Alas! I chose you amongst all others as the perfection of beauty, gentleness, and kindness, and hoped that I should find in you truth and fidelity, and therefore I gave you all my heart, believing in truth that it was safe in your keeping, and I had such faith in you that I would have met death, or worse, had it been possible, to save your honour.

Yet, when I thought myself most sure of your faith, I learned, not only by the report of others but by my own eyes, that another had s.n.a.t.c.hed your love from me, and deprived me of the hope of being the one person in the world who was dearest to you."

"My friend," said the wench, "I do not know what your trouble is, but from your manner and your words I judge that there is something the matter, but I cannot tell what it is if you do not speak more plainly--unless it be a little jealousy which torments you, and if so, I think, if you are wise, that you will soon banish it from your mind. For I have never given you any cause for that, as you know me well enough to be aware, and you should be sorry for having used such expressions to me."

"I am not the sort of man," said he, "to be satisfied with mere words.

Your excuses are worth nothing. You cannot deny that so-and-so (that is to say the last-comer) does not keep you. I know well he does, for I have noticed you, and moreover, have watched, and saw him yesterday come to you at such an hour, dressed in such and such a manner. But I swear to G.o.d he has had his last pleasure with you, for I bear him a grudge, and were he ten times as great a man as he is, when I meet him I will deprive him of his life, or he shall deprive me of mine; one of us two must die for I cannot live and see another enjoy you. You are false and disloyal to have deceived me, and it is not without cause that I curse the hour I made your acquaintance, for I know for a certainty that you will cause my death if my rival knows my determination, as I hope he will. I know that I am now as good as dead, and even if he should spare me, he does but sharpen the knife which is to shorten his own days, and then the world would not be big enough to save me, and die I must."

The wench could not readily find a sufficient excuse to satisfy him in his present state of mind. Nevertheless, she did her best to dissipate his melancholy, and drive away his suspicions, and said to him;

"My friend, I have heard your long tirade, which, to tell the truth, makes me reflect that I have not been so prudent as I ought, and have too readily believed your deceitful speeches, and obeyed you in all things, which is the reason you now think so little of me. Another reason why you speak to me thus, is that you know that I am so much in love with you that I cannot bear to live out of your presence. And for this cause, and many others that I need not mention, you deem me your subject and slave, with no right to speak or look at any but you. Since that pleases you, I am satisfied, but you have no right to suspect me with regard to any living person, nor have I any need to excuse myself.

Truth, which conquers all things, will right me in the end!"

"By G.o.d, my dear," said the young man, "the truth is what I have already told you--as both and he will find to your cost if you do not take care."

After these speeches, and others too long to recount here, he left, and did not forget on the following morning to recount everything to his friend the last-comer; and G.o.d knows what laughter and jests they had between them.

The wench, who still had wool on her distaff (*), saw and knew very well that each of her lovers suspected the other, nevertheless she continued to receive them each in his turn, without sending either away. She warned each earnestly that he must come to her in the most secret manner, in order that he should not be perceived.

(*) i.e. plenty of tricks or resources.

You must know that when the first-comer had his turn that he did not forget to complain as before, and threatened to kill his rival should he meet him. Also at his last meeting, he pretended to be more angry than he really was, and made very light of his rival, who, according to him, was as good as dead if he were caught with her. But the cunning and double-dealing jade had so many deceitful speeches ready that her excuses sounded as true as the Gospel. For she believed that, whatever doubts and suspicions they had, the affair would never really be found out, and that she was capable of satisfying them both.

It was otherwise in the end, for the last-comer, whom she was greatly afraid to lose, one day read her a sharp lesson. In fact he told her that he would never see her again, and did not for a long time afterwards, at which she was much displeased and dissatisfied.

And in order to embarra.s.s and annoy her still more, he sent to her a gentleman, a confidential friend, to point out how disgusted he was to find he had a rival, and to tell her, in short, that if she did not send away this rival, that he would never see her again as long as he lived.

As you have already heard, she would not willingly give up his acquaintance, and there was no male or female saint by whom she did not perjure herself in explaining away her love pa.s.sages with her other lover, and at last, quite beside herself, she said to the squire;

"I will show your master that I love him; give me your knife."

Then, when she had the knife, she took off her headdress, and with the knife cut off all her hair--not very evenly.

The squire, who knew the facts of the case, took this present, and said he would do his duty and give it to his master, which he soon did. The last-comer received the parcel, which he undid, and found the hair of his mistress, which was very long and beautiful. He did not feel much at ease until he had sent for his friend and revealed to him the message he had sent, and the valuable present she had given him in return, and then he showed the beautiful long tresses.

