling faggots + into the water of the great moat. On the hog’s-back parting the great moat + from the little, stood the Maid, crying: “Yield, yield you to the King of + France.” The English had abandoned the top of the wall in terror, leaving + their dead and wounded behind them. Guillaumette Dyonis walked first, her + head high and her left arm extended before her, while with her right hand + she kept signing herself reverently. Simone la Bardine followed close on + her heels. Then came Jeanne Chastenier and Opportune Jadoin. Robin the + gardener brought up the rear, his body all shaking with his infirmity, and + showing the divine stigmata on his hands. They were singing canticles as + they walked. + </p> + <p> + And Guillaumette, turning now toward the city and now toward the open + country, cried: “Brethren, embrace ye one another. Live in peace and + harmony. Take the iron of your spearheads and forge it into ploughshares!” + </p> + <p> + Scarce had she spoken ere a shower of arrows, some from the parapet-way + where a Company of Citizens was defiling, some from the hog’s-back where + the Armagnac men-at-arms were massed, flew in her direction, and therewith + a storm of insults: + </p> + <p> + “Wanton! traitress! witch!” + </p> + <p> + Meanwhile she went on exhorting the two sides to stablish the Kingdom of + Jesus Christ upon earth and to live in innocency and brotherly love, till + a cross-bow bolt struck her in the throat and she staggered and fell + backward. + </p> + <p> + It was which could laugh the louder at this, Armagnacs or Burgundians. + Drawing her gown over her feet, she lay still and made no other stir, but + gave up her soul, sighing the name of Jesus. Her eyes, which remained + open, glowed like two opals. + </p> + <p> + Short while after the death of Guillaumette Dyonis the men of Paris + returned in great force to man their Wall, and defended their city right + valorously. Jeanne the Maid was wounded by a cross-bow bolt in the leg, + and Messire Charles of Valois’ men-at-arms fell back upon the Chapelle + Saint-Denis. What became of Jeanne Chastenier and Opportune Jadoin no one + knows. They were never heard of more. Simone la Bardine and Robin the + gardener were taken the same day by the citizens on guard at the Walls and + handed over to the Bishop’s officer, who duly brought them before the + Courts. The Church adjudged Simone heretic, and condemned her for salutary + penance to the bread of suffering and the water of affliction. Robin was + convicted of sorcery, and, persevering in his error, was burned alive in + the Place du Parvis. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0009" id="link2H_4_0009"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + FIVE FAIR LADIES OF PICARDY, OF POITOU, OF TOURAINE, OF LYONS, AND OF + PARIS + </h2> + <p> + <a name="linkimage-0007" id="linkimage-0007"> + <!-- IMG --></a> + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:60%"> + <img src="images/090.jpg" alt="090 " width="100%" /><br /> + </div> + <p> + ONE day the Capuchin, Brother Jean Chavaray, meeting my good master the + Abbé Coign-ard in the cloister of “The Innocents,” fell into talk with him + of the Brother Olivier Maillard, whose sermons, edifying and macaronic, he + had lately been reading. + </p> + <p> + “There are good bits to be found in these sermons,” said the Capuchin, + “notably the tale of the five ladies and the go-between...” You will + readily understand that Brother Olivier, who lived in the reign of Louis + XI and whose language smacks of the coarseness of that age, uses a + different word. But our century demands a certain politeness and decency + in speech; wherefore I employ the term I have, to wit, <i>go-between</i>. + </p> + <p> + “You mean,” replied my good master, “to signify by the expression a woman + who is so obliging as to play intermediary in matters of love and + love-making. The Latin has several names for her,—as <i>lena, + conciliatrix</i>, also <i>internuntia libidinum</i>, ambassadress of + naughty desires. These prudish dames perform the best of services; but + seeing they busy themselves therein for money, we distrust their + disinterestedness. Call yours a <i>procuress</i>, good Father, and have + done with it; ‘t is a word in common use, and has a not unseemly sound.” + </p> + <p> + “So I will, Monsieur l’Abbé,” assented Brother Jean Chavaray. “Only don’t + say <i>mine</i>, I pray, but the Brother Olivier’s. A procuress then, who + lived on the Pont des Tournelles, was visited one day by a knight, who put + a ring into her hands. ‘It is of fine gold,’ he told her, ‘and hath a + balass ruby mounted in the bezel. An you know any dames of good estate, go + say to the most comely of them that the ring is hers if she is willing to + come to see me and do at my pleasure.’ + </p> + <p> + “The procuress knew, by having seen them at Mass, five ladies of an + excellent beauty,—natives the first of Picardy, the second of + Poitou, the third of Touraine, another from the good city of Lyons, and + the last a Parisian, all dwelling in the Cite or its near neighbourhood. + </p> + <p> + “She knocked first at the Picard lady’s door. A maid opened, but her + mistress refused to have one word to say to her visitor. She was an honest + woman. + </p> + <p> + “The procuress went next to see the lady of Poitiers and solicit her + favours for the gallant knight. This dame answered her: + </p> + <p> + “‘Prithee, go tell him who sent you that he is come to the wrong house, + and that I am not the woman he takes me for.’ + </p> + <p> + “She too is an honest woman; yet less honest than the first, in that she + tried to appear more so. + </p> + <p> + “The procuress then went to see the lady from Tours, made the same offer + to her as to the other, and showed her the ring. + </p> + <p> + “‘I’ faith,’ said the lady, ‘but the ring is right lovely.’ + </p> + <p> + “‘’T is yours, an you will have it.’ + </p> + <p> + “‘I will not have it at the price you set on it. My husband might catch + me, and I should be doing him a grief he doth not deserve.’ + </p> + <p> + “This lady of Touraine is a harlot, I trow, at bottom of her heart. + </p> + <p> + “The procuress left her and went straight to the dame of Lyons, who cried: + </p> + <p> + “‘Alack! my good friend, my husband is a jealous wight, and he would cut + the nose off my face to hinder me winning any more rings at this pretty + tilting.’ + </p> + <p> + “This dame of Lyons, I tell you, is a worthless good-for-naught. + </p> + <p> + “Last of all the procuress hurried to the Parisian’s. She was a hussy, and + answered brazenly: + </p> + <p> + “‘My husband goes Wednesday to his vineyards; tell the good sir who sent + you I will come that day and see him.’ + </p> + <p> + “Such, according to Brother Olivier, from Picardy to Paris, are the + degrees from good to evil amongst women. What think you of the matter, + Monsieur Coignard?” + </p> + <p> + To which my good master made answer: + </p> + <p> + “‘T is a shrewd matter to consider the acts and impulses of these petty + creatures in their relations with Eternal Justice. I have no lights + thereanent. But methinks the Lyons dame who feared having her nose cut off + was a more good-for-nothing baggage than the Parisian who was afraid of + nothing.” + </p> + <p> + “I am far, very far, from allowing it,” replied Brother Jean Chavaray. “A + woman who fears her husband may come to fear hell fire. Her Confessor, it + may be, will bring her to do penance and give alms. For, after all, that + is the end we must come at. But what can a poor Capuchin hope to get of a + woman whom <i>nothing</i> terrifies?” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0010" id="link2H_4_0010"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + A GOOD LESSON WELL LEARNT + </h2> + <p> + <a name="linkimage-0008" id="linkimage-0008"> + <!-- IMG --></a> + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:60%"> + <img src="images/098.jpg" alt="098 " width="100%" /><br /> + </div> + <p> + IN the days of King Louis XI there lived at Paris, in a matted chamber, a + citizen dame called Violante, who was comely and well-liking in all her + person. She had so bright a face that Master Jacques Tribouillard, doctor + in law and a renowned cosmographer, who was often a visitor at her house, + was used to tell her: + </p> + <p> + “Seeing you, madame, I deem credible and even hold it proven, what + Cucurbitus Piger lays down in one of his scholia on Strabo, to wit, that + the famous city and university of Paris was of old known by the name of + Lutetia or Leucecia, or some such like word coming from <i>Leukê</i>, that + is to say, ‘the white,’ forasmuch as the ladies of the same had bosoms + white as snow,—yet not so clear and bright and white as is your own, + madame.” + </p> + <p> + To which Violante would say in answer: + </p> + <p> + “‘T is enough for me if my bosom is not fit to fright folks, like some I + wot of. And, if I show it, why, ‘tis to follow the fashion. I have not the + hardihood to do otherwise than the rest of the world.” + </p> + <p> + Now Madame Violante had been wedded, in the flower of her youth, to an + Advocate of the Parlement, a man of a harsh temper and sorely set on the + arraignment and punishing of unfortunate prisoners. For the rest, he was + of sickly habit and a weakling, of such a sort he seemed more fit to give + pain to folks outside his doors than pleasure to his wife within. The old + fellow thought more of his blue bags than of his better half, though these + were far otherwise shapen, being bulgy and fat and formless. But the + lawyer spent his nights over them. + </p> + <p> + Madame Violante was too reasonable a woman to love a husband that was so + unlovable. Master Jacques Tribouillard upheld she was a good wife, as + steadfastly and surely confirmed and stablished in conjugal virtue as + Lucretia the Roman. And for proof he alleged that he had altogether failed + to turn her aside from the path of honour. The judicious observed a + prudent silence on the point, holding that what is hid will only be made + manifest at the last Judgment Day. They noted how the lady was over fond + of gewgaws and laces and wore in company and at church gowns of velvet and + silk and cloth of gold, purfled with miniver; but they were too + fair-minded folk to decide whether, damning as she did Christian men who + saw her so comely and so finely dressed to the torments of vain longing, + she was not damning her own soul too with one of them. In a word, they + were well ready to stake Madame Violante’s virtue on the toss of a coin, + cross or pile,—which is greatly to the honour of that fair lady. + </p> + <p> + The truth is her Confessor, Brother Jean Turelure, was for ever upbraiding + her. + </p> + <p> + “Think you, madame,” he would ask her, “that the blessed St. Catherine won + heaven by leading such a life as yours, baring her bosom and sending to + Genoa for lace ruffles?” + </p> + <p> + But he was a great preacher, very severe on human weaknesses, who could + condone naught and thought he had done everything when he had inspired + terror. He threatened her with hell fire for having washed her face with + ass’s milk. + </p> + <p> + As a fact, no one could say if she had given her old husband a meet and + proper head-dress, and Messire Philippe de Coetquis used to warn the + honest dame in a merry vein: + </p> + <p> + “See to it, I say! He is bald, he will catch his death of cold!” + </p> + <p> + Messire Philippe de Coetquis was a knight of gallant bearing, as handsome + as the knave of hearts in the noble game of cards. He had first + encountered Madame Violante one evening at a ball, and after dancing with + her far into the night, had carried her home on his crupper, while the + Advocate splashed his way through the mud and mire of the kennels by the + dancing light of the torches his four tipsy lackeys bore. In the course of + these merry doings, a-foot and on horseback, Messire Philippe de Coetquis + had formed a shrewd notion that Madame Violante had a limber waist and a + full, firm bosom of her own, and there and then had been smit by her + charms. + </p> + <p> + He was a frank and guileless wight and made bold to tell her outright what + he would have of her,—to wit, to hold her naked in his two arms. + </p> + <p> + To which she would make answer: + </p> + <p> + “Messire Philippe, you know not what you say. I am a virtuous wife,”— + </p> + <p> + Or another time: + </p> + <p> + “Messire Philippe, come back again tomorrow,—” + </p> + <p> + And when he came next day she would ask innocently: + </p> + <p> + “Nay, where is the hurry?” + </p> + <p> + These never-ending postponements caused the Chevalier no little distress + and chagrin. He was ready to believe, with Master Tribouillard, that + Madame Violante was indeed a Lucretia, so true is it that all men are + alike in fatuous self-conceit! And we are bound to say she had not so much + as suffered him to kiss her mouth,—only a pretty diversion after all + and a bit of wanton playfulness. + </p> + <p> + Things were in this case when Brother Jean Turelure was called to Venice + by the General of his Order, to preach to sundry Turks lately converted to + the true Faith. + </p> + <p> + Before setting forth, the good Brother went to take leave of his fair + Penitent, and upbraided her with more than usual sternness for living a + dissolute life. He exhorted her urgently to repent and pressed her to wear + a hair-shirt next her skin,—an incomparable remedy against naughty + cravings and a sovran medicine for natures over prone to the sins of the + flesh. + </p> + <p> + She besought him: “Good Brother, never ask too much of me.” + </p> + <p> + But he would not hearken, and threatened her with the pains of hell if she + did not amend her ways. Then he told her he would gladly execute any + commissions she might be pleased to entrust him with. He was in hopes she + would beg him to bring her back some consecrated medal, a rosary, or, + better still, a little of the soil of the Holy Sepulchre which the Turks + carry from Jerusalem together with dried roses, and which the Italian + monks sell. + </p> + <p> + But Madame Violante preferred a quite other request: + </p> + <p> + “Good Brother, dear Brother, as you are going to Venice, where such + cunning workmen in this sort are to be found, I pray you bring me back a + Venetian mirror, the clearest and truest can be gotten.” + </p> + <p> + Brother Jean Turelure promised to content her wish. + </p> + <p> + While her Confessor was abroad, Madame Violante led the same life as + before. And when Messire Philippe pressed her: “Were it not well to take + our pleasure together?” she would answer: “Nay! ‘t is too hot. Look at the + weathercock if the wind will not change anon.” And the good folk who + watched her ways were in despair of her ever giving a proper pair of horns + to her crabbed old husband. “‘T is a sin and a shame!” they declared. + </p> + <p> + On his return from Italy Brother Jean Turelure presented himself before + Madame Violante and told her he had brought what she desired. + </p> + <p> + “Look, madame,” he said, and drew from under his gown a death’s-head. + </p> + <p> + “Here, madame, is your mirror. This death’s-head was given me for that of + the prettiest woman in all Venice. She was what you are, and you will be + much like her anon.” + </p> + <p> + Madame Violante, mastering her surprise and horror, answered the good + Father in a well-assured voice that she understood the lesson he would + teach her and she would not fail to profit thereby. + </p> + <p> + “I shall aye have present in my mind, good Brother, the mirror you have + brought me from Venice, wherein I see my likeness not as I am at present, + but as doubtless I soon shall be. I promise you to govern my behaviour by + this salutary thought.” + </p> + <p> + Brother Jean Turelure was far from expecting such pious words. He + expressed some satisfaction. + </p> + <p> + “So, madame,” he murmured, “you see yourself the need of altering your + ways. You promise me henceforth to govern your behaviour by the thought + this fleshless skull hath brought home to you. Will you not make the same + promise to God as you have to me?” + </p> + <p> + She asked if indeed she must, and he assured her it behoved her so to do. + </p> + <p> + “Well, I will give this promise then,” she declared. + </p> + <p> + “Madame, this is very well. There is no going back on your word now.” + </p> + <p> + “I shall not go back on it, never fear.” + </p> + <p> + Having won this binding promise, Brother Jean Turelure left the place, + radiant with satisfaction. And as he went from the house, he cried out + loud in the street: + </p> + <p> + “Here is a good work done! By Our Lord God’s good help, I have turned and + set in the way toward the gate of Paradise a lady, who, albeit not sinning + precisely in the way of fornication spoken of by the Prophet, yet was wont + to employ for men’s temptation the clay whereof the Creator had kneaded + her that she might serve and adore him withal. She will forsake these + naughty habits to adopt a better life. I have throughly changed her. + Praise be to God!” + </p> + <p> + Hardly had the good Brother gone down the stairs when Messire Philippe de + Coetquis ran up them and scratched at Madame Violante’s door. She welcomed + him with a beaming smile, and led him into a closet, furnished with + carpets and cushions galore, wherein he had never been admitted before. + From this he augured well. He offered her sweetmeats he had in a box. + </p> + <p> + “Here be sugar-plums to suck, madame; they are sweet and sugared, but not + so sweet as your lips.” + </p> + <p> + To which the lady retorted he was a vain, silly fop to make boast of a + fruit he had never tasted. + </p> + <p> + He answered her meetly, kissing her forthwith on the mouth. + </p> + <p> + She manifested scarce any annoyance and said only she was an honest woman + and a true wife. He congratulated her and advised her not to lock up this + jewel of hers in such close keeping that no man could enjoy it. “For, of a + surety,” he swore, “you will be robbed of it, and that right soon.” + </p> + <p> + “Try then,” said she, cuffing him daintily over the ears with her pretty + pink palms. + </p> + <p> + But he was master by this time to take whatsoever he wished of her. She + kept protesting with little cries: + </p> + <p> + “I won’t have it. Fie! fie on you, messire! You must not do it. Oh! + sweetheart... oh! my love... my life! You are killing me!” + </p> + <p> + Anon, when she had done sighing and dying, she said sweetly: + </p> + <p> + “Messire Philippe, never flatter yourself you have mastered me by force or + guile. You have had of me what you craved, but ‘t was of mine own free + will, and I only resisted so much as was needful that I might yield me as + I liked best. Sweetheart, I am yours. If, for all your handsome face, + which I loved from the first, and despite the tenderness of your wooing, I + did not before grant you what you have just won with my consent, ‘t was + because I had no true understanding of things. I had no thought of the + flight of time and the shortness of life and love; plunged in a soft + languor of indolence, I reaped no harvest of my youth and beauty. However, + the good Brother Jean Turelure hath given me a profitable lesson. He hath + taught me the preciousness of the hours. But now he showed me a + death’s-head, saying: ‘Suchlike you will be soon.’ This taught me we must + be quick to enjoy the pleasures of love and make the most of the little + space of time reserved to us for that end.” + </p> + <p> + These words and the caresses wherewith Madame Violante seconded them + persuaded Messire Philippe to turn the time to good account, to set to + work afresh to his own honour and profit and the pleasure and glory of his + mistress, and to multiply the sure proofs of prowess which it behoves + every good and loyal servant to give on suchlike an occasion. + </p> + <p> + After which, she was ready to cry quits. Taking him by the hand, she + guided him back to the door, kissed him daintily on the eyes, and asked: + </p> + <p> + “Sweetheart Philippe, is it not well done to follow the precepts of the + good Brother Jean Turelure?” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0011" id="link2H_4_0011"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + SATAN’S TONGUE-PIE + </h2> + <p> + <a name="linkimage-0009" id="linkimage-0009"> + <!-- IMG --></a> + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:60%"> + <img src="images/112.jpg" alt="112 " width="100%" /><br /> + </div> + <p> + SATAN lay in his bed with the flaming curtains. The physicians and + apothecaries of Hell, finding their patient had a white tongue, inferred + he was suffering from a weakness of the stomach and prescribed a diet at + once light and nourishing. + </p> + <p> + Satan swore he had no appetite for aught but a certain earthly dish, which + women excel in making when they meet in company, to wit, tongue-pie. + </p> + <p> + The doctors agreed there was nothing could better suit His Majesty’s + stomach. + </p> + <p> + In an hour’s time the dish was set before the King; but he found it + insipid and tasteless. + </p> + <p> + He sent for his Head Cook and asked him where the pie came from. + </p> + <p> + “From Paris, sire. It is quite fresh; ‘twas baked this very morning, in + the Marais Quarter, by a dozen gossips gathered round the bed at a woman’s + lying-in.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah! now I know the reason it is so flavourless,” returned the Prince of + Darkness. “You have not been to the best cooks for dishes of the sort. + Citizens’ wives, they do their best; but they lack delicacy, they lack the + fine touch of genius. Women of the people are clumsier still. For a real + good tongue-pie a Nunnery is the place to go to. There’s nobody to match + these old maids of Religion for a pretty skill in compounding all the + needful ingredients,—fine spices of rancour, thyme of backbiting, + fennel of insinuation, bay-leaf of calumny.” + </p> + <p> + This parable is taken from a sermon of the good Father Gillotin Landoulle, + a poor, unworthy Capuchin. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0012" id="link2H_4_0012"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CONCERNING AN HORRIBLE PICTURE + </h2> + <p> + <a name="linkimage-0010" id="linkimage-0010"> + <!-- IMG --></a> + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:60%"> + <img src="images/116.jpg" alt="116 " width="100%" /><br /> + </div> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + THE WHICH WAS SHOWED IN A TEMPLE AND OF SUNDRY LIMNINGS OF A + RIGHT PACIFIC AND AMOROUS SORT THE WHICH THE SAGE PHILEMON + HAD HANGED IN HIS LIBRARIE AND OF A NOBLE PORTRAITURE OF THE + POET HOMER THE WHICH THE AFORESAID PHILEMON DID PRIZE ABOVE + ALL OTHER LIMNINGS +</pre> + <p> + PHILEMON was used to confess how, in the fire of his callow youth and fine + flower of his lustie springal days, he had been stung with murderous + frenzie at view of a certaine picture of Apelles, the which in those times + was showed in a temple. And the said picture did present Alexander the + Great laying on right shrewdly at Darius, king of the Indians, whiles + round about these twain, soldiers and captains were a-slaying one another + with a savage furie and in divers strange fashions. And the said work was + right cunningly wrought and in very close mimicrie of nature. And none, an + they were in the hot and lustie season of their life, could cast a look + thereon without being stirred incontinent to be striking and killing poor + harmlesse folk for the sole sake of donning so rich an harnesse and + bestriding such high-stepping chargers as did these good codpieces in + their battle,—for that young blood doth aye take pleasure in + horseflesh and the practise of arms. This had the aforesaid Philemon + proven in his day. And he was used to say how ever after ‘twas his wont to + turn aside his eyen of set purpose from suchlike pictures of wars and + bloodshed, and that he did so heartily loathe these cruelties as that he + could not abear to behold them even set forth in counterfeit presentment. + </p> + <p> + And he was used to say that any honest and prudent wight must needs be + sore offended and scandalized by all this appalling array of armour and + bucklers and the horde of warriors Homer calls <i>Corythaioloi</i> + (glancing-helmed) by reason of the terrifying hideousness of their + head-gear, and that the portrayal of these same fighting fellows was in + very truth unseemly, as contrarie to good and peaceable manners, immodest, + no thing in the world being more shameful then homicide, and eke + lascivious, as alluring folk to cruelty, the which is the worst of all + allurements. For to entice to pleasant dalliaunce is a far lesse heinous + fault. + </p> + <p> + And the aforesaid Philemon was used to say that it was honest, decent, of + good ensample and entirely modest to show by painting, chiselling, or any + other fine artifice the scenes of the Golden Age, to wit maidens and young + men interlacing limbs in accord with the craving of kindly Nature, or + other the like delectable fancy, as of a Nymph lying laughing in the + grass. And on her ripe smiling mouth a Faun is crushing a purple grape. + </p> + <p> + And he was used to say that belike the Golden Age had never flourished + save only in the fond imagining of the poets, and that our first forebears + of human kind, being yet barbarous and silly folk, had known naught at all + thereof; but that, an the said age could not credibly be deemed to have + been at the beginning of the world, we might well wish it should be at the + end, and that meanwhiles it was a gracious boon to offer us a likeness of + the same in pictured image. + </p> + <p> + And like as it is (so he would say) obscene,—‘t is the word Virgil + writes of dogs wallowing in the mud and mire,—to depict murderers, + whoreson men-at arms, fighting-men, conquering heroes and plundering + thieves, wreaking their foul and wicked will, yea! and poor devils licking + the dust and swallowing the same in great mouthfuls, and one unhappie + wretch that hath been felled to the earth and is striving to get to his + feet againe, but is pinned down by an horse’s hoof pressing on his chops, + and another that looketh piteously about him for that his pennon hath been + shorn from him and his hand with it,—so is it of right subtile and + so to say heavenly art to exhibit prettie blandishments, caresses, + frolickings, beauties and delights, and the loves of the Nymphs and Fauns + in the woods. And he would have it there was none offence in these naked + bodies, clothed upon enow with their owne grace and comeliness. + </p> + <p> + And he had in his closet, this same Philemon aforesaid, a very marvellous + painting, wherein was limned a young Faun in act to filch away with a + craftie hand a light cloth did cover the belly of a sleeping Nymph. ‘T was + plain to see he was full fain of his freak and seemed to be saying: The + body of this young goddess is so sweet and refreshing as that the + fountaine springing in the shade of the woods is not more delightsome. How + I do love to look upon you, soft sweet lap, and prettie white thighs, and + shady cavern at once terrifying and entrancing! And over the heads of the + twain did hover winged Cupids and watched them laughingly, whiles fair + dames and their gallants, their brows wreathen with flowers, footed it on + the lush grass. + </p> + <p> + And he had, the aforesaid Philemon, yet other limnings of cunning + craftsmanship in his closet. And he did prize very high the portraiture of + a good doctor a-sitting in his cabinet writing at a table by candle-light. + The said cabinet was fully furnished with globes, gnomons, and astrolabes, + proper for meting the movements of the orbs of heaven, the which is a + right praiseworthy task and one that doth lift the spirit to sublime + thoughts and the exceeding pure love of Venus Urania. + </p> + <p> + And there was hanging from the joists of the said cabinet a great serpent + and crocodile, forasmuch as they be rarities and very needful for the due + understanding of anatomy. And he had likewise, the said doctor, amid his + belongings, the books of the most excellent philosophers of Antiquity and + eke the treatises of Hippocrates. And he was an ensample to young men + which should be fain, by hard swinking, to stuff their pates with as much + high learning and occult lore as he had under his own bonnet. + </p> + <p> + And he had, the aforesaid Philemon, painted on a panel that shined like a + polished mirror a portraiture of Homer in the guise of an old blind man, + his beard white as the flowers of the hawthorn and his temples bound about + with the fillets sacred to the god Apollo, which had loved him above all + other men. And, to look at that good old man, you deemed verily his lips + were presently to ope and break into words of mélodie. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0013" id="link2H_4_0013"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + MADEMOISELLE DE DOUCINE’S NEW YEAR’S PRESENT + </h2> + <p> + <a name="linkimage-0011" id="linkimage-0011"> + <!-- IMG --></a> + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:60%"> + <img src="images/124.jpg" alt="124 " width="100%" /><br /> + </div> + <p> + ON January 1st, in the forenoon, the good M. Chanterelle sallied out on + foot from his hôtel in the Faubourg Saint-Marcel. He felt the cold and was + a poor walker; so it was a real penance to him to face the chilly air and + the bleak streets which were full of half-melted snow. He had refused to + take his coach by way of mortifying the flesh, having grown very + solicitous since his illness about the salvation of his soul. He lived in + retirement, aloof from all society and company, and paid no visits save to + his niece, Mademoiselle de Doucine, a little girl of seven. + </p> + <p> + Leaning on his walking-cane, he made his way painfully to the Rue + Saint-Honoré and entered the shop of Madame Pinson at the sign of the <i>Panier + Fleuri</i>. Here was displayed an abundant stock of children’s toys to + tempt customers seeking presents for this New Year’s Day of 1696. You + could scarce move for the host of mechanical figures of dancers and + tipplers, birds in the bush that clapped their wings and sang, cabinets + full of wax puppets, soldiers in white and blue ranged in battle array, + and dolls dressed some as fine ladies, others as servant wenches, for the + inequality of stations, established by God himself among mankind, appeared + even in these innocent mannikins. + </p> + <p> + M. Chanterelle chose a doll. The one he selected was dressed like the + Princess of Savoy on her arrival in France, on November 4th. The head was + a mass of bows and ribbons; she wore a very stiff corsage, covered with + gold filigrees, and a brocade petticoat with an overskirt caught up by + pearl clasps. + </p> + <p> + M. Chanterelle smiled to think of the delight such a lovely doll would + give Mademoiselle de Doucine, and when Madame Pinson handed him the + Princess of Savoy wrapped up in silk paper, a gleam of sensuous + satisfaction flitted over his kind face, pinched as it was with illness, + pale with fasting and haggard with the fear of hell. + </p> + <p> + He thanked Madame Pinson courteously, clapped the Princess under his arm + and walked away, dragging his leg painfully, towards the house where he + knew Mademoiselle de Doucine was waiting for him to attend her morning + levée. + </p> + <p> + At the corner of the Rue de l’ Arbre-Sec, he met M. Spon, whose great nose + dived almost into his lace cravat. + </p> + <p> + “Good morning, Monsieur Spon,” he greeted him. “I wish you a happy New + Year, and I pray God everything may turn out according to your wishes.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! my good sir, don’t say that,” cried M. Spon. “‘T is often for our + chastisement that God grants our wishes. <i>Et tribuit eis petittonem + eorum</i>.” + </p> + <p> + “‘Tis very true,” returned M. Chanterelle, “we do not know our own best + interests. I am an example myself, as I stand before you. I thought at + first that the complaint I have suffered from for the last two years was a + curse; but I see now it is a blessing, since it has removed me from the + abominable life I was leading at the play-houses and in society. This + complaint, which tortures my limbs and is like to turn my brain, is a + signal token of God’s goodness toward me. But, sir, will you not do me the + favour to accompany me as far as the Rue du Roule, whither I am bound, to + carry a New Year’s gift to my niece Mademoiselle de Doucine?” + </p> + <p> + At the words M. Spon threw up his arms and gave a great cry of horror. + </p> + <p> + “What!” he exclaimed. “Can it be M. Chanterelle I hear say such things,—and + not some profligate libertine? Is it possible, sir, that living as you do + a religious and retired life, I see you all in a moment plunge into the + vices of the day?” + </p> + <p> + “Alack! I did not think I was plunging into vice,” faltered M. + Chanterelle, trembling all over. “But I sorely lack a lamp of guidance. Is + it so great a sin then to offer a doll to Mademoiselle de Doucine?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, a great and terrible sin,” replied M. Spon. “And what you are + offering this innocent child to-day is meeter to be called an idol, a + devilish simulacrum, than a doll. Are you not aware, sir, that the custom + of New Year’s gifts is a foul superstition and a hideous survival of + Paganism?” + </p> + <p> + “No, I did not know that,” said M. Chanterelle. + </p> + <p> + “Let me tell you, then,” resumed M. Spon, “that this custom descends from + the Romans, who seeing something divine in all beginnings, held the + beginning of the year holy also. Hence, to act as they did is to do + idolatry. You make New Year’s offerings, sir, in imitation of the + worshippers of the God Janus. Be consistent, and like them consecrate to + Juno the first day of every month.” + </p> + <p> + M. Chanterelle, hardly able to keep his feet, begged M. Spon to give him + his arm, and while they moved on, M. Spon proceeded in the same vein: + </p> + <p> + “Is it because the Astrologers have fixed on the first of January for the + beginning of the year that you deem yourself obliged to make presents on + that day? Pray, what call have you to revive at that precise date the + affection of your friends. Was their love dying then with the dying year? + And will it be so much worth the having when you have reanimated it by + dint of cajolements and baneful gifts?” + </p> + <p> + “Sir,” returned the good M. Chanterelle, leaning on M. Spon’s arm and + trying hard to make his tottering steps keep pace with his impetuous + companion’s, “sir, before my sickness, I was only a miserable sinner, + taking no heed but to treat my friends with civility and govern my + behaviour by the principles of honesty and honour. Providence hath deigned + to rescue me from this abyss, and I direct my conduct since my conversion + by the admonitions the Director of my conscience gives me. But I have been + so light-minded and thoughtless as not to seek his advice on this question + of New Year’s gifts. What you tell me of them, sir, with the authority of + a man alike admirable for sober living and sound doctrine, amazes and + confounds me.” + </p> + <p> + “Nay! that is indeed what I mean to do,” resumed M. Spon,—“to + confound you, and to illumine you, not indeed by my own lights, which burn + feebly, but by those of a great Doctor. Sit you down on that wayside + post.” + </p> + <p> + And pushing M. Chanterelle into the archway of a carriage gate, where he + made himself as easy as circumstances allowed, M. Spon drew from his + pocket a little parchment-bound book, which he opened, and after hunting + through the pages, lighted on a passage which he proceeded to read out + loud amid a gaping circle of chimney-sweeps, chamber-maids, and scullions + who had collected at the resounding tones of his voice: + </p> + <p> + “‘We who hold in abhorrence the festivals of the Jews, and who would deem + strange and outlandish their Sabbaths and New Moons and other Holy Days + erst loved of the Almighty, we deal familiarly with the Saturnalia and the + Calends of January, with the Matronalia and the Feast of the Winter + Solstice; New Year’s gifts and foolish presents fill all our thoughts; + merrymakings and junketings are in every house. The Heathens guard their + religion better; they are heedful to observe none of our Feasts, for fear + of being taken for Christians, while we never hesitate to make ourselves + look like Heathens by celebrating their Ceremonial Days.’ + </p> + <p> + “You hear what I say,” went on M. Spon. “‘T is Tertullian speaks in this + wise and from the depths of Africa displays before your eyes, sir, the + odiousness of your behaviour. He it is upbraids you, declaring how ‘New + Year’s gifts and foolish presents fill all your thoughts. You keep holy + the feasts of the Heathen.’ I have not the honour to know your Confessor. + But I shudder, sir, to think of the way he neglects his duty toward you. + Tell me this, can you rest assured that at the day of your death, when you + come to stand before God, he will be at your side, to take upon him the + sins he hath suffered you to fall into?” + </p> + <p> + After haranguing in this sort, he put back his book in his pocket and + marched off with angry strides, followed at a distance by the astonished + chimney-sweeps and scullions. + </p> + <p> + The good M. Chanterelle was left sitting alone on his post with the + Princess of Savoy, and thinking how he was risking the eternal pains of + hell fire for giving a doll to Mademoiselle de Doucine, his niece, he fell + to pondering the unfathomable mysteries of Religion. + </p> + <p> + His legs, which had been tottery for several months, refused to carry him, + and he felt as unhappy as ever a well-meaning man possibly can in this + world. + </p> + <p> + He had been sitting stranded in this distressful mood on his post for some + minutes when a Capuchin friar stepped up and addressed him: + </p> + <p> + “Sir, will you not give New Year’s presents to the Little Brethren who are + poor, for the love of God?” + </p> + <p> + “Why! what! good Father,” M. Chan-terelle burst out, “you are a man of + religion, and you ask me for New Year’s gifts?” + </p> + <p> + “Sir,” replied the Capuchin, “the good St. Francis bade his sons make + merry with all simplicity. Give the Capuchins wherewith to make a good + meal this day, that they may endure with cheerfulness the abstinence and + fasting they must observe all the rest of the year,—barring, of + course, Sundays and Feast Days.” + </p> + <p> + M. Chanterelle gazed at the holy man with wonder: + </p> + <p> + “Are you not afraid, Father, that this custom of New Year’s gifts is + baneful to the soul?” + </p> + <p> + “No, I am not afraid.” + </p> + <p> + “The custom comes to us from the Pagans.” + </p> + <p> + “The Pagans sometimes followed good customs. God was pleased to suffer + some faint rays of his light to pierce the darkness of the Gentiles. Sir, + if you refuse to give <i>us</i> presents, never refuse a boon to our poor + little ones. We have a home for foundlings. With this poor crown I shall + buy each child a little paper windmill and a cake. They will owe you the + only pleasure perhaps of all their life; for they are not fated to have + much joy in the world. Their laughter will go up to heaven; when children + laugh, they praise the Lord.” + </p> + <p> + M. Chanterelle laid his well-filled purse in the poor friar’s palm and got + him down from his post, saying over softly to himself the word he had just + heard: + </p> + <p> + “When children laugh, they praise the Lord.” + </p> + <p> + Then his soul was comforted and he marched off with a firmer step to carry + the Princess of Savoy to Mademoiselle de Doucine, his niece. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0014" id="link2H_4_0014"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + MADEMOISELLE ROXANE + </h2> + <p> + <a name="linkimage-0012" id="linkimage-0012"> + <!