"Tell me, for G.o.d's sake," said the other, "what to do, and I will do it."

"She must," said the doctor, "have connection with a man, or she will die."

"Connection with a man?" said the other, "What is that?"

"That is to say," continued the doctor, "that you must mount on the top of her, and speedily ram her three or four times, or more if you can; for, if not, the great heat which is consuming her will not be put out."

"Ah! will that be good for her?"

"There is no chance of her living," said the doctor, "if you do not do it, and quickly too."

"By St. John," said the other, "I will try what I can do."

With that he went home and found his wife, who was groaning and lamenting loudly.

"How are you, my dear?" said he.

"I am dying, my dear," she replied.

"You shall not die, please G.o.d," said he. "I have seen the doctor, who has told me what medicine will cure you," and as he spoke, he undressed himself, and lay down by his wife, and began to execute the orders he had received from the doctor.

"What are you doing?" said she. "Do you want to kill me?"

"No! I am going to cure you," he replied. "The doctor said so;" and Nature instructing him, and the patient helping, he performed on her two or three times.

When he was resting from his labours, much astonished at what had happened, he asked his wife how she was?

"I am a little better than I was before;" she replied.

"G.o.d be praised," said he. "I hope you will get well and that the doctor told me truly:" and with that he began again.

To cut matters short, he performed so well that his wife was cured in a few days, at which he was very joyful, and so was her mother when she knew it.

The young man after this became a better fellow than he was before, and his wife being now restored to health, he one day invited all his relations and friends to dinner, and also the father and mother of his wife, and he served grand cheer after his own fashion. They drank to him, and he drank to them, and he was marvellous good company.

But hear what happened to him: in the midst of the dinner he began to weep, which much astonished all his friends who were at table with him, and they demanded what was the matter, but he could not reply for weeping scalding tears. At last he spoke, and said;

"I have good cause to weep."

"By my oath you have not," replied his mother-in-law. "What ails you?

You are rich and powerful, and well housed, and have good friends; and you must not forget that you have a fair and good wife whom G.o.d brought back to health when she was on the edge of the grave. In my opinion you ought to be light-hearted and joyful."

"Alas!" said he, "woe is me! My father and mother, who both loved me, and who ama.s.sed and left me so much wealth, are both dead, and by my fault, for they died of a fever, and if I had well towzled them both when they were ill, as I did to my wife, they would still be on their feet."

There was no one at table who, on hearing this, would not have liked to laugh, nevertheless they restrained themselves as best they could. The tables were removed, and each went his way, and the young man continued to live with his wife, and--in order that she might continue in good health--he failed not to tail her pretty often.

STORY THE TWENTY-FIRST -- THE ABBESS CURED [21]

By Philippe De Laon.

_Of an abbess who was ill for want of--you know what--but would not have it done, fearing to be reproached by her nuns, but they all agreed to do the same and most willingly did so._

In Normandy there is a fair nunnery, the Abbess of which was young, fair, and well-made. It chanced that she fell ill. The good sisters who were charitable and devout, hastened to visit her, and tried to comfort her, and do all that lay in their power. And when they found she was getting no better, they commanded one of the sisters to go to Rouen, and take her water to a renowned doctor of that place.

So the next day one of the nuns started on this errand, and when she arrived there she showed the water to the physician, and described at great length the illness of the Lady Abbess, how she slept, ate, drank, etc.

The learned doctor understood the case, both from his examination of the water, and the information given by the nun, and then he gave his prescription.

Now I know that it is the custom in many cases to give a prescription in writing, nevertheless this time he gave it by word of mouth, and said to the nun;

"Fair sister, for the abbess to recover her health there is but one remedy, and that is that she must have company with a man; otherwise in a short time she will grew so bad that death will be the only remedy."

Our nun was much astonished to hear such sad news, and said,

"Alas! Master John! is there no other method by which our abbess can recover her health?"

"Certainly not," he replied; "there is no other, and moreover, you must make haste to do as I have bid you, for if the disease is not stopped and takes its course, there is no man living who could cure it."

The good nun, though much disconcerted, made haste to announce the news to the Abbess, and by the aid of her stout cob, and the great desire she had to be at home, made such speed that the abbess was astonished to see her returned.

"What says the doctor, my dear?" cried the abbess. "Is there any fear of death?"

"You will be soon in good health if G.o.d so wills, madam," said the messenger. "Be of good cheer, and take heart."

"What! has not the doctor ordered me any medicine?" said the Abbess.

"Yes," was the reply, and then the nun related how the doctor had looked at her water, and asked her age, and how she ate and slept, etc. "And then in conclusion he ordered that you must have, somehow or other, carnal connection with some man, or otherwise you will shortly be dead, for there is no other remedy for your complaint."

"Connection with a man!" cried the lady. "I would rather die a thousand times if it were possible." And then she went on, "Since it is thus, and my illness is incurable and deadly unless I take such a remedy, let G.o.d be praised! I will die willingly. Call together quickly all the convent!"

The bell was rung, and all the nuns flocked round the Abbess, and, when they were all in the chamber, the Abbess, who still had the use of her tongue, however ill she was, began a long speech concerning the state of the church, and in what condition she had found it and how she left it, and then went on to speak of her illness, which was mortal and incurable as she well knew and felt, and as such and such a physician had also declared.

"And so, my dear sisters, I recommend to you our church, and that you pray for my poor soul."

At these words, tears in great abundance welled from all eyes, and the heart's fountain of the convent was moved. This weeping lasted long, and none of the company spoke.

After some time, the Prioress, who was wise and good, spoke for all the convent, and said;

"Madam, your illness--what it is, G.o.d, from whom nothing is hidden, alone knows--vexes us greatly, and there is not one of us who would not do all in her power to aid your recovery. We therefore pray you to spare nothing, not even the goods of the Church, for it would be better for us to lose the greater part of our temporal goods than be deprived of the spiritual profit which your presence gives us."

"My good sister," said the Abbess, "I have not deserved your kind offer, but I thank you as much as I can, and again advise and beg of you to take care of the Church--as I have already said--for it is a matter which concerns me closely, G.o.d knows; and pray also for my poor soul, which hath great need of your prayers."