"I fancy," said he, "I must be very high in her good graces. You can scarcely expect that she would do as much for you."

"By St. John!" said the other, "this is strange news. I see plainly that I am left out in the cold. It is finished! You are the favoured one. But let us" he added, "think what is to be done. We must show her plainly that we know what she is."

"That's what I wish," said the other.

They thought the matter over, and arranged their plan as follows.

The next day, or soon afterwards, the two friends were in a chamber where there were a.s.sembled their fair lady and many others. Each took his place where he liked; the first-comer sat near the damsel, and after some talk, he showed her the hair which she had sent to his friend.

Whatever she may have thought, she was not startled, but said she did not know whose hair it was, but it did not belong to her.

"What?" he said. "Has it so quickly changed that it cannot be recognised?"

"That I cannot say," she replied, "but it does not belong to me."

When he heard that, he thought it was time to play his best card, and, as though by accident, gave her _chaperon_ (*) such a twitch that it fell to the ground, at which she was both angry and ashamed. And all those who were present saw that her hair was short, and had been badly hacked.

(*) The chaperon, in the time of Charles VII, was fastened to the shoulder by a long band which sometimes pa.s.sed two or three times round the neck, and sometimes hung down the back.

She rose in haste, and s.n.a.t.c.hed up her head-dress, and ran into another chamber to attire herself, and he followed her. He found her angry and ashamed, and weeping bitterly with vexation at being thus caught. He asked her what she had to weep about, and at what game she had lost her hair?

She did not know what to reply, she was so vexed and astonished; and he, who was determined to carry out the arrangement he had concluded with his friend, said to her;

"False and disloyal as you are, you have not cared that I and my friend were deceived and dishonoured. You wished,--as you have plainly shown--to add two more victims to your list, but, thank G.o.d, we were on our guard. And, in order that you may see that we both know you, here is your hair which you sent him, and which he has presented to me; and do not believe that we are such fools as you have hitherto thought us."

Then he called his friend, who came, and the first said,

"I have given back this fair damsel her hair, an have begun to tell her how she has accepted the love of both of us, and how by her manner of acting she has shown us that she did not care whether she disgraced us both--may G.o.d save us!"

"Truly--by St. John!" said the other, and thereupon he made a long speech to the wench, and G.o.d knows he talked to her well, remonstrating with her on her cowardice and disloyal heart. Never was woman so well lectured as she was at that time, first by one then by the other.

She was so taken by surprise that she did not know what to reply, except by tears, which she shed abundantly.

She had never had enough pleasure out of both her lovers to compensate for the vexation she suffered at that moment.

Nevertheless, in the end they did not desert her, but lived as they did before, each taking his turn, and if by chance they both came to her together, the one gave place to the other, and they were both good friends as before, without ever talking of killing or fighting.

For a long time the two friends continued this pleasant manner of loving, and the poor wench never dared to refuse either of them. And whenever the one wished to have intercourse with her, he told the other, and whenever the second went to see her, the first stayed at home. They made each other many compliments, and sent one another rondels and songs which are now celebrated, about the circ.u.mstances I have already related, and of which I now conclude the account.

[Ill.u.s.tration: 34.jpg THE MAN ABOVE AND THE MAN BELOW.]

STORY THE THIRTY-FOURTH -- THE MAN ABOVE AND THE MAN BELOW. [34]

By Monsigneur De La Roche.

_Of a married woman who gave rendezvous to two lovers, who came and visited her, and her husband came soon after, and of the words which pa.s.sed between them, as you shall presently hear._

I knew in my time a brave and worthy woman, deserving to be remembered and respected, for her virtues should not be hidden and kept dark, but publicly blazoned to the world. You will shortly hear, if you will, in this story something which will increase and magnify her fame.

This gallant wench was married to a countryman of ours, and had many lovers seeking and desiring her favours,--which were not over difficult to obtain, for she was so kind and compa.s.sionate that she both would and could bestow herself freely whenever she liked.

It happened one day that two men came to see her, as both were accustomed, to ask for a rendezvous. She would not have retreated before two or even three, and appointed a day and hour for each to come to her--the one at eight o'clock the morrow morning, and the other at nine, and charged each one expressly that he should not fail to keep his appointed hour.

They promised on their faith and honour that if they were alive they would keep their a.s.signation.

When the morrow came, at about 6 o'clock in the morning, the husband of this brave wench rose, dressed himself, and called his wife, but she bluntly refused to get up when ordered.