-- IMG --></a> + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:60%"> + <img src="images/136.jpg" alt="136 " width="100%" /><br /> + </div> + <p> + MY good master, M. l’Abbé Coignard, had taken me with him to sup with one + of his old fellow-students, who lodged in a garret in the Rue Gît-le-Cour. + Our host, a Premonstratensian Father of much learning and a fine + Theologian, had fallen out with the Prior of his House for having writ a + little book relating the calamities of Mam’zelle Fanchon. The end of it + was he turned tavern-keeper at The Hague. He was now returned to France + and living precariously by the sermons he composed, which were full of + high argument and eloquence. After supper he had read us these same + calamities of Mam’zelle Fanchon, source of his own, and the reading had + kept us there till a late hour. At last I found myself without-doors with + my good master, under a wondrous fine summer’s night, which made me + straightway comprehend the verity of the ancient fables regarding the + loves of Diana and feel how natural it is to employ in soft dalliance the + silent, silvery hours of night. I said as much to M. l’Abbé Coignard, who + retorted that love is to blame for many and great ills. + </p> + <p> + “Tournebroche, my son,” he asked me, “have you not just heard from the + mouth of yonder good Monk how, for having loved a recruiting sergeant, a + clerk of M. Gaulot’s mercer at the sign of the Truie-qui-file, and the + younger son of M. le Lieutenant-Criminel Leblanc, Mam’zelle Fanchon was + clapped in hospital? Would you wish to be any of these,—sergeant or + clerk or limb of the law?” + </p> + <p> + I answered I would indeed. My good master thanked me for my candid avowal, + and quoted some verses of Lucretius to persuade me that love is contrary + to the tranquillity of a truly philosophical soul. + </p> + <p> + Thus discoursing, we were come to the round-point of the Pont-Neuf. + Leaning our elbows on the parapet, we looked over at the great tower of + the Châtelet, which stood out black in the moonlight. + </p> + <p> + “There might be much to say,” sighed my good master, “on this justice of + the civilized nations, the punishments whereof in retaliation are often + more cruel than the crime itself I cannot believe that these tortures and + penalties that men inflict on their fellows are necessary for the + safeguarding of States, seeing how from time to time one and another legal + cruelty is done away with without hurt to the commonweal. And I hold it + likely that the severities they still maintain are no whit more useful + than those they have abolished. But men are cruel. Come away, + Tournebroche, my dear lad; it grieves me to think how unhappy prisoners + are even now lying awake behind those walls in anguish and despair. I know + they have done faultily, but this doth not hinder me from pitying them. + Which of us is without offence?” + </p> + <p> + We went on our way. The bridge was deserted save for a beggarman and + woman, who met on the causeway. The pair drew stealthily into one of the + recesses over the piers, where they lurked together on the door-step of a + hucksters booth. They seemed well enough content, both of them, to mingle + their joint wretchedness, and when we went by were thinking of quite other + things than craving our charity. Nevertheless my good master, who was the + most compassionate of men, threw them a half farthing, the last piece of + money left in his breeches pocket. + </p> + <p> + “They will pick up our obol,” he said, “when they have come back to the + consciousness of their misery. I pray they may not quarrel then over + fiercely for possession of the coin.” + </p> + <p> + We passed on without further rencounter till on the Quai des Oiseleurs we + espied a young damsel striding along with a notable air of resolution. + Hastening our pace to get a nearer view, we saw she had a slim waist and + fair hair in which the moonbeams played prettily. She was dressed like a + citizen’s wife or daughter. + </p> + <p> + “There goes a pretty girl,” said the Abbé; “how comes it she is out of + doors alone at this hour of night?” + </p> + <p> + “Truly,” I agreed, “‘tis not the sort one generally encounters on the + bridges after curfew.” + </p> + <p> + Our surprise was changed to alarm when we saw her go down to the river + bank by a little stairway the sailors use. We ran towards her; but she did + not seem to hear us. She halted at the edge; the stream was running high, + and the dull roar of the swollen waters could be heard some way off. She + stood a moment motionless, her head thrown back and arms hanging, in an + attitude of despair. Then, bending her graceful neck, she put her two + hands over her face and kept it hid behind her fingers for some seconds. + Next moment she suddenly grasped her skirts and dragged them forward with + the gesture a woman always uses when she is going to jump. My good master + and I came up with her just as she was taking the fatal leap, and we + hauled her forcibly backward. She struggled to get free of our arms; and + as the bank was all slimy and slippery with ooze deposited by the receding + waters (for the river was already beginning to fall), M. l’Abbé Coignard + came very near being dragged in too. I was losing my foothold myself. But + as luck would have it, my feet lighted on a root which held me up as I + crouched there with my arms round the best of masters and this despairing + young thing. Presently, coming to the end of her strength and courage, she + fell back on M. l’Abbé Coignard’s breast, and we managed all three to + scramble to the top of the bank again. He helped her up daintily, with a + certain easy grace that was always his. Then he led the way to a great + beech-tree at the foot of which was a wooden bench, on which he seated + her. + </p> + <p> + Taking his place beside her: + </p> + <p> + “Mademoiselle,” he said gently, “you need have no fear. Say nothing just + yet, but be assured it is a friend sits by you.” + </p> + <p> + Next, turning to me, my master went on: + </p> + <p> + “Tournebroche, my son, we may congratulate ourselves on having brought + this strange adventure to a good end. But I have left my hat down yonder + on the river bank; albeit it has lost pretty near all its lace and is + thread-bare with long service, it was still good to guard my old head, + sorely tried by years and labours, against sun and rain. Go see, my son, + if it may still be found where I dropped it. And if you discover it, bring + it me, I beg,—likewise one of my shoe buckles, which I see I have + lost. For my part I will stay by this damsel we have rescued and watch + over her slumber.” + </p> + <p> + I ran back to the spot we had just quitted and was lucky enough to find my + good master’s hat. The buckle I could not espy anywhere. True, I did not + take any very excessive pains to hunt for it, having never all my life + seen my good master with more than one shoe buckle. When I returned to the + tree, I found the damsel still in the same state, sitting quite motionless + with her head leant against the trunk of the beech. I noticed now that she + was of a very perfect beauty. She wore a silk mantle trimmed with lace, + very neat and proper, and on her feet light shoes, the buckles of which + caught the moonbeams. + </p> + <p> + I could not have enough of examining her. Suddenly she opened her drooping + lids, and casting a look that was still misty at M. Coignard and me, she + began in a feeble voice, but with the tone and accent, I thought, of a + person of gentility: + </p> + <p> + “I am not ungrateful, sirs, for the service you have done me from feelings + of humanity; but I cannot truthfully tell you I am glad, for the life to + which you have restored me is a curse, a hateful, cruel torment.” + </p> + <p> + At these sad words my good master, whose face wore a look of compassion, + smiled softly, for he could not really think life was to be for ever + hateful to so young and pretty a creature. + </p> + <p> + “My child,” he told her, “things strike us in a totally different light + according as they are near at hand or far off. It is no time for you to + despair. Such as I am, and brought to this sorry plight by the buffets of + time and fortune, I yet make shift to endure a life wherein my pleasures + are to translate Greek and dine sometimes with sundry very worthy friends. + Look at me, mademoiselle, and say,—would you consent to live in the + same conditions as I?” + </p> + <p> + She looked him over; her eyes almost laughed, and she shook her head. + Then, resuming her melancholy and mournfulness, she faltered: + </p> + <p> + “There is not in all the world so unhappy a being as I am.” + </p> + <p> + “Mademoiselle,” returned my good master, “I am discreet both by calling + and temperament; I will not seek to force your confidence. But your looks + betray you; any one can see you are sick of disappointed love. Well, ‘t is + not an incurable complaint. I have had it myself, and I have lived many a + long year since then.” + </p> + <p> + He took her hand, gave her a thousand tokens of his sympathy, and went on + in these terms: + </p> + <p> + “There is only one thing I regret for the moment,—that I cannot + offer you a refuge for the night, or what is left of it. My present + lodging is in an old château a long way from here, where I am busy + translating a Greek book along with young Master Tournebroche whom you see + here.” + </p> + <p> + My master spoke the truth. We were living at the time with M. d’Astarac, + at the Château des Sablons, in the village of Neuilly, and were in the pay + of a great alchemist, who died later under tragic circumstances. + </p> + <p> + “At the same time, mademoiselle,” my master added, “if you should know of + any place where you think you could go, I shall be happy to escort you + thither.” + </p> + <p> + To which the girl answered she appreciated all his kindness, that she + lived with a kinswoman, to whose house she could count on being admitted + at any hour; but that she had rather not return before daylight. She was + fain, she said, not to disturb quiet folks’ sleep, and dreaded moreover to + have her grief too painfully renewed by the sight of her old, familiar + surroundings. + </p> + <p> + As she spoke thus, the tears rained down from her eyes. My good master + bade her: + </p> + <p> + “Mademoiselle, give me your handkerchief, if you please, and I will wipe + your eyes. Then I will take you to wait for daybreak under the archways of + the Halles, where we can sit in comfort under shelter from the night + dews.” + </p> + <p> + The girl smiled through her tears. + </p> + <p> + “I do not like,” she said, “to give you so much trouble. Go your way, sir, + and rest assured you take my best thanks with you.” + </p> + <p> + For all that she laid her hand on the arm my good master offered her, and + we set out, all the three of us, for the Halles. The night had turned much + cooler. In the sky, which was beginning to assume a milky hue, the stars + were growing paler and fainter. We could hear the first of the + market-gardeners’ carts rumbling along to the Halles, drawn by a + slow-stepping horse, half asleep in the shafts. Arrived at the archways, + we chose a place in the recess of a porch distinguished by an image of St. + Nicholas, and established ourselves all three on a stone step, on which M. + l’Abbé Coignard took the precaution of spreading his cloak before he let + his young charge sit down. + </p> + <p> + Thereupon my good master fell to discoursing on divers subjects, choosing + merry and enlivening themes of set purpose to drive away the gloomy + thoughts that might assail our companion’s mind. He told her he accounted + this rencounter the most fortunate he had ever chanced on all his life, + and that he should ever cherish a fond recollection of one who had so + deeply touched him,—all this, however, without ever asking to know + her name and story. + </p> + <p> + My good master thought no doubt that the unknown would presently tell him + what he refrained from asking. She broke into a fresh flood of weeping, + heaved a deep sigh and said: + </p> + <p> + “I should be churlish, sir, to reward your kindness with silence. I am not + afraid to trust myself in your hands. My name is Sophie T———. + You have guessed the truth; ‘tis the betrayal of a lover I was too fondly + attached to has brought me to despair. If you deem my grief excessive, + that is because you do not know how great was my assurance, how blind my + infatuation, and you cannot realize how enchanting was the paradise I have + lost.” + </p> + <p> + Then, raising her lovely eyes to our faces, she went on: + </p> + <p> + “Sirs, I am not such a woman as your meeting me thus at night time might + lead you to suppose. My father was a merchant. He went, in the way of + trade, to America, and was lost on his way home in a shipwreck, he and his + merchandise with him. My mother was so overwhelmed by these calamities + that she fell into a decline and died, leaving me, while still a child, to + the charge of an aunt, who brought me up. I was a good girl till the hour + I met the man whose love was to afford me indescribable delights, ending + in the despair wherein you now see me plunged.” + </p> + <p> + So saying, Sophie hid her face in her handkerchief. Presently she resumed + with a sigh: + </p> + <p> + “His worldly rank was so far above my own I could never expect to be his + except in secret. I flattered myself he would be faithful to me. He swore + he loved me, and easily overcame my scruples. My aunt was aware of our + feelings for one another, and raised no obstacles, for two reasons,—because + her affection for me made her indulgent, and because my dear lover’s high + position impressed her imagination. I lived a year of perfect happiness + only equalled by the wretchedness I now endure. This morning he came to + see me at my aunt’s, with whom I live. I was haunted by dark forebodings. + As I dressed my hair but an hour or so before, I had broken a mirror he + had given me. The sight of him only increased my misgivings, for I noticed + instantly that his face wore an unaccustomed look of constraint... Oh! + sir, was ever woman so unhappy as I?...” + </p> + <p> + Her eyes filled again with tears; but she kept them back under her lids, + and was able to finish her tale, which my good master deemed as touching, + but by no means so unique, as she did herself. + </p> + <p> + “He informed me coldly, though not without signs of embarrassment, that + his father having bought him a Company, he was leaving to join the + colours. First, however, he said, his family required him to plight his + troth to the daughter of an Intendant of Finances; the connection was + advantageous to his fortune and would bring him means adequate to support + his rank and make a figure in the world. And the traitor, never deigning + to notice my pale looks, added in his soft, caressing voice which had made + me so many vows of affection, that his new obligations would prevent his + seeing me again, at least for some while. He assured me further that he + was still my friend and begged me to accept a sum of money in memory of + the days we had passed together. + </p> + <p> + “And with the words he held out a purse to me. + </p> + <p> + “I am telling you the truth, sirs, when I assure you I had always refused + to listen to the offers he repeated again and again, to give me fine + clothes, furniture, plate, an establishment, and to take me away from my + aunt’s, where I lived in very narrow circumstances, and settle me in a + most elegant little mansion he had in the Rue di Roule. My wish was that + we should be united only by the ties of affection, and I was proud to have + of his gift nothing but a few jewels whose sole value came from the fact + of his being the donor. My gorge rose at the sight of the purse he offered + me, and the insult gave me strength to banish from my presence the + impostor whom in one moment I had learnt to know and to despise. He faced + my angry looks unabashed, and assured me with the utmost unconcern that I + could know nothing of the paramount obligations that fill the existence of + a man of quality, adding that he hoped eventually, when I looked at things + quietly, I should come to see his behaviour in a better light. Then, + returning the purse to his pocket, he declared he would readily find a way + of putting the contents at my disposal in such a manner as to make it + impossible for me to refuse his liberality. Thus leaving me with the + odious, the intolerable implication that he was going to make full amends + by these sordid means, he made for the door to which I pointed without a + word. When he was gone, I felt a calmness of mind that surprised myself. + It arose from the resolution I had formed to die. I dressed with some + care, wrote a letter to my aunt asking her forgiveness for the pain I was + about to cause her by my death, and went out into the streets. There I + roamed about all the afternoon and evening and a part of the night, moving + from busy thoroughfare to deserted lane without a trace of fatigue, + postponing the execution of my purpose to make it more sure and certain + under the favouring conditions of darkness and solitude. Possibly too I + found a certain weak pleasure in dallying with the thought of dying and + tasting the mournful satisfaction of my coming release from my troubles. + At two o’clock in the morning, I went down to the river’s brink. Sirs, you + know the rest,—you snatched me from a watery grave. I thank you for + your goodness,—though I am sorry you saved my life. The world is + full of forsaken women. I did not wish to add another to the number.” + </p> + <p> + Sophie then fell silent and began weeping afresh. My good master took her + hand with the greatest delicacy. + </p> + <p> + “My child,” he said, “I have listened with a tender interest to the story + of your life, and I own ‘tis a sad tale. But I am happy to discern that + your case is curable. Not only was your lover unworthy of the favours you + showed him and has proved himself on trial a selfish, cruel-hearted + libertine, but I see plainly your love for him was only an impulse of the + senses and the effect of your own sensibility, the particular object of + which mattered far less than you imagine. What there was rare and + excellent in the liaison came from you. Well then, nothing is lost, since + the source still remains. Your eyes, which have thrown a glamour of the + fairest hues over, I doubt not, a very ordinary individual, will not cease + to go on shedding abroad elsewhere the same bright rays of charming + self-delusion.” + </p> + <p> + My good master said more in the same strain, dropping from his lips the + finest words ever heard anent the tribulations of the senses and the + errors lovers are prone to. But, as he talked on, Sophie, who for some + while had let her pretty head droop on the shoulder of this best of men, + fell softly asleep. When M. l’Abbé Coignard saw his young friend was + wrapped in a sound slumber, he congratulated himself on having discoursed + in a vein so meet to afford repose and peace to a suffering soul. + </p> + <p> + “It must be allowed,” he chuckled, “my sermons have a beneficent effect.” + </p> + <p> + Not to disturb Mademoiselle’s slumbers, he took a thousand pretty + precautions, amongst others constraining himself to talk on + uninterruptedly, not unreasonably apprehensive that a sudden silence might + awake her. + </p> + <p> + “Tournebroche, my son,” he said, turning to me, “look, all her sorrows are + vanished away with the consciousness she had of them. You must see they + were all of the imagination and resided in her own thought. You must + understand likewise they sprang from a certain pride and overweening + conceit that goes along with love and makes it very exacting. For, in + truth, if only we loved in humbleness of spirit and forgetfulness of self, + or merely with a simple heart, we should be content with what is + vouchsafed us and should not straightway cry treason when some slight is + put on us. And if some power of loving were left us still, after our lover + had deserted us, we should await the issue in calmness of mind to make + what use of it God should please to grant.” + </p> + <p> + But the day was just breaking by this time, and the song of the birds grew + so loud it drowned my good master’s voice. He made no complaint on this + score. + </p> + <p> + “Hearken,” he said, “to the sparrows. They make love more wisely than men + do.” + </p> + <p> + Sophie awoke in the white light of dawn, and I admired her lovely eyes, + which fatigue and grief had ringed with a delicate pearly-grey. She seemed + somewhat reconciled to life, and did not refuse a cup of chocolate which + my good master made her drink at Mathurine’s door, the pretty + chocolate-seller of the Halles. + </p> + <p> + But as the poor child came into more complete possession of her wits, she + began to trouble about sundry practical difficulties she had not thought + of till then. + </p> + <p> + “What will my aunt say? And whatever can I tell her?” she asked + distractedly. + </p> + <p> + The aunt lived just opposite Saint-Eustache, less than a hundred yards + from Mathurine’s archway. Thither we escorted her niece; and M. l’Abbé + Coignard, who had quite a venerable look, though one shoe <i>was</i> + unbuckled, accompanied the fair Sophie to the door of her aunt’s lodging + and pitched that lady a fine tale: + </p> + <p> + “I had the happy fortune,” he informed her, “to encounter your good niece + at the very moment when she was assailed by four footpads armed with + pistols, and I shouted for the watch so lustily that the thieves took to + their heels in a panic. But they were not quick enough to escape the + sergeants who, by the rarest chance, ran up in answer to my outcries. They + arrested the villains after a desperate tussle. I took my share of the + rough and tumble, and I thought at first I had lost my hat in the fray. + When all was over, we were all taken, your niece, the four footpads and + myself, before his Honour the Lieutenant-Criminel, who treated us with + much consideration and detained us till daylight in his cabinet, taking + down our evidence.” The aunt answered drily: + </p> + <p> + “I thank you, sir, for having saved my niece from a peril which, to say + the truth, is not the risk a girl of her age need fear the most, when she + is out alone at night in the streets of Paris.” + </p> + <p> + My good master made no answer to this; but Mademoiselle Sophie spoke up + and said in a voice of deep feeling: + </p> + <p> + “I do assure you, Aunt, Monsieur l’Abbé saved my life.” + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + Some years after this singular adventure, my master made the fatal journey + to Lyons from which he never returned. He was foully murdered, and I had + the ineffable grief of seeing him expire in my arms. The incidents of his + death have no connexion with the matter I speak of here. I have taken + pains to record them elsewhere; they are indeed memorable, and will never, + I think, be forgotten. I may add that this journey was in all ways + unfortunate, for after losing the best of masters on the road, I was + likewise forsaken by a mistress who loved me, but did not love me alone, + and whose loss nearly broke my heart, coming after that of my good master. + It is a mistake to suppose that a man who has received one cruel blow + grows callous to succeeding strokes of calamity. Far otherwise; he suffers + agonies from the smallest contrarieties. I returned to Paris in a state of + dejection almost beyond belief. + </p> + <p> + Well, one evening, by way of enlivening my spirits, I went to the Comédie, + where they were playing <i>Bajazet</i>, one of Racine’s excellent pieces. + I was particularly struck by the charm and beauty, no less than the + originality and talent, of the actress who took the part of Roxane. She + expressed with a delightful naturalness the passion animating that + character, and I shuddered as I heard her declaim in accents that were + harmonious and yet terrible the line: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Écoutez Bajazet, je sens que je vous aime.{*} + + * “Hearken, Bajazet, I feel I love you.” + </pre> + <p> + I never wearied of gazing at her all the time she occupied the stage, and + admiring the beauty of her eyes that gleamed below a brow as pure as + marble and crowned by powdered locks all spangled with pearls. Her slender + waist too, which her hoop showed off to perfection, did not fail to make a + vivid impression on my heart. I had the better leisure to scrutinize these + adorable charms as she happened to face in my direction to deliver several + important portions of her rôle. And the more I looked, the more I felt + convinced I had seen her before, though I found it impossible to recall + anything connected with our previous meeting. My neighbour in the theatre, + who was a constant frequenter of the Comédie, told me the beautiful + actress was Mademoiselle B———, the idol of the pit. He + added that she was as great a favourite in society as on the boards, that + M. le Duc de La ——— had made her the fashion and that + she was on the highroad to eclipse Mademoiselle Lecouvreur. + </p> + <p> + I was just leaving my seat after the performance when a “femme de chambre” + handed me a note in which I found written in pencil the words: + </p> + <p> + “<i>Mademoiselle Roxane is waiting for you in her coach at the theatre + door</i>.” + </p> + <p> + I could not believe the missive was intended for me; and I asked the + abigail who had delivered it if she was not mistaken in the recipient. + </p> + <p> + “If I <i>am</i> mistaken,” she replied confidently, “then you cannot be + Monsieur de Tournebroche, that is all.” + </p> + <p> + I ran to the coach which stood waiting in front of the House, and inside I + recognized Mademoiselle B———, her head muffled in a + black satin hood. + </p> + <p> + She beckoned to me to get in, and when I was seated beside her: + </p> + <p> + “Do you not,” she asked me, “recognize Sophie, whom you rescued from + drowning on the banks of the Seine?” + </p> + <p> + “What! you! Sophie—Roxane—Mademoiselle B———, + is it possible?—” + </p> + <p> + My confusion was extreme, but she appeared to view it without annoyance. + </p> + <p> + “I saw you,” she went on, “in one corner of the pit. I knew you instantly + and played for you. Say, did I play well? I am so glad to see you again!—” + </p> + <p> + She asked me news of M. l’Abbé Coignard, and when I told her my good + master had just perished miserably, she burst into tears. + </p> + <p> + She was good enough to inform me of the chief events of her life: + </p> + <p> + “My aunt,” she said, “used to mend her laces for Madame de Saint-Remi, + who, as you must know, is an admirable actress. A short while after the + night when you did me such yeoman service, I went to her house to take + home some pieces of lace. The lady told me I had a face that interested + her. She then asked me to read some verses, and concluded I was not + without wits. She had me trained. I made my first appearance at the + Comédie last year. I interpret passions I have felt myself, and the public + credits me with some talent. M. le Duc de La ——— + exhibits a very dear friendship for me, and I think he will never cause me + pain and disappointment, because I have learnt to ask of men only what + they can give. At this moment he is expecting me at supper. I must not + break my word.” + </p> + <p> + But, reading my vexation in my eyes, she added: + </p> + <p> + “However, I have told my people to go the longest way round and to drive + slowly.” + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Merrie Tales Of Jacques +Tournebroche, by Anatole France + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK JACQUES TOURNEBROCHE *** + +***** This file should be named 25407-h.htm or 25407-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/2/5/4/0/25407/ + +Produced by David Widger + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Merrie Tales Of Jacques Tournebroche + 1909 + +Author: Anatole France + +Translator: Alfred Allinson + +Release Date: May 9, 2008 [EBook #25407] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK JACQUES TOURNEBROCHE *** + + + + +Produced by David Widger + + + + + + + + + + +THE MERRIE TALES OF JACQUES TOURNEBROCHE + +AND CHILD LIFE IN TOWN AND COUNTRY + +By Anatole France + +John Lane Company, MCMXIX + +Copyright 1909 + +John Lane Company + + + + +THE MERRIE TALES OF JACQUES TOURNEBROCHE + + + + +OLIVIER'S BRAG + +[Illustration: 016] + +The Emperor Charlemagne and his twelve peers, having taken the palmer's +staff at Saint-Denis, made a pilgrimage to Jerusalem. They prostrated +themselves before the tomb of Our Lord, and sat in the thirteen chairs +of the great hall wherein Jesus Christ and his Apostles met together +to celebrate the blessed sacrifice of the Mass. Then they fared to +Constantinople, being fain to see King Hugo, who was renowned for his +magnificence. + +The King welcomed them in his Palace, where, beneath a golden dome, +birds of ruby, wrought with a wondrous art, sat and sang in bushes of +emerald. + +He seated the Emperor of France and the twelve Counts about a table +loaded with stags, boars, cranes, wild geese, and peacocks, served in +pepper. And he offered his guests, in ox-horns, the wines of Greece and +Asia to drink. Charlemagne and his companions quaffed all these wines +in honour of the King and his daughter, the Princess Helen. After supper +Hugo led them to the chamber where they were to sleep. Now this chamber +was circular, and a column, springing in the midst thereof, carried the +vaulted roof. Nothing could be finer to look upon. Against the walls, +which were hung with gold and purple, twelve beds were ranged, while +another greater than the rest stood beside the pillar. + +Charlemagne lay in this, and the Counts stretched themselves round about +him on the others. The wine they had drunk ran hot in their veins, and +their brains were afire. They could not sleep, and fell to making brags +instead, and laying of wagers, as is the way of the knights of France, +each striving to outdo the other in warranting himself to do some +doughty deed for to manifest his prowess. The Emperor opened the game. +He said: + +"Let them fetch me, a-horseback and fully armed, the best knight King +Hugo hath. I will lift my sword and bring it down upon him in such wise +it shall cleave helm and hauberk, saddle and steed, and the blade shall +delve a foot deep underground." + +Guillaume d'Orange spake up after the Emperor and made the second brag. + +"I will take," said he, "a ball of iron sixty men can scarce lift, and +hurl it so mightily against the Palace wall that it shall beat down +sixty fathoms' length thereof." + +Ogier, the Dane, spake next. + +"Ye see yon proud pillar which bears up the vault. To-morrow will I tear +it down and break it like a straw." + +After which Renaud de Montauban cried with an oath: + +"'Od's life! Count Ogier, whiles you overset the pillar, I will clap the +dome on my shoulders and hale it down to the seashore." + +Gerard de Rousillon it was made the fifth brag. + +He boasted he would uproot single-handed, in one hour, all the trees in +the Royal pleasaunce. + +Aimer took up his parable when Gerard was done. + +"I have a magic hat," said he, "made of a sea-calf's skin, which renders +me invisible. I will set it on my head, and to-morrow, whenas King Hugo +is seated at meat, I will eat up his fish and drink down his wine, I +will tweak his nose and buffet his ears. Not knowing whom or what +to blame, he will clap all his serving-men in gaol and scourge them +sore,--and we shall laugh." + +"For me," declared Huon de Bordeaux, whose turn it was, "for me, I am +so nimble I will trip up to the King and cut off his beard and eyebrows +without his knowing aught about the matter. 'T is a piece of sport I +will show you to-morrow. And I shall have no need of a sea-calf hat +either!" + +Doolin de Mayence made his brag too. He promised to eat up in one +hour all the figs and all the oranges and all the lemons in the King's +orchards. + +Next the Due Naisme said in this wise: + +"By my faith! _I_ will go into the banquet hall, I will catch up flagons +and cups of gold and fling them so high they will never light down again +save to tumble into the moon." + +Bernard de Brabant then lifted his great voice: + +"I will do better yet," he roared. "Ye know the river that flows by +Constantinople is broad and deep, for it is come nigh its mouth by then, +after traversing Egypt, Babylon, and the Earthly Paradise. Well, I will +turn it from its bed and make it flood the Great Square of the City." + +Gerard de Viane said: + +"Put a dozen knights in line of array. And I will tumble all the twelve +on their noses, only by the wind of my sword." + +It was the Count Roland laid the twelfth wager, in the fashion +following: + +"I will take my horn, I will go forth of the city and I will blow such a +blast all the gates of the town will drop from their hinges." + +Olivier alone had said no word yet. He was young and courteous, and the +Emperor loved him dearly. + +"Olivier, my son," he asked, "will you not make your brag like the rest +of us?" + +"Right willingly, sire," Olivier replied. + +"Do you know the name of Hercules of Greece?" + +"Yea, I have heard some discourse of him," said Charlemagne. "He was an +idol of the misbelievers, like the false god Mahound." + +"Not so, sire," said Olivier. "Hercules of Greece was a knight among +the Pagans and King of a Pagan kingdom. He was a gallant champion and +stoutly framed in all his limbs. Visiting the Court of a certain Emperor +who had fifty daughters, virgins, he wedded them all on one and the same +night, and that so well and throughly that next morning they all avowed +themselves well-contented women and with naught left to learn. He had +not slighted ever a one of them. Well, sire, an you will, I will lay my +wager to do after the fashion of Hercules of Greece." + +"Nay, beware, Olivier, my son," cried the Emperor, "beware what you do; +the thing would be a sin. I felt sure this King Hercules was a Saracen!" + +"Sire," returned Olivier, "know this--I warrant me to show in the same +space of time the selfsame prowess with one virgin that Herailes of +Greece did with fifty. And the maid shall be none other but the Princess +Helen, King Hugo's daughter." + +"Good and well," agreed Charlemagne; "that will be to deal honestly and +as a good Christian should. But you were in the wrong, my son, to drag +the fifty virgins of King Hercules into your business, wherein, the +Devil fly away with me else, I can see but one to be concerned." + +"Sire," answered Olivier mildly, "there is but one of a truth. But she +shall win such satisfaction of me that, an I number the tokens of my +love, you will to-morrow see fifty crosses scored on the wall, and that +is _my_ brag." + +The Count Olivier was yet speaking when lo! the column which bare the +vault opened. The pillar was hollow and contrived in such sort that +a man could lie hid therein at his ease to see and hear everything. +Charlemagne and the twelve Counts had never a notion of this; so they +were sore surprised to behold the King of Constantinople step forth. He +was white with anger and his eyes flashed fire. + +He said in a terrible voice: + +"So this is how ye show your gratitude for the hospitality I offer you. +Ye are ill-mannered guests. For a whole hour have ye been insulting me +with your bragging wagers. Well, know this,--you, Sir Emperor, and ye, +his knights; if to-morrow ye do not all of you make good your boasts, I +will have your heads cut off." + +Having said his say, he stepped back within the pillar, which shut to +again closely behind him. For a while the twelve paladins were dumb +with wonder and consternation. The Emperor was the first to break the +silence. + +"Comrades," he said, "'tis true we have bragged too freely. Mayhap we +have spoken things better unsaid. We have drunk overmuch wine, and have +shown unwisdom. The chiefest fault is mine; I am your Emperor, and I +gave you the bad example. I will devise with you to-morrow of the means +whereby we may save us from this perilous pass; meantime, it behoves us +to get to sleep. I wish you a good night. God have you in his keeping!" + +A moment later the Emperor and the twelve peers were snoring under their +coverlets of silk and cloth of gold. + +They awoke on the morrow, their minds still distraught and deeming the +thing was but a nightmare. But anon soldiers came to lead them to the +Palace, that they might make good their brags before the King's face. + +"Come," cried the Emperor, "come; and let us pray God and His Holy +Mother. By Our Lady's help shall we easily make good our brags." + +He marched in front with a more than human majesty of port. Arriving +anon at the King's Palace, Charlemagne, Naisme, Aimer, Huon, Doolin, +Guillaume, Ogier, Bernard, Renaud, the two Gerards, and Roland fell on +their knees and, joining their hands in prayer, made this supplication +to the Holy Virgin: + +"Lady, which art in Paradise, look on us now in our extremity; for love +of the Realm of the Lilies, which is thine own, protect the Emperor of +France and his twelve peers, and give them the puissance to make good +their brags." + +Thereafter they rose up comforted and fulfilled of bright courage and +gallant confidence, for they knew that Our Lady would answer their +prayer. + +King Hugo, seated on a golden throne, accosted them, saying: + +"The hour is come to make good your brags. But an if ye fail so to do, I +will have your heads cut off. Begone therefore, straightway, escorted by +my men-at-arms, each one of you to the place meet for the doing of the +fine things ye have insolently boasted ye will accomplish." + +At this order they separated and went divers ways, each followed by a +little troop of armed men. Whiles some returned to the hall where they +had passed the night, others betook them to the gardens and orchards. +Bernard de Brabant made for the river, Roland hied him to the ramparts, +and all marched valiantly. Only Olivier and Charlemagne tarried in the +Palace, waiting, the one for the knight that he had sworn to cleave in +twain, the other for the maiden he was to wed. + +But in very brief while a fearful sound arose, awful as the last trump +that shall proclaim to mankind the end of the world. It reached the +Great Hall of the Palace, set the birds of ruby trembling on their +emerald perches and shook King Hugo on his throne of gold. + +'Twas a noise of walls crumbling into ruin and floods roaring, and +high above the din blared out an ear-splitting trumpet blast. Meanwhile +messengers had come hurrying in from all quarters of the city, and +thrown themselves trembling at the King's feet, bearing strange and +terrible tidings. + +"Sire," said one, "sixty fathoms' length of the city walls is fallen in +at one crash." + +"Sire," cried another, "the pillar which bare up your vaulted hall is +broken down, and the dome thereof we have seen walking like a tortoise +toward the sea." + +"Sire," faltered a third, "the river, with its ships and its fishes, +is pouring through the streets, and will soon be beating against your +Palace walls." + +King Hugo, white with terror, muttered: + +"By my faith! these men are wizards." + +"Well, Sir King," Charlemagne addressed him with a smile on his lips, +"the Knight I wait for is long of coming." + +The King sent for him, and he came. He was a knight of stately stature +and well armed. The good Emperor clave him in twain, as he had said. + +Now while these things were a-doing, Olivier thought to himself: + +"The intervention of Our Most Blessed Lady is plain to see in these +marvels; and I am rejoiced to behold the manifest tokens she vouchsafes +of her love for the Realm of France. Not in vain have the Emperor and +his companions implored the succour of the Holy Virgin, Mother of God. +Alas! _I_ shall pay for all the rest, and have my head cut off. For I +cannot well ask the Virgin Mary to help me make good _my_ brag. 