"The fault is mine," said he. Then addressing the damsel, he added, "Mademoiselle, do you harbour such guests in your house?"

"Yes, monseigneur," she replied, "and thank you for having sent him."

"I?" said he. "By St. John I have nothing to do with it. I came to occupy my usual place, but it seems I am too late. At least I beg, since I cannot have anything else, that you open the door and let me drink a cup of wine."

"By G.o.d, you shall not enter here!" she cried.

"By St. John! he shall," cried the squire, and ran down and opened the door, and then went back to bed, and she did also, though, G.o.d knows, much ashamed and dissatisfied.

When the good knight entered the chamber, he lighted a candle, and looked at the couple in bed and said;

"Good luck to you, mademoiselle, and to you also squire."

"Many thanks, monseigneur," said he.

But the damsel could not say a word, her heart was so full, for she felt certain that the knight had connived at the squire's coming, and she felt so angry that she would not speak to him.

"Who showed you the way here, squire?" asked the knight.

"Your little mule, monseigneur," said he. "I found it at the foot of the stairs, when I supped with you at the castle. It was there alone, and seemingly lost, so I asked it what it was waiting for, and it replied that it was waiting for its saddle-cloth and you. 'To go where?' I asked. 'Where we usually go,' replied the mule. 'I am sure,' said I, 'that your master will not leave the house to-night, for he is going to bed, so take me where you usually go, I beg.' It was content, so I mounted on it, and it brought me here, for which I give it thanks."

"G.o.d reward the little beast that betrayed me," said the good knight.

"Ah, you have fully deserved it, monseigneur," said the damsel, when at last she was able to speak. "I know well that you have deceived me, but I wish you to know that it is not much to your honour. There was no need, if you would not come yourself, to send some one else surrept.i.tiously. It was an evil day for me when first I saw you."

"Morbleu! I never sent him," he said; "but since he is here I will not drive him away. Besides there is enough for the two of us; is there not my friend?"

"Oh, yes, monseigneur, plenty of spoil to divide. Let us celebrate the arrangement by a drink."

He went to the side-board and filled a large cup with wine, and said, "I drink to you, friend."

"And I pledge you, friend," said the other, and poured out another cup for the damsel, who refused to drink, but at last, unwillingly, kissed the cup.

"Well, friend," said the knight, "I will leave you here. Ruffle her well; it is your turn to-day and will be mine to morrow, please G.o.d, and I hope you will be as obliging to me, if ever you find me here, as I am to you now."

"By Our Lady, friend, doubt not but I shall be."

Then the knight went away and left the squire, who did as well as he could on the first night. And he told the damsel the whole truth of his adventure, at which she was somewhat relieved to find that he had not been sent.

Thus was the fair damsel deceived by the mule, and obliged to obey the knight and the squire, each in his turn--an arrangement to which she finally became accustomed. The knight and squire grew more attached to each other than before this adventure; their affection increased, and no evil counsels engendered discord and hate between them.

[Ill.u.s.tration: 32.jpg THE WOMEN WHO PAID t.i.tHE.]

STORY THE THIRTY-SECOND -- THE WOMEN WHO PAID t.i.tHE. [32]

By Monseigneur De Villiers.

_Of the Cordeliers of Ostelleria in Catalonia, who took t.i.the from the women of the town, and how it was known, and the punishment the lord of that place and his subjects inflicted on the monks, as you shall learn hereafter._

In order that I may not be excluded from the number of fortunate and meritorious writers who have worked to increase the number of stories in this book, I will briefly relate a new story, which will serve as a subst.i.tute for the tale previously required of me.

It is a well-known fact that in the town of Hostelleria, in Catalonia, (*) there arrived some minor friars of the order of Observance, (**) who had been driven out of the kingdom of Spain.

(*) Hostalrich, a town of Catalonia, some 28 miles from Girona.

(**) One of the princ.i.p.al branches of the order of Franciscans.

They managed to worm themselves into the good graces of the Lord of that town, who was an old man, so that he built for them a fair church and a large convent, and maintained and supported them all his life as best he could. And after him came his eldest son, who did quite as much for them as his worthy father had done.

In fact they prospered so, that, in a few years they had everything that a convent of mendicant friars could desire. Nor were they idle during all the time they were acquiring these riches; they preached both in the town and in the neighbouring villages, and had such influence over the people that there was not a good christian who did not confess to them, they had such great renown for pointing out faults to sinners.

But of all who praised them and held them in esteem, the women were foremost, such saints did they deem them on account of their charity and devotion.

Now listen to the wickedness, deception, and horrible treason which these false hypocrites practised on the men and women who every day gave them so many good gifts. They made it known to all the women in the town that they were to give to G.o.d a tenth of all their goods.

"You render to your Lord such and such a thing; to your parish and priest such and such a thing; and to us you must render and deliver the t.i.the of the number of times that you have carnal connection with your husband. We will take no other t.i.the from you, for, as you know, we carry no money--for the temporal and transitory things of this world are nothing to us. We ask and demand only spiritual goods. The t.i.thes which we ask and which you owe us are not temporal goods; as the Holy Sacrament, which you receive, is a divine and holy thing, so no one may receive the t.i.the but us, who are monks of the order of the Observance."

The poor simple women, who believed the good friars were more like angels than terrestrial beings, did not refuse to pay the t.i.the. There was not one who did not pay in her turn, from the highest to the lowest, even the wife of the Lord was not excused.

Thus were all the women of the town parcelled out amongst these rascally monks, and there was not a monk who did not have fifteen or sixteen women to pay t.i.thes to him, and G.o.d knows what other presents they had from the women, and all under cover of devotion.

This state of affairs lasted long without its ever coming to the knowledge of those who were most concerned in the payment of the new t.i.the; but at last it was discovered in the following manner.

A young man who was newly married, was invited to supper at the house of one of his relations--he and his wife--and as they were returning home, and pa.s.sing the church of the above-mentioned good Cordeliers, suddenly the bell rang out the _Ave Maria_, and the young man bowed to the ground to say his prayers.

His wife said, "I would willingly enter this church."

"What would you do in there at this hour?" asked her husband. "You can easily come again when it is daylight; to-morrow, or some other time."

"I beg of you," she said, "to let me go: I will soon return."

"By Our Lady!" said he, "you shall not go in now."

"By my oath!" she replied, "it is compulsory. I must go in, but I will not stay. If you are in a hurry to get home, go on, and I will follow you directly."

"Get on! get forward!" he said, "you have nothing to do here. If you want to say a _Pater noster_, or an _Ave Maria_, there is plenty of room at home, and it is quite as good to say it there as in this monastery, which is now as dark as pitch."

"Marry!" said she, "you may say what you like, but by my oath, it is necessary that I should enter here for a little while."