He was one day at dinner, and enjoying himself, at the inn kept by his parishioner, and as they were in the midst of their dinner, there came a man named Trenchecouille, whose business it was to cut cattle, pull teeth, and other matters, and who had come to the inn for one of these purposes.

The host received him well, and asked him to sit down, and, without being much pressed, he sat down with the cure and the others, to eat.

The cure, who was a great joker, began to talk to this gelder and asked him a hundred thousand questions about his business, and the gelder replied as he best could.

At the end, the cure turned to the host, and whispered in his ear,

"Shall we play a trick upon this gelder?"

"Oh, yes, let us," replied the host. "But how shall we do it?"

"By my oath," said the cure, "we will play him a pretty trick, if you will help me."

"I am quite willing," replied the host.

"I will tell you what we will do," said the cure. "I will pretend to have a pain in the t.e.s.t.i.c.l.e, and bargain with him to cut it out; then I will be bound and laid on the table all ready, and when he comes near to cut me, I will jump up and show him my backside."

"That is well said," replied my host, who at once saw what he had to do. "We shall never hit on anything better. We will all help you with the joke."

"Very well," said the cure.

After this the cure began again to rally the gelder, and at last told him that he had want of a man like him, for that he had a t.e.s.t.i.c.l.e all diseased and rotten, and would like to find a man who would extract it, and he said it so quietly and calmly that the gelder believed him, and replied;

"Monsieur le cure, I would have you know that without either disparaging myself or boasting, there is not a man in this country who can do the job better than I can, and for the sake of the host here, I will do my best to satisfy you."

"Truly, that is well said;" replied the cure.

In short, all was agreed, and when the dinner had been removed, the gelder began to make his preparations, and on the other hand the cure prepared to play the practical joke, (which was to turn out no joke for him) and told the host and the others what they were to do.

Whilst these preparations were being made on both sides, the host went to the gelder, and said,

"Take care, and, whatever the priest may say, cut out both his t.e.s.t.i.c.l.es, clean,--and fail not, if you value your carca.s.s."

"By St. Martin, I will," replied the gelder, "since you wish it. I have ready a knife so sharp that I will present you with his t.e.s.t.i.c.l.es before he has time to say a word."

"We shall see what you can do," said the host, "but if you fail, I will never again have anything to do with you."

All being ready, the table was brought, and the cure, in his doublet, pretended to be in great pain, and promised a bottle of good wine to the gelder.

The host and his servants laid hold of the cure so that he could not get away, and for better security they tied him tightly, and told him that was to make the joke better, and that they would let him go when he wished, and he like a fool believed them. Then came the brave gelder, having a little rasor concealed in his hand, and began to feel the cure's t.e.s.t.i.c.l.es.

"In the devil's name," said the cure, "do it well and with one cut.

Touch them first as you can, and afterwards I will tell you which one I want taken out."

"Very well," he replied, and lifting up the shirt, took hold of the t.e.s.t.i.c.l.es, which were big and heavy and without enquiring which was the bad one, cut them both out at a single stroke.

The good cure began to yell, and make more ado than ever man made.

"Hallo, hallo!" said the host; "have patience. What is done, is done.

Let us bandage you up."

The gelder did all that was necessary, and then went away, expecting a handsome present from the host.

It need not be said that the cure was much grieved at this deprivation, and he reviled the host, who was the cause of the mischief, but G.o.d knows he excused himself well, and said that if the gelder had not disappeared so quickly, he would have served him so that he would never have cut any one again.

"As you imagine," he said, "I am greatly grieved at your misfortune, and still more that it should have happened in my inn."

The news soon spread through the town, and it need not be said that many damsels were vexed to find themselves deprived of the cure's instrument, but on the other hand the long-suffering husbands were so happy that I could neither speak nor write the tenth part of their joy.

Thus, as you have heard, was the cure, who had deceived and duped so many others, punished. Never after that did he dare to show himself amongst men, but soon afterwards ended in grief and seclusion his miserable life.

[Ill.u.s.tration: 65.jpg Indiscretion reproved, but not punished.]

STORY THE SIXTY-FIFTH -- INDISCRETION REPROVED, BUT NOT PUNISHED.

By The Provost Of Wastennes.

_Of a woman who heard her husband say that an innkeeper at Mont St.

Michel was excellent at copulating, so went there, hoping to try for herself, but her husband took means to prevent it, at which she was much displeased, as you will hear shortly._

Often a man says things for which he is sorry afterwards, and so it happened formerly that a good fellow who lived in a village near Mont St. Michel, talked one night at a supper, at which were present his wife, and several strangers and neighbours, of an inn-keeper of Mont St. Michel, and declared, affirmed, and swore on his honour, that this inn-keeper had the finest, biggest, and thickest member in all the country round, and could use it so well that four, five, or six times cost him no more trouble than taking off his hat. All those who were at table listened to this favourable account of the prowess of mine host of Mont St. Michel, and made what remarks they pleased about it, but the person who took the most notice was the lady of the house, the wife of the man who related the story, who had listened attentively, and to whom it seemed that a woman would be most happy and fortunate who had a husband so endowed.

And she also thought in her heart that if she could devise some cunning excuse she would some day go to Mont St. Michel, and put up at the inn kept by the man with the big member, and it would not be her fault if she did not try whether the report were true.

To execute what she had so boldly devised, at the end of six or eight days she took leave of her husband, to go on a pilgrimage to Mont St.

Michel; and she invented some clever excuse for her journey, as women well know how to do. Her husband did not refuse her permission to go, though he had his suspicions.

At parting, her husband told her to make an offering to Saint Michael, and that she was to lodge at the house of the said landlord, and he recommended her to him a hundred thousand times.

She promised to accomplish all he ordered, and upon that took leave and went away, much desiring, G.o.d knows, to find herself at Mont St. Michel.

As soon as she had left, the husband mounted his horse, and went as fast as he could, by another road to that which his wife had taken, to Mont St. Michel, and arrived secretly, before his wife, at the inn kept by the man already mentioned, who most gladly welcomed him. When he was in his chamber, he said to his host,

"My host, you and I have been friends for a long time. I will tell you what has brought me to your town now. About five or six days ago, a lot of good fellows were having supper at my house, and amongst other talk, I related how it was said throughout the country that there was no man better furnished than you"--and then he told him as nearly as possible all that had been said. "And it happened," he continued, "that my wife listened attentively to what I said, and never rested till she obtained permission to come to this town. And by my oath, I verily suspect that her chief intention is to try if she can, if my words were true that I said about your big member. She will soon be here I expect, for she longs to come; so I pray you when she does come you will receive her gladly, and welcome her, and do all that she asks. But at all events do not deceive me; take care that you do not touch her. Appoint a time to come to her when she is in bed, and I will go in your place, and afterwards I will tell you some good news."

"Let me alone," said the host. "I will take care and act my part well."

"At all events," said the other, "be sure and serve me no trick, for I know well enough that she will be ready to."

"By my oath," said the host, "I a.s.sure you I will not come near her,"

and he did not.