'Tis +an enterprise of a sort wherein 'twould be indiscreet to crave the +interference of Her who is the _Lily of Purity_, the _Tower of Ivory_, +the _Guarded Door_ and the _Fenced Orchard-Close_. And, lacking aid from +on high, I am sore afraid I may not do so much as I have said." + +Thus ran Olivier's thoughts, when King Hugo roughly accosted him with +the words: + +"'T is now your turn, Count, to fulfil your promise." + +"Sire," replied Olivier, "I am waiting with great impatience for the +Princess your daughter. For you must needs do me the priceless grace of +giving me her hand." + +"That is but fair," said King Hugo. "I will therefore bid her come to +you and a chaplain with her for to celebrate the marriage." + +At church, during the ceremony, Olivier reflected: + +"The maid is sweet and comely as ever a man could desire, and too fain +am I to clip her in my arms to regret the brag I have made." + +That evening, after supper, the Princess Helen and the Count Olivier +were escorted by twelve ladies and twelve knights to a chamber, wherein +the twain were left alone together. + +There they passed the night, and on the morrow guards came and led them +both before King Hugo. He was on his throne, surrounded by his knights. +Near by stood Charlemagne and the peers. + +"Well, Count Olivier," demanded the King, "is your brag made good?" + +Olivier held his peace, and already was King Hugo rejoiced at heart +to think his new son-in-law's head must fall. For of all the brags and +boasts, it was Olivier's had angered him worst. + +"Answer," he stormed. "Do you dare to tell me your brag is +accomplished?" + +Thereupon the Princess Helen, blushing and smiling, spake with eyes +downcast and in a faint voice, yet clear withal, and said,--"Yea!" + +Right glad were Charlemagne and the peers to hear the Princess say this +word. + +"Well, well," said Hugo, "these Frenchmen have God and the Devil +o' their side. It was fated I should cut off none of these knights' +heads.... Come hither, son-in-law,"--and he stretched forth his hand to +Olivier, who kissed it. + +The Emperor Charlemagne embraced the Princess and said to her: + +"Helen, I hold you for my daughter and my son's wife. You will go along +with us to France, and you will live at our Court." + +Then, as his lips lay on the Princess's cheek, he rounded softly in her +ear: + +"You spake as a loving-hearted woman should. But tell me this in closest +confidence,--Did you speak the truth?" + +She answered: + +"Sire, Olivier is a gallant man and a courteous. He was so full of +pretty ways and dainty devices for to distract my mind, _I_ never +thought of counting. Nor yet did _he_ keep score. Needs therefore must I +hold him quit of his promise." + +King Hugo made great rejoicings for his daughter's nuptials. Thereafter +Charlemagne and his twelve peers returned back to France, taking with +them the Princess Helen. + + + + +THE MIRACLE OF THE MAGPIE + +[Illustration: 034] + + + + +I + +LENT, of the year 1429, presented a strange marvel of the Calendar, a +conjunction that moved the admiration not only of the common crowd +of the Faithful, but eke of Clerks, well learned in Arithmetic. For +Astronomy, mother of the Calendar, was Christian in those days. In 1429 +Good Friday fell on the Feast of the Annunciation, so that one and the +same day combined the commemoration of the two several mysteries which +did commence and consummate the redemption of mankind, and in wondrous +wise superimposed one on top of the other, Jesus conceived in the +Virgin's womb and Jesus dying on the Cross. This Friday, whereon the +mystery of joy came so to coincide exactly with the mystery of sorrow, +was named the "Grand Friday," and was kept holy with solemn Feasts on +Mount Anis, in the Church of the Annunciation. For many years, by gift +of the Popes of Rome, the sanctuary of Mount Anis had possessed the +privilege of the plenary indulgences of a great jubilee, and the +late-deceased Bishop of Le Puy, Elie de Le-strange, had gotten Pope +Martin to restore this _pardon_. It was a favour of the sort the Popes +scarce ever refused, when asked in due and proper form. + +The _pardon_ of the Grand Friday drew a great crowd of pilgrims and +traders to Le Puy-en-Velay. As early as mid February folk from distant +lands set out thither in cold and wind and rain. For the most part +they fared on foot, staff in hand. Whenever they could, these pilgrims +travelled in companies, to the end they might not be robbed and held to +ransom by the armed bands that infested the country parts, and by the +barons who exacted toll on the confines of their lands. Inasmuch as +the mountain districts were especially dangerous, they tarried in the +neighbouring towns, Clermont, Issoire, Brioude, Lyons, Issingeaux, +Alais, till they were gathered in a great host, and then went forth on +their road in the snow. During Holy Week a strange multitude thronged +the hilly streets of Le Puy,--pedlars from Languedoc and Provence and +Catalonia, leading their mules laded with leather goods, oil, wool, webs +of cloth, or wines of Spain in goat-skins; lords a-horseback and ladies +in wains, artisans and traders pacing on their mules, with wife or +daughter perched behind, Then came the poor pilgrim folk, limping along, +halting and hobbling, stick in hand and bag on back, panting up the +stiff climb. Last were the flocks of oxen and sheep being driven to the +slaughterhouses. + +Now, leant against the wall of the Bishop's palace, stood Florent +Guillaume, looking as long and dry and black as an espalier vine in +winter, and devoured pilgrims and cattle with his eyes. + +"Look," he called to Marguerite the lace-maker, "look at yonder fine +heads of bestial." + +And Marguerite, squatted beside her bobbins, called back: + +"Yea, fine beasts, and fat withal!" + +Both the twain were very bare and scant of the goods of this world, and +even then were feeling bitterly the pinch of hunger. And folk said +it came of their own fault. At that very moment Pierre Grandmange the +tripe-seller was saying as much, where he stood in his tripe-shop, +pointing a finger at them. "'T would be sinful," he was crying, "to give +an alms to such good-for-nothing varlets." The tripe-seller would fain +have been very charitable, but he feared to lose his soul by giving to +evil-livers, and all the fat citizens of Le Puy had the selfsame +scruples. + +To say truth, we must needs allow that, in the heyday of her hot youth, +Marguerite the lace-maker had not matched St. Lucy in purity, St. Agatha +in constancy, and St. Catherine in staidness. As for Florent Guillaume, +he had been the best scrivener in the city. For years he had not had his +equal for engrossing the Hours of Our Lady of Le Puy. But he had been +over fond of merrymakings and junketings. Now his hand had lost its +cunning, and his eye its clearness; he could no more trace the letters +on the parchment with the needful steadiness of touch. Even so, he might +have won his livelihood by teaching apprentices in his shop at the +sign of the Image of Our Lady, under the choir buttresses of _The +Annunciation_, for he was a fellow of good counsel and experience. But +having had the ill fortune to borrow of Maitre Jacquet Coquedouille the +sum of six livres ten sous, and having paid him back at divers terms +eighty livres two sous, he had found himself at the last to owe yet +six livres two sous to the account of his creditor, which account was +approved correct by the judges, for Jacquet Coquedouille was a sound +arithmetician. This was the reason why the scrivenry of Florent +Guillaume, under the choir buttresses of _The Annunciation_, was sold, +on Saturday the fifth day of March, being the Feast of St. Theophilus, +to the profit of Maitre Jacquet Coquedouille. Since that time the poor +penman had never a place to call his own. But by the good help of Jean +Magne the bell-ringer and with the protection of Our Lady, whose Hours +he had aforetime written, Florent Guillaume found a perch o' nights in +the steeple of the Cathedral. + +The scrivener and the lace-maker had much ado to live. Marguerite only +kept body and soul together by chance and charity, for she had long lost +her good looks and she hated the lace-making. They helped each other. +Folks said so by way of reproach; they had been better advised to +account it to them for righteousness. Florent Guillaume was a learned +clerk. Well knowing every word of the history of the beautiful Black +Virgin of Le Puy and the ordering of the ceremonies of the great +_pardon_, he had conceived the notion he might serve as guide to the +pilgrims, deeming he would surely light on someone compassionate enough +to pay him a supper in guerdon of his fine stories. But the first folk +he had offered his services to had bidden him begone because his ragged +coat bespoke neither good guidance nor clerkly wit; so he had come back, +downhearted and crestfallen, to the Bishop's wall, where he had his +bit of sunshine and his kind gossip Marguerite. "They reckon," he said +bitterly, "I am not learned enough to number them the relics and recount +the miracles of Our Lady. Do they think my wits have escaped away +through the holes in my gaberdine?" + +"'Tis not the wits," replied Marguerite, "escape by the holes in a +body's clothes, but the good natural heat. I am sore a-cold. And it +is but too true that, man and woman, they judge us by our dress. The +gallants would find me comely enough yet if I was accoutred like my Lady +the Comtesse de Clermont." + +Meanwhile, all the length of the street in front of them the pilgrims +were elbowing and fighting their way to the Sanctuary, where they were +to win pardon for their sins. + +"They will surely suffocate anon," said Marguerite. "Twenty-two years +agone, on the Grand Friday, two hundred persons died stifled under the +porch of _The Annunciation_. God have their souls in keeping! Ay, those +were the good times, when I was young!" + +"'Tis very true indeed, that year you tell of, two hundred pilgrims +crushed each other to death and departed from this world to the other. +And next day was never a sign to be seen of aught untoward." + +As he so spake, Florent Guillaume noted a pilgrim, a very fat man, who +was not hurrying to get him assoiled with the same hot haste as the +rest, but kept rolling his wide eyes to right and left with a look of +distress and fear. Florent Guillaume stepped up to him and louted low. + +"Messire," he accosted him, "one may see at a glance you are a sensible +man and an experienced; you do not rush blindly to the _pardon_ like a +sheep to the slaughter. The rest of the folk go helter-skelter thither, +the nose of one under the tail of the other; but you follow a wiser +fashion. Grant me the boon to be your guide, and you will not repent +your bargain." + +The pilgrim, who proved to be a gentleman of Limoges, answered in the +patois of his countryside, that he had no use for a scurvy beggarman and +could very well find his own way to _The Annunciation_ for to receive +pardon for his faults. And therewith he set his face resolutely to the +hill. But Florent Guillaume cast himself at his feet, and tearing at his +hair: + +"Stop! stop! messire," he cried; "i' God's name and by all the Saints, +I warn you go no farther! 'T will be your death, and you are not the man +we could see perish without grief and dolour. A few steps more and you +are a dead man! They are suffocating up yonder. Already full six hundred +pilgrims have given up the ghost. And this is but a small beginning! Do +you not know, messire, that twenty-two years agone, in the year of grace +one thousand four hundred and seven, on the selfsame day and at the +selfsame hour, under yonder porch, nine thousand six hundred and +thirty-eight persons, without reckoning women and children, trampled +each other underfoot and perished miserably? An you met the same fate, +I should never smile again. To see you is to love you, messire; to know +you is to conceive a sudden and overmastering desire to serve you." + +The Limousin gentleman had halted in no small surprise and turned +pale to hear such discourse and see the fellow tearing out his hair in +fistfuls. In his terror he was for turning back the way he had come. But +Florent Guillaume, on his knees in the mud, held him back by the skirt +of his jacket. + +"Never go that way, messire! not that way. You might meet Jacquet +Coquedouille, and you would be all in an instant turned into stone. +Better encounter the basilisk than Jacquet Coquedouille. I will tell you +what you must do if, like the wise and prudent man your face proclaims +you to be, you would live long and make your peace with God. Hearken +to me; I am a scholar, a Bachelor. To-day the holy relics will be borne +through the streets and crossways of the city. You will find great +solace in touching the carven shrines which enclose the cornelian cup +wherefrom the child Jesus drank, one of the wine-jars of the Marriage at +Cana, the cloth of the Last Supper, and the holy foreskin. If you take +my advice, we will go wait for them, under cover, at a cookshop I wot +of, before which they will pass without fail." + +Then, in a wheedling voice, without loosing his hold of the pilgrim's +jacket, he pointed to the lace-maker and said: + +"Messire, you must give six sous to yonder worthy woman, that she may go +buy us wine, for she knows where good liquor is to be gotten." + +The Limousin gentleman, who was a simple soul after all, went where he +was led, and Florent Guillaume supped on the leg and wing of a goose, +the bones whereof he put in his pocket as a present for Madame Ysabeau, +his fellow lodger in the timbers of the steeple,--to wit, Jean Magne the +bell-ringer's magpie. + +He found her that night perched on the beam where she was used to roost, +beside the hole in the wall which was her storeroom wherein she hoarded +walnuts and hazel-nuts, almonds and beech-nuts. She had awoke at the +noise of his coming and flapped her wings; so he greeted her very +courteously, addressing her in these obliging terms: + +"Magpie most pious, lady recluse, bird of the cloister, Margot of the +Nunnery, sable-frocked Abbess, Church fowl of the lustrous coat, all +hail!" + +Then offering her the goose bones nicely folded in a cabbage leaf: + +"Lady," he said, "I bring you here the scraps remaining of a good dinner +a gentleman from Limoges gave me. His countrymen are radish eaters; but +I have taught this one to prefer an Anis goose to all the radishes in +the Limousin." + +Next day and the rest of the week Florent Guillaume,--for he could never +light on his fat friend again nor yet any other good pilgrim with a +well-lined travelling wallet,--fasted _a solis ortu usque ad occasum_, +from rising sun to dewy eve. Marguerite the lace-maker did likewise. +This was very meet and right, seeing the time was Holy Week. + + + + +II. + +[Illustration: 046] + +Now on Holy Easter Day, Maitre Jacquet Coquedouille, a notable citizen +of the place, was peeping through a hole in a shutter of his house and +watching the countless throng of pilgrims passing down the steep street. +They were wending homewards, happy to have won their pardon; and the +sight of them greatly magnified his veneration for the Black Virgin. For +he deemed a lady so much sought after must needs be a puissant dame. +He was old, and his only hope lay in God's mercy. Yet was he but +ill-assured of his eternal salvation, for he remembered how many a time +he had ruthlessly fleeced the widow and the orphan. Moreover, he had +robbed Florent Guillaume of his scrivenry at the sign of Our Lady. He +was used to lend at high interest on sound security. Yet could no man +infer he was a usurer, forasmuch as he was a Christian, and it was only +the Jews practised usury,--the Jews, and, if you will, the Lombards and +the men of Cahors. + +Now Jacquet Coquedouille went about the matter quite otherwise than the +Jews. He never said, like Jacob, Ephraim, and Manasses, "I am lending +you money." What he did say was, "I am putting money into your business +to help your trafficking," a different thing altogether. For usury and +lending upon interest were forbidden by the Church, but trafficking was +lawful and permitted. + +And yet at the thought how he had brought many Christian folk to poverty +and despair, Jacquet Coquedouille felt the pangs of remorse, as he +pictured the sword of Divine Justice hanging over his head. So on this +holy Easter Day he was fain to secure him against the Last Judgment +by winning the protection of Our Lady. He thought to himself she would +plead for him at the judgment seat of her divine Son, if only he gave +her a handsome fee. So he went to the great chest where he kept his +gold, and, after making sure the chamber door was shut fast, he opened +the chest, which was full of angels, flor-ins, esterlings, nobles, gold +crowns, gold ducats, and golden sous, and all the coins ever struck by +Christian or Saracen. He extracted with a sigh of regret twelve +deniers of fine gold and laid them on the table, which was crowded +with balances, files, scissors, gold-scales, and account books. After +shutting his chest again and triple-locking it, he numbered the deniers, +renumbered them, gazed long at them with looks of affection, and +addressed them in words so soft and sweet, so affable and ingratiating, +so gentle and courteous, it seemed rather the music of the spheres than +human speech. + +"Oh, little angels!" sighed the good old man. "Oh, my dear little +angels! Oh, my pretty gold sheep, with the fine, precious fleece!" + +And taking the pieces between his fingers with as much reverence as it +had been the body of Our Lord, he put them in the balance and made sure +they were of the full weight,--or very near, albeit a trifle clipped +already by the Lombards and the Jews, through whose hands they had +passed. After which he spoke to them yet more graciously than before: + +"Oh, my pretty sheep, my sweet, pretty lambs, there, let me shear you! +'T will do you no hurt at all." + +Then, seizing his great scissors, he clipped off shreds of gold here and +there, as he was used to clip every piece of money before parting with +it. And he gathered the clippings carefully in a wooden bowl that was +already half full of bits of gold. He was ready to give twelve angels +to the Holy Virgin; but he felt no way bound to depart from his use and +wont. This done, he went to the aumry where his pledges lay, and drew +out a little blue purse, broidered with silver, which a dame of the +petty trading sort had left with him in her distress. He remembered that +blue and white are Our Lady's colours. + +That day and the next he did nothing further. But in the night, betwixt +Monday and Tuesday, he had cramps, and dreamt the devils were pulling +him by the feet. This he took for a warning of God and our Blessed Lady, +tarried within doors pondering the matter all the day, and then toward +evening went to lay his offering at the feet of the Black Virgin. + + + + +III + +[Illustration: 051] + +THAT same day, as night was closing in, Florent Guillaume thought +ruefully of returning to his airy bedchamber. He had fasted the livelong +day, sore against the grain, holding that a good Christian ought not to +fast in the glorious Resurrection week. Before mounting to his bed in +the steeple, he went to offer a pious prayer to the Lady of Le Puy. She +was still there in the midst of the Church at the spot where she had +offered herself on the Grand Friday to the veneration of the Faithful. +Small and black, crowned with jewels, in a mantle blazing with gold and +precious stones and pearls, she held on her knees the Child Jesus, who +was as black as his mother and passed his head through a slit in her +cloak. It was the miraculous image which St. Louis had received as a +gift from the Soldan of Egypt and had carried with his own hands to the +Church of Anis. + +All the pilgrims were gone now, and the Church was dark and empty. The +last offerings of the Faithful were spread at the feet of the beautiful +Black Virgin, displayed on a table lit with wax tapers. You could see +amongst the rest a head, hearts, hands, feet, a woman's breasts of +silver, a little boat of gold, eggs, loaves, Aurillac cheeses, and in +a bowl full of deniers, sous, and groats, a little blue purse broidered +with silver. Over against the table, in a huge chair, dozed the priest +who guarded the offerings. + +Florent Guillaume dropped on his knees before the holy image, and said +over to himself this pious prayer: + +"Lady, an it be true that the holy prophet Jeremias, having beheld thee +with the eyes of faith ere ever thou wast conceived, carved with his +hands out of cedar-wood in thy likeness the holy image before which I +am at this present kneeling; an it be true that afterward King Ptolemy, +instructed of the miracles wrought by this same holy image, took it +from the Jewish priests, bare it to Egypt and set it up, covered +with precious stones, in the temple of the idols; an it be true that +Nebuchadnezzar, conqueror of the Egyptians, seized it in his turn and +had it laid amongst his treasure, where the Saracens found it when they +captured Babylon; an it be true that the Soldan loved it in his heart +above all things, and was used to adore it at the least once every day; +an it be true that the said Soldan had never given it to our saintly +King Louis, but that his wife, who was a Saracen dame, yet prized +chivalry and knightly prowess, resolved to make it a gift to the best +knight and worthiest champion of all Christendom; in a word, an this +image be miraculous, as I do firmly credit, have it do a miracle, Lady, +in favour of the poor clerk who hath many a time writ thy praises on +the vellum of the service books. He hath sanctified his sinful hands by +engrossing in a fair writing, with great red capitals at the beginning +of each clause, 'the fifteen joys of Our Lady,' in the vulgar tongue +and in rhyme, for the comforting of the afflicted. 'Tis pious work this. +Think of it, Lady, and heed not his sins. Give him somewhat to eat. +'Twill both do me much profit, and bring thee great honour, for the +miracle will appear no mean one to all them that know the world. Thou +hast this day gotten gold, eggs, cheeses, and a little blue purse +broidered with silver. Lady, I grudge thee none of the gifts that have +been made thee. Thou dost well deserve them, yea, and more than they. I +do not so much as ask thee to make them give me back what a thief hath +robbed me of, a thief by name Jacquet Coque-douille, one of the most +honoured citizens of this thy town of Le Puy. No, all I ask of thee +is not to let me die of hunger. And if thou grant me this boon, I will +indite a full and fair history of thine holy image here present." + +So prayed Florent Guillaume. The soft murmur of his petition was +answered only by the deep-chested, placid snore of the sleeping priest. +The poor scrivener rose from his knees, stepped noiselessly adown the +nave, for he was grown so light his footfall could scarce be heard, and, +fasting as he was, climbed the tower stairs that had as many steps as +there are days in the year. + +Meanwhile Madame Ysabeau, slipping under the cloister gate, entered +her Church. The pilgrims had driven her away, for she loved peace and +solitude. The bird came forward cautiously, putting one foot slowly +in front of the other, then stopped and craned her neck, casting a +suspicious look to right and left. Then giving a graceful little jump +and shaking out her tail feathers, she hopped up to the Black Madonna. +Then she stood stock still a few moments, scrutinising the sleeping +watchman and questioning the darkness and silence with eyes and ears +alert. At last with a mighty flutter of wings she alighted on the table +of offerings. + + + + +IV + +[Illustration: 056] + +MEANWHILE Florent Guillaume had settled himself for the night in the +steeple. It was bitter cold. The wind came blowing in through the +luffer-boards and fluted and organed among the bells to rejoice the +heart of the cats and owls. And this was not the only objection to +the lodging. Since the earthquake of 1427, which had shaken the whole +church, the spire was dropping to pieces stone by stone and threatened +to collapse altogether in the first storm. Our Lady suffered this +dilapidation because of the people's sins. + +Presently Florent Guillaume fell asleep, which is a token of his +innocency of heart. What dreams he dreamt is clean forgot, except that +he had a vision in his sleep of a lady of consummate beauty who came and +kissed him on the mouth. But when his lips opened to return her salute, +he swallowed two or three woodlice that were walking over his face and +by their tickling had deluded his sleeping senses into the agreeable +fancy. He awoke, and hearing a noise of wings beating above his head, he +thought it was a devil, as was very natural for him to opine, seeing how +the evil spirits flock in countless swarms to torment mankind, and above +all at night time. But the moon just then breaking through the clouds, +he recognised Madame Ysabeau and saw she was busy with her beak pushing +into a crack in the wall that served her for storehouse a blue purse +broidered with silver. He let her do as she list; but when she had left +her hoard, he clambered onto a beam, took the purse, opened it, and saw +it contained twelve good gold deniers, which he clapped in his belt, +giving thanks to the incomparable Black Virgin of Le Puy. For he was a +clerk and versed in the Scriptures, and he remembered how the Lord fed +his prophet Elias by a raven; whence he inferred that the Holy Mother +of God had sent by a magpie twelve deniers to her poor penman, Florent +Guillaume. + +On the morrow Florent and Marguerite the lace-maker ate a dish of +tripe,--a treat they had craved for many a long year. + +So ends the Miracle of the Magpie. May he who tells the tale live, as he +would fain live, in good and gentle peace, and all good hap befall such +folk as shall read the same. + + + + +BROTHER JOCONDE + +[Illustration: 062] + +THE Parisians were far from loving the English and found it hard to put +up with them. When, after the obsequies of the late King Charles VI, the +Duke of Bedford had the sword of the King of France borne before him, +the people murmured. But what cannot be cured must be endured. Besides, +though the capital hated the English, it loved the Burgundians. What +more natural for citizen folk, and especially for money-changers and +traders, than to admire Duke Philip, a prince of seemly presence and the +richest nobleman in Christendom. As for the "little King of Bourges," +a sorry-looking mortal and very poor, strongly suspected, moreover, of +foul murder at the Bridge of Montereau, what had he about him to please +folk withal? Scorn was the sentiment felt for him, and horror and +loathing for his partisans. For ten years now had these been riding and +raiding around the walls, pillaging and holding to ransom. No doubt the +English and Burgun-dians did much the same; when, in the month of +August, 1423, Duke Philip came to Paris, his men-at-arms had ravaged all +the country about. And they were friends and allies of course; but after +all they only came and went. The Armagnacs, on the contrary, were always +in the field, stealing whatever they could lay their hands upon, firing +farmsteads and churches, killing women and children, deflowering virgins +and nuns, hanging men by the thumbs. In 1420 they threw themselves like +devils let loose on the village of Champigny and burnt up altogether +oats, wheat, lambs, cows, oxen, children, and women. They did the like +and worse at Croissy. A very great clerk of the University declared they +wrought all wickedness that can be wrought and conceived, and that more +Christian folk had been martyred at their hands than ever Maximian or +Diocletian did to death. + +At the news that these accursed Armagnacs were at the gates of Compiegne +and occupying the neighbouring castles and their lands, the folk of +Paris were sore afraid. They believed that the Dauphin's soldiers had +sworn, if they entered Paris, to slay whomsoever they found there. They +affirmed openly that Messire Charles de Valois had given up to his men's +mercy town and townsmen, great and small, of every rank and condition, +men and women, and that he proposed to drive the plough over the site of +the city. The inhabitants mostly believed the tale; so they set the St. +Andrew's cross on their coats, in token that they were of the party of +the Burgundians. Their hatred was doubled, and their fears with it, when +they learned that Brother Richard and the Maid Jeanne were at the head +of King Charles' army. They knew nothing of the Maid save from the +rumour of the victories she was reported to have won at Orleans. But +they deemed she had vanquished the English by the Devil's aid, by means +of spells and enchantments. + +The Masters of the University all said: "A creature in shape of a woman +is with the Armagnacs. What it is, God knows!" + +For Brother Richard, they knew him well. He had come to Paris before, +and they had hearkened reverently to his sermons. He had even persuaded +them to renounce those games of chance for which they had been used +to forget meat and drink and the services of the Church. Now, at the +tidings that Brother Richard was on foray with the Armagnacs and +winning over for them by his well-hung tongue good towns like Troyes in +Champagne, they called down on him the curse of God and his Saints. They +tore out of their hats the leaden medals inscribed with the holy name +of Jesus, which the good Brother had given them, and to show in what +detestation they held him, resumed dice, bowls, draughts, and all other +games they had renounced at his exhortation. + +The city was strongly fortified, for in the days when King Jean was a +prisoner of the English, the citizens of Paris, seeing the enemy in the +heart of the Kingdom, had feared a siege and had hastened to put the +walls in a state of defence. They had surrounded the place with moats +and counter-moats. The moats, on the left bank of the river, were dug +at the foot of the walls forming the old circle of fortification. But +on the right bank there were faubourgs, both extensive and well built, +outside the walls and almost touching them. The new moats enclosed a +part of these, and the Dauphin Charles, King Jean's son, afterward had +a wall built along the line of them. Nevertheless there was some feeling +of insecurity, for the Cathedral Chapter took measures to put the relics +and treasure out of reach of the enemy. + +Meantime, on Sunday, August 21st, a Cordelier, by name Brother Joconde, +entered the town. He had made pilgrimage to Jerusalem, and was said, +like Brother Vincent Ferrier and Brother Bernardino of Sienna, to +have enjoyed by the abounding grace of God many revelations anent the +forthcoming end of the world. He gave out that he would preach his first +sermon to the Parisians on Tuesday following, St. Bartholomew's day, in +the Cloister of "The Innocents." On the eve of that day more than six +thousand persons spent the night in the Cloister. At the foot of the +platform wherefrom he was to preach, the women sat squatted on their +heels, and amongst them Guillaumette Dyonis, who was blind from birth. +She was the child of an artisan who had been killed by the Burgundians +in the woods of Boulogne-la-Grande. Her mother had been carried off by +a Burgundian man-at-arms, and none knew what had become of her. +Guillaumette was fifteen or sixteen years of age. She lived at "The +Innocents" on what she made by spinning wool, at which trade there was +not a better worker to be found in all the town. She went and came in +the streets without the help of any and knew everything as well as those +who can see. As she lived a good and holy life and fasted often, she +was favoured with visions. In especial she had been accorded notable +revelations by the Apostle St. John concerning the troubles that then +beset the Kingdom of France. Now, as she was reciting her Hours at the +foot of the platform, under the great Dance of Death, a woman called +Simone la Bardine, who was seated on the ground beside her, asked her if +the good Brother was not coming soon. + +Guillaumette Dyonis could not see the tailed gown of green and the +horned wimple which Simone la Bardine wore; yet she knew by instinct the +woman was no honest dame. She felt a natural aversion for light women +and the sort the soldiers called their sweethearts or "doxies," but it +had been revealed to her that we should hold such in great pity and +deal compassionately with them. Wherefore she answered Simone la Bardine +gently: + +"The good Father will come soon, please God. And we shall have no reason +to regret having waited, for he is eloquent in prayer and his sermons +turn the folk to devotion more even than those of Brother Richard, who +spake in these Cloisters in the springtime. He knows more than any man +living of the times that shall come and shall show us strange portents. +I trow we shall gain great profit of his words." + +"God grant it," sighed Simone la Bardine. "But are you not very sorry to +be blind?" + +"No. I wait to see God." + +Simone la Bardine made her mantle into a cushion, and said: + +"Life is all ups and downs. I live at the top of the Rue Saint-Antoine. +'T is the finest part of the city and the merriest, for the best +hostelries are in the Place Baudet and thereabout. Before the Wars there +was aye abundance there of hot cakes and fresh herrings and Auxerre +wine by the tun. With the English famine entered the town. Now is there +neither bread in the bin nor firewood on the hearth. One after other the +Armagnacs and the Burgundians have drunk up all the wine, and there is +naught left in the cellar but a little thin, sour cider and sloe-juice. +Knights armed for the tourney, pilgrims with their cockleshells +and staves, traders with their chests full of knives and little +service-books, where are they gone? They never come now to seek a +lodging and good living in the Rue Saint-Antoine. But the wolves quit +covert in the forests and prowl of nights in the faubourgs and devour +little children." + +"Put your trust in God," Guillaumette Dyonis answered her. + +"Amen!" returned Simone la Bardine. "But I have not told you the worst. +On the Thursday before St, John's day, at three after midnight, two +Englishmen came knocking at my door. Not knowing but they had come to +rob me or break up my chests and coffers out of mischief, or do some +other devilment, I shouted to them from my window to go their ways, that +I did not know them and I was not going to open the door. But they only +hammered louder, swearing they were going to break in the door and +come in and cut off my nose and ears. To stop their uproar I emptied a +crockful of water on their heads; but the crock slipped out of my hands +and broke on the back of one fellow's neck so unchancily that it felled +him. His comrade called up the watch. I was haled to the Chatelet and +clapped in prison, where I was very hardly handled, and only escaped by +paying a heavy sum of money. I found my house pillaged from cellar to +attic. From that day my affairs have gone from bad to worse, and I have +naught in the wide world but the clothes I stand up in. In very despair +I have come hither to hear the good Father, who they say abounds in +comforting words." + +"God, who loves you," said Guillaumctte Dyonis, "has moved you in all +this." + +Then a great silence fell on the crowd as Brother Joconde appeared. His +eyes flashed like lightning. When he opened his lips, his voice pealed +out like thunder. + +"I have come from Jerusalem," he began; "and to prove it, see in this +wallet are roses of Jericho, a branch of the olive under which Our +Saviour sweated drops of blood, and a handful of the earth of Calvary." + +He gave a long narrative of his pilgrimage. And he added: + +"In Syria I met Jews travelling in companies; I asked them whither they +were bound, and they told me: 'We are flocking in crowds to Babylon, +because in very deed the Messiah is born among men, and will restore +us our heritage, and stablish us again in the Land of Promise.' So said +these Jews of Syria. Now the Scriptures teach us that he they call the +Messiah is, in truth, Antichrist, of whom it is said he must be born at +Babylon, chief city of the kingdom of Persia, be reared at Bethsaida, +and dwell in his youth at Chorazin. That is why Our Lord said: 'Woe unto +thee, Chor-azin! Woe unto thee, Bethsaida!' + +"The year that is at hand," went on Brother Joconde, "will bring the +greatest marvels that have ever been beheld. + +"The times are at hand. He is born, the man of sin, the son of +perdition, the wicked man, the beast from out the abyss, the abomination +of desolation. He comes from the tribe of Dan, of which it is written: +'Dan shall be a serpent in the way, an adder in the path.' + +"Brethren, soon shall ye see returning to this earth the Prophets Elias +and Enoch, Moses, Jeremias, and St. John Evangelist. And lo! the day of +wrath is dawning, the day which 'solvet saeclum in favilla, teste David +et Sibylla.' Wherefore now is the time to repent and do penance and +renounce the false delights of this world." + +At the good Brother's word bosoms heaved with remorse and deep-drawn +sighs were heard. Not a few, both men and women, were near fainting when +the preacher cried: + +"I read in your souls that ye keep mandrakes at home, which will bring +you to hell fire." + +It was true. Many Parisians paid heavily to the old witch-wives, who +profess unholy knowledge, for to buy mandrakes, and were used to keep +them treasured in a chest. These magic roots have the likeness of +a little man, hideously ugly and misshapen in a weird and diabolic +fashion. They would dress them out magnificently, in fine linen and +silks, and the mannikins brought them riches, chief source of all the +ills of this world. + +Next Brother Joconde thundered against women's extravagant attire. + +"Leave off," he bade them, "your horns and your tails! Are ye not shamed +so to bedizen yourselves like she-devils? Light bonfires, I say, in the +public streets, and cast therein and burn your damnable head-gear,--pads +and rolls, erections of leather and whalebone, wherewith ye stiffen out +the front of your hoods." + +He ended by exhorting them with so much zeal and loving-kindness not to +lose their souls, but put themselves in the grace of God, that all who +heard him wept hot tears. And Simone la Bardine wept more abundantly +than any. + +When, finally, coming down from his platform, Brother Joconde crossed +the cloister and graveyard, the people fell on their knees as he went +by. The women gave him their little ones to bless, or besought him to +touch medals and rosaries for them. Some plucked threads from his gown, +thinking to get healing by putting them, like relics of the Saints, on +the places where they were afflicted. Guillaumette Dyonis followed the +good Father as easily as if she saw him with her bodily eyes. Simone +la Bardine trailed behind her, sobbing. She had pulled off her horned +wimple and tied a kerchief round her head. + +Thus they marched, the three of them, along the streets, where men and +women, who had been at the preaching, were kindling fires before their +doors to cast therein head-gear and mandrake roots. But on reaching +the river bank, Brother Joconde sat down under an elm, and Guillaumette +Dyonis came up to him and said: + +"Father, it hath been revealed to me in vision that you are come to this +Kingdom to restore the same to good peace and concord. I have had myself +many revelations concerning the peace of the Kingdom." + +Next Simone la Bardine took up her parable and said: + +"Brother Joconde, I lived once in a fine house in the Rue Saint-Antoine, +near by the Place Baudet, which is the fairest quarter of Paris, and the +wealthiest. I had a matted chamber, mantles of cloth of gold, and +gowns trimmed with miniver, enough to fill three great chests; I had a +feather-bed, a dresser loaded with pewter, and a little book wherein you +saw in pictures the story of Our Lord. But since the wars and pillagings +that devastate the Kingdom, I have lost everything. The gallants never +come now to take their pleasure in the Place Baudet. But the wolves come +there instead to devour little children. The Burgundians and the English +are as bad as the Armagnacs. Would you have me go with you?" + +The Monk gazed a while in silence at the two women; and deeming it +was Jesus Christ himself had led them to him, he received them for his +Penitents, and thereafter the twain followed him wherever he went. Every +day he preached to the people, now at "The Innocents," now at the Porte +Saint-Honore, or at the Halles. But he never went outside the Walls, by +reason of the Armagnacs, who were raiding all the countryside round the +city. + +His words led many souls to a better life; and at the fourth sermon he +preached in Paris, he received for Penitents Jeannette Chastenier, wife +of a merchant-draper on the Pont-au-Change, and another woman, by name +Opportune Jadoin, who nursed the sick at the Hotel-Dieu and was no +longer very young. He admitted likewise into his company a gardener of +the Ville-l'Eveque, a lad of about sixteen, Robin by name, who bare on +his feet and hands the stigmata of the crucifixion, and was shaken by +a sore trembling of all his limbs. He often saw the Holy Virgin in +corporeal presence, and heard her speech and savoured the divine odours +of her glorified body. She had entrusted him with a message for the +Regent of England and for the Duke of Burgundy. Meantime the army of +Messire Charles of Valois entered the town of Saint-Denis. And no man +durst from that day go out of Paris to harvest the fields or gather +aught from the market-gardens which covered the plain to the northward +of the city. Instantly famine prices ruled, and the inhabitants began to +suffer cruelly. And they were further exasperated because they believed +themselves betrayed. It was openly said that certain folk, and in +especial certain men of Religion, suborned by Messire Charles of Valois, +were watching for the best time to stir up trouble and bring in the +enemy in an hour of panic and confusion. Haunted by this fear, which +was not perhaps altogether baseless, the citizens who kept guard of the +ramparts showed scant mercy to any men of evil looks whom they found +loitering near the Gates and whom they might suspect, on the most +trivial evidence, of making signals to the Armagnacs. On Thursday, +September 8th, the good people of Paris awoke without any fear of being +attacked before the next day. This day, September 8th, was the Feast of +the Nativity of the Virgin, and it was an established custom with the +two factions that tore the Kingdom in twain to keep holy the feast-days +of Our Lord and His Blessed Mother. + +Yet at this holy season the Parisians, on coming forth from Mass, learnt +that, notwithstanding the sacredness of the day, the Armagnacs had +appeared before the Porte Saint-Honore and had set fire to the outwork +which defended its approach. It was further reported that Messire +Charles of Valois was posted, for the time being, along with Brother +Richard and the Maid Jeanne, in the Hog Market without the Walls. The +same afternoon, through all the city, on either side the bridges, shouts +of fear arose--"Save yourselves! fly, the enemy are come in, all is +lost!" The cries were heard even inside the Churches, where pious folks +were singing Vespers. These came flying out in terror and ran to their +houses to take refuge behind barred doors. + +Now the men who went about raising these cries were emissaries of +Messire Charles of Valois. In fact, at that very time, the Company of +the Marechal de Rais was making assault on the Walls near by the Porte +Saint-Honore. The Armagnacs had brought up in carts great bundles of +faggots and wattled hurdles to fill up the moats, and above six hundred +scaling-ladders for storming the ramparts. The Maid Jeanne, who was +nowise as the Burgundians believed, but lived a pious life and guarded +her chastity, set foot to ground, and was the first down into a dry +moat, which for that cause was easy to cross. But thereupon they found +themselves exposed to the arrows and cross-bolts that rained down thick +and fast from the Walls. Then they had in front of them a second moat. +Wherefore were the Maid and her men-at-arms sore hampered. Jeanne +sounded the great moat with her lance and shouted to throw in faggots. + +Inside the town could be heard the roar of cannon, and all along the +streets the citizens were running, half accoutred, to their posts on +the ramparts, knocking over as they went the brats playing about in the +gutters. The chains were drawn across the roadways, and barricades were +begun. Tribulation and tumult filled all the place. + +But neither the Brother Joconde nor his Penitents saw aught of it, +forasmuch as they took heed only of eternal things, and deemed the vain +agitation of men to be but a foolish game. They marched through the +streets singing the "Veni creator spiritus," and crying out: "Pray, for +the times are at hand." + +Thus they made their way in good array down the Rue Saint-Antoine, which +was densely crowded with men, women, and children. Coming presently to +the Place Baudet, Brother Joconde pushed through the throng and mounted +a great stone that stood at the door of the Hotel de la Truie, which +Messire Florimont Lecocq, the master of the house, used to help him +mount his mule. This Messire Florimont Lecocq was Sergeant at the +Chatelet Prison and a partisan of the English. + +So, standing on the great stone, Brother Joconde preached to the people. +"Sow ye," he cried, "sow ye, good folk; sow abundantly of beans, for He +which is to come will come quickly." + +By the beans they were to sow, the good Brother signified the charitable +works it behoved them accomplish before Our Lord should come, in the +clouds of heaven, to judge both the quick and the dead. And it was +urgent to sow these works without tarrying, for that the harvest would +be soon. Guillaumette Dyonis, Simone la Bardine, Jeanne Chastenier, +Opportune Jadoin, and Robin the gardener, stood in a ring about the +Preacher, and cried "Amen!" + +But the citizens, who thronged behind in a great crowd, pricked up their +ears and bent their brows, thinking the Monk was foretelling the entry +of Charles of Valois into his good town of Paris, over which he was +fain--at any rate, so they believed--to drive the ploughshare. + +Meanwhile the good Brother went on with his soul-awakening discourse. + +"Oh! ye men of Paris, ye are worse than the Pagans of old Rome." + +Just then the mangonels firing from the Porte Saint-Denis mingled their +thunder with Brother Joconde's voice and shook the bystanders' +hearts within them. Some one in the press cried out, "Death! death to +traitors!" All this time Messire Florimont Lecocq was within-doors doing +on his armour. He now came forth at the noise, before he had buckled his +leg-pieces. Seeing the Monk standing on his mounting-block, he asked: +"What is this good Father saying?" And a chorus of voices answered: +"Telling us that Messire Charles of Valois is going to enter the city," +while others cried: + +"He is against the folk of Paris," and others again: + +"He would fain cozen and betray us, like the Brother Richard, who at +this very time is riding with our enemies." + +But Brother Joconde made answer: "There be neither Armagnacs, nor +Burgundians, nor French, nor English, but only the sons of light and +the sons of darkness. Ye are lewd fellows and your women wantons." + +"Go to, thou apostate! thou sorcerer! thou traitor!" yelled Messire +Florimont Lecocq,--and lugging out his sword, he plunged it in the good +Brother's bosom. + +With pale lips and faltering voice, the man of God still managed to say: + +"Pray, fast, do penance, and ye shall be forgiven, my brethren..." + +Then his voice choked, as the blood poured from his mouth, and he fell +on the stones. Two knights, Sir John Stewart and Sir George Morris, +threw themselves on the body and pierced it with more than a hundred +dagger thrusts, vociferating: + +"Long life to King Henry! Long life to my Lord the Duke of Bedford! Down +with the Dauphin! Down with the mad Maid of the Armagnacs! Up, up! To +the Gates, to the Gates!" + +Therewith they ran to the Walls, drawing off with them Messire Florimont +and the crowd of citizens. + +Meanwhile the holy women and the gardener tarried about the bleeding +corse. Simone la Bardine lay prostrate on the ground, kissing the good +Brother's feet and wiping away his blood with her unbound hair. + +But Guillaumette Dyonis, standing up with her arms lifted to heaven, +cried in a voice as clear as the sound of bells: + +"My sisters, Jeanne, Opportune and Simone, and you, my brother, Robin +the gardener, let us be going, for the times are at hand. The soul +of this good Father holds me by the hand, and it will lead me aright. +Wherefore ye must follow along with me. And we will say to those who are +making cruel war upon each other: 'Kiss and make peace. And if ye must +needs use your arms, take up the cross and go forth all together to +fight the Saracens.' Come! my sisters and my brother." + +Jeanne Chastenier picked up the shaft of an arrow from the ground, brake +it, and made a cross, which she laid on good Brother Joconde's bosom. +Then these holy women, and the gardener with them, followed after +Guillaumette Dyonis, who led them by the streets and squares and alleys +as if her eyes had seen the light of day. They reached the foot of the +rampart, and by the stairway of a tower that was left unguarded, they +mounted onto the curtain-wall. There had been no time to furnish it with +its hoardings of wood; so they went along in the open. They proceeded +toward the Porte Saint-Honore, by this time enveloped in clouds of dust +and smoke. It was there the Marechal de Rais and his men were making +assault. Their bolts flew thick and fast against the ramparts, and they +were hurling faggots into the water of the great moat. On the hog's-back +parting the great moat from the little, stood the Maid, crying: "Yield, +yield you to the King of France." The English had abandoned the top +of the wall in terror, leaving their dead and wounded behind them. +Guillaumette Dyonis walked first, her head high and her left arm +extended before her, while with her right hand she kept signing herself +reverently. Simone la Bardine followed close on her heels. Then came +Jeanne Chastenier and Opportune Jadoin. Robin the gardener brought +up the rear, his body all shaking with his infirmity, and showing +the divine stigmata on his hands. They were singing canticles as they +walked. + +And Guillaumette, turning now toward the city and now toward the open +country, cried: "Brethren, embrace ye one another. Live in peace +and harmony. Take the iron of your spearheads and forge it into +ploughshares!" + +Scarce had she spoken ere a shower of arrows, some from the parapet-way +where a Company of Citizens was defiling, some from the hog's-back +where the Armagnac men-at-arms were massed, flew in her direction, and +therewith a storm of insults: + +"Wanton! traitress! witch!" + +Meanwhile she went on exhorting the two sides to stablish the Kingdom +of Jesus Christ upon earth and to live in innocency and brotherly love, +till a cross-bow bolt struck her in the throat and she staggered and +fell backward. + +It was which could laugh the louder at this, Armagnacs or Burgundians. +Drawing her gown over her feet, she lay still and made no other stir, +but gave up her soul, sighing the name of Jesus. Her eyes, which +remained open, glowed like two opals. + +Short while after the death of Guillaumette Dyonis the men of Paris +returned in great force to man their Wall, and defended their city right +valorously. Jeanne the Maid was wounded by a cross-bow bolt in the leg, +and Messire Charles of Valois' men-at-arms fell back upon the Chapelle +Saint-Denis. What became of Jeanne Chastenier and Opportune Jadoin no +one knows. They were never heard of more. Simone la Bardine and Robin +the gardener were taken the same day by the citizens on guard at the +Walls and handed over to the Bishop's officer, who duly brought them +before the Courts. The Church adjudged Simone heretic, and condemned +her for salutary penance to the bread of suffering and the water of +affliction. Robin was convicted of sorcery, and, persevering in his +error, was burned alive in the Place du Parvis. + + + + +FIVE FAIR LADIES OF PICARDY, OF POITOU, OF TOURAINE, OF LYONS, AND OF PARIS + +[Illustration: 090] + +ONE day the Capuchin, Brother Jean Chavaray, meeting my good master the +Abbe Coign-ard in the cloister of "The Innocents," fell into talk +with him of the Brother Olivier Maillard, whose sermons, edifying and +macaronic, he had lately been reading. + +"There are good bits to be found in these sermons," said the Capuchin, +"notably the tale of the five ladies and the go-between..." You will +readily understand that Brother Olivier, who lived in the reign of +Louis XI and whose language smacks of the coarseness of that age, uses a +different word. But our century demands a certain politeness and decency +in speech; wherefore I employ the term I have, to wit, _go-between_. + +"You mean," replied my good master, "to signify by the expression a +woman who is so obliging as to play intermediary in matters of love +and love-making. The Latin has several names for her,--as _lena, +conciliatrix_, also _internuntia libidinum_, ambassadress of naughty +desires. These prudish dames perform the best of services; but +seeing they busy themselves therein for money, we distrust their +disinterestedness. Call yours a _procuress_, good Father, and have done +with it; 't is a word in common use, and has a not unseemly sound." + +"So I will, Monsieur l'Abbe," assented Brother Jean Chavaray. "Only +don't say _mine_, I pray, but the Brother Olivier's. A procuress then, +who lived on the Pont des Tournelles, was visited one day by a knight, +who put a ring into her hands. 'It is of fine gold,' he told her, 'and +hath a balass ruby mounted in the bezel. An you know any dames of good +estate, go say to the most comely of them that the ring is hers if she +is willing to come to see me and do at my pleasure.' + +"The procuress knew, by having seen them at Mass, five ladies of an +excellent beauty,--natives the first of Picardy, the second of Poitou, +the third of Touraine, another from the good city of Lyons, and the last +a Parisian, all dwelling in the Cite or its near neighbourhood. + +"She knocked first at the Picard lady's door. A maid opened, but her +mistress refused to have one word to say to her visitor. She was an +honest woman. + +"The procuress went next to see the lady of Poitiers and solicit her +favours for the gallant knight. This dame answered her: + +"'Prithee, go tell him who sent you that he is come to the wrong house, +and that I am not the woman he takes me for.' + +"She too is an honest woman; yet less honest than the first, in that she +tried to appear more so. + +"The procuress then went to see the lady from Tours, made the same offer +to her as to the other, and showed her the ring. + +"'I' faith,' said the lady, 'but the ring is right lovely.' + +"''T is yours, an you will have it.' + +"'I will not have it at the price you set on it. My husband might catch +me, and I should be doing him a grief he doth not deserve.' + +"This lady of Touraine is a harlot, I trow, at bottom of her heart. + +"The procuress left her and went straight to the dame of Lyons, who +cried: + +"'Alack! my good friend, my husband is a jealous wight, and he would cut +the nose off my face to hinder me winning any more rings at this pretty +tilting.' + +"This dame of Lyons, I tell you, is a worthless good-for-naught. + +"Last of all the procuress hurried to the Parisian's. She was a hussy, +and answered brazenly: + +"'My husband goes Wednesday to his vineyards; tell the good sir who sent +you I will come that day and see him.' + +"Such, according to Brother Olivier, from Picardy to Paris, are the +degrees from good to evil amongst women. What think you of the matter, +Monsieur Coignard?" + +To which my good master made answer: + +"'T is a shrewd matter to consider the acts and impulses of these petty +creatures in their relations with Eternal Justice. I have no lights +thereanent. But methinks the Lyons dame who feared having her nose cut +off was a more good-for-nothing baggage than the Parisian who was afraid +of nothing." + +"I am far, very far, from allowing it," replied Brother Jean Chavaray. +"A woman who fears her husband may come to fear hell fire. Her +Confessor, it may be, will bring her to do penance and give alms. For, +after all, that is the end we must come at. But what can a poor Capuchin +hope to get of a woman whom _nothing_ terrifies?" + + + + +A GOOD LESSON WELL LEARNT + +[Illustration: 098] + +IN the days of King Louis XI there lived at Paris, in a matted chamber, +a citizen dame called Violante, who was comely and well-liking in all +her person. She had so bright a face that Master Jacques Tribouillard, +doctor in law and a renowned cosmographer, who was often a visitor at +her house, was used to tell her: + +"Seeing you, madame, I deem credible and even hold it proven, what +Cucurbitus Piger lays down in one of his scholia on Strabo, to wit, that +the famous city and university of Paris was of old known by the name of +Lutetia or Leucecia, or some such like word coming from _Leuke_, that +is to say, 'the white,' forasmuch as the ladies of the same had bosoms +white as snow,--yet not so clear and bright and white as is your own, +madame." + +To which Violante would say in answer: + +"'T is enough for me if my bosom is not fit to fright folks, like some +I wot of. And, if I show it, why,'tis to follow the fashion. I have not +the hardihood to do otherwise than the rest of the world." + +Now Madame Violante had been wedded, in the flower of her youth, to an +Advocate of the Parlement, a man of a harsh temper and sorely set on the +arraignment and punishing of unfortunate prisoners. For the rest, he +was of sickly habit and a weakling, of such a sort he seemed more fit to +give pain to folks outside his doors than pleasure to his wife within. +The old fellow thought more of his blue bags than of his better +half, though these were far otherwise shapen, being bulgy and fat and +formless. But the lawyer spent his nights over them. + +Madame Violante was too reasonable a woman to love a husband that was +so unlovable. Master Jacques Tribouillard upheld she was a good wife, +as steadfastly and surely confirmed and stablished in conjugal virtue +as Lucretia the Roman. And for proof he alleged that he had altogether +failed to turn her aside from the path of honour. The judicious observed +a prudent silence on the point, holding that what is hid will only be +made manifest at the last Judgment Day. They noted how the lady was over +fond of gewgaws and laces and wore in company and at church gowns of +velvet and silk and cloth of gold, purfled with miniver; but they were +too fair-minded folk to decide whether, damning as she did Christian +men who saw her so comely and so finely dressed to the torments of vain +longing, she was not damning her own soul too with one of them. In a +word, they were well ready to stake Madame Violante's virtue on the toss +of a coin, cross or pile,--which is greatly to the honour of that fair +lady. + +The truth is her Confessor, Brother Jean Turelure, was for ever +upbraiding her. + +"Think you, madame," he would ask her, "that the blessed St. Catherine +won heaven by leading such a life as yours, baring her bosom and sending +to Genoa for lace ruffles?" + +But he was a great preacher, very severe on human weaknesses, who could +condone naught and thought he had done everything when he had inspired +terror. He threatened her with hell fire for having washed her face with +ass's milk. + +As a fact, no one could say if she had given her old husband a meet and +proper head-dress, and Messire Philippe de Coetquis used to warn the +honest dame in a merry vein: + +"See to it, I say! He is bald, he will catch his death of cold!" + +Messire Philippe de Coetquis was a knight of gallant bearing, as +handsome as the knave of hearts in the noble game of cards. He had first +encountered Madame Violante one evening at a ball, and after dancing +with her far into the night, had carried her home on his crupper, while +the Advocate splashed his way through the mud and mire of the kennels +by the dancing light of the torches his four tipsy lackeys bore. In the +course of these merry doings, a-foot and on horseback, Messire Philippe +de Coetquis had formed a shrewd notion that Madame Violante had a limber +waist and a full, firm bosom of her own, and there and then had been +smit by her charms. + +He was a frank and guileless wight and made bold to tell her outright +what he would have of her,--to wit, to hold her naked in his two arms. + +To which she would make answer: + +"Messire Philippe, you know not what you say. I am a virtuous wife,"-- + +Or another time: + +"Messire Philippe, come back again tomorrow,--" + +And when he came next day she would ask innocently: + +"Nay, where is the hurry?" + +These never-ending postponements caused the Chevalier no little distress +and chagrin. He was ready to believe, with Master Tribouillard, that +Madame Violante was indeed a Lucretia, so true is it that all men are +alike in fatuous self-conceit! And we are bound to say she had not so +much as suffered him to kiss her mouth,--only a pretty diversion after +all and a bit of wanton playfulness. + +Things were in this case when Brother Jean Turelure was called to Venice +by the General of his Order, to preach to sundry Turks lately converted +to the true Faith. + +Before setting forth, the good Brother went to take leave of his fair +Penitent, and upbraided her with more than usual sternness for living +a dissolute life. He exhorted her urgently to repent and pressed her to +wear a hair-shirt next her skin,--an incomparable remedy against naughty +cravings and a sovran medicine for natures over prone to the sins of the +flesh. + +She besought him: "Good Brother, never ask too much of me." + +But he would not hearken, and threatened her with the pains of hell if +she did not amend her ways. Then he told her he would gladly execute any +commissions she might be pleased to entrust him with. He was in hopes +she would beg him to bring her back some consecrated medal, a rosary, +or, better still, a little of the soil of the Holy Sepulchre which the +Turks carry from Jerusalem together with dried roses, and which the +Italian monks sell. + +But Madame Violante preferred a quite other request: + +"Good Brother, dear Brother, as you are going to Venice, where such +cunning workmen in this sort are to be found, I pray you bring me back a +Venetian mirror, the clearest and truest can be gotten." + +Brother Jean Turelure promised to content her wish. + +While her Confessor was abroad, Madame Violante led the same life as +before. And when Messire Philippe pressed her: "Were it not well to take +our pleasure together?" she would answer: "Nay! 't is too hot. Look at +the weathercock if the wind will not change anon." And the good folk +who watched her ways were in despair of her ever giving a proper pair +of horns to her crabbed old husband. "'T is a sin and a shame!" they +declared. + +On his return from Italy Brother Jean Turelure presented himself before +Madame Violante and told her he had brought what she desired. + +"Look, madame," he said, and drew from under his gown a death's-head. + +"Here, madame, is your mirror. This death's-head was given me for that +of the prettiest woman in all Venice. She was what you are, and you will +be much like her anon." + +Madame Violante, mastering her surprise and horror, answered the good +Father in a well-assured voice that she understood the lesson he would +teach her and she would not fail to profit thereby. + +"I shall aye have present in my mind, good Brother, the mirror you +have brought me from Venice, wherein I see my likeness not as I am at +present, but as doubtless I soon shall be. I promise you to govern my +behaviour by this salutary thought." + +Brother Jean Turelure was far from expecting such pious words. He +expressed some satisfaction. + +"So, madame," he murmured, "you see yourself the need of altering your +ways. You promise me henceforth to govern your behaviour by the thought +this fleshless skull hath brought home to you. Will you not make the +same promise to God as you have to me?" + +She asked if indeed she must, and he assured her it behoved her so to +do. + +"Well, I will give this promise then," she declared. + +"Madame, this is very well. There is no going back on your word now." + +"I shall not go back on it, never fear." + +Having won this binding promise, Brother Jean Turelure left the place, +radiant with satisfaction. And as he went from the house, he cried out +loud in the street: + +"Here is a good work done! By Our Lord God's good help, I have turned +and set in the way toward the gate of Paradise a lady, who, albeit not +sinning precisely in the way of fornication spoken of by the Prophet, +yet was wont to employ for men's temptation the clay whereof the Creator +had kneaded her that she might serve and adore him withal. She will +forsake these naughty habits to adopt a better life. I have throughly +changed her. Praise be to God!" + +Hardly had the good Brother gone down the stairs when Messire Philippe +de Coetquis ran up them and scratched at Madame Violante's door. She +welcomed him with a beaming smile, and led him into a closet, furnished +with carpets and cushions galore, wherein he had never been admitted +before. From this he augured well. He offered her sweetmeats he had in a +box. + +"Here be sugar-plums to suck, madame; they are sweet and sugared, but +not so sweet as your lips." + +To which the lady retorted he was a vain, silly fop to make boast of a +fruit he had never tasted. + +He answered her meetly, kissing her forthwith on the mouth. + +She manifested scarce any annoyance and said only she was an honest +woman and a true wife. He congratulated her and advised her not to lock +up this jewel of hers in such close keeping that no man could enjoy it. +"For, of a surety," he swore, "you will be robbed of it, and that right +soon." + +"Try then," said she, cuffing him daintily over the ears with her pretty +pink palms. + +But he was master by this time to take whatsoever he wished of her. She +kept protesting with little cries: + +"I won't have it. Fie! fie on you, messire! You must not do it. Oh! +sweetheart... oh! my love... my life! You are killing me!" + +Anon, when she had done sighing and dying, she said sweetly: + +"Messire Philippe, never flatter yourself you have mastered me by force +or guile. You have had of me what you craved, but 't was of mine own +free will, and I only resisted so much as was needful that I might yield +me as I liked best. Sweetheart, I am yours. If, for all your handsome +face, which I loved from the first, and despite the tenderness of +your wooing, I did not before grant you what you have just won with my +consent, 't was because I had no true understanding of things. I had +no thought of the flight of time and the shortness of life and love; +plunged in a soft languor of indolence, I reaped no harvest of my youth +and beauty. However, the good Brother Jean Turelure hath given me a +profitable lesson. He hath taught me the preciousness of the hours. But +now he showed me a death's-head, saying: 'Suchlike you will be soon.' +This taught me we must be quick to enjoy the pleasures of love and make +the most of the little space of time reserved to us for that end." + +These words and the caresses wherewith Madame Violante seconded them +persuaded Messire Philippe to turn the time to good account, to set to +work afresh to his own honour and profit and the pleasure and glory +of his mistress, and to multiply the sure proofs of prowess which it +behoves every good and loyal servant to give on suchlike an occasion. + +After which, she was ready to cry quits. Taking him by the hand, she +guided him back to the door, kissed him daintily on the eyes, and asked: + +"Sweetheart Philippe, is it not well done to follow the precepts of the +good Brother Jean Turelure?" + + + + +SATAN'S TONGUE-PIE + +[Illustration: 112] + +SATAN lay in his bed with the flaming curtains. The physicians and +apothecaries of Hell, finding their patient had a white tongue, inferred +he was suffering from a weakness of the stomach and prescribed a diet at +once light and nourishing. + +Satan swore he had no appetite for aught but a certain earthly +dish, which women excel in making when they meet in company, to wit, +tongue-pie. + +The doctors agreed there was nothing could better suit His Majesty's +stomach. + +In an hour's time the dish was set before the King; but he found it +insipid and tasteless. + +He sent for his Head Cook and asked him where the pie came from. + +"From Paris, sire. It is quite fresh; 'twas baked this very morning, +in the Marais Quarter, by a dozen gossips gathered round the bed at a +woman's lying-in." + +"Ah! now I know the reason it is so flavourless," returned the Prince of +Darkness. "You have not been to the best cooks for dishes of the sort. +Citizens' wives, they do their best; but they lack delicacy, they lack +the fine touch of genius. Women of the people are clumsier still. For a +real good tongue-pie a Nunnery is the place to go to. There's nobody to +match these old maids of Religion for a pretty skill in compounding all +the needful ingredients,--fine spices of rancour, thyme of backbiting, +fennel of insinuation, bay-leaf of calumny." + +This parable is taken from a sermon of the good Father Gillotin +Landoulle, a poor, unworthy Capuchin. + + + + +CONCERNING AN HORRIBLE PICTURE + +[Illustration: 116] + + THE WHICH WAS SHOWED IN A TEMPLE AND OF SUNDRY LIMNINGS OF A + RIGHT PACIFIC AND AMOROUS SORT THE WHICH THE SAGE PHILEMON + HAD HANGED IN HIS LIBRARIE AND OF A NOBLE PORTRAITURE OF THE + POET HOMER THE WHICH THE AFORESAID PHILEMON DID PRIZE ABOVE + ALL OTHER LIMNINGS + +PHILEMON was used to confess how, in the fire of his callow youth +and fine flower of his lustie springal days, he had been stung with +murderous frenzie at view of a certaine picture of Apelles, the which +in those times was showed in a temple. And the said picture did present +Alexander the Great laying on right shrewdly at Darius, king of the +Indians, whiles round about these twain, soldiers and captains were +a-slaying one another with a savage furie and in divers strange +fashions. And the said work was right cunningly wrought and in very +close mimicrie of nature. And none, an they were in the hot and lustie +season of their life, could cast a look thereon without being stirred +incontinent to be striking and killing poor harmlesse folk for the sole +sake of donning so rich an harnesse and bestriding such high-stepping +chargers as did these good codpieces in their battle,--for that young +blood doth aye take pleasure in horseflesh and the practise of arms. +This had the aforesaid Philemon proven in his day. And he was used to +say how ever after 'twas his wont to turn aside his eyen of set purpose +from suchlike pictures of wars and bloodshed, and that he did so +heartily loathe these cruelties as that he could not abear to behold +them even set forth in counterfeit presentment. + +And he was used to say that any honest and prudent wight must needs be +sore offended and scandalized by all this appalling array of armour +and bucklers and the horde of warriors Homer calls _Corythaioloi_ +(glancing-helmed) by reason of the terrifying hideousness of their +head-gear, and that the portrayal of these same fighting fellows was +in very truth unseemly, as contrarie to good and peaceable manners, +immodest, no thing in the world being more shameful then homicide, and +eke lascivious, as alluring folk to cruelty, the which is the worst of +all allurements. For to entice to pleasant dalliaunce is a far lesse +heinous fault. + +And the aforesaid Philemon was used to say that it was honest, decent, +of good ensample and entirely modest to show by painting, chiselling, or +any other fine artifice the scenes of the Golden Age, to wit maidens and +young men interlacing limbs in accord with the craving of kindly Nature, +or other the like delectable fancy, as of a Nymph lying laughing in the +grass. And on her ripe smiling mouth a Faun is crushing a purple grape. + +And he was used to say that belike the Golden Age had never flourished +save only in the fond imagining of the poets, and that our first +forebears of human kind, being yet barbarous and silly folk, had known +naught at all thereof; but that, an the said age could not credibly be +deemed to have been at the beginning of the world, we might well wish +it should be at the end, and that meanwhiles it was a gracious boon to +offer us a likeness of the same in pictured image. + +And like as it is (so he would say) obscene,--'t is the word Virgil +writes of dogs wallowing in the mud and mire,--to depict murderers, +whoreson men-at arms, fighting-men, conquering heroes and plundering +thieves, wreaking their foul and wicked will, yea! and poor devils +licking the dust and swallowing the same in great mouthfuls, and one +unhappie wretch that hath been felled to the earth and is striving to +get to his feet againe, but is pinned down by an horse's hoof pressing +on his chops, and another that looketh piteously about him for that his +pennon hath been shorn from him and his hand with it,--so is it of right +subtile and so to say heavenly art to exhibit prettie blandishments, +caresses, frolickings, beauties and delights, and the loves of the +Nymphs and Fauns in the woods. And he would have it there was none +offence in these naked bodies, clothed upon enow with their owne grace +and comeliness. + +And he had in his closet, this same Philemon aforesaid, a very +marvellous painting, wherein was limned a young Faun in act to filch +away with a craftie hand a light cloth did cover the belly of a sleeping +Nymph. 'T was plain to see he was full fain of his freak and seemed to +be saying: The body of this young goddess is so sweet and refreshing +as that the fountaine springing in the shade of the woods is not more +delightsome. How I do love to look upon you, soft sweet lap, and prettie +white thighs, and shady cavern at once terrifying and entrancing! And +over the heads of the twain did hover winged Cupids and watched them +laughingly, whiles fair dames and their gallants, their brows wreathen +with flowers, footed it on the lush grass. + +And he had, the aforesaid Philemon, yet other limnings of cunning +craftsmanship in his closet. And he did prize very high the portraiture +of a good doctor a-sitting in his cabinet writing at a table by +candle-light. The said cabinet was fully furnished with globes, gnomons, +and astrolabes, proper for meting the movements of the orbs of heaven, +the which is a right praiseworthy task and one that doth lift the spirit +to sublime thoughts and the exceeding pure love of Venus Urania. + +And there was hanging from the joists of the said cabinet a great +serpent and crocodile, forasmuch as they be rarities and very needful +for the due understanding of anatomy. And he had likewise, the +said doctor, amid his belongings, the books of the most excellent +philosophers of Antiquity and eke the treatises of Hippocrates. And he +was an ensample to young men which should be fain, by hard swinking, to +stuff their pates with as much high learning and occult lore as he had +under his own bonnet. + +And he had, the aforesaid Philemon, painted on a panel that shined like +a polished mirror a portraiture of Homer in the guise of an old blind +man, his beard white as the flowers of the hawthorn and his temples +bound about with the fillets sacred to the god Apollo, which had loved +him above all other men. And, to look at that good old man, you deemed +verily his lips were presently to ope and break into words of melodie. + + + + +MADEMOISELLE DE DOUCINE'S NEW YEAR'S PRESENT + +[Illustration: 124] + +ON January 1st, in the forenoon, the good M. Chanterelle sallied out on +foot from his hotel in the Faubourg Saint-Marcel. He felt the cold and +was a poor walker; so it was a real penance to him to face the chilly +air and the bleak streets which were full of half-melted snow. He had +refused to take his coach by way of mortifying the flesh, having grown +very solicitous since his illness about the salvation of his soul. He +lived in retirement, aloof from all society and company, and paid no +visits save to his niece, Mademoiselle de Doucine, a little girl of +seven. + +Leaning on his walking-cane, he made his way painfully to the Rue +Saint-Honore and entered the shop of Madame Pinson at the sign of the +_Panier Fleuri_. Here was displayed an abundant stock of children's toys +to tempt customers seeking presents for this New Year's Day of 1696. +You could scarce move for the host of mechanical figures of dancers and +tipplers, birds in the bush that clapped their wings and sang, cabinets +full of wax puppets, soldiers in white and blue ranged in battle array, +and dolls dressed some as fine ladies, others as servant wenches, for +the inequality of stations, established by God himself among mankind, +appeared even in these innocent mannikins. + +M. Chanterelle chose a doll. The one he selected was dressed like the +Princess of Savoy on her arrival in France, on November 4th. The head +was a mass of bows and ribbons; she wore a very stiff corsage, covered +with gold filigrees, and a brocade petticoat with an overskirt caught up +by pearl clasps. + +M. Chanterelle smiled to think of the delight such a lovely doll would +give Mademoiselle de Doucine, and when Madame Pinson handed him +the Princess of Savoy wrapped up in silk paper, a gleam of sensuous +satisfaction flitted over his kind face, pinched as it was with illness, +pale with fasting and haggard with the fear of hell. + +He thanked Madame Pinson courteously, clapped the Princess under his arm +and walked away, dragging his leg painfully, towards the house where he +knew Mademoiselle de Doucine was waiting for him to attend her morning +levee. + +At the corner of the Rue de l' Arbre-Sec, he met M. Spon, whose great +nose dived almost into his lace cravat. + +"Good morning, Monsieur Spon," he greeted him. "I wish you a happy New +Year, and I pray God everything may turn out according to your wishes." + +"Oh! my good sir, don't say that," cried M. Spon. "'T is often for our +chastisement that God grants our wishes. _Et tribuit eis petittonem +eorum_." + +"'Tis very true," returned M. Chanterelle, "we do not know our own best +interests. I am an example myself, as I stand before you. I thought at +first that the complaint I have suffered from for the last two years was +a curse; but I see now it is a blessing, since it has removed me from +the abominable life I was leading at the play-houses and in society. +This complaint, which tortures my limbs and is like to turn my brain, is +a signal token of God's goodness toward me. But, sir, will you not do +me the favour to accompany me as far as the Rue du Roule, whither I am +bound, to carry a New Year's gift to my niece Mademoiselle de Doucine?" + +At the words M. Spon threw up his arms and gave a great cry of horror. + +"What!" he exclaimed. "Can it be M. Chanterelle I hear say such +things,--and not some profligate libertine? Is it possible, sir, that +living as you do a religious and retired life, I see you all in a moment +plunge into the vices of the day?" + +"Alack! I did not think I was plunging into vice," faltered M. +Chanterelle, trembling all over. "But I sorely lack a lamp of guidance. +Is it so great a sin then to offer a doll to Mademoiselle de Doucine?" + +"Yes, a great and terrible sin," replied M. Spon. "And what you are +offering this innocent child to-day is meeter to be called an idol, +a devilish simulacrum, than a doll. Are you not aware, sir, that the +custom of New Year's gifts is a foul superstition and a hideous survival +of Paganism?" + +"No, I did not know that," said M. Chanterelle. + +"Let me tell you, then," resumed M. Spon, "that this custom descends +from the Romans, who seeing something divine in all beginnings, held +the beginning of the year holy also. Hence, to act as they did is to +do idolatry. You make New Year's offerings, sir, in imitation of the +worshippers of the God Janus. Be consistent, and like them consecrate to +Juno the first day of every month." + +M. Chanterelle, hardly able to keep his feet, begged M. Spon to give him +his arm, and while they moved on, M. Spon proceeded in the same vein: + +"Is it because the Astrologers have fixed on the first of January +for the beginning of the year that you deem yourself obliged to make +presents on that day? Pray, what call have you to revive at that precise +date the affection of your friends. Was their love dying then with +the dying year? And will it be so much worth the having when you have +reanimated it by dint of cajolements and baneful gifts?" + +"Sir," returned the good M. Chanterelle, leaning on M. Spon's arm and +trying hard to make his tottering steps keep pace with his impetuous +companion's, "sir, before my sickness, I was only a miserable sinner, +taking no heed but to treat my friends with civility and govern my +behaviour by the principles of honesty and honour. Providence hath +deigned to rescue me from this abyss, and I direct my conduct since my +conversion by the admonitions the Director of my conscience gives me. +But I have been so light-minded and thoughtless as not to seek his +advice on this question of New Year's gifts. What you tell me of them, +sir, with the authority of a man alike admirable for sober living and +sound doctrine, amazes and confounds me." + +"Nay! that is indeed what I mean to do," resumed M. Spon,--"to confound +you, and to illumine you, not indeed by my own lights, which burn +feebly, but by those of a great Doctor. Sit you down on that wayside +post." + +And pushing M. Chanterelle into the archway of a carriage gate, where +he made himself as easy as circumstances allowed, M. Spon drew from his +pocket a little parchment-bound book, which he opened, and after hunting +through the pages, lighted on a passage which he proceeded to read +out loud amid a gaping circle of chimney-sweeps, chamber-maids, and +scullions who had collected at the resounding tones of his voice: + +"'We who hold in abhorrence the festivals of the Jews, and who would +deem strange and outlandish their Sabbaths and New Moons and other Holy +Days erst loved of the Almighty, we deal familiarly with the Saturnalia +and the Calends of January, with the Matronalia and the Feast of the +Winter Solstice; New Year's gifts and foolish presents fill all our +thoughts; merrymakings and junketings are in every house. The Heathens +guard their religion better; they are heedful to observe none of our +Feasts, for fear of being taken for Christians, while we never hesitate +to make ourselves look like Heathens by celebrating their Ceremonial +Days.' + +"You hear what I say," went on M. Spon. "'T is Tertullian speaks in this +wise and from the depths of Africa displays before your eyes, sir, the +odiousness of your behaviour. He it is upbraids you, declaring how 'New +Year's gifts and foolish presents fill all your thoughts. You keep +holy the feasts of the Heathen.' I have not the honour to know your +Confessor. But I shudder, sir, to think of the way he neglects his duty +toward you. Tell me this, can you rest assured that at the day of your +death, when you come to stand before God, he will be at your side, to +take upon him the sins he hath suffered you to fall into?" + +After haranguing in this sort, he put back his book in his pocket and +marched off with angry strides, followed at a distance by the astonished +chimney-sweeps and scullions. + +The good M. Chanterelle was left sitting alone on his post with the +Princess of Savoy, and thinking how he was risking the eternal pains of +hell fire for giving a doll to Mademoiselle de Doucine, his niece, he +fell to pondering the unfathomable mysteries of Religion. + +His legs, which had been tottery for several months, refused to carry +him, and he felt as unhappy as ever a well-meaning man possibly can in +this world. + +He had been sitting stranded in this distressful mood on his post for +some minutes when a Capuchin friar stepped up and addressed him: + +"Sir, will you not give New Year's presents to the Little Brethren who +are poor, for the love of God?" + +"Why! what! good Father," M. Chan-terelle burst out, "you are a man of +religion, and you ask me for New Year's gifts?" + +"Sir," replied the Capuchin, "the good St. Francis bade his sons make +merry with all simplicity. Give the Capuchins wherewith to make a good +meal this day, that they may endure with cheerfulness the abstinence and +fasting they must observe all the rest of the year,--barring, of course, +Sundays and Feast Days." + +M. Chanterelle gazed at the holy man with wonder: + +"Are you not afraid, Father, that this custom of New Year's gifts is +baneful to the soul?" + +"No, I am not afraid." + +"The custom comes to us from the Pagans." + +"The Pagans sometimes followed good customs. God was pleased to suffer +some faint rays of his light to pierce the darkness of the Gentiles. +Sir, if you refuse to give _us_ presents, never refuse a boon to our +poor little ones. We have a home for foundlings. With this poor crown I +shall buy each child a little paper windmill and a cake. They will owe +you the only pleasure perhaps of all their life; for they are not fated +to have much joy in the world. Their laughter will go up to heaven; when +children laugh, they praise the Lord." + +M. Chanterelle laid his well-filled purse in the poor friar's palm and +got him down from his post, saying over softly to himself the word he +had just heard: + +"When children laugh, they praise the Lord." + +Then his soul was comforted and he marched off with a firmer step to +carry the Princess of Savoy to Mademoiselle de Doucine, his niece. + + + + +MADEMOISELLE ROXANE + +[Illustration: 136] + +MY good master, M. l'Abbe Coignard, had taken me with him to sup +with one of his old fellow-students, who lodged in a garret in the Rue +Git-le-Cour. Our host, a Premonstratensian Father of much learning and +a fine Theologian, had fallen out with the Prior of his House for having +writ a little book relating the calamities of Mam'zelle Fanchon. The end +of it was he turned tavern-keeper at The Hague. He was now returned to +France and living precariously by the sermons he composed, which were +full of high argument and eloquence. After supper he had read us these +same calamities of Mam'zelle Fanchon, source of his own, and the reading +had kept us there till a late hour. At last I found myself without-doors +with my good master, under a wondrous fine summer's night, which made +me straightway comprehend the verity of the ancient fables regarding the +loves of Diana and feel how natural it is to employ in soft dalliance +the silent, silvery hours of night. I said as much to M. l'Abbe +Coignard, who retorted that love is to blame for many and great ills. + +"Tournebroche, my son," he asked me, "have you not just heard from the +mouth of yonder good Monk how, for having loved a recruiting sergeant, +a clerk of M. Gaulot's mercer at the sign of the Truie-qui-file, and the +younger son of M. le Lieutenant-Criminel Leblanc, Mam'zelle Fanchon was +clapped in hospital? Would you wish to be any of these,--sergeant or +clerk or limb of the law?" + +I answered I would indeed. My good master thanked me for my candid +avowal, and quoted some verses of Lucretius to persuade me that love is +contrary to the tranquillity of a truly philosophical soul. + +Thus discoursing, we were come to the round-point of the Pont-Neuf. +Leaning our elbows on the parapet, we looked over at the great tower of +the Chatelet, which stood out black in the moonlight. + +"There might be much to say," sighed my good master, "on this justice of +the civilized nations, the punishments whereof in retaliation are often +more cruel than the crime itself I cannot believe that these tortures +and penalties that men inflict on their fellows are necessary for the +safeguarding of States, seeing how from time to time one and another +legal cruelty is done away with without hurt to the commonweal. And I +hold it likely that the severities they still maintain are no whit more +useful than those they have abolished. But men are cruel. Come away, +Tournebroche, my dear lad; it grieves me to think how unhappy prisoners +are even now lying awake behind those walls in anguish and despair. I +know they have done faultily, but this doth not hinder me from pitying +them. Which of us is without offence?" + +We went on our way. The bridge was deserted save for a beggarman and +woman, who met on the causeway. The pair drew stealthily into one of the +recesses over the piers, where they lurked together on the door-step +of a hucksters booth. They seemed well enough content, both of them, to +mingle their joint wretchedness, and when we went by were thinking +of quite other things than craving our charity. Nevertheless my good +master, who was the most compassionate of men, threw them a half +farthing, the last piece of money left in his breeches pocket. + +"They will pick up our obol," he said, "when they have come back to the +consciousness of their misery. I pray they may not quarrel then over +fiercely for possession of the coin." + +We passed on without further rencounter till on the Quai des Oiseleurs +we espied a young damsel striding along with a notable air of +resolution. Hastening our pace to get a nearer view, we saw she had a +slim waist and fair hair in which the moonbeams played prettily. She was +dressed like a citizen's wife or daughter. + +"There goes a pretty girl," said the Abbe; "how comes it she is out of +doors alone at this hour of night?" + +"Truly," I agreed, "'tis not the sort one generally encounters on the +bridges after curfew." + +Our surprise was changed to alarm when we saw her go down to the river +bank by a little stairway the sailors use. We ran towards her; but she +did not seem to hear us. She halted at the edge; the stream was running +high, and the dull roar of the swollen waters could be heard some +way off. She stood a moment motionless, her head thrown back and arms +hanging, in an attitude of despair. Then, bending her graceful neck, she +put her two hands over her face and kept it hid behind her fingers for +some seconds. Next moment she suddenly grasped her skirts and dragged +them forward with the gesture a woman always uses when she is going to +jump. My good master and I came up with her just as she was taking the +fatal leap, and we hauled her forcibly backward. She struggled to get +free of our arms; and as the bank was all slimy and slippery with ooze +deposited by the receding waters (for the river was already beginning +to fall), M. l'Abbe Coignard came very near being dragged in too. I was +losing my foothold myself. But as luck would have it, my feet lighted on +a root which held me up as I crouched there with my arms round the best +of masters and this despairing young thing. Presently, coming to the +end of her strength and courage, she fell back on M. l'Abbe Coignard's +breast, and we managed all three to scramble to the top of the bank +again. He helped her up daintily, with a certain easy grace that was +always his. Then he led the way to a great beech-tree at the foot of +which was a wooden bench, on which he seated her. + +Taking his place beside her: + +"Mademoiselle," he said gently, "you need have no fear. Say nothing just +yet, but be assured it is a friend sits by you." + +Next, turning to me, my master went on: + +"Tournebroche, my son, we may congratulate ourselves on having brought +this strange adventure to a good end. But I have left my hat down yonder +on the river bank; albeit it has lost pretty near all its lace and is +thread-bare with long service, it was still good to guard my old head, +sorely tried by years and labours, against sun and rain. Go see, my son, +if it may still be found where I dropped it. And if you discover it, +bring it me, I beg,--likewise one of my shoe buckles, which I see I have +lost. For my part I will stay by this damsel we have rescued and watch +over her slumber." + +I ran back to the spot we had just quitted and was lucky enough to find +my good master's hat. The buckle I could not espy anywhere. True, I did +not take any very excessive pains to hunt for it, having never all my +life seen my good master with more than one shoe buckle. When I returned +to the tree, I found the damsel still in the same state, sitting quite +motionless with her head leant against the trunk of the beech. I noticed +now that she was of a very perfect beauty. She wore a silk mantle +trimmed with lace, very neat and proper, and on her feet light shoes, +the buckles of which caught the moonbeams. + +I could not have enough of examining her. Suddenly she opened her +drooping lids, and casting a look that was still misty at M. Coignard +and me, she began in a feeble voice, but with the tone and accent, I +thought, of a person of gentility: + +"I am not ungrateful, sirs, for the service you have done me from +feelings of humanity; but I cannot truthfully tell you I am glad, for +the life to which you have restored me is a curse, a hateful, cruel +torment." + +At these sad words my good master, whose face wore a look of compassion, +smiled softly, for he could not really think life was to be for ever +hateful to so young and pretty a creature. + +"My child," he told her, "things strike us in a totally different light +according as they are near at hand or far off. It is no time for you to +despair. Such as I am, and brought to this sorry plight by the buffets +of time and fortune, I yet make shift to endure a life wherein my +pleasures are to translate Greek and dine sometimes with sundry very +worthy friends. Look at me, mademoiselle, and say,--would you consent to +live in the same conditions as I?" + +She looked him over; her eyes almost laughed, and she shook her head. +Then, resuming her melancholy and mournfulness, she faltered: + +"There is not in all the world so unhappy a being as I am." + +"Mademoiselle," returned my good master, "I am discreet both by calling +and temperament; I will not seek to force your confidence. But your +looks betray you; any one can see you are sick of disappointed love. +Well, 't is not an incurable complaint. I have had it myself, and I have +lived many a long year since then." + +He took her hand, gave her a thousand tokens of his sympathy, and went +on in these terms: + +"There is only one thing I regret for the moment,--that I cannot offer +you a refuge for the night, or what is left of it. My present lodging +is in an old chateau a long way from here, where I am busy translating a +Greek book along with young Master Tournebroche whom you see here." + +My master spoke the truth. We were living at the time with M. d'Astarac, +at the Chateau des Sablons, in the village of Neuilly, and were in the +pay of a great alchemist, who died later under tragic circumstances. + +"At the same time, mademoiselle," my master added, "if you should know +of any place where you think you could go, I shall be happy to escort +you thither." + +To which the girl answered she appreciated all his kindness, that she +lived with a kinswoman, to whose house she could count on being admitted +at any hour; but that she had rather not return before daylight. She was +fain, she said, not to disturb quiet folks' sleep, and dreaded moreover +to have her grief too painfully renewed by the sight of her old, +familiar surroundings. + +As she spoke thus, the tears rained down from her eyes. My good master +bade her: + +"Mademoiselle, give me your handkerchief, if you please, and I will wipe +your eyes. Then I will take you to wait for daybreak under the archways +of the Halles, where we can sit in comfort under shelter from the night +dews." + +The girl smiled through her tears. + +"I do not like," she said, "to give you so much trouble. Go your way, +sir, and rest assured you take my best thanks with you." + +For all that she laid her hand on the arm my good master offered her, +and we set out, all the three of us, for the Halles. The night had +turned much cooler. In the sky, which was beginning to assume a milky +hue, the stars were growing paler and fainter. We could hear the first +of the market-gardeners' carts rumbling along to the Halles, drawn by a +slow-stepping horse, half asleep in the shafts. Arrived at the archways, +we chose a place in the recess of a porch distinguished by an image of +St. Nicholas, and established ourselves all three on a stone step, on +which M. l'Abbe Coignard took the precaution of spreading his cloak +before he let his young charge sit down. + +Thereupon my good master fell to discoursing on divers subjects, +choosing merry and enlivening themes of set purpose to drive away the +gloomy thoughts that might assail our companion's mind. He told her he +accounted this rencounter the most fortunate he had ever chanced on all +his life, and that he should ever cherish a fond recollection of one who +had so deeply touched him,--all this, however, without ever asking to +know her name and story. + +My good master thought no doubt that the unknown would presently tell +him what he refrained from asking. She broke into a fresh flood of +weeping, heaved a deep sigh and said: + +"I should be churlish, sir, to reward your kindness with silence. I am +not afraid to trust myself in your hands. My name is Sophie T------. You +have guessed the truth; 'tis the betrayal of a lover I was too fondly +attached to has brought me to despair. If you deem my grief excessive, +that is because you do not know how great was my assurance, how blind my +infatuation, and you cannot realize how enchanting was the paradise I +have lost." + +Then, raising her lovely eyes to our faces, she went on: + +"Sirs, I am not such a woman as your meeting me thus at night time might +lead you to suppose. My father was a merchant. He went, in the way of +trade, to America, and was lost on his way home in a shipwreck, he +and his merchandise with him. My mother was so overwhelmed by these +calamities that she fell into a decline and died, leaving me, while +still a child, to the charge of an aunt, who brought me up. I was a +good girl till the hour I met the man whose love was to afford me +indescribable delights, ending in the despair wherein you now see me +plunged." + +So saying, Sophie hid her face in her handkerchief. Presently she +resumed with a sigh: + +"His worldly rank was so far above my own I could never expect to be +his except in secret. I flattered myself he would be faithful to me. He +swore he loved me, and easily overcame my scruples. My aunt was aware +of our feelings for one another, and raised no obstacles, for two +reasons,--because her affection for me made her indulgent, and because +my dear lover's high position impressed her imagination. I lived a year +of perfect happiness only equalled by the wretchedness I now endure. +This morning he came to see me at my aunt's, with whom I live. I was +haunted by dark forebodings. As I dressed my hair but an hour or so +before, I had broken a mirror he had given me. The sight of him only +increased my misgivings, for I noticed instantly that his face wore an +unaccustomed look of constraint... Oh! sir, was ever woman so unhappy as +I?..." + +Her eyes filled again with tears; but she kept them back under her +lids, and was able to finish her tale, which my good master deemed as +touching, but by no means so unique, as she did herself. + +"He informed me coldly, though not without signs of embarrassment, +that his father having bought him a Company, he was leaving to join the +colours. First, however, he said, his family required him to plight his +troth to the daughter of an Intendant of Finances; the connection +was advantageous to his fortune and would bring him means adequate to +support his rank and make a figure in the world. And the traitor, never +deigning to notice my pale looks, added in his soft, caressing voice +which had made me so many vows of affection, that his new obligations +would prevent his seeing me again, at least for some while. He assured +me further that he was still my friend and begged me to accept a sum of +money in memory of the days we had passed together. + +"And with the words he held out a purse to me. + +"I am telling you the truth, sirs, when I assure you I had always +refused to listen to the offers he repeated again and again, to give me +fine clothes, furniture, plate, an establishment, and to take me away +from my aunt's, where I lived in very narrow circumstances, and settle +me in a most elegant little mansion he had in the Rue di Roule. My wish +was that we should be united only by the ties of affection, and I was +proud to have of his gift nothing but a few jewels whose sole value came +from the fact of his being the donor. My gorge rose at the sight of the +purse he offered me, and the insult gave me strength to banish from my +presence the impostor whom in one moment I had learnt to know and to +despise. He faced my angry looks unabashed, and assured me with the +utmost unconcern that I could know nothing of the paramount obligations +that fill the existence of a man of quality, adding that he hoped +eventually, when I looked at things quietly, I should come to see his +behaviour in a better light. Then, returning the purse to his pocket, +he declared he would readily find a way of putting the contents at my +disposal in such a manner as to make it impossible for me to refuse his +liberality. Thus leaving me with the odious, the intolerable implication +that he was going to make full amends by these sordid means, he made for +the door to which I pointed without a word. When he was gone, I felt a +calmness of mind that surprised myself. It arose from the resolution I +had formed to die. I dressed with some care, wrote a letter to my aunt +asking her forgiveness for the pain I was about to cause her by my +death, and went out into the streets. There I roamed about all the +afternoon and evening and a part of the night, moving from busy +thoroughfare to deserted lane without a trace of fatigue, postponing +the execution of my purpose to make it more sure and certain under the +favouring conditions of darkness and solitude. Possibly too I found a +certain weak pleasure in dallying with the thought of dying and tasting +the mournful satisfaction of my coming release from my troubles. At two +o'clock in the morning, I went down to the river's brink. Sirs, you know +the rest,--you snatched me from a watery grave. I thank you for your +goodness,--though I am sorry you saved my life. The world is full of +forsaken women. I did not wish to add another to the number." + +Sophie then fell silent and began weeping afresh. My good master took +her hand with the greatest delicacy. + +"My child," he said, "I have listened with a tender interest to the +story of your life, and I own 'tis a sad tale. But I am happy to discern +that your case is curable. Not only was your lover unworthy of the +favours you showed him and has proved himself on trial a selfish, +cruel-hearted libertine, but I see plainly your love for him was only +an impulse of the senses and the effect of your own sensibility, the +particular object of which mattered far less than you imagine. What +there was rare and excellent in the liaison came from you. Well then, +nothing is lost, since the source still remains. Your eyes, which have +thrown a glamour of the fairest hues over, I doubt not, a very ordinary +individual, will not cease to go on shedding abroad elsewhere the same +bright rays of charming self-delusion." + +My good master said more in the same strain, dropping from his lips the +finest words ever heard anent the tribulations of the senses and the +errors lovers are prone to. But, as he talked on, Sophie, who for some +while had let her pretty head droop on the shoulder of this best of men, +fell softly asleep. When M. l'Abbe Coignard saw his young friend +was wrapped in a sound slumber, he congratulated himself on having +discoursed in a vein so meet to afford repose and peace to a suffering +soul. + +"It must be allowed," he chuckled, "my sermons have a beneficent +effect." + +Not to disturb Mademoiselle's slumbers, he took a thousand pretty +precautions, amongst others constraining himself to talk on +uninterruptedly, not unreasonably apprehensive that a sudden silence +might awake her. + +"Tournebroche, my son," he said, turning to me, "look, all her sorrows +are vanished away with the consciousness she had of them. You must see +they were all of the imagination and resided in her own thought. +You must understand likewise they sprang from a certain pride and +overweening conceit that goes along with love and makes it very +exacting. For, in truth, if only we loved in humbleness of spirit and +forgetfulness of self, or merely with a simple heart, we should be +content with what is vouchsafed us and should not straightway cry +treason when some slight is put on us. And if some power of loving were +left us still, after our lover had deserted us, we should await the +issue in calmness of mind to make what use of it God should please to +grant." + +But the day was just breaking by this time, and the song of the birds +grew so loud it drowned my good master's voice. He made no complaint on +this score. + +"Hearken," he said, "to the sparrows. They make love more wisely than +men do." + +Sophie awoke in the white light of dawn, and I admired her lovely eyes, +which fatigue and grief had ringed with a delicate pearly-grey. +She seemed somewhat reconciled to life, and did not refuse a cup of +chocolate which my good master made her drink at Mathurine's door, the +pretty chocolate-seller of the Halles. + +But as the poor child came into more complete possession of her wits, +she began to trouble about sundry practical difficulties she had not +thought of till then. + +"What will my aunt say? And whatever can I tell her?" she asked +distractedly. + +The aunt lived just opposite Saint-Eustache, less than a hundred yards +from Mathurine's archway. Thither we escorted her niece; and M. +l'Abbe Coignard, who had quite a venerable look, though one shoe _was_ +unbuckled, accompanied the fair Sophie to the door of her aunt's lodging +and pitched that lady a fine tale: + +"I had the happy fortune," he informed her, "to encounter your good +niece at the very moment when she was assailed by four footpads armed +with pistols, and I shouted for the watch so lustily that the thieves +took to their heels in a panic. But they were not quick enough to +escape the sergeants who, by the rarest chance, ran up in answer to my +outcries. They arrested the villains after a desperate tussle. I took my +share of the rough and tumble, and I thought at first I had lost my hat +in the fray. When all was over, we were all taken, your niece, the four +footpads and myself, before his Honour the Lieutenant-Criminel, who +treated us with much consideration and detained us till daylight in his +cabinet, taking down our evidence." The aunt answered drily: + +"I thank you, sir, for having saved my niece from a peril which, to say +the truth, is not the risk a girl of her age need fear the most, when +she is out alone at night in the streets of Paris." + +My good master made no answer to this; but Mademoiselle Sophie spoke up +and said in a voice of deep feeling: + +"I do assure you, Aunt, Monsieur l'Abbe saved my life." + +***** + +Some years after this singular adventure, my master made the fatal +journey to Lyons from which he never returned. He was foully murdered, +and I had the ineffable grief of seeing him expire in my arms. The +incidents of his death have no connexion with the matter I speak of +here. I have taken pains to record them elsewhere; they are indeed +memorable, and will never, I think, be forgotten. I may add that this +journey was in all ways unfortunate, for after losing the best of +masters on the road, I was likewise forsaken by a mistress who loved me, +but did not love me alone, and whose loss nearly broke my heart, coming +after that of my good master. It is a mistake to suppose that a man +who has received one cruel blow grows callous to succeeding strokes +of calamity. Far otherwise; he suffers agonies from the smallest +contrarieties. I returned to Paris in a state of dejection almost beyond +belief. + +Well, one evening, by way of enlivening my spirits, I went to the +Comedie, where they were playing _Bajazet_, one of Racine's excellent +pieces. I was particularly struck by the charm and beauty, no less than +the originality and talent, of the actress who took the part of Roxane. +She expressed with a delightful naturalness the passion animating that +character, and I shuddered as I heard her declaim in accents that were +harmonious and yet terrible the line: + + Ecoutez Bajazet, je sens que je vous aime.{*} + + * "Hearken, Bajazet, I feel I love you." + +I never wearied of gazing at her all the time she occupied the stage, +and admiring the beauty of her eyes that gleamed below a brow as pure +as marble and crowned by powdered locks all spangled with pearls. Her +slender waist too, which her hoop showed off to perfection, did not +fail to make a vivid impression on my heart. I had the better leisure to +scrutinize these adorable charms as she happened to face in my direction +to deliver several important portions of her role. And the more I +looked, the more I felt convinced I had seen her before, though I found +it impossible to recall anything connected with our previous meeting. My +neighbour in the theatre, who was a constant frequenter of the Comedie, +told me the beautiful actress was Mademoiselle B------, the idol of the +pit. He added that she was as great a favourite in society as on the +boards, that M. le Duc de La ------ had made her the fashion and that +she was on the highroad to eclipse Mademoiselle Lecouvreur. + +I was just leaving my seat after the performance when a "femme de +chambre" handed me a note in which I found written in pencil the words: + +"_Mademoiselle Roxane is waiting for you in her coach at the theatre +door_." + +I could not believe the missive was intended for me; and I asked the +abigail who had delivered it if she was not mistaken in the recipient. + +"If I _am_ mistaken," she replied confidently, "then you cannot be +Monsieur de Tournebroche, that is all." + +I ran to the coach which stood waiting in front of the House, and inside +I recognized Mademoiselle B------, her head muffled in a black satin +hood. + +She beckoned to me to get in, and when I was seated beside her: + +"Do you not," she asked me, "recognize Sophie, whom you rescued from +drowning on the banks of the Seine?" + +"What! you! Sophie--Roxane--Mademoiselle B------, is it possible?--" + +My confusion was extreme, but she appeared to view it without annoyance. + +"I saw you," she went on, "in one corner of the pit. I knew you +instantly and played for you. Say, did I play well? I am so glad to see +you again!--" + +She asked me news of M. l'Abbe Coignard, and when I told her my good +master had just perished miserably, she burst into tears. + +She was good enough to inform me of the chief events of her life: + +"My aunt," she said, "used to mend her laces for Madame de Saint-Remi, +who, as you must know, is an admirable actress. A short while after the +night when you did me such yeoman service, I went to her house to take +home some pieces of lace. The lady told me I had a face that interested +her. She then asked me to read some verses, and concluded I was not +without wits. She had me trained. I made my first appearance at the +Comedie last year. I interpret passions I have felt myself, and the +public credits me with some talent. M. le Duc de La ------ exhibits a +very dear friendship for me, and I think he will never cause me pain and +disappointment, because I have learnt to ask of men only what they can +give. At this moment he is expecting me at supper. I must not break my +word." + +But, reading my vexation in my eyes, she added: + +"However, I have told my people to go the longest way round and to drive +slowly." + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Merrie Tales Of Jacques +Tournebroche, by Anatole France + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK JACQUES TOURNEBROCHE *** + +***** This file should be named 25407.txt or 25407.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/2/5/4/0/25407/ + +Produced by David Widger + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Merrie Tales Of Jacques Tournebroche + 1909 + +Author: Anatole France + +Translator: Alfred Allinson + +Release Date: May 9, 2008 [EBook #25407] +Last Updated: October 5, 2016 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK JACQUES TOURNEBROCHE *** + + + + +Produced by David Widger + + + + + +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> <br /> + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:60%"> + <img alt="titelpage (112K)" src="images/titelpage.jpg" width="100%" /><br /> + </div> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <h1> + THE MERRIE TALES OF JACQUES TOURNEBROCHE + </h1> + <h2> + By Anatole France + </h2> + <h4> + John Lane Company, MCMXIX <br /> <br /> Copyright 1909 + </h4> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <h2> + Contents + </h2> + <table summary="" style="margin-right: auto; margin-left: auto"> + <tr> + <td> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0001"> <big><b>THE MERRIE TALES OF JACQUES + TOURNEBROCHE</b></big> </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0002"> OLIVIER’S BRAG </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0003"> THE MIRACLE OF THE MAGPIE </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0004"> I + </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0005"> II. + </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0006"> III + </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0007"> IV + </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0008"> BROTHER JOCONDE </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0009"> FIVE FAIR LADIES OF PICARDY, POITOU, + TOURAINE, LYONS, AND PARIS </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0010"> A GOOD LESSON WELL LEARNT </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0011"> SATAN’S TONGUE-PIE </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0012"> CONCERNING AN HORRIBLE PICTURE </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0013"> MADEMOISELLE DE DOUCINE’S NEW YEAR’S + PRESENT </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0014"> MADEMOISELLE ROXANE </a> + </p> + </td> + </tr> + </table> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> <a name="link2H_4_0001" id="link2H_4_0001"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h1> + THE MERRIE TALES OF JACQUES TOURNEBROCHE + </h1> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0002" id="link2H_4_0002"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + OLIVIER’S BRAG + </h2> + <p> + <a name="linkimage-0001" id="linkimage-0001"> + <!-- IMG --></a> + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:60%"> + <img src="images/016.jpg" alt="016 " width="100%" /><br /> + </div> + <p> + The Emperor Charlemagne and his twelve peers, having taken the palmer’s + staff at Saint-Denis, made a pilgrimage to Jerusalem. They prostrated + themselves before the tomb of Our Lord, and sat in the thirteen chairs of + the great hall wherein Jesus Christ and his Apostles met together to + celebrate the blessed sacrifice of the Mass. Then they fared to + Constantinople, being fain to see King Hugo, who was renowned for his + magnificence. + </p> + <p> + The King welcomed them in his Palace, where, beneath a golden dome, birds + of ruby, wrought with a wondrous art, sat and sang in bushes of emerald. + </p> + <p> + He seated the Emperor of France and the twelve Counts about a table loaded + with stags, boars, cranes, wild geese, and peacocks, served in pepper. And + he offered his guests, in ox-horns, the wines of Greece and Asia to drink. + Charlemagne and his companions quaffed all these wines in honour of the + King and his daughter, the Princess Helen. After supper Hugo led them to + the chamber where they were to sleep. Now this chamber was circular, and a + column, springing in the midst thereof, carried the vaulted roof. Nothing + could be finer to look upon. Against the walls, which were hung with gold + and purple, twelve beds were ranged, while another greater than the rest + stood beside the pillar. + </p> + <p> + Charlemagne lay in this, and the Counts stretched themselves round about + him on the others. The wine they had drunk ran hot in their veins, and + their brains were afire. They could not sleep, and fell to making brags + instead, and laying of wagers, as is the way of the knights of France, + each striving to outdo the other in warranting himself to do some doughty + deed for to manifest his prowess. The Emperor opened the game. He said: + </p> + <p> + “Let them fetch me, a-horseback and fully armed, the best knight King Hugo + hath. I will lift my sword and bring it down upon him in such wise it + shall cleave helm and hauberk, saddle and steed, and the blade shall delve + a foot deep underground.” + </p> + <p> + Guillaume d’Orange spake up after the Emperor and made the second brag. + </p> + <p> + “I will take,” said he, “a ball of iron sixty men can scarce lift, and + hurl it so mightily against the Palace wall that it shall beat down sixty + fathoms’ length thereof.” + </p> + <p> + Ogier, the Dane, spake next. + </p> + <p> + “Ye see yon proud pillar which bears up the vault. To-morrow will I tear + it down and break it like a straw.” + </p> + <p> + After which Renaud de Montauban cried with an oath: + </p> + <p> + “‘Od’s life! Count Ogier, whiles you overset the pillar, I will clap the + dome on my shoulders and hale it down to the seashore.” + </p> + <p> + Gérard de Rousillon it was made the fifth brag. + </p> + <p> + He boasted he would uproot single-handed, in one hour, all the trees in + the Royal pleasaunce. + </p> + <p> + Aimer took up his parable when Gérard was done. + </p> + <p> + “I have a magic hat,” said he, “made of a sea-calf’s skin, which renders + me invisible. I will set it on my head, and to-morrow, whenas King Hugo is + seated at meat, I will eat up his fish and drink down his wine, I will + tweak his nose and buffet his ears. Not knowing whom or what to blame, he + will clap all his serving-men in gaol and scourge them sore,—and we + shall laugh.” + </p> + <p> + “For me,” declared Huon de Bordeaux, whose turn it was, “for me, I am so + nimble I will trip up to the King and cut off his beard and eyebrows + without his knowing aught about the matter. ‘T is a piece of sport I will + show you to-morrow. And I shall have no need of a sea-calf hat either!” + </p> + <p> + Doolin de Mayence made his brag too. He promised to eat up in one hour all + the figs and all the oranges and all the lemons in the King’s orchards. + </p> + <p> + Next the Due Naisme said in this wise: + </p> + <p> + “By my faith! <i>I</i> will go into the banquet hall, I will catch up + flagons and cups of gold and fling them so high they will never light down + again save to tumble into the moon.” + </p> + <p> + Bernard de Brabant then lifted his great voice: + </p> + <p> + “I will do better yet,” he roared. “Ye know the river that flows by + Constantinople is broad and deep, for it is come nigh its mouth by then, + after traversing Egypt, Babylon, and the Earthly Paradise. Well, I will + turn it from its bed and make it flood the Great Square of the City.” + </p> + <p> + Gérard de Viane said: + </p> + <p> + “Put a dozen knights in line of array. And I will tumble all the twelve on + their noses, only by the wind of my sword.” + </p> + <p> + It was the Count Roland laid the twelfth wager, in the fashion following: + </p> + <p> + “I will take my horn, I will go forth of the city and I will blow such a + blast all the gates of the town will drop from their hinges.” + </p> + <p> + Olivier alone had said no word yet. He was young and courteous, and the + Emperor loved him dearly. + </p> + <p> + “Olivier, my son,” he asked, “will you not make your brag like the rest of + us?” + </p> + <p> + “Right willingly, sire,” Olivier replied. + </p> + <p> + “Do you know the name of Hercules of Greece?” + </p> + <p> + “Yea, I have heard some discourse of him,” said Charlemagne. “He was an + idol of the misbelievers, like the false god Mahound.” + </p> + <p> + “Not so, sire,” said Olivier. “Hercules of Greece was a knight among the + Pagans and King of a Pagan kingdom. He was a gallant champion and stoutly + framed in all his limbs. Visiting the Court of a certain Emperor who had + fifty daughters, virgins, he wedded them all on one and the same night, + and that so well and throughly that next morning they all avowed + themselves well-contented women and with naught left to learn. He had not + slighted ever a one of them. Well, sire, an you will, I will lay my wager + to do after the fashion of Hercules of Greece.” + </p> + <p> + “Nay, beware, Olivier, my son,” cried the Emperor, “beware what you do; + the thing would be a sin. I felt sure this King Hercules was a Saracen!” + </p> + <p> + “Sire,” returned Olivier, “know this—I warrant me to show in the + same space of time the selfsame prowess with one virgin that Herailes of + Greece did with fifty. And the maid shall be none other but the Princess + Helen, King Hugo’s daughter.” + </p> + <p> + “Good and well,” agreed Charlemagne; “that will be to deal honestly and as + a good Christian should. But you were in the wrong, my son, to drag the + fifty virgins of King Hercules into your business, wherein, the Devil fly + away with me else, I can see but one to be concerned.” + </p> + <p> + “Sire,” answered Olivier mildly, “there is but one of a truth. But she + shall win such satisfaction of me that, an I number the tokens of my love, + you will to-morrow see fifty crosses scored on the wall, and that is <i>my</i> + brag.” + </p> + <p> + The Count Olivier was yet speaking when lo! the column which bare the + vault opened. The pillar was hollow and contrived in such sort that a man + could lie hid therein at his ease to see and hear everything. Charlemagne + and the twelve Counts had never a notion of this; so they were sore + surprised to behold the King of Constantinople step forth. He was white + with anger and his eyes flashed fire. + </p> + <p> + He said in a terrible voice: + </p> + <p> + “So this is how ye show your gratitude for the hospitality I offer you. Ye + are ill-mannered guests. For a whole hour have ye been insulting me with + your bragging wagers. Well, know this,—you, Sir Emperor, and ye, his + knights; if to-morrow ye do not all of you make good your boasts, I will + have your heads cut off.” + </p> + <p> + Having said his say, he stepped back within the pillar, which shut to + again closely behind him. For a while the twelve paladins were dumb with + wonder and consternation. The Emperor was the first to break the silence. + </p> + <p> + “Comrades,” he said, “‘tis true we have bragged too freely. Mayhap we have + spoken things better unsaid. We have drunk overmuch wine, and have shown + unwisdom. The chiefest fault is mine; I am your Emperor, and I gave you + the bad example. I will devise with you to-morrow of the means whereby we + may save us from this perilous pass; meantime, it behoves us to get to + sleep. I wish you a good night. God have you in his keeping!” + </p> + <p> + A moment later the Emperor and the twelve peers were snoring under their + coverlets of silk and cloth of gold. + </p> + <p> + They awoke on the morrow, their minds still distraught and deeming the + thing was but a nightmare. But anon soldiers came to lead them to the + Palace, that they might make good their brags before the King’s face. + </p> + <p> + “Come,” cried the Emperor, “come; and let us pray God and His Holy Mother. + By Our Lady’s help shall we easily make good our brags.” + </p> + <p> + He marched in front with a more than human majesty of port. Arriving anon + at the King’s Palace, Charlemagne, Naisme, Aimer, Huon, Doolin, Guillaume, + Ogier, Bernard, Renaud, the two Gérards, and Roland fell on their knees + and, joining their hands in prayer, made this supplication to the Holy + Virgin: + </p> + <p> + “Lady, which art in Paradise, look on us now in our extremity; for love of + the Realm of the Lilies, which is thine own, protect the Emperor of France + and his twelve peers, and give them the puissance to make good their + brags.” + </p> + <p> + Thereafter they rose up comforted and fulfilled of bright courage and + gallant confidence, for they knew that Our Lady would answer their prayer. + </p> + <p> + King Hugo, seated on a golden throne, accosted them, saying: + </p> + <p> + “The hour is come to make good your brags. But an if ye fail so to do, I + will have your heads cut off. Begone therefore, straightway, escorted by + my men-at-arms, each one of you to the place meet for the doing of the + fine things ye have insolently boasted ye will accomplish.” + </p> + <p> + At this order they separated and went divers ways, each followed by a + little troop of armed men. Whiles some returned to the hall where they had + passed the night, others betook them to the gardens and orchards. Bernard + de Brabant made for the river, Roland hied him to the ramparts, and all + marched valiantly. Only Olivier and Charlemagne tarried in the Palace, + waiting, the one for the knight that he had sworn to cleave in twain, the + other for the maiden he was to wed. + </p> + <p> + But in very brief while a fearful sound arose, awful as the last trump + that shall proclaim to mankind the end of the world. It reached the Great + Hall of the Palace, set the birds of ruby trembling on their emerald + perches and shook King Hugo on his throne of gold. + </p> + <p> + ‘Twas a noise of walls crumbling into ruin and floods roaring, and high + above the din blared out an ear-splitting trumpet blast. Meanwhile + messengers had come hurrying in from all quarters of the city, and thrown + themselves trembling at the King’s feet, bearing strange and terrible + tidings. + </p> + <p> + “Sire,” said one, “sixty fathoms’ length of the city walls is fallen in at + one crash.” + </p> + <p> + “Sire,” cried another, “the pillar which bare up your vaulted hall is + broken down, and the dome thereof we have seen walking like a tortoise + toward the sea.” + </p> + <p> + “Sire,” faltered a third, “the river, with its ships and its fishes, is + pouring through the streets, and will soon be beating against your Palace + walls.” + </p> + <p> + King Hugo, white with terror, muttered: + </p> + <p> + “By my faith! these men are wizards.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, Sir King,” Charlemagne addressed him with a smile on his lips, “the + Knight I wait for is long of coming.” + </p> + <p> + The King sent for him, and he came. He was a knight of stately stature and + well armed. The good Emperor clave him in twain, as he had said. + </p> + <p> + Now while these things were a-doing, Olivier thought to himself: + </p> + <p> + “The intervention of Our Most Blessed Lady is plain to see in these + marvels; and I am rejoiced to behold the manifest tokens she vouchsafes of + her love for the Realm of France. Not in vain have the Emperor and his + companions implored the succour of the Holy Virgin, Mother of God. Alas! + <i>I</i> shall pay for all the rest, and have my head cut off. For I + cannot well ask the Virgin Mary to help me make good <i>my</i> brag. ‘Tis + an enterprise of a sort wherein ‘twould be indiscreet to crave the + interference of Her who is the <i>Lily of Purity</i>, the <i>Tower of + Ivory</i>, the <i>Guarded Door</i> and the <i>Fenced Orchard-Close</i>. + And, lacking aid from on high, I am sore afraid I may not do so much as I + have said.” + </p> + <p> + Thus ran Olivier’s thoughts, when King Hugo roughly accosted him with the + words: + </p> + <p> + “‘T is now your turn, Count, to fulfil your promise.” + </p> + <p> + “Sire,” replied Olivier, “I am waiting with great impatience for the + Princess your daughter. For you must needs do me the priceless grace of + giving me her hand.” + </p> + <p> + “That is but fair,” said King Hugo. “I will therefore bid her come to you + and a chaplain with her for to celebrate the marriage.” + </p> + <p> + At church, during the ceremony, Olivier reflected: + </p> + <p> + “The maid is sweet and comely as ever a man could desire, and too fain am + I to clip her in my arms to regret the brag I have made.” + </p> + <p> + That evening, after supper, the Princess Helen and the Count Olivier were + escorted by twelve ladies and twelve knights to a chamber, wherein the + twain were left alone together. + </p> + <p> + There they passed the night, and on the morrow guards came and led them + both before King Hugo. He was on his throne, surrounded by his knights. + Near by stood Charlemagne and the peers. + </p> + <p> + “Well, Count Olivier,” demanded the King, “is your brag made good?” + </p> + <p> + Olivier held his peace, and already was King Hugo rejoiced at heart to + think his new son-in-law’s head must fall. For of all the brags and + boasts, it was Olivier’s had angered him worst. + </p> + <p> + “Answer,” he stormed. “Do you dare to tell me your brag is accomplished?” + </p> + <p> + Thereupon the Princess Helen, blushing and smiling, spake with eyes + downcast and in a faint voice, yet clear withal, and said,—“Yea!” + </p> + <p> + Right glad were Charlemagne and the peers to hear the Princess say this + word. + </p> + <p> + “Well, well,” said Hugo, “these Frenchmen have God and the Devil o’ their + side. It was fated I should cut off none of these knights’ heads.... Come + hither, son-in-law,”—and he stretched forth his hand to Olivier, who + kissed it. + </p> + <p> + The Emperor Charlemagne embraced the Princess and said to her: + </p> + <p> + “Helen, I hold you for my daughter and my son’s wife. You will go along + with us to France, and you will live at our Court.” + </p> + <p> + Then, as his lips lay on the Princess’s cheek, he rounded softly in her + ear: + </p> + <p> + “You spake as a loving-hearted woman should. But tell me this in closest + confidence,—Did you speak the truth?” + </p> + <p> + She answered: + </p> + <p> + “Sire, Olivier is a gallant man and a courteous. He was so full of pretty + ways and dainty devices for to distract my mind, <i>I</i> never thought of + counting. Nor yet did <i>he</i> keep score. Needs therefore must I hold + him quit of his promise.” + </p> + <p> + King Hugo made great rejoicings for his daughter’s nuptials. Thereafter + Charlemagne and his twelve peers returned back to France, taking with them + the Princess Helen. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0003" id="link2H_4_0003"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + THE MIRACLE OF THE MAGPIE + </h2> + <p> + <a name="linkimage-0002" id="linkimage-0002"> + <!-- IMG --></a> + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:60%"> + <img src="images/034.jpg" alt="034 " width="100%" /><br /> + </div> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0004" id="link2H_4_0004"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + I + </h2> + <p> + LENT, of the year 1429, presented a strange marvel of the Calendar, a + conjunction that moved the admiration not only of the common crowd of the + Faithful, but eke of Clerks, well learned in Arithmetic. For Astronomy, + mother of the Calendar, was Christian in those days. In 1429 Good Friday + fell on the Feast of the Annunciation, so that one and the same day + combined the commemoration of the two several mysteries which did commence + and consummate the redemption of mankind, and in wondrous wise + superimposed one on top of the other, Jesus conceived in the Virgin’s womb + and Jesus dying on the Cross. This Friday, whereon the mystery of joy came + so to coincide exactly with the mystery of sorrow, was named the “Grand + Friday,” and was kept holy with solemn Feasts on Mount Anis, in the Church + of the Annunciation. For many years, by gift of the Popes of Rome, the + sanctuary of Mount Anis had possessed the privilege of the plenary + indulgences of a great jubilee, and the late-deceased Bishop of Le Puy, + Élie de Le-strange, had gotten Pope Martin to restore this <i>pardon</i>. + It was a favour of the sort the Popes scarce ever refused, when asked in + due and proper form. + </p> + <p> + The <i>pardon</i> of the Grand Friday drew a great crowd of pilgrims and + traders to Le Puy-en-Velay. As early as mid February folk from distant + lands set out thither in cold and wind and rain. For the most part they + fared on foot, staff in hand. Whenever they could, these pilgrims + travelled in companies, to the end they might not be robbed and held to + ransom by the armed bands that infested the country parts, and by the + barons who exacted toll on the confines of their lands. Inasmuch as the + mountain districts were especially dangerous, they tarried in the + neighbouring towns, Clermont, Issoire, Brioude, Lyons, Issingeaux, Alais, + till they were gathered in a great host, and then went forth on their road + in the snow. During Holy Week a strange multitude thronged the hilly + streets of Le Puy,—pedlars from Languedoc and Provence and + Catalonia, leading their mules laded with leather goods, oil, wool, webs + of cloth, or wines of Spain in goat-skins; lords a-horseback and ladies in + wains, artisans and traders pacing on their mules, with wife or daughter + perched behind, Then came the poor pilgrim folk, limping along, halting + and hobbling, stick in hand and bag on back, panting up the stiff climb. + Last were the flocks of oxen and sheep being driven to the + slaughterhouses. + </p> + <p> + Now, leant against the wall of the Bishop’s palace, stood Florent + Guillaume, looking as long and dry and black as an espalier vine in + winter, and devoured pilgrims and cattle with his eyes. + </p> + <p> + “Look,” he called to Marguerite the lace-maker, “look at yonder fine heads + of bestial.” + </p> + <p> + And Marguerite, squatted beside her bobbins, called back: + </p> + <p> + “Yea, fine beasts, and fat withal!” + </p> + <p> + Both the twain were very bare and scant of the goods of this world, and + even then were feeling bitterly the pinch of hunger. And folk said it came + of their own fault. At that very moment Pierre Grandmange the tripe-seller + was saying as much, where he stood in his tripe-shop, pointing a finger at + them. “‘T would be sinful,” he was crying, “to give an alms to such + good-for-nothing varlets.” The tripe-seller would fain have been very + charitable, but he feared to lose his soul by giving to evil-livers, and + all the fat citizens of Le Puy had the selfsame scruples. + </p> + <p> + To say truth, we must needs allow that, in the heyday of her hot youth, + Marguerite the lace-maker had not matched St. Lucy in purity, St. Agatha + in constancy, and St. Catherine in staidness. As for Florent Guillaume, he + had been the best scrivener in the city. For years he had not had his + equal for engrossing the Hours of Our Lady of Le Puy. But he had been over + fond of merrymakings and junketings. Now his hand had lost its cunning, + and his eye its clearness; he could no more trace the letters on the + parchment with the needful steadiness of touch. Even so, he might have won + his livelihood by teaching apprentices in his shop at the sign of the + Image of Our Lady, under the choir buttresses of <i>The Annunciation</i>, + for he was a fellow of good counsel and experience. But having had the ill + fortune to borrow of Maître Jacquet Coquedouille the sum of six livres ten + sous, and having paid him back at divers terms eighty livres two sous, he + had found himself at the last to owe yet six livres two sous to the + account of his creditor, which account was approved correct by the judges, + for Jacquet Coquedouille was a sound arithmetician. This was the reason + why the scrivenry of Florent Guillaume, under the choir buttresses of <i>The + Annunciation</i>, was sold, on Saturday the fifth day of March, being the + Feast of St. Theophilus, to the profit of Maître Jacquet Coquedouille. + Since that time the poor penman had never a place to call his own. But by + the good help of Jean Magne the bell-ringer and with the protection of Our + Lady, whose Hours he had aforetime written, Florent Guillaume found a + perch o’ nights in the steeple of the Cathedral. + </p> + <p> + The scrivener and the lace-maker had much ado to live. Marguerite only + kept body and soul together by chance and charity, for she had long lost + her good looks and she hated the lace-making. They helped each other. + Folks said so by way of reproach; they had been better advised to account + it to them for righteousness. Florent Guillaume was a learned clerk. Well + knowing every word of the history of the beautiful Black Virgin of Le Puy + and the ordering of the ceremonies of the great <i>pardon</i>, he had + conceived the notion he might serve as guide to the pilgrims, deeming he + would surely light on someone compassionate enough to pay him a supper in + guerdon of his fine stories. But the first folk he had offered his + services to had bidden him begone because his ragged coat bespoke neither + good guidance nor clerkly wit; so he had come back, downhearted and + crestfallen, to the Bishop’s wall, where he had his bit of sunshine and + his kind gossip Marguerite. “They reckon,” he said bitterly, “I am not + learned enough to number them the relics and recount the miracles of Our + Lady. Do they think my wits have escaped away through the holes in my + gaberdine?” + </p> + <p> + “‘Tis not the wits,” replied Marguerite, “escape by the holes in a body’s + clothes, but the good natural heat. I am sore a-cold. And it is but too + true that, man and woman, they judge us by our dress. The gallants would + find me comely enough yet if I was accoutred like my Lady the Comtesse de + Clermont.” + </p> + <p> + Meanwhile, all the length of the street in front of them the pilgrims were + elbowing and fighting their way to the Sanctuary, where they were to win + pardon for their sins. + </p> + <p> + “They will surely suffocate anon,” said Marguerite. “Twenty-two years + agone, on the Grand Friday, two hundred persons died stifled under the + porch of <i>The Annunciation</i>. God have their souls in keeping! Ay, + those were the good times, when I was young!” + </p> + <p> + “‘Tis very true indeed, that year you tell of, two hundred pilgrims + crushed each other to death and departed from this world to the other. And + next day was never a sign to be seen of aught untoward.” + </p> + <p> + As he so spake, Florent Guillaume noted a pilgrim, a very fat man, who was + not hurrying to get him assoiled with the same hot haste as the rest, but + kept rolling his wide eyes to right and left with a look of distress and + fear. Florent Guillaume stepped up to him and louted low. + </p> + <p> + “Messire,” he accosted him, “one may see at a glance you are a sensible + man and an experienced; you do not rush blindly to the <i>pardon</i> like + a sheep to the slaughter. The rest of the folk go helter-skelter thither, + the nose of one under the tail of the other; but you follow a wiser + fashion. Grant me the boon to be your guide, and you will not repent your + bargain.” + </p> + <p> + The pilgrim, who proved to be a gentleman of Limoges, answered in the + patois of his countryside, that he had no use for a scurvy beggarman and + could very well find his own way to <i>The Annunciation</i> for to receive + pardon for his faults. And therewith he set his face resolutely to the + hill. But Florent Guillaume cast himself at his feet, and tearing at his + hair: + </p> + <p> + “Stop! stop! messire,” he cried; “i’ God’s name and by all the Saints, I + warn you go no farther! ‘T will be your death, and you are not the man we + could see perish without grief and dolour. A few steps more and you are a + dead man! They are suffocating up yonder. Already full six hundred + pilgrims have given up the ghost. And this is but a small beginning! Do + you not know, messire, that twenty-two years agone, in the year of grace + one thousand four hundred and seven, on the selfsame day and at the + selfsame hour, under yonder porch, nine thousand six hundred and + thirty-eight persons, without reckoning women and children, trampled each + other underfoot and perished miserably? An you met the same fate, I should + never smile again. To see you is to love you, messire; to know you is to + conceive a sudden and overmastering desire to serve you.” + </p> + <p> + The Limousin gentleman had halted in no small surprise and turned pale to + hear such discourse and see the fellow tearing out his hair in fistfuls. + In his terror he was for turning back the way he had come. But Florent + Guillaume, on his knees in the mud, held him back by the skirt of his + jacket. + </p> + <p> + “Never go that way, messire! not that way. You might meet Jacquet + Coquedouille, and you would be all in an instant turned into stone. Better + encounter the basilisk than Jacquet Coquedouille. I will tell you what you + must do if, like the wise and prudent man your face proclaims you to be, + you would live long and make your peace with God. Hearken to me; I am a + scholar, a Bachelor. To-day the holy relics will be borne through the + streets and crossways of the city. You will find great solace in touching + the carven shrines which enclose the cornelian cup wherefrom the child + Jesus drank, one of the wine-jars of the Marriage at Cana, the cloth of + the Last Supper, and the holy foreskin. If you take my advice, we will go + wait for them, under cover, at a cookshop I wot of, before which they will + pass without fail.” + </p> + <p> + Then, in a wheedling voice, without loosing his hold of the pilgrim’s + jacket, he pointed to the lace-maker and said: + </p> + <p> + “Messire, you must give six sous to yonder worthy woman, that she may go + buy us wine, for she knows where good liquor is to be gotten.” + </p> + <p> + The Limousin gentleman, who was a simple soul after all, went where he was + led, and Florent Guillaume supped on the leg and wing of a goose, the + bones whereof he put in his pocket as a present for Madame Ysabeau, his + fellow lodger in the timbers of the steeple,—to wit, Jean Magne the + bell-ringer’s magpie. + </p> + <p> + He found her that night perched on the beam where she was used to roost, + beside the hole in the wall which was her storeroom wherein she hoarded + walnuts and hazel-nuts, almonds and beech-nuts. She had awoke at the noise + of his coming and flapped her wings; so he greeted her very courteously, + addressing her in these obliging terms: + </p> + <p> + “Magpie most pious, lady recluse, bird of the cloister, Margot of the + Nunnery, sable-frocked Abbess, Church fowl of the lustrous coat, all + hail!” + </p> + <p> + Then offering her the goose bones nicely folded in a cabbage leaf: + </p> + <p> + “Lady,” he said, “I bring you here the scraps remaining of a good dinner a + gentleman from Limoges gave me. His countrymen are radish eaters; but I + have taught this one to prefer an Anis goose to all the radishes in the + Limousin.” + </p> + <p> + Next day and the rest of the week Florent Guillaume,—for he could + never light on his fat friend again nor yet any other good pilgrim with a + well-lined travelling wallet,—fasted <i>a solis ortu usque ad + occasum</i>, from rising sun to dewy eve. Marguerite the lace-maker did + likewise. This was very meet and right, seeing the time was Holy Week. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0005" id="link2H_4_0005"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + II. + </h2> + <p> + <a name="linkimage-0003" id="linkimage-0003"> + <!-- IMG --></a> + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:60%"> + <img src="images/046.jpg" alt="046 " width="100%" /><br /> + </div> + <p> + Now on Holy Easter Day, Maître Jacquet Coquedouille, a notable citizen of + the place, was peeping through a hole in a shutter of his house and + watching the countless throng of pilgrims passing down the steep street. + They were wending homewards, happy to have won their pardon; and the sight + of them greatly magnified his veneration for the Black Virgin. For he + deemed a lady so much sought after must needs be a puissant dame. He was + old, and his only hope lay in God’s mercy. Yet was he but ill-assured of + his eternal salvation, for he remembered how many a time he had ruthlessly + fleeced the widow and the orphan. Moreover, he had robbed Florent + Guillaume of his scrivenry at the sign of Our Lady. He was used to lend at + high interest on sound security. Yet could no man infer he was a usurer, + forasmuch as he was a Christian, and it was only the Jews practised usury,—the + Jews, and, if you will, the Lombards and the men of Cahors. + </p> + <p> + Now Jacquet Coquedouille went about the matter quite otherwise than the + Jews. He never said, like Jacob, Ephraim, and Manasses, “I am lending you + money.” What he did say was, “I am putting money into your business to + help your trafficking,” a different thing altogether. For usury and + lending upon interest were forbidden by the Church, but trafficking was + lawful and permitted. + </p> + <p> + And yet at the thought how he had brought many Christian folk to poverty + and despair, Jacquet Coquedouille felt the pangs of remorse, as he + pictured the sword of Divine Justice hanging over his head. So on this + holy Easter Day he was fain to secure him against the Last Judgment by + winning the protection of Our Lady. He thought to himself she would plead + for him at the judgment seat of her divine Son, if only he gave her a + handsome fee. So he went to the great chest where he kept his gold, and, + after making sure the chamber door was shut fast, he opened the chest, + which was full of angels, flor-ins, esterlings, nobles, gold crowns, gold + ducats, and golden sous, and all the coins ever struck by Christian or + Saracen. He extracted with a sigh of regret twelve deniers of fine gold + and laid them on the table, which was crowded with balances, files, + scissors, gold-scales, and account books. After shutting his chest again + and triple-locking it, he numbered the deniers, renumbered them, gazed + long at them with looks of affection, and addressed them in words so soft + and sweet, so affable and ingratiating, so gentle and courteous, it seemed + rather the music of the spheres than human speech. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, little angels!” sighed the good old man. “Oh, my dear little angels! + Oh, my pretty gold sheep, with the fine, precious fleece!” + </p> + <p> + And taking the pieces between his fingers with as much reverence as it had + been the body of Our Lord, he put them in the balance and made sure they + were of the full weight,—or very near, albeit a trifle clipped + already by the Lombards and the Jews, through whose hands they had passed. + After which he spoke to them yet more graciously than before: + </p> + <p> + “Oh, my pretty sheep, my sweet, pretty lambs, there, let me shear you! ‘T + will do you no hurt at all.” + </p> + <p> + Then, seizing his great scissors, he clipped off shreds of gold here and + there, as he was used to clip every piece of money before parting with it. + And he gathered the clippings carefully in a wooden bowl that was already + half full of bits of gold. He was ready to give twelve angels to the Holy + Virgin; but he felt no way bound to depart from his use and wont. This + done, he went to the aumry where his pledges lay, and drew out a little + blue purse, broidered with silver, which a dame of the petty trading sort + had left with him in her distress. He remembered that blue and white are + Our Lady’s colours. + </p> + <p> + That day and the next he did nothing further. But in the night, betwixt + Monday and Tuesday, he had cramps, and dreamt the devils were pulling him + by the feet. This he took for a warning of God and our Blessed Lady, + tarried within doors pondering the matter all the day, and then toward + evening went to lay his offering at the feet of the Black Virgin. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0006" id="link2H_4_0006"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + III + </h2> + <p> + <a name="linkimage-0004" id="linkimage-0004"> + <!-- IMG --></a> + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:60%"> + <img src="images/051.jpg" alt="051 " width="100%" /><br /> + </div> + <p> + THAT same day, as night was closing in, Florent Guillaume thought ruefully + of returning to his airy bedchamber. He had fasted the livelong day, sore + against the grain, holding that a good Christian ought not to fast in the + glorious Resurrection week. Before mounting to his bed in the steeple, he + went to offer a pious prayer to the Lady of Le Puy. She was still there in + the midst of the Church at the spot where she had offered herself on the + Grand Friday to the veneration of the Faithful. Small and black, crowned + with jewels, in a mantle blazing with gold and precious stones and pearls, + she held on her knees the Child Jesus, who was as black as his mother and + passed his head through a slit in her cloak. It was the miraculous image + which St. Louis had received as a gift from the Soldan of Egypt and had + carried with his own hands to the Church of Anis. + </p> + <p> + All the pilgrims were gone now, and the Church was dark and empty. The + last offerings of the Faithful were spread at the feet of the beautiful + Black Virgin, displayed on a table lit with wax tapers. You could see + amongst the rest a head, hearts, hands, feet, a woman’s breasts of silver, + a little boat of gold, eggs, loaves, Aurillac cheeses, and in a bowl full + of deniers, sous, and groats, a little blue purse broidered with silver. + Over against the table, in a huge chair, dozed the priest who guarded the + offerings. + </p> + <p> + Florent Guillaume dropped on his knees before the holy image, and said + over to himself this pious prayer: + </p> + <p> + “Lady, an it be true that the holy prophet Jeremias, having beheld thee + with the eyes of faith ere ever thou wast conceived, carved with his hands + out of cedar-wood in thy likeness the holy image before which I am at this + present kneeling; an it be true that afterward King Ptolemy, instructed of + the miracles wrought by this same holy image, took it from the Jewish + priests, bare it to Egypt and set it up, covered with precious stones, in + the temple of the idols; an it be true that Nebuchadnezzar, conqueror of + the Egyptians, seized it in his turn and had it laid amongst his treasure, + where the Saracens found it when they captured Babylon; an it be true that + the Soldan loved it in his heart above all things, and was used to adore + it at the least once every day; an it be true that the said Soldan had + never given it to our saintly King Louis, but that his wife, who was a + Saracen dame, yet prized chivalry and knightly prowess, resolved to make + it a gift to the best knight and worthiest champion of all Christendom; in + a word, an this image be miraculous, as I do firmly credit, have it do a + miracle, Lady, in favour of the poor clerk who hath many a time writ thy + praises on the vellum of the service books. He hath sanctified his sinful + hands by engrossing in a fair writing, with great red capitals at the + beginning of each clause, ‘the fifteen joys of Our Lady,’ in the vulgar + tongue and in rhyme, for the comforting of the afflicted. ‘Tis pious work + this. Think of it, Lady, and heed not his sins. Give him somewhat to eat. + ‘Twill both do me much profit, and bring thee great honour, for the + miracle will appear no mean one to all them that know the world. Thou hast + this day gotten gold, eggs, cheeses, and a little blue purse broidered + with silver. Lady, I grudge thee none of the gifts that have been made + thee. Thou dost well deserve them, yea, and more than they. I do not so + much as ask thee to make them give me back what a thief hath robbed me of, + a thief by name Jacquet Coque-douille, one of the most honoured citizens + of this thy town of Le Puy. No, all I ask of thee is not to let me die of + hunger. And if thou grant me this boon, I will indite a full and fair + history of thine holy image here present.” + </p> + <p> + So prayed Florent Guillaume. The soft murmur of his petition was answered + only by the deep-chested, placid snore of the sleeping priest. The poor + scrivener rose from his knees, stepped noiselessly adown the nave, for he + was grown so light his footfall could scarce be heard, and, fasting as he + was, climbed the tower stairs that had as many steps as there are days in + the year. + </p> + <p> + Meanwhile Madame Ysabeau, slipping under the cloister gate, entered her + Church. The pilgrims had driven her away, for she loved peace and + solitude. The bird came forward cautiously, putting one foot slowly in + front of the other, then stopped and craned her neck, casting a suspicious + look to right and left. Then giving a graceful little jump and shaking out + her tail feathers, she hopped up to the Black Madonna. Then she stood + stock still a few moments, scrutinising the sleeping watchman and + questioning the darkness and silence with eyes and ears alert. At last + with a mighty flutter of wings she alighted on the table of offerings. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0007" id="link2H_4_0007"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + IV + </h2> + <p> + <a name="linkimage-0005" id="linkimage-0005"> + <!-- IMG --></a> + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:60%"> + <img src="images/056.jpg" alt="056 " width="100%" /><br /> + </div> + <p> + MEANWHILE Florent Guillaume had settled himself for the night in the + steeple. It was bitter cold. The wind came blowing in through the + luffer-boards and fluted and organed among the bells to rejoice the heart + of the cats and owls. And this was not the only objection to the lodging. + Since the earthquake of 1427, which had shaken the whole church, the spire + was dropping to pieces stone by stone and threatened to collapse + altogether in the first storm. Our Lady suffered this dilapidation because + of the people’s sins. + </p> + <p> + Presently Florent Guillaume fell asleep, which is a token of his innocency + of heart. What dreams he dreamt is clean forgot, except that he had a + vision in his sleep of a lady of consummate beauty who came and kissed him + on the mouth. But when his lips opened to return her salute, he swallowed + two or three woodlice that were walking over his face and by their + tickling had deluded his sleeping senses into the agreeable fancy. He + awoke, and hearing a noise of wings beating above his head, he thought it + was a devil, as was very natural for him to opine, seeing how the evil + spirits flock in countless swarms to torment mankind, and above all at + night time. But the moon just then breaking through the clouds, he + recognised Madame Ysabeau and saw she was busy with her beak pushing into + a crack in the wall that served her for storehouse a blue purse broidered + with silver. He let her do as she list; but when she had left her hoard, + he clambered onto a beam, took the purse, opened it, and saw it contained + twelve good gold deniers, which he clapped in his belt, giving thanks to + the incomparable Black Virgin of Le Puy. For he was a clerk and versed in + the Scriptures, and he remembered how the Lord fed his prophet Elias by a + raven; whence he inferred that the Holy Mother of God had sent by a magpie + twelve deniers to her poor penman, Florent Guillaume. + </p> + <p> + On the morrow Florent and Marguerite the lace-maker ate a dish of tripe,—a + treat they had craved for many a long year. + </p> + <p> + So ends the Miracle of the Magpie. May he who tells the tale live, as he + would fain live, in good and gentle peace, and all good hap befall such + folk as shall read the same. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0008" id="link2H_4_0008"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + BROTHER JOCONDE + </h2> + <p> + <a name="linkimage-0006" id="linkimage-0006"> + <!-- IMG --></a> + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:60%"> + <img src="images/062.jpg" alt="062 " width="100%" /><br /> + </div> + <p> + THE Parisians were far from loving the English and found it hard to put up + with them. When, after the obsequies of the late King Charles VI, the Duke + of Bedford had the sword of the King of France borne before him, the + people murmured. But what cannot be cured must be endured. Besides, though + the capital hated the English, it loved the Burgundians. What more natural + for citizen folk, and especially for money-changers and traders, than to + admire Duke Philip, a prince of seemly presence and the richest nobleman + in Christendom. As for the “little King of Bourges,” a sorry-looking + mortal and very poor, strongly suspected, moreover, of foul murder at the + Bridge of Montereau, what had he about him to please folk withal? Scorn + was the sentiment felt for him, and horror and loathing for his partisans. + For ten years now had these been riding and raiding around the walls, + pillaging and holding to ransom. No doubt the English and Burgun-dians did + much the same; when, in the month of August, 1423, Duke Philip came to + Paris, his men-at-arms had ravaged all the country about. And they were + friends and allies of course; but after all they only came and went. The + Armagnacs, on the contrary, were always in the field, stealing whatever + they could lay their hands upon, firing farmsteads and churches, killing + women and children, deflowering virgins and nuns, hanging men by the + thumbs. In 1420 they threw themselves like devils let loose on the village + of Champigny and burnt up altogether oats, wheat, lambs, cows, oxen, + children, and women. They did the like and worse at Croissy. A very great + clerk of the University declared they wrought all wickedness that can be + wrought and conceived, and that more Christian folk had been martyred at + their hands than ever Maximian or Diocletian did to death. + </p> + <p> + At the news that these accursed Armagnacs were at the gates of Compiègne + and occupying the neighbouring castles and their lands, the folk of Paris + were sore afraid. They believed that the Dauphin’s soldiers had sworn, if + they entered Paris, to slay whomsoever they found there. They affirmed + openly that Messire Charles de Valois had given up to his men’s mercy town + and townsmen, great and small, of every rank and condition, men and women, + and that he proposed to drive the plough over the site of the city. The + inhabitants mostly believed the tale; so they set the St. Andrew’s cross + on their coats, in token that they were of the party of the Burgundians. + Their hatred was doubled, and their fears with it, when they learned that + Brother Richard and the Maid Jeanne were at the head of King Charles’ + army. They knew nothing of the Maid save from the rumour of the victories + she was reported to have won at Orleans. But they deemed she had + vanquished the English by the Devil’s aid, by means of spells and + enchantments. + </p> + <p> + The Masters of the University all said: “A creature in shape of a woman is + with the Armagnacs. What it is, God knows!” + </p> + <p> + For Brother Richard, they knew him well. He had come to Paris before, and + they had hearkened reverently to his sermons. He had even persuaded them + to renounce those games of chance for which they had been used to forget + meat and drink and the services of the Church. Now, at the tidings that + Brother Richard was on foray with the Armagnacs and winning over for them + by his well-hung tongue good towns like Troyes in Champagne, they called + down on him the curse of God and his Saints. They tore out of their hats + the leaden medals inscribed with the holy name of Jesus, which the good + Brother had given them, and to show in what detestation they held him, + resumed dice, bowls, draughts, and all other games they had renounced at + his exhortation. + </p> + <p> + The city was strongly fortified, for in the days when King Jean was a + prisoner of the English, the citizens of Paris, seeing the enemy in the + heart of the Kingdom, had feared a siege and had hastened to put the walls + in a state of defence. They had surrounded the place with moats and + counter-moats. The moats, on the left bank of the river, were dug at the + foot of the walls forming the old circle of fortification. But on the + right bank there were faubourgs, both extensive and well built, outside + the walls and almost touching them. The new moats enclosed a part of + these, and the Dauphin Charles, King Jean’s son, afterward had a wall + built along the line of them. Nevertheless there was some feeling of + insecurity, for the Cathedral Chapter took measures to put the relics and + treasure out of reach of the enemy. + </p> + <p> + Meantime, on Sunday, August 21st, a Cordelier, by name Brother Joconde, + entered the town. He had made pilgrimage to Jerusalem, and was said, like + Brother Vincent Ferrier and Brother Bernardino of Sienna, to have enjoyed + by the abounding grace of God many revelations anent the forthcoming end + of the world. He gave out that he would preach his first sermon to the + Parisians on Tuesday following, St. Bartholomew’s day, in the Cloister of + “The Innocents.” On the eve of that day more than six thousand persons + spent the night in the Cloister. At the foot of the platform wherefrom he + was to preach, the women sat squatted on their heels, and amongst them + Guillaumette Dyonis, who was blind from birth. She was the child of an + artisan who had been killed by the Burgundians in the woods of + Boulogne-la-Grande. Her mother had been carried off by a Burgundian + man-at-arms, and none knew what had become of her. Guillaumette was + fifteen or sixteen years of age. She lived at “The Innocents” on what she + made by spinning wool, at which trade there was not a better worker to be + found in all the town. She went and came in the streets without the help + of any and knew everything as well as those who can see. As she lived a + good and holy life and fasted often, she was favoured with visions. In + especial she had been accorded notable revelations by the Apostle St. John + concerning the troubles that then beset the Kingdom of France. Now, as she + was reciting her Hours at the foot of the platform, under the great Dance + of Death, a woman called Simone la Bardine, who was seated on the ground + beside her, asked her if the good Brother was not coming soon. + </p> + <p> + Guillaumette Dyonis could not see the tailed gown of green and the horned + wimple which Simone la Bardine wore; yet she knew by instinct the woman + was no honest dame. She felt a natural aversion for light women and the + sort the soldiers called their sweethearts or “doxies,” but it had been + revealed to her that we should hold such in great pity and deal + compassionately with them. Wherefore she answered Simone la Bardine + gently: + </p> + <p> + “The good Father will come soon, please God. And we shall have no reason + to regret having waited, for he is eloquent in prayer and his sermons turn + the folk to devotion more even than those of Brother Richard, who spake in + these Cloisters in the springtime. He knows more than any man living of + the times that shall come and shall show us strange portents. I trow we + shall gain great profit of his words.” + </p> + <p> + “God grant it,” sighed Simone la Bardine. “But are you not very sorry to + be blind?” + </p> + <p> + “No. I wait to see God.” + </p> + <p> + Simone la Bardine made her mantle into a cushion, and said: + </p> + <p> + “Life is all ups and downs. I live at the top of the Rue Saint-Antoine. ‘T + is the finest part of the city and the merriest, for the best hostelries + are in the Place Baudet and thereabout. Before the Wars there was aye + abundance there of hot cakes and fresh herrings and Auxerre wine by the + tun. With the English famine entered the town. Now is there neither bread + in the bin nor firewood on the hearth. One after other the Armagnacs and + the Burgundians have drunk up all the wine, and there is naught left in + the cellar but a little thin, sour cider and sloe-juice. Knights armed for + the tourney, pilgrims with their cockleshells and staves, traders with + their chests full of knives and little service-books, where are they gone? + They never come now to seek a lodging and good living in the Rue + Saint-Antoine. But the wolves quit covert in the forests and prowl of + nights in the faubourgs and devour little children.” + </p> + <p> + “Put your trust in God,” Guillaumette Dyonis answered her. + </p> + <p> + “Amen!” returned Simone la Bardine. “But I have not told you the worst. On + the Thursday before St, John’s day, at three after midnight, two + Englishmen came knocking at my door. Not knowing but they had come to rob + me or break up my chests and coffers out of mischief, or do some other + devilment, I shouted to them from my window to go their ways, that I did + not know them and I was not going to open the door. But they only hammered + louder, swearing they were going to break in the door and come in and cut + off my nose and ears. To stop their uproar I emptied a crockful of water + on their heads; but the crock slipped out of my hands and broke on the + back of one fellow’s neck so unchancily that it felled him. His comrade + called up the watch. I was haled to the Châtelet and clapped in prison, + where I was very hardly handled, and only escaped by paying a heavy sum of + money. I found my house pillaged from cellar to attic. From that day my + affairs have gone from bad to worse, and I have naught in the wide world + but the clothes I stand up in. In very despair I have come hither to hear + the good Father, who they say abounds in comforting words.” + </p> + <p> + “God, who loves you,” said Guillaumctte Dyonis, “has moved you in all + this.” + </p> + <p> + Then a great silence fell on the crowd as Brother Joconde appeared. His + eyes flashed like lightning. When he opened his lips, his voice pealed out + like thunder. + </p> + <p> + “I have come from Jerusalem,” he began; “and to prove it, see in this + wallet are roses of Jericho, a branch of the olive under which Our Saviour + sweated drops of blood, and a handful of the earth of Calvary.” + </p> + <p> + He gave a long narrative of his pilgrimage. And he added: + </p> + <p> + “In Syria I met Jews travelling in companies; I asked them whither they + were bound, and they told me: ‘We are flocking in crowds to Babylon, + because in very deed the Messiah is born among men, and will restore us + our heritage, and stablish us again in the Land of Promise.’ So said these + Jews of Syria. Now the Scriptures teach us that he they call the Messiah + is, in truth, Antichrist, of whom it is said he must be born at Babylon, + chief city of the kingdom of Persia, be reared at Bethsaida, and dwell in + his youth at Chorazin. That is why Our Lord said: ‘Woe unto thee, + Chor-azin! Woe unto thee, Bethsaida!’ + </p> + <p> + “The year that is at hand,” went on Brother Joconde, “will bring the + greatest marvels that have ever been beheld. + </p> + <p> + “The times are at hand. He is born, the man of sin, the son of perdition, + the wicked man, the beast from out the abyss, the abomination of + desolation. He comes from the tribe of Dan, of which it is written: ‘Dan + shall be a serpent in the way, an adder in the path.’ + </p> + <p> + “Brethren, soon shall ye see returning to this earth the Prophets Elias + and Enoch, Moses, Jeremias, and St. John Evangelist. And lo! the day of + wrath is dawning, the day which ‘solvet sæclum in favilla, teste David et + Sibylla.’ Wherefore now is the time to repent and do penance and renounce + the false delights of this world.” + </p> + <p> + At the good Brother’s word bosoms heaved with remorse and deep-drawn sighs + were heard. Not a few, both men and women, were near fainting when the + preacher cried: + </p> + <p> + “I read in your souls that ye keep mandrakes at home, which will bring you + to hell fire.” + </p> + <p> + It was true. Many Parisians paid heavily to the old witch-wives, who + profess unholy knowledge, for to buy mandrakes, and were used to keep them + treasured in a chest. These magic roots have the likeness of a little man, + hideously ugly and misshapen in a weird and diabolic fashion. They would + dress them out magnificently, in fine linen and silks, and the mannikins + brought them riches, chief source of all the ills of this world. + </p> + <p> + Next Brother Joconde thundered against women’s extravagant attire. + </p> + <p> + “Leave off,” he bade them, “your horns and your tails! Are ye not shamed + so to bedizen yourselves like she-devils? Light bonfires, I say, in the + public streets, and cast therein and burn your damnable head-gear,—pads + and rolls, erections of leather and whalebone, wherewith ye stiffen out + the front of your hoods.” + </p> + <p> + He ended by exhorting them with so much zeal and loving-kindness not to + lose their souls, but put themselves in the grace of God, that all who + heard him wept hot tears. And Simone la Bardine wept more abundantly than + any. + </p> + <p> + When, finally, coming down from his platform, Brother Joconde crossed the + cloister and graveyard, the people fell on their knees as he went by. The + women gave him their little ones to bless, or besought him to touch medals + and rosaries for them. Some plucked threads from his gown, thinking to get + healing by putting them, like relics of the Saints, on the places where + they were afflicted. Guillaumette Dyonis followed the good Father as + easily as if she saw him with her bodily eyes. Simone la Bardine trailed + behind her, sobbing. She had pulled off her horned wimple and tied a + kerchief round her head. + </p> + <p> + Thus they marched, the three of them, along the streets, where men and + women, who had been at the preaching, were kindling fires before their + doors to cast therein head-gear and mandrake roots. But on reaching the + river bank, Brother Joconde sat down under an elm, and Guillaumette Dyonis + came up to him and said: + </p> + <p> + “Father, it hath been revealed to me in vision that you are come to this + Kingdom to restore the same to good peace and concord. I have had myself + many revelations concerning the peace of the Kingdom.” + </p> + <p> + Next Simone la Bardine took up her parable and said: + </p> + <p> + “Brother Joconde, I lived once in a fine house in the Rue Saint-Antoine, + near by the Place Baudet, which is the fairest quarter of Paris, and the + wealthiest. I had a matted chamber, mantles of cloth of gold, and gowns + trimmed with miniver, enough to fill three great chests; I had a + feather-bed, a dresser loaded with pewter, and a little book wherein you + saw in pictures the story of Our Lord. But since the wars and pillagings + that devastate the Kingdom, I have lost everything. The gallants never + come now to take their pleasure in the Place Baudet. But the wolves come + there instead to devour little children. The Burgundians and the English + are as bad as the Armagnacs. Would you have me go with you?” + </p> + <p> + The Monk gazed a while in silence at the two women; and deeming it was + Jesus Christ himself had led them to him, he received them for his + Penitents, and thereafter the twain followed him wherever he went. Every + day he preached to the people, now at “The Innocents,” now at the Porte + Saint-Honoré, or at the Halles. But he never went outside the Walls, by + reason of the Armagnacs, who were raiding all the countryside round the + city. + </p> + <p> + His words led many souls to a better life; and at the fourth sermon he + preached in Paris, he received for Penitents Jeannette Chastenier, wife of + a merchant-draper on the Pont-au-Change, and another woman, by name + Opportune Jadoin, who nursed the sick at the Hôtel-Dieu and was no longer + very young. He admitted likewise into his company a gardener of the + Ville-l’Evêque, a lad of about sixteen, Robin by name, who bare on his + feet and hands the stigmata of the crucifixion, and was shaken by a sore + trembling of all his limbs. He often saw the Holy Virgin in corporeal + presence, and heard her speech and savoured the divine odours of her + glorified body. She had entrusted him with a message for the Regent of + England and for the Duke of Burgundy. Meantime the army of Messire Charles + of Valois entered the town of Saint-Denis. And no man durst from that day + go out of Paris to harvest the fields or gather aught from the + market-gardens which covered the plain to the northward of the city. + Instantly famine prices ruled, and the inhabitants began to suffer + cruelly. And they were further exasperated because they believed + themselves betrayed. It was openly said that certain folk, and in especial + certain men of Religion, suborned by Messire Charles of Valois, were + watching for the best time to stir up trouble and bring in the enemy in an + hour of panic and confusion. Haunted by this fear, which was not perhaps + altogether baseless, the citizens who kept guard of the ramparts showed + scant mercy to any men of evil looks whom they found loitering near the + Gates and whom they might suspect, on the most trivial evidence, of making + signals to the Armagnacs. On Thursday, September 8th, the good people of + Paris awoke without any fear of being attacked before the next day. This + day, September 8th, was the Feast of the Nativity of the Virgin, and it + was an established custom with the two factions that tore the Kingdom in + twain to keep holy the feast-days of Our Lord and His Blessed Mother. + </p> + <p> + Yet at this holy season the Parisians, on coming forth from Mass, learnt + that, notwithstanding the sacredness of the day, the Armagnacs had + appeared before the Porte Saint-Honoré and had set fire to the outwork + which defended its approach. It was further reported that Messire Charles + of Valois was posted, for the time being, along with Brother Richard and + the Maid Jeanne, in the Hog Market without the Walls. The same afternoon, + through all the city, on either side the bridges, shouts of fear arose—“Save + yourselves! fly, the enemy are come in, all is lost!” The cries were heard + even inside the Churches, where pious folks were singing Vespers. These + came flying out in terror and ran to their houses to take refuge behind + barred doors. + </p> + <p> + Now the men who went about raising these cries were emissaries of Messire + Charles of Valois. In fact, at that very time, the Company of the Maréchal + de Rais was making assault on the Walls near by the Porte Saint-Honoré. + The Armagnacs had brought up in carts great bundles of faggots and wattled + hurdles to fill up the moats, and above six hundred scaling-ladders for + storming the ramparts. The Maid Jeanne, who was nowise as the Burgundians + believed, but lived a pious life and guarded her chastity, set foot to + ground, and was the first down into a dry moat, which for that cause was + easy to cross. But thereupon they found themselves exposed to the arrows + and cross-bolts that rained down thick and fast from the Walls. Then they + had in front of them a second moat. Wherefore were the Maid and her + men-at-arms sore hampered. Jeanne sounded the great moat with her lance + and shouted to throw in faggots. + </p> + <p> + Inside the town could be heard the roar of cannon, and all along the + streets the citizens were running, half accoutred, to their posts on the + ramparts, knocking over as they went the brats playing about in the + gutters. The chains were drawn across the roadways, and barricades were + begun. Tribulation and tumult filled all the place. + </p> + <p> + But neither the Brother Joconde nor his Penitents saw aught of it, + forasmuch as they took heed only of eternal things, and deemed the vain + agitation of men to be but a foolish game. They marched through the + streets singing the “Veni creator spiritus,” and crying out: “Pray, for + the times are at hand.” + </p> + <p> + Thus they made their way in good array down the Rue Saint-Antoine, which + was densely crowded with men, women, and children. Coming presently to the + Place Baudet, Brother Joconde pushed through the throng and mounted a + great stone that stood at the door of the Hôtel de la Truie, which Messire + Florimont Lecocq, the master of the house, used to help him mount his + mule. This Messire Florimont Lecocq was Sergeant at the Châtelet Prison + and a partisan of the English. + </p> + <p> + So, standing on the great stone, Brother Joconde preached to the people. + “Sow ye,” he cried, “sow ye, good folk; sow abundantly of beans, for He + which is to come will come quickly.” + </p> + <p> + By the beans they were to sow, the good Brother signified the charitable + works it behoved them accomplish before Our Lord should come, in the + clouds of heaven, to judge both the quick and the dead. And it was urgent + to sow these works without tarrying, for that the harvest would be soon. + Guillaumette Dyonis, Simone la Bardine, Jeanne Chastenier, Opportune + Jadoin, and Robin the gardener, stood in a ring about the Preacher, and + cried “Amen!” + </p> + <p> + But the citizens, who thronged behind in a great crowd, pricked up their + ears and bent their brows, thinking the Monk was foretelling the entry of + Charles of Valois into his good town of Paris, over which he was fain—at + any rate, so they believed—to drive the ploughshare. + </p> + <p> + Meanwhile the good Brother went on with his soul-awakening discourse. + </p> + <p> + “Oh! ye men of Paris, ye are worse than the Pagans of old Rome.” + </p> + <p> + Just then the mangonels firing from the Porte Saint-Denis mingled their + thunder with Brother Joconde’s voice and shook the bystanders’ hearts + within them. Some one in the press cried out, “Death! death to traitors!” + All this time Messire Florimont Lecocq was within-doors doing on his + armour. He now came forth at the noise, before he had buckled his + leg-pieces. Seeing the Monk standing on his mounting-block, he asked: + “What is this good Father saying?” And a chorus of voices answered: + “Telling us that Messire Charles of Valois is going to enter the city,” + while others cried: + </p> + <p> + “He is against the folk of Paris,” and others again: + </p> + <p> + “He would fain cozen and betray us, like the Brother Richard, who at this + very time is riding with our enemies.” + </p> + <p> + But Brother Joconde made answer: “There be neither Armagnacs, nor + Burgundians, nor French, nor English, but only the sons of light and the + sons of darkness. Ye are lewd fellows and your women wantons.” + </p> + <p> + “Go to, thou apostate! thou sorcerer! thou traitor!” yelled Messire + Florimont Lecocq,—and lugging out his sword, he plunged it in the + good Brother’s bosom. + </p> + <p> + With pale lips and faltering voice, the man of God still managed to say: + </p> + <p> + “Pray, fast, do penance, and ye shall be forgiven, my brethren...” + </p> + <p> + Then his voice choked, as the blood poured from his mouth, and he fell on + the stones. Two knights, Sir John Stewart and Sir George Morris, threw + themselves on the body and pierced it with more than a hundred dagger + thrusts, vociferating: + </p> + <p> + “Long life to King Henry! Long life to my Lord the Duke of Bedford! Down + with the Dauphin! Down with the mad Maid of the Armagnacs! Up, up! To the + Gates, to the Gates!” + </p> + <p> + Therewith they ran to the Walls, drawing off with them Messire Florimont + and the crowd of citizens. + </p> + <p> + Meanwhile the holy women and the gardener tarried about the bleeding + corse. Simone la Bardine lay prostrate on the ground, kissing the good + Brother’s feet and wiping away his blood with her unbound hair. + </p> + <p> + But Guillaumette Dyonis, standing up with her arms lifted to heaven, cried + in a voice as clear as the sound of bells: + </p> + <p> + “My sisters, Jeanne, Opportune and Simone, and you, my brother, Robin the + gardener, let us be going, for the times are at hand. The soul of this + good Father holds me by the hand, and it will lead me aright. Wherefore ye + must follow along with me. And we will say to those who are making cruel + war upon each other: ‘Kiss and make peace. And if ye must needs use your + arms, take up the cross and go forth all together to fight the Saracens.’ + Come! my sisters and my brother.” + </p> + <p> + Jeanne Chastenier picked up the shaft of an arrow from the ground, brake + it, and made a cross, which she laid on good Brother Joconde’s bosom. Then + these holy women, and the gardener with them, followed after Guillaumette + Dyonis, who led them by the streets and squares and alleys as if her eyes + had seen the light of day. They reached the foot of the rampart, and by + the stairway of a tower that was left unguarded, they mounted onto the + curtain-wall. There had been no time to furnish it with its hoardings of + wood; so they went along in the open. They proceeded toward the Porte + Saint-Honoré, by this time enveloped in clouds of dust and smoke. It was + there the Maréchal de Rais and his men were making assault. Their bolts + flew thick and fast against the ramparts, and they were hurling faggots + into the water of the great moat. On the hog’s-back parting the great moat + from the little, stood the Maid, crying: “Yield, yield you to the King of + France.” The English had abandoned the top of the wall in terror, leaving + their dead and wounded behind them. Guillaumette Dyonis walked first, her + head high and her left arm extended before her, while with her right hand + she kept signing herself reverently. Simone la Bardine followed close on + her heels. Then came Jeanne Chastenier and Opportune Jadoin. Robin the + gardener brought up the rear, his body all shaking with his infirmity, and + showing the divine stigmata on his hands. They were singing canticles as + they walked. + </p> + <p> + And Guillaumette, turning now toward the city and now toward the open + country, cried: “Brethren, embrace ye one another. Live in peace and + harmony. Take the iron of your spearheads and forge it into ploughshares!” + </p> + <p> + Scarce had she spoken ere a shower of arrows, some from the parapet-way + where a Company of Citizens was defiling, some from the hog’s-back where + the Armagnac men-at-arms were massed, flew in her direction, and therewith + a storm of insults: + </p> + <p> + “Wanton! traitress! witch!” + </p> + <p> + Meanwhile she went on exhorting the two sides to stablish the Kingdom of + Jesus Christ upon earth and to live in innocency and brotherly love, till + a cross-bow bolt struck her in the throat and she staggered and fell + backward. + </p> + <p> + It was which could laugh the louder at this, Armagnacs or Burgundians. + Drawing her gown over her feet, she lay still and made no other stir, but + gave up her soul, sighing the name of Jesus. Her eyes, which remained + open, glowed like two opals. + </p> + <p> + Short while after the death of Guillaumette Dyonis the men of Paris + returned in great force to man their Wall, and defended their city right + valorously. Jeanne the Maid was wounded by a cross-bow bolt in the leg, + and Messire Charles of Valois’ men-at-arms fell back upon the Chapelle + Saint-Denis. What became of Jeanne Chastenier and Opportune Jadoin no one + knows. They were never heard of more. Simone la Bardine and Robin the + gardener were taken the same day by the citizens on guard at the Walls and + handed over to the Bishop’s officer, who duly brought them before the + Courts. The Church adjudged Simone heretic, and condemned her for salutary + penance to the bread of suffering and the water of affliction. Robin was + convicted of sorcery, and, persevering in his error, was burned alive in + the Place du Parvis. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0009" id="link2H_4_0009"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + FIVE FAIR LADIES OF PICARDY, OF POITOU, OF TOURAINE, OF LYONS, AND OF + PARIS + </h2> + <p> + <a name="linkimage-0007" id="linkimage-0007"> + <!-- IMG --></a> + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:60%"> + <img src="images/090.jpg" alt="090 " width="100%" /><br /> + </div> + <p> + ONE day the Capuchin, Brother Jean Chavaray, meeting my good master the + Abbé Coign-ard in the cloister of “The Innocents,” fell into talk with him + of the Brother Olivier Maillard, whose sermons, edifying and macaronic, he + had lately been reading. + </p> + <p> + “There are good bits to be found in these sermons,” said the Capuchin, + “notably the tale of the five ladies and the go-between...” You will + readily understand that Brother Olivier, who lived in the reign of Louis + XI and whose language smacks of the coarseness of that age, uses a + different word. But our century demands a certain politeness and decency + in speech; wherefore I employ the term I have, to wit, <i>go-between</i>. + </p> + <p> + “You mean,” replied my good master, “to signify by the expression a woman + who is so obliging as to play intermediary in matters of love and + love-making. The Latin has several names for her,—as <i>lena, + conciliatrix</i>, also <i>internuntia libidinum</i>, ambassadress of + naughty desires. These prudish dames perform the best of services; but + seeing they busy themselves therein for money, we distrust their + disinterestedness. Call yours a <i>procuress</i>, good Father, and have + done with it; ‘t is a word in common use, and has a not unseemly sound.” + </p> + <p> + “So I will, Monsieur l’Abbé,” assented Brother Jean Chavaray. “Only don’t + say <i>mine</i>, I pray, but the Brother Olivier’s. A procuress then, who + lived on the Pont des Tournelles, was visited one day by a knight, who put + a ring into her hands. ‘It is of fine gold,’ he told her, ‘and hath a + balass ruby mounted in the bezel. An you know any dames of good estate, go + say to the most comely of them that the ring is hers if she is willing to + come to see me and do at my pleasure.’ + </p> + <p> + “The procuress knew, by having seen them at Mass, five ladies of an + excellent beauty,—natives the first of Picardy, the second of + Poitou, the third of Touraine, another from the good city of Lyons, and + the last a Parisian, all dwelling in the Cite or its near neighbourhood. + </p> + <p> + “She knocked first at the Picard lady’s door. A maid opened, but her + mistress refused to have one word to say to her visitor. She was an honest + woman. + </p> + <p> + “The procuress went next to see the lady of Poitiers and solicit her + favours for the gallant knight. This dame answered her: + </p> + <p> + “‘Prithee, go tell him who sent you that he is come to the wrong house, + and that I am not the woman he takes me for.’ + </p> + <p> + “She too is an honest woman; yet less honest than the first, in that she + tried to appear more so. + </p> + <p> + “The procuress then went to see the lady from Tours, made the same offer + to her as to the other, and showed her the ring. + </p> + <p> + “‘I’ faith,’ said the lady, ‘but the ring is right lovely.’ + </p> + <p> + “‘’T is yours, an you will have it.’ + </p> + <p> + “‘I will not have it at the price you set on it. My husband might catch + me, and I should be doing him a grief he doth not deserve.’ + </p> + <p> + “This lady of Touraine is a harlot, I trow, at bottom of her heart. + </p> + <p> + “The procuress left her and went straight to the dame of Lyons, who cried: + </p> + <p> + “‘Alack! my good friend, my husband is a jealous wight, and he would cut + the nose off my face to hinder me winning any more rings at this pretty + tilting.’ + </p> + <p> + “This dame of Lyons, I tell you, is a worthless good-for-naught. + </p> + <p> + “Last of all the procuress hurried to the Parisian’s. She was a hussy, and + answered brazenly: + </p> + <p> + “‘My husband goes Wednesday to his vineyards; tell the good sir who sent + you I will come that day and see him.’ + </p> + <p> + “Such, according to Brother Olivier, from Picardy to Paris, are the + degrees from good to evil amongst women. What think you of the matter, + Monsieur Coignard?” + </p> + <p> + To which my good master made answer: + </p> + <p> + “‘T is a shrewd matter to consider the acts and impulses of these petty + creatures in their relations with Eternal Justice. I have no lights + thereanent. But methinks the Lyons dame who feared having her nose cut off + was a more good-for-nothing baggage than the Parisian who was afraid of + nothing.” + </p> + <p> + “I am far, very far, from allowing it,” replied Brother Jean Chavaray. “A + woman who fears her husband may come to fear hell fire. Her Confessor, it + may be, will bring her to do penance and give alms. For, after all, that + is the end we must come at. But what can a poor Capuchin hope to get of a + woman whom <i>nothing</i> terrifies?” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0010" id="link2H_4_0010"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + A GOOD LESSON WELL LEARNT + </h2> + <p> + <a name="linkimage-0008" id="linkimage-0008"> + <!-- IMG --></a> + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:60%"> + <img src="images/098.jpg" alt="098 " width="100%" /><br /> + </div> + <p> + IN the days of King Louis XI there lived at Paris, in a matted chamber, a + citizen dame called Violante, who was comely and well-liking in all her + person. She had so bright a face that Master Jacques Tribouillard, doctor + in law and a renowned cosmographer, who was often a visitor at her house, + was used to tell her: + </p> + <p> + “Seeing you, madame, I deem credible and even hold it proven, what + Cucurbitus Piger lays down in one of his scholia on Strabo, to wit, that + the famous city and university of Paris was of old known by the name of + Lutetia or Leucecia, or some such like word coming from <i>Leukê</i>, that + is to say, ‘the white,’ forasmuch as the ladies of the same had bosoms + white as snow,—yet not so clear and bright and white as is your own, + madame.” + </p> + <p> + To which Violante would say in answer: + </p> + <p> + “‘T is enough for me if my bosom is not fit to fright folks, like some I + wot of. And, if I show it, why, ‘tis to follow the fashion. I have not the + hardihood to do otherwise than the rest of the world.” + </p> + <p> + Now Madame Violante had been wedded, in the flower of her youth, to an + Advocate of the Parlement, a man of a harsh temper and sorely set on the + arraignment and punishing of unfortunate prisoners. For the rest, he was + of sickly habit and a weakling, of such a sort he seemed more fit to give + pain to folks outside his doors than pleasure to his wife within. The old + fellow thought more of his blue bags than of his better half, though these + were far otherwise shapen, being bulgy and fat and formless. But the + lawyer spent his nights over them. + </p> + <p> + Madame Violante was too reasonable a woman to love a husband that was so + unlovable. Master Jacques Tribouillard upheld she was a good wife, as + steadfastly and surely confirmed and stablished in conjugal virtue as + Lucretia the Roman. And for proof he alleged that he had altogether failed + to turn her aside from the path of honour. The judicious observed a + prudent silence on the point, holding that what is hid will only be made + manifest at the last Judgment Day. They noted how the lady was over fond + of gewgaws and laces and wore in company and at church gowns of velvet and + silk and cloth of gold, purfled with miniver; but they were too + fair-minded folk to decide whether, damning as she did Christian men who + saw her so comely and so finely dressed to the torments of vain longing, + she was not damning her own soul too with one of them. In a word, they + were well ready to stake Madame Violante’s virtue on the toss of a coin, + cross or pile,—which is greatly to the honour of that fair lady. + </p> + <p> + The truth is her Confessor, Brother Jean Turelure, was for ever upbraiding + her. + </p> + <p> + “Think you, madame,” he would ask her, “that the blessed St. Catherine won + heaven by leading such a life as yours, baring her bosom and sending to + Genoa for lace ruffles?” + </p> + <p> + But he was a great preacher, very severe on human weaknesses, who could + condone naught and thought he had done everything when he had inspired + terror. He threatened her with hell fire for having washed her face with + ass’s milk. + </p> + <p> + As a fact, no one could say if she had given her old husband a meet and + proper head-dress, and Messire Philippe de Coetquis used to warn the + honest dame in a merry vein: + </p> + <p> + “See to it, I say! He is bald, he will catch his death of cold!” + </p> + <p> + Messire Philippe de Coetquis was a knight of gallant bearing, as handsome + as the knave of hearts in the noble game of cards. He had first + encountered Madame Violante one evening at a ball, and after dancing with + her far into the night, had carried her home on his crupper, while the + Advocate splashed his way through the mud and mire of the kennels by the + dancing light of the torches his four tipsy lackeys bore. In the course of + these merry doings, a-foot and on horseback, Messire Philippe de Coetquis + had formed a shrewd notion that Madame Violante had a limber waist and a + full, firm bosom of her own, and there and then had been smit by her + charms. + </p> + <p> + He was a frank and guileless wight and made bold to tell her outright what + he would have of her,—to wit, to hold her naked in his two arms. + </p> + <p> + To which she would make answer: + </p> + <p> + “Messire Philippe, you know not what you say. I am a virtuous wife,”— + </p> + <p> + Or another time: + </p> + <p> + “Messire Philippe, come back again tomorrow,—” + </p> + <p> + And when he came next day she would ask innocently: + </p> + <p> + “Nay, where is the hurry?” + </p> + <p> + These never-ending postponements caused the Chevalier no little distress + and chagrin. He was ready to believe, with Master Tribouillard, that + Madame Violante was indeed a Lucretia, so true is it that all men are + alike in fatuous self-conceit! And we are bound to say she had not so much + as suffered him to kiss her mouth,—only a pretty diversion after all + and a bit of wanton playfulness. + </p> + <p> + Things were in this case when Brother Jean Turelure was called to Venice + by the General of his Order, to preach to sundry Turks lately converted to + the true Faith. + </p> + <p> + Before setting forth, the good Brother went to take leave of his fair + Penitent, and upbraided her with more than usual sternness for living a + dissolute life. He exhorted her urgently to repent and pressed her to wear + a hair-shirt next her skin,—an incomparable remedy against naughty + cravings and a sovran medicine for natures over prone to the sins of the + flesh. + </p> + <p> + She besought him: “Good Brother, never ask too much of me.” + </p> + <p> + But he would not hearken, and threatened her with the pains of hell if she + did not amend her ways. Then he told her he would gladly execute any + commissions she might be pleased to entrust him with. He was in hopes she + would beg him to bring her back some consecrated medal, a rosary, or, + better still, a little of the soil of the Holy Sepulchre which the Turks + carry from Jerusalem together with dried roses, and which the Italian + monks sell. + </p> + <p> + But Madame Violante preferred a quite other request: + </p> + <p> + “Good Brother, dear Brother, as you are going to Venice, where such + cunning workmen in this sort are to be found, I pray you bring me back a + Venetian mirror, the clearest and truest can be gotten.” + </p> + <p> + Brother Jean Turelure promised to content her wish. + </p> + <p> + While her Confessor was abroad, Madame Violante led the same life as + before. And when Messire Philippe pressed her: “Were it not well to take + our pleasure together?” she would answer: “Nay! ‘t is too hot. Look at the + weathercock if the wind will not change anon.” And the good folk who + watched her ways were in despair of her ever giving a proper pair of horns + to her crabbed old husband. “‘T is a sin and a shame!” they declared. + </p> + <p> + On his return from Italy Brother Jean Turelure presented himself before + Madame Violante and told her he had brought what she desired. + </p> + <p> + “Look, madame,” he said, and drew from under his gown a death’s-head. + </p> + <p> + “Here, madame, is your mirror. This death’s-head was given me for that of + the prettiest woman in all Venice. She was what you are, and you will be + much like her anon.” + </p> + <p> + Madame Violante, mastering her surprise and horror, answered the good + Father in a well-assured voice that she understood the lesson he would + teach her and she would not fail to profit thereby. + </p> + <p> + “I shall aye have present in my mind, good Brother, the mirror you have + brought me from Venice, wherein I see my likeness not as I am at present, + but as doubtless I soon shall be. I promise you to govern my behaviour by + this salutary thought.” + </p> + <p> + Brother Jean Turelure was far from expecting such pious words. He + expressed some satisfaction. + </p> + <p> + “So, madame,” he murmured, “you see yourself the need of altering your + ways. You promise me henceforth to govern your behaviour by the thought + this fleshless skull hath brought home to you. Will you not make the same + promise to God as you have to me?” + </p> + <p> + She asked if indeed she must, and he assured her it behoved her so to do. + </p> + <p> + “Well, I will give this promise then,” she declared. + </p> + <p> + “Madame, this is very well. There is no going back on your word now.” + </p> + <p> + “I shall not go back on it, never fear.” + </p> + <p> + Having won this binding promise, Brother Jean Turelure left the place, + radiant with satisfaction. And as he went from the house, he cried out + loud in the street: + </p> + <p> + “Here is a good work done! By Our Lord God’s good help, I have turned and + set in the way toward the gate of Paradise a lady, who, albeit not sinning + precisely in the way of fornication spoken of by the Prophet, yet was wont + to employ for men’s temptation the clay whereof the Creator had kneaded + her that she might serve and adore him withal. She will forsake these + naughty habits to adopt a better life. I have throughly changed her. + Praise be to God!” + </p> + <p> + Hardly had the good Brother gone down the stairs when Messire Philippe de + Coetquis ran up them and scratched at Madame Violante’s door. She welcomed + him with a beaming smile, and led him into a closet, furnished with + carpets and cushions galore, wherein he had never been admitted before. + From this he augured well. He offered her sweetmeats he had in a box. + </p> + <p> + “Here be sugar-plums to suck, madame; they are sweet and sugared, but not + so sweet as your lips.” + </p> + <p> + To which the lady retorted he was a vain, silly fop to make boast of a + fruit he had never tasted. + </p> + <p> + He answered her meetly, kissing her forthwith on the mouth. + </p> + <p> + She manifested scarce any annoyance and said only she was an honest woman + and a true wife. He congratulated her and advised her not to lock up this + jewel of hers in such close keeping that no man could enjoy it. “For, of a + surety,” he swore, “you will be robbed of it, and that right soon.” + </p> + <p> + “Try then,” said she, cuffing him daintily over the ears with her pretty + pink palms. + </p> + <p> + But he was master by this time to take whatsoever he wished of her. She + kept protesting with little cries: + </p> + <p> + “I won’t have it. Fie! fie on you, messire! You must not do it. Oh! + sweetheart... oh! my love... my life! You are killing me!” + </p> + <p> + Anon, when she had done sighing and dying, she said sweetly: + </p> + <p> + “Messire Philippe, never flatter yourself you have mastered me by force or + guile. You have had of me what you craved, but ‘t was of mine own free + will, and I only resisted so much as was needful that I might yield me as + I liked best. Sweetheart, I am yours. If, for all your handsome face, + which I loved from the first, and despite the tenderness of your wooing, I + did not before grant you what you have just won with my consent, ‘t was + because I had no true understanding of things. I had no thought of the + flight of time and the shortness of life and love; plunged in a soft + languor of indolence, I reaped no harvest of my youth and beauty. However, + the good Brother Jean Turelure hath given me a profitable lesson. He hath + taught me the preciousness of the hours. But now he showed me a + death’s-head, saying: ‘Suchlike you will be soon.’ This taught me we must + be quick to enjoy the pleasures of love and make the most of the little + space of time reserved to us for that end.” + </p> + <p> + These words and the caresses wherewith Madame Violante seconded them + persuaded Messire Philippe to turn the time to good account, to set to + work afresh to his own honour and profit and the pleasure and glory of his + mistress, and to multiply the sure proofs of prowess which it behoves + every good and loyal servant to give on suchlike an occasion. + </p> + <p> + After which, she was ready to cry quits. Taking him by the hand, she + guided him back to the door, kissed him daintily on the eyes, and asked: + </p> + <p> + “Sweetheart Philippe, is it not well done to follow the precepts of the + good Brother Jean Turelure?” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0011" id="link2H_4_0011"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + SATAN’S TONGUE-PIE + </h2> + <p> + <a name="linkimage-0009" id="linkimage-0009"> + <!-- IMG --></a> + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:60%"> + <img src="images/112.jpg" alt="112 " width="100%" /><br /> + </div> + <p> + SATAN lay in his bed with the flaming curtains. The physicians and + apothecaries of Hell, finding their patient had a white tongue, inferred + he was suffering from a weakness of the stomach and prescribed a diet at + once light and nourishing. + </p> + <p> + Satan swore he had no appetite for aught but a certain earthly dish, which + women excel in making when they meet in company, to wit, tongue-pie. + </p> + <p> + The doctors agreed there was nothing could better suit His Majesty’s + stomach. + </p> + <p> + In an hour’s time the dish was set before the King; but he found it + insipid and tasteless. + </p> + <p> + He sent for his Head Cook and asked him where the pie came from. + </p> + <p> + “From Paris, sire. It is quite fresh; ‘twas baked this very morning, in + the Marais Quarter, by a dozen gossips gathered round the bed at a woman’s + lying-in.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah! now I know the reason it is so flavourless,” returned the Prince of + Darkness. “You have not been to the best cooks for dishes of the sort. + Citizens’ wives, they do their best; but they lack delicacy, they lack the + fine touch of genius. Women of the people are clumsier still. For a real + good tongue-pie a Nunnery is the place to go to. There’s nobody to match + these old maids of Religion for a pretty skill in compounding all the + needful ingredients,—fine spices of rancour, thyme of backbiting, + fennel of insinuation, bay-leaf of calumny.” + </p> + <p> + This parable is taken from a sermon of the good Father Gillotin Landoulle, + a poor, unworthy Capuchin. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0012" id="link2H_4_0012"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CONCERNING AN HORRIBLE PICTURE + </h2> + <p> + <a name="linkimage-0010" id="linkimage-0010"> + <!-- IMG --></a> + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:60%"> + <img src="images/116.jpg" alt="116 " width="100%" /><br /> + </div> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + THE WHICH WAS SHOWED IN A TEMPLE AND OF SUNDRY LIMNINGS OF A + RIGHT PACIFIC AND AMOROUS SORT THE WHICH THE SAGE PHILEMON + HAD HANGED IN HIS LIBRARIE AND OF A NOBLE PORTRAITURE OF THE + POET HOMER THE WHICH THE AFORESAID PHILEMON DID PRIZE ABOVE + ALL OTHER LIMNINGS +</pre> + <p> + PHILEMON was used to confess how, in the fire of his callow youth and fine + flower of his lustie springal days, he had been stung with murderous + frenzie at view of a certaine picture of Apelles, the which in those times + was showed in a temple. And the said picture did present Alexander the + Great laying on right shrewdly at Darius, king of the Indians, whiles + round about these twain, soldiers and captains were a-slaying one another + with a savage furie and in divers strange fashions. And the said work was + right cunningly wrought and in very close mimicrie of nature. And none, an + they were in the hot and lustie season of their life, could cast a look + thereon without being stirred incontinent to be striking and killing poor + harmlesse folk for the sole sake of donning so rich an harnesse and + bestriding such high-stepping chargers as did these good codpieces in + their battle,—for that young blood doth aye take pleasure in + horseflesh and the practise of arms. This had the aforesaid Philemon + proven in his day. And he was used to say how ever after ‘twas his wont to + turn aside his eyen of set purpose from suchlike pictures of wars and + bloodshed, and that he did so heartily loathe these cruelties as that he + could not abear to behold them even set forth in counterfeit presentment. + </p> + <p> + And he was used to say that any honest and prudent wight must needs be + sore offended and scandalized by all this appalling array of armour and + bucklers and the horde of warriors Homer calls <i>Corythaioloi</i> + (glancing-helmed) by reason of the terrifying hideousness of their + head-gear, and that the portrayal of these same fighting fellows was in + very truth unseemly, as contrarie to good and peaceable manners, immodest, + no thing in the world being more shameful then homicide, and eke + lascivious, as alluring folk to cruelty, the which is the worst of all + allurements. For to entice to pleasant dalliaunce is a far lesse heinous + fault. + </p> + <p> + And the aforesaid Philemon was used to say that it was honest, decent, of + good ensample and entirely modest to show by painting, chiselling, or any + other fine artifice the scenes of the Golden Age, to wit maidens and young + men interlacing limbs in accord with the craving of kindly Nature, or + other the like delectable fancy, as of a Nymph lying laughing in the + grass. And on her ripe smiling mouth a Faun is crushing a purple grape. + </p> + <p> + And he was used to say that belike the Golden Age had never flourished + save only in the fond imagining of the poets, and that our first forebears + of human kind, being yet barbarous and silly folk, had known naught at all + thereof; but that, an the said age could not credibly be deemed to have + been at the beginning of the world, we might well wish it should be at the + end, and that meanwhiles it was a gracious boon to offer us a likeness of + the same in pictured image. + </p> + <p> + And like as it is (so he would say) obscene,—‘t is the word Virgil + writes of dogs wallowing in the mud and mire,—to depict murderers, + whoreson men-at arms, fighting-men, conquering heroes and plundering + thieves, wreaking their foul and wicked will, yea! and poor devils licking + the dust and swallowing the same in great mouthfuls, and one unhappie + wretch that hath been felled to the earth and is striving to get to his + feet againe, but is pinned down by an horse’s hoof pressing on his chops, + and another that looketh piteously about him for that his pennon hath been + shorn from him and his hand with it,—so is it of right subtile and + so to say heavenly art to exhibit prettie blandishments, caresses, + frolickings, beauties and delights, and the loves of the Nymphs and Fauns + in the woods. And he would have it there was none offence in these naked + bodies, clothed upon enow with their owne grace and comeliness. + </p> + <p> + And he had in his closet, this same Philemon aforesaid, a very marvellous + painting, wherein was limned a young Faun in act to filch away with a + craftie hand a light cloth did cover the belly of a sleeping Nymph. ‘T was + plain to see he was full fain of his freak and seemed to be saying: The + body of this young goddess is so sweet and refreshing as that the + fountaine springing in the shade of the woods is not more delightsome. How + I do love to look upon you, soft sweet lap, and prettie white thighs, and + shady cavern at once terrifying and entrancing! And over the heads of the + twain did hover winged Cupids and watched them laughingly, whiles fair + dames and their gallants, their brows wreathen with flowers, footed it on + the lush grass. + </p> + <p> + And he had, the aforesaid Philemon, yet other limnings of cunning + craftsmanship in his closet. And he did prize very high the portraiture of + a good doctor a-sitting in his cabinet writing at a table by candle-light. + The said cabinet was fully furnished with globes, gnomons, and astrolabes, + proper for meting the movements of the orbs of heaven, the which is a + right praiseworthy task and one that doth lift the spirit to sublime + thoughts and the exceeding pure love of Venus Urania. + </p> + <p> + And there was hanging from the joists of the said cabinet a great serpent + and crocodile, forasmuch as they be rarities and very needful for the due + understanding of anatomy. And he had likewise, the said doctor, amid his + belongings, the books of the most excellent philosophers of Antiquity and + eke the treatises of Hippocrates. And he was an ensample to young men + which should be fain, by hard swinking, to stuff their pates with as much + high learning and occult lore as he had under his own bonnet. + </p> + <p> + And he had, the aforesaid Philemon, painted on a panel that shined like a + polished mirror a portraiture of Homer in the guise of an old blind man, + his beard white as the flowers of the hawthorn and his temples bound about + with the fillets sacred to the god Apollo, which had loved him above all + other men. And, to look at that good old man, you deemed verily his lips + were presently to ope and break into words of mélodie. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0013" id="link2H_4_0013"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + MADEMOISELLE DE DOUCINE’S NEW YEAR’S PRESENT + </h2> + <p> + <a name="linkimage-0011" id="linkimage-0011"> + <!-- IMG --></a> + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:60%"> + <img src="images/124.jpg" alt="124 " width="100%" /><br /> + </div> + <p> + ON January 1st, in the forenoon, the good M. Chanterelle sallied out on + foot from his hôtel in the Faubourg Saint-Marcel. He felt the cold and was + a poor walker; so it was a real penance to him to face the chilly air and + the bleak streets which were full of half-melted snow. He had refused to + take his coach by way of mortifying the flesh, having grown very + solicitous since his illness about the salvation of his soul. He lived in + retirement, aloof from all society and company, and paid no visits save to + his niece, Mademoiselle de Doucine, a little girl of seven. + </p> + <p> + Leaning on his walking-cane, he made his way painfully to the Rue + Saint-Honoré and entered the shop of Madame Pinson at the sign of the <i>Panier + Fleuri</i>. Here was displayed an abundant stock of children’s toys to + tempt customers seeking presents for this New Year’s Day of 1696. You + could scarce move for the host of mechanical figures of dancers and + tipplers, birds in the bush that clapped their wings and sang, cabinets + full of wax puppets, soldiers in white and blue ranged in battle array, + and dolls dressed some as fine ladies, others as servant wenches, for the + inequality of stations, established by God himself among mankind, appeared + even in these innocent mannikins. + </p> + <p> + M. Chanterelle chose a doll. The one he selected was dressed like the + Princess of Savoy on her arrival in France, on November 4th. The head was + a mass of bows and ribbons; she wore a very stiff corsage, covered with + gold filigrees, and a brocade petticoat with an overskirt caught up by + pearl clasps. + </p> + <p> + M. Chanterelle smiled to think of the delight such a lovely doll would + give Mademoiselle de Doucine, and when Madame Pinson handed him the + Princess of Savoy wrapped up in silk paper, a gleam of sensuous + satisfaction flitted over his kind face, pinched as it was with illness, + pale with fasting and haggard with the fear of hell. + </p> + <p> + He thanked Madame Pinson courteously, clapped the Princess under his arm + and walked away, dragging his leg painfully, towards the house where he + knew Mademoiselle de Doucine was waiting for him to attend her morning + levée. + </p> + <p> + At the corner of the Rue de l’ Arbre-Sec, he met M. Spon, whose great nose + dived almost into his lace cravat. + </p> + <p> + “Good morning, Monsieur Spon,” he greeted him. “I wish you a happy New + Year, and I pray God everything may turn out according to your wishes.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! my good sir, don’t say that,” cried M. Spon. “‘T is often for our + chastisement that God grants our wishes. <i>Et tribuit eis petittonem + eorum</i>.” + </p> + <p> + “‘Tis very true,” returned M. Chanterelle, “we do not know our own best + interests. I am an example myself, as I stand before you. I thought at + first that the complaint I have suffered from for the last two years was a + curse; but I see now it is a blessing, since it has removed me from the + abominable life I was leading at the play-houses and in society. This + complaint, which tortures my limbs and is like to turn my brain, is a + signal token of God’s goodness toward me. But, sir, will you not do me the + favour to accompany me as far as the Rue du Roule, whither I am bound, to + carry a New Year’s gift to my niece Mademoiselle de Doucine?” + </p> + <p> + At the words M. Spon threw up his arms and gave a great cry of horror. + </p> + <p> + “What!” he exclaimed. “Can it be M. Chanterelle I hear say such things,—and + not some profligate libertine? Is it possible, sir, that living as you do + a religious and retired life, I see you all in a moment plunge into the + vices of the day?” + </p> + <p> + “Alack! I did not think I was plunging into vice,” faltered M. + Chanterelle, trembling all over. “But I sorely lack a lamp of guidance. Is + it so great a sin then to offer a doll to Mademoiselle de Doucine?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, a great and terrible sin,” replied M. Spon. “And what you are + offering this innocent child to-day is meeter to be called an idol, a + devilish simulacrum, than a doll. Are you not aware, sir, that the custom + of New Year’s gifts is a foul superstition and a hideous survival of + Paganism?” + </p> + <p> + “No, I did not know that,” said M. Chanterelle. + </p> + <p> + “Let me tell you, then,” resumed M. Spon, “that this custom descends from + the Romans, who seeing something divine in all beginnings, held the + beginning of the year holy also. Hence, to act as they did is to do + idolatry. You make New Year’s offerings, sir, in imitation of the + worshippers of the God Janus. Be consistent, and like them consecrate to + Juno the first day of every month.” + </p> + <p> + M. Chanterelle, hardly able to keep his feet, begged M. Spon to give him + his arm, and while they moved on, M. Spon proceeded in the same vein: + </p> + <p> + “Is it because the Astrologers have fixed on the first of January for the + beginning of the year that you deem yourself obliged to make presents on + that day? Pray, what call have you to revive at that precise date the + affection of your friends. Was their love dying then with the dying year? + And will it be so much worth the having when you have reanimated it by + dint of cajolements and baneful gifts?” + </p> + <p> + “Sir,” returned the good M. Chanterelle, leaning on M. Spon’s arm and + trying hard to make his tottering steps keep pace with his impetuous + companion’s, “sir, before my sickness, I was only a miserable sinner, + taking no heed but to treat my friends with civility and govern my + behaviour by the principles of honesty and honour. Providence hath deigned + to rescue me from this abyss, and I direct my conduct since my conversion + by the admonitions the Director of my conscience gives me. But I have been + so light-minded and thoughtless as not to seek his advice on this question + of New Year’s gifts. What you tell me of them, sir, with the authority of + a man alike admirable for sober living and sound doctrine, amazes and + confounds me.” + </p> + <p> + “Nay! that is indeed what I mean to do,” resumed M. Spon,—“to + confound you, and to illumine you, not indeed by my own lights, which burn + feebly, but by those of a great Doctor. Sit you down on that wayside + post.” + </p> + <p> + And pushing M. Chanterelle into the archway of a carriage gate, where he + made himself as easy as circumstances allowed, M. Spon drew from his + pocket a little parchment-bound book, which he opened, and after hunting + through the pages, lighted on a passage which he proceeded to read out + loud amid a gaping circle of chimney-sweeps, chamber-maids, and scullions + who had collected at the resounding tones of his voice: + </p> + <p> + “‘We who hold in abhorrence the festivals of the Jews, and who would deem + strange and outlandish their Sabbaths and New Moons and other Holy Days + erst loved of the Almighty, we deal familiarly with the Saturnalia and the + Calends of January, with the Matronalia and the Feast of the Winter + Solstice; New Year’s gifts and foolish presents fill all our thoughts; + merrymakings and junketings are in every house. The Heathens guard their + religion better; they are heedful to observe none of our Feasts, for fear + of being taken for Christians, while we never hesitate to make ourselves + look like Heathens by celebrating their Ceremonial Days.’ + </p> + <p> + “You hear what I say,” went on M. Spon. “‘T is Tertullian speaks in this + wise and from the depths of Africa displays before your eyes, sir, the + odiousness of your behaviour. He it is upbraids you, declaring how ‘New + Year’s gifts and foolish presents fill all your thoughts. You keep holy + the feasts of the Heathen.’ I have not the honour to know your Confessor. + But I shudder, sir, to think of the way he neglects his duty toward you. + Tell me this, can you rest assured that at the day of your death, when you + come to stand before God, he will be at your side, to take upon him the + sins he hath suffered you to fall into?” + </p> + <p> + After haranguing in this sort, he put back his book in his pocket and + marched off with angry strides, followed at a distance by the astonished + chimney-sweeps and scullions. + </p> + <p> + The good M. Chanterelle was left sitting alone on his post with the + Princess of Savoy, and thinking how he was risking the eternal pains of + hell fire for giving a doll to Mademoiselle de Doucine, his niece, he fell + to pondering the unfathomable mysteries of Religion. + </p> + <p> + His legs, which had been tottery for several months, refused to carry him, + and he felt as unhappy as ever a well-meaning man possibly can in this + world. + </p> + <p> + He had been sitting stranded in this distressful mood on his post for some + minutes when a Capuchin friar stepped up and addressed him: + </p> + <p> + “Sir, will you not give New Year’s presents to the Little Brethren who are + poor, for the love of God?” + </p> + <p> + “Why! what! good Father,” M. Chan-terelle burst out, “you are a man of + religion, and you ask me for New Year’s gifts?” + </p> + <p> + “Sir,” replied the Capuchin, “the good St. Francis bade his sons make + merry with all simplicity. Give the Capuchins wherewith to make a good + meal this day, that they may endure with cheerfulness the abstinence and + fasting they must observe all the rest of the year,—barring, of + course, Sundays and Feast Days.” + </p> + <p> + M. Chanterelle gazed at the holy man with wonder: + </p> + <p> + “Are you not afraid, Father, that this custom of New Year’s gifts is + baneful to the soul?” + </p> + <p> + “No, I am not afraid.” + </p> + <p> + “The custom comes to us from the Pagans.” + </p> + <p> + “The Pagans sometimes followed good customs. God was pleased to suffer + some faint rays of his light to pierce the darkness of the Gentiles. Sir, + if you refuse to give <i>us</i> presents, never refuse a boon to our poor + little ones. We have a home for foundlings. With this poor crown I shall + buy each child a little paper windmill and a cake. They will owe you the + only pleasure perhaps of all their life; for they are not fated to have + much joy in the world. Their laughter will go up to heaven; when children + laugh, they praise the Lord.” + </p> + <p> + M. Chanterelle laid his well-filled purse in the poor friar’s palm and got + him down from his post, saying over softly to himself the word he had just + heard: + </p> + <p> + “When children laugh, they praise the Lord.” + </p> + <p> + Then his soul was comforted and he marched off with a firmer step to carry + the Princess of Savoy to Mademoiselle de Doucine, his niece. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0014" id="link2H_4_0014"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + MADEMOISELLE ROXANE + </h2> + <p> + <a name="linkimage-0012" id="linkimage-0012"> + <!-- IMG --></a> + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:60%"> + <img src="images/136.jpg" alt="136 " width="100%" /><br /> + </div> + <p> + MY good master, M. l’Abbé Coignard, had taken me with him to sup with one + of his old fellow-students, who lodged in a garret in the Rue Gît-le-Cour. + Our host, a Premonstratensian Father of much learning and a fine + Theologian, had fallen out with the Prior of his House for having writ a + little book relating the calamities of Mam’zelle Fanchon. The end of it + was he turned tavern-keeper at The Hague. He was now returned to France + and living precariously by the sermons he composed, which were full of + high argument and eloquence. After supper he had read us these same + calamities of Mam’zelle Fanchon, source of his own, and the reading had + kept us there till a late hour. At last I found myself without-doors with + my good master, under a wondrous fine summer’s night, which made me + straightway comprehend the verity of the ancient fables regarding the + loves of Diana and feel how natural it is to employ in soft dalliance the + silent, silvery hours of night. I said as much to M. l’Abbé Coignard, who + retorted that love is to blame for many and great ills. + </p> + <p> + “Tournebroche, my son,” he asked me, “have you not just heard from the + mouth of yonder good Monk how, for having loved a recruiting sergeant, a + clerk of M. Gaulot’s mercer at the sign of the Truie-qui-file, and the + younger son of M. le Lieutenant-Criminel Leblanc, Mam’zelle Fanchon was + clapped in hospital? Would you wish to be any of these,—sergeant or + clerk or limb of the law?” + </p> + <p> + I answered I would indeed. My good master thanked me for my candid avowal, + and quoted some verses of Lucretius to persuade me that love is contrary + to the tranquillity of a truly philosophical soul. + </p> + <p> + Thus discoursing, we were come to the round-point of the Pont-Neuf. + Leaning our elbows on the parapet, we looked over at the great tower of + the Châtelet, which stood out black in the moonlight. + </p> + <p> + “There might be much to say,” sighed my good master, “on this justice of + the civilized nations, the punishments whereof in retaliation are often + more cruel than the crime itself I cannot believe that these tortures and + penalties that men inflict on their fellows are necessary for the + safeguarding of States, seeing how from time to time one and another legal + cruelty is done away with without hurt to the commonweal. And I hold it + likely that the severities they still maintain are no whit more useful + than those they have abolished. But men are cruel. Come away, + Tournebroche, my dear lad; it grieves me to think how unhappy prisoners + are even now lying awake behind those walls in anguish and despair. I know + they have done faultily, but this doth not hinder me from pitying them. + Which of us is without offence?” + </p> + <p> + We went on our way. The bridge was deserted save for a beggarman and + woman, who met on the causeway. The pair drew stealthily into one of the + recesses over the piers, where they lurked together on the door-step of a + hucksters booth. They seemed well enough content, both of them, to mingle + their joint wretchedness, and when we went by were thinking of quite other + things than craving our charity. Nevertheless my good master, who was the + most compassionate of men, threw them a half farthing, the last piece of + money left in his breeches pocket. + </p> + <p> + “They will pick up our obol,” he said, “when they have come back to the + consciousness of their misery. I pray they may not quarrel then over + fiercely for possession of the coin.” + </p> + <p> + We passed on without further rencounter till on the Quai des Oiseleurs we + espied a young damsel striding along with a notable air of resolution. + Hastening our pace to get a nearer view, we saw she had a slim waist and + fair hair in which the moonbeams played prettily. She was dressed like a + citizen’s wife or daughter. + </p> + <p> + “There goes a pretty girl,” said the Abbé; “how comes it she is out of + doors alone at this hour of night?” + </p> + <p> + “Truly,” I agreed, “‘tis not the sort one generally encounters on the + bridges after curfew.” + </p> + <p> + Our surprise was changed to alarm when we saw her go down to the river + bank by a little stairway the sailors use. We ran towards her; but she did + not seem to hear us. She halted at the edge; the stream was running high, + and the dull roar of the swollen waters could be heard some way off. She + stood a moment motionless, her head thrown back and arms hanging, in an + attitude of despair. Then, bending her graceful neck, she put her two + hands over her face and kept it hid behind her fingers for some seconds. + Next moment she suddenly grasped her skirts and dragged them forward with + the gesture a woman always uses when she is going to jump. My good master + and I came up with her just as she was taking the fatal leap, and we + hauled her forcibly backward. She struggled to get free of our arms; and + as the bank was all slimy and slippery with ooze deposited by the receding + waters (for the river was already beginning to fall), M. l’Abbé Coignard + came very near being dragged in too. I was losing my foothold myself. But + as luck would have it, my feet lighted on a root which held me up as I + crouched there with my arms round the best of masters and this despairing + young thing. Presently, coming to the end of her strength and courage, she + fell back on M. l’Abbé Coignard’s breast, and we managed all three to + scramble to the top of the bank again. He helped her up daintily, with a + certain easy grace that was always his. Then he led the way to a great + beech-tree at the foot of which was a wooden bench, on which he seated + her. + </p> + <p> + Taking his place beside her: + </p> + <p> + “Mademoiselle,” he said gently, “you need have no fear. Say nothing just + yet, but be assured it is a friend sits by you.” + </p> + <p> + Next, turning to me, my master went on: + </p> + <p> + “Tournebroche, my son, we may congratulate ourselves on having brought + this strange adventure to a good end. But I have left my hat down yonder + on the river bank; albeit it has lost pretty near all its lace and is + thread-bare with long service, it was still good to guard my old head, + sorely tried by years and labours, against sun and rain. Go see, my son, + if it may still be found where I dropped it. And if you discover it, bring + it me, I beg,—likewise one of my shoe buckles, which I see I have + lost. For my part I will stay by this damsel we have rescued and watch + over her slumber.” + </p> + <p> + I ran back to the spot we had just quitted and was lucky enough to find my + good master’s hat. The buckle I could not espy anywhere. True, I did not + take any very excessive pains to hunt for it, having never all my life + seen my good master with more than one shoe buckle. When I returned to the + tree, I found the damsel still in the same state, sitting quite motionless + with her head leant against the trunk of the beech. I noticed now that she + was of a very perfect beauty. She wore a silk mantle trimmed with lace, + very neat and proper, and on her feet light shoes, the buckles of which + caught the moonbeams. + </p> + <p> + I could not have enough of examining her. Suddenly she opened her drooping + lids, and casting a look that was still misty at M. Coignard and me, she + began in a feeble voice, but with the tone and accent, I thought, of a + person of gentility: + </p> + <p> + “I am not ungrateful, sirs, for the service you have done me from feelings + of humanity; but I cannot truthfully tell you I am glad, for the life to + which you have restored me is a curse, a hateful, cruel torment.” + </p> + <p> + At these sad words my good master, whose face wore a look of compassion, + smiled softly, for he could not really think life was to be for ever + hateful to so young and pretty a creature. + </p> + <p> + “My child,” he told her, “things strike us in a totally different light + according as they are near at hand or far off. It is no time for you to + despair. Such as I am, and brought to this sorry plight by the buffets of + time and fortune, I yet make shift to endure a life wherein my pleasures + are to translate Greek and dine sometimes with sundry very worthy friends. + Look at me, mademoiselle, and say,—would you consent to live in the + same conditions as I?” + </p> + <p> + She looked him over; her eyes almost laughed, and she shook her head. + Then, resuming her melancholy and mournfulness, she faltered: + </p> + <p> + “There is not in all the world so unhappy a being as I am.” + </p> + <p> + “Mademoiselle,” returned my good master, “I am discreet both by calling + and temperament; I will not seek to force your confidence. But your looks + betray you; any one can see you are sick of disappointed love. Well, ‘t is + not an incurable complaint. I have had it myself, and I have lived many a + long year since then.” + </p> + <p> + He took her hand, gave her a thousand tokens of his sympathy, and went on + in these terms: + </p> + <p> + “There is only one thing I regret for the moment,—that I cannot + offer you a refuge for the night, or what is left of it. My present + lodging is in an old château a long way from here, where I am busy + translating a Greek book along with young Master Tournebroche whom you see + here.” + </p> + <p> + My master spoke the truth. We were living at the time with M. d’Astarac, + at the Château des Sablons, in the village of Neuilly, and were in the pay + of a great alchemist, who died later under tragic circumstances. + </p> + <p> + “At the same time, mademoiselle,” my master added, “if you should know of + any place where you think you could go, I shall be happy to escort you + thither.” + </p> + <p> + To which the girl answered she appreciated all his kindness, that she + lived with a kinswoman, to whose house she could count on being admitted + at any hour; but that she had rather not return before daylight. She was + fain, she said, not to disturb quiet folks’ sleep, and dreaded moreover to + have her grief too painfully renewed by the sight of her old, familiar + surroundings. + </p> + <p> + As she spoke thus, the tears rained down from her eyes. My good master + bade her: + </p> + <p> + “Mademoiselle, give me your handkerchief, if you please, and I will wipe + your eyes. Then I will take you to wait for daybreak under the archways of + the Halles, where we can sit in comfort under shelter from the night + dews.” + </p> + <p> + The girl smiled through her tears. + </p> + <p> + “I do not like,” she said, “to give you so much trouble. Go your way, sir, + and rest assured you take my best thanks with you.” + </p> + <p> + For all that she laid her hand on the arm my good master offered her, and + we set out, all the three of us, for the Halles. The night had turned much + cooler. In the sky, which was beginning to assume a milky hue, the stars + were growing paler and fainter. We could hear the first of the + market-gardeners’ carts rumbling along to the Halles, drawn by a + slow-stepping horse, half asleep in the shafts. Arrived at the archways, + we chose a place in the recess of a porch distinguished by an image of St. + Nicholas, and established ourselves all three on a stone step, on which M. + l’Abbé Coignard took the precaution of spreading his cloak before he let + his young charge sit down. + </p> + <p> + Thereupon my good master fell to discoursing on divers subjects, choosing + merry and enlivening themes of set purpose to drive away the gloomy + thoughts that might assail our companion’s mind. He told her he accounted + this rencounter the most fortunate he had ever chanced on all his life, + and that he should ever cherish a fond recollection of one who had so + deeply touched him,—all this, however, without ever asking to know + her name and story. + </p> + <p> + My good master thought no doubt that the unknown would presently tell him + what he refrained from asking. She broke into a fresh flood of weeping, + heaved a deep sigh and said: + </p> + <p> + “I should be churlish, sir, to reward your kindness with silence. I am not + afraid to trust myself in your hands. My name is Sophie T———. + You have guessed the truth; ‘tis the betrayal of a lover I was too fondly + attached to has brought me to despair. If you deem my grief excessive, + that is because you do not know how great was my assurance, how blind my + infatuation, and you cannot realize how enchanting was the paradise I have + lost.” + </p> + <p> + Then, raising her lovely eyes to our faces, she went on: + </p> + <p> + “Sirs, I am not such a woman as your meeting me thus at night time might + lead you to suppose. My father was a merchant. He went, in the way of + trade, to America, and was lost on his way home in a shipwreck, he and his + merchandise with him. My mother was so overwhelmed by these calamities + that she fell into a decline and died, leaving me, while still a child, to + the charge of an aunt, who brought me up. I was a good girl till the hour + I met the man whose love was to afford me indescribable delights, ending + in the despair wherein you now see me plunged.” + </p> + <p> + So saying, Sophie hid her face in her handkerchief. Presently she resumed + with a sigh: + </p> + <p> + “His worldly rank was so far above my own I could never expect to be his + except in secret. I flattered myself he would be faithful to me. He swore + he loved me, and easily overcame my scruples. My aunt was aware of our + feelings for one another, and raised no obstacles, for two reasons,—because + her affection for me made her indulgent, and because my dear lover’s high + position impressed her imagination. I lived a year of perfect happiness + only equalled by the wretchedness I now endure. This morning he came to + see me at my aunt’s, with whom I live. I was haunted by dark forebodings. + As I dressed my hair but an hour or so before, I had broken a mirror he + had given me. The sight of him only increased my misgivings, for I noticed + instantly that his face wore an unaccustomed look of constraint... Oh! + sir, was ever woman so unhappy as I?...” + </p> + <p> + Her eyes filled again with tears; but she kept them back under her lids, + and was able to finish her tale, which my good master deemed as touching, + but by no means so unique, as she did herself. + </p> + <p> + “He informed me coldly, though not without signs of embarrassment, that + his father having bought him a Company, he was leaving to join the + colours. First, however, he said, his family required him to plight his + troth to the daughter of an Intendant of Finances; the connection was + advantageous to his fortune and would bring him means adequate to support + his rank and make a figure in the world. And the traitor, never deigning + to notice my pale looks, added in his soft, caressing voice which had made + me so many vows of affection, that his new obligations would prevent his + seeing me again, at least for some while. He assured me further that he + was still my friend and begged me to accept a sum of money in memory of + the days we had passed together. + </p> + <p> + “And with the words he held out a purse to me. + </p> + <p> + “I am telling you the truth, sirs, when I assure you I had always refused + to listen to the offers he repeated again and again, to give me fine + clothes, furniture, plate, an establishment, and to take me away from my + aunt’s, where I lived in very narrow circumstances, and settle me in a + most elegant little mansion he had in the Rue di Roule. My wish was that + we should be united only by the ties of affection, and I was proud to have + of his gift nothing but a few jewels whose sole value came from the fact + of his being the donor. My gorge rose at the sight of the purse he offered + me, and the insult gave me strength to banish from my presence the + impostor whom in one moment I had learnt to know and to despise. He faced + my angry looks unabashed, and assured me with the utmost unconcern that I + could know nothing of the paramount obligations that fill the existence of + a man of quality, adding that he hoped eventually, when I looked at things + quietly, I should come to see his behaviour in a better light. Then, + returning the purse to his pocket, he declared he would readily find a way + of putting the contents at my disposal in such a manner as to make it + impossible for me to refuse his liberality. Thus leaving me with the + odious, the intolerable implication that he was going to make full amends + by these sordid means, he made for the door to which I pointed without a + word. When he was gone, I felt a calmness of mind that surprised myself. + It arose from the resolution I had formed to die. I dressed with some + care, wrote a letter to my aunt asking her forgiveness for the pain I was + about to cause her by my death, and went out into the streets. There I + roamed about all the afternoon and evening and a part of the night, moving + from busy thoroughfare to deserted lane without a trace of fatigue, + postponing the execution of my purpose to make it more sure and certain + under the favouring conditions of darkness and solitude. Possibly too I + found a certain weak pleasure in dallying with the thought of dying and + tasting the mournful satisfaction of my coming release from my troubles. + At two o’clock in the morning, I went down to the river’s brink. Sirs, you + know the rest,—you snatched me from a watery grave. I thank you for + your goodness,—though I am sorry you saved my life. The world is + full of forsaken women. I did not wish to add another to the number.” + </p> + <p> + Sophie then fell silent and began weeping afresh. My good master took her + hand with the greatest delicacy. + </p> + <p> + “My child,” he said, “I have listened with a tender interest to the story + of your life, and I own ‘tis a sad tale. But I am happy to discern that + your case is curable. Not only was your lover unworthy of the favours you + showed him and has proved himself on trial a selfish, cruel-hearted + libertine, but I see plainly your love for him was only an impulse of the + senses and the effect of your own sensibility, the particular object of + which mattered far less than you imagine. What there was rare and + excellent in the liaison came from you. Well then, nothing is lost, since + the source still remains. Your eyes, which have thrown a glamour of the + fairest hues over, I doubt not, a very ordinary individual, will not cease + to go on shedding abroad elsewhere the same bright rays of charming + self-delusion.” + </p> + <p> + My good master said more in the same strain, dropping from his lips the + finest words ever heard anent the tribulations of the senses and the + errors lovers are prone to. But, as he talked on, Sophie, who for some + while had let her pretty head droop on the shoulder of this best of men, + fell softly asleep. When M. l’Abbé Coignard saw his young friend was + wrapped in a sound slumber, he congratulated himself on having discoursed + in a vein so meet to afford repose and peace to a suffering soul. + </p> + <p> + “It must be allowed,” he chuckled, “my sermons have a beneficent effect.” + </p> + <p> + Not to disturb Mademoiselle’s slumbers, he took a thousand pretty + precautions, amongst others constraining himself to talk on + uninterruptedly, not unreasonably apprehensive that a sudden silence might + awake her. + </p> + <p> + “Tournebroche, my son,” he said, turning to me, “look, all her sorrows are + vanished away with the consciousness she had of them. You must see they + were all of the imagination and resided in her own thought. You must + understand likewise they sprang from a certain pride and overweening + conceit that goes along with love and makes it very exacting. For, in + truth, if only we loved in humbleness of spirit and forgetfulness of self, + or merely with a simple heart, we should be content with what is + vouchsafed us and should not straightway cry treason when some slight is + put on us. And if some power of loving were left us still, after our lover + had deserted us, we should await the issue in calmness of mind to make + what use of it God should please to grant.” + </p> + <p> + But the day was just breaking by this time, and the song of the birds grew + so loud it drowned my good master’s voice. He made no complaint on this + score. + </p> + <p> + “Hearken,” he said, “to the sparrows. They make love more wisely than men + do.” + </p> + <p> + Sophie awoke in the white light of dawn, and I admired her lovely eyes, + which fatigue and grief had ringed with a delicate pearly-grey. She seemed + somewhat reconciled to life, and did not refuse a cup of chocolate which + my good master made her drink at Mathurine’s door, the pretty + chocolate-seller of the Halles. + </p> + <p> + But as the poor child came into more complete possession of her wits, she + began to trouble about sundry practical difficulties she had not thought + of till then. + </p> + <p> + “What will my aunt say? And whatever can I tell her?” she asked + distractedly. + </p> + <p> + The aunt lived just opposite Saint-Eustache, less than a hundred yards + from Mathurine’s archway. Thither we escorted her niece; and M. l’Abbé + Coignard, who had quite a venerable look, though one shoe <i>was</i> + unbuckled, accompanied the fair Sophie to the door of her aunt’s lodging + and pitched that lady a fine tale: + </p> + <p> + “I had the happy fortune,” he informed her, “to encounter your good niece + at the very moment when she was assailed by four footpads armed with + pistols, and I shouted for the watch so lustily that the thieves took to + their heels in a panic. But they were not quick enough to escape the + sergeants who, by the rarest chance, ran up in answer to my outcries. They + arrested the villains after a desperate tussle. I took my share of the + rough and tumble, and I thought at first I had lost my hat in the fray. + When all was over, we were all taken, your niece, the four footpads and + myself, before his Honour the Lieutenant-Criminel, who treated us with + much consideration and detained us till daylight in his cabinet, taking + down our evidence.” The aunt answered drily: + </p> + <p> + “I thank you, sir, for having saved my niece from a peril which, to say + the truth, is not the risk a girl of her age need fear the most, when she + is out alone at night in the streets of Paris.” + </p> + <p> + My good master made no answer to this; but Mademoiselle Sophie spoke up + and said in a voice of deep feeling: + </p> + <p> + “I do assure you, Aunt, Monsieur l’Abbé saved my life.” + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + Some years after this singular adventure, my master made the fatal journey + to Lyons from which he never returned. He was foully murdered, and I had + the ineffable grief of seeing him expire in my arms. The incidents of his + death have no connexion with the matter I speak of here. I have taken + pains to record them elsewhere; they are indeed memorable, and will never, + I think, be forgotten. I may add that this journey was in all ways + unfortunate, for after losing the best of masters on the road, I was + likewise forsaken by a mistress who loved me, but did not love me alone, + and whose loss nearly broke my heart, coming after that of my good master. + It is a mistake to suppose that a man who has received one cruel blow + grows callous to succeeding strokes of calamity. Far otherwise; he suffers + agonies from the smallest contrarieties. I returned to Paris in a state of + dejection almost beyond belief. + </p> + <p> + Well, one evening, by way of enlivening my spirits, I went to the Comédie, + where they were playing <i>Bajazet</i>, one of Racine’s excellent pieces. + I was particularly struck by the charm and beauty, no less than the + originality and talent, of the actress who took the part of Roxane. She + expressed with a delightful naturalness the passion animating that + character, and I shuddered as I heard her declaim in accents that were + harmonious and yet terrible the line: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Écoutez Bajazet, je sens que je vous aime.{*} + + * “Hearken, Bajazet, I feel I love you.” + </pre> + <p> + I never wearied of gazing at her all the time she occupied the stage, and + admiring the beauty of her eyes that gleamed below a brow as pure as + marble and crowned by powdered locks all spangled with pearls. Her slender + waist too, which her hoop showed off to perfection, did not fail to make a + vivid impression on my heart. I had the better leisure to scrutinize these + adorable charms as she happened to face in my direction to deliver several + important portions of her rôle. And the more I looked, the more I felt + convinced I had seen her before, though I found it impossible to recall + anything connected with our previous meeting. My neighbour in the theatre, + who was a constant frequenter of the Comédie, told me the beautiful + actress was Mademoiselle B———, the idol of the pit. He + added that she was as great a favourite in society as on the boards, that + M. le Duc de La ——— had made her the fashion and that + she was on the highroad to eclipse Mademoiselle Lecouvreur. + </p> + <p> + I was just leaving my seat after the performance when a “femme de chambre” + handed me a note in which I found written in pencil the words: + </p> + <p> + “<i>Mademoiselle Roxane is waiting for you in her coach at the theatre + door</i>.” + </p> + <p> + I could not believe the missive was intended for me; and I asked the + abigail who had delivered it if she was not mistaken in the recipient. + </p> + <p> + “If I <i>am</i> mistaken,” she replied confidently, “then you cannot be + Monsieur de Tournebroche, that is all.” + </p> + <p> + I ran to the coach which stood waiting in front of the House, and inside I + recognized Mademoiselle B———, her head muffled in a + black satin hood. + </p> + <p> + She beckoned to me to get in, and when I was seated beside her: + </p> + <p> + “Do you not,” she asked me, “recognize Sophie, whom you rescued from + drowning on the banks of the Seine?” + </p> + <p> + “What! you! Sophie—Roxane—Mademoiselle B———, + is it possible?—” + </p> + <p> + My confusion was extreme, but she appeared to view it without annoyance. + </p> + <p> + “I saw you,” she went on, “in one corner of the pit. I knew you instantly + and played for you. Say, did I play well? I am so glad to see you again!—” + </p> + <p> + She asked me news of M. l’Abbé Coignard, and when I told her my good + master had just perished miserably, she burst into tears. + </p> + <p> + She was good enough to inform me of the chief events of her life: + </p> + <p> + “My aunt,” she said, “used to mend her laces for Madame de Saint-Remi, + who, as you must know, is an admirable actress. A short while after the + night when you did me such yeoman service, I went to her house to take + home some pieces of lace. The lady told me I had a face that interested + her. She then asked me to read some verses, and concluded I was not + without wits. She had me trained. I made my first appearance at the + Comédie last year. I interpret passions I have felt myself, and the public + credits me with some talent. M. le Duc de La ——— + exhibits a very dear friendship for me, and I think he will never cause me + pain and disappointment, because I have learnt to ask of men only what + they can give. At this moment he is expecting me at supper. I must not + break my word.” + </p> + <p> + But, reading my vexation in my eyes, she added: + </p> + <p> + “However, I have told my people to go the longest way round and to drive + slowly.” + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Merrie Tales Of Jacques +Tournebroche, by Anatole France + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK JACQUES TOURNEBROCHE *** + +***** This file should be named 25407-h.htm or 25407-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/2/5/4/0/25407/ + +Produced by David Widger + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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