She began to cry, and the neighbours all a.s.sembled and asked what was the matter? The good man told them and they all laughed--except the woman who had had the lot knocked down to her.

STORY THE NINETY-EIGHTH -- THE UNFORTUNATE LOVERS.

By The Editor.

_Of a knight of this kingdom and his wife, who had a fair daughter aged fifteen or sixteen. Her father would have married her to a rich old knight, his neighbour, but she ran away with another knight, a young man who loved her honourably; and, by strange mishap, they both died sad deaths without having ever co-habited,--as you will hear shortly._

In the frontiers of France, there lived, amongst other n.o.bles, a knight who was rich and n.o.ble, not only by ill.u.s.trious descent, but by his own virtuous and honourable deeds, who had, by the wife he had married, an only daughter, a very beautiful virgin, well-educated as her condition required, and aged fifteen or sixteen years, or thereabouts.

This good and n.o.ble knight, seeing that his daughter was of a fit and proper age for the holy sacrament of wedlock, much wished to give her in marriage to a knight, his neighbour, who was powerful, not so much by n.o.ble birth as by great possessions and riches, and was also from 60 to 80 years old, or thereabouts.

This wish so filled the head of the father of whom I spoke, that he would not rest until formal promises were made between him and his wife, the mother of the girl, and the aforesaid old knight, touching his marriage to the girl, who, for her part, knew and suspected nothing of all these arrangements, promises, and treaties.

Not far from the castle of the knight, the father of this damsel, there lived another knight, a young man, valiant and brave, and moderately rich, but not so rich as the old man of whom I spoke, and this youth was greatly in love with the fair damsel. She also was much attached to him, on account of his fame and great renown, and they often spoke to each other, though with much trouble and difficulty, for her father, who suspected their love, tried by all ways and means to prevent their seeing each other. Nevertheless, he could not destroy the great and pure love which united their hearts, and when fortune favoured them with an opportunity, they discussed nothing but the means whereby they might accomplish their whole and sole desire and marry each other.

The time approached when the damsel was to be given to the old knight, and her father told her of the contract he had made, and named the day on which she was to be married; at which she was greatly angered, but thought to herself that she might find a way out of the difficulty.

She sent a message to her lover, the young knight, to tell him to come to her secretly as soon as he could; and when he came she told him how she was betrothed to the old knight, and asked her lover's advice as to how this marriage was to be broken off, for that she would never have any other man but him.

The knight replied,

"My dearest lady, since of your kindness you offer me that which I should never have dared to ask without great shame, I thank you humbly, and if it be your will, I will tell you what we will do. We will appoint a day for me to come to this town accompanied by many of my friends, and at a given hour you will repair to a certain place, both of which we will arrange now that I am alone with you. You will mount on my horse, and I will conduct you to my castle. And then, if we can manage to pacify your father and mother, we will fulfil our promises of plighted troth."

She replied that the plan was a good one, and she would carry it out properly. She told him that on such a day, at such an hour, he would find her at a certain place, and that she would do all that he had arranged.

The appointed day arrived, and the young knight appeared at the place mentioned, and there he found the lady, who mounted on his horse, and they rode fast until they were far from there.

The good knight, fearing that he should fatigue his dearly beloved mistress, slackened his speed, and spread his retainers on every road to see that they were not followed, and he rode across the fields, without keeping to any path or road, and as gently as he could, and charged his servants that they should meet at a large village which he named, and where he intended to stop and eat. This village was remote, and away from the high road.

They rode until they came to this village, where the local _fete_ was being held, which had brought together all sorts of people. They entered the best tavern in the place, and at once demanded food and drink, for it was late after dinner, and the damsel was much fatigued. A good fire was made, and food prepared for the servants of the knight who had not yet arrived.

Hardly had the knight and the lady entered the tavern than there came four big swashbucklers--waggoners or drovers, or perhaps worse--who noisily entered the tavern, and demanded where was the _bona roba_ that some ruffian had brought there, riding behind him on his horse, for they would drink with her, and amuse themselves with her.

The host who knew the knight well, and was aware that the rascals spake not the truth, told them gently that the girl was not what they imagined.

"Morbleu!" they replied; "if you do not bring her at once, we will batter down the door, and bring her by force in spite of the two of you."

When the host heard this, and found that his explanation was no use, he named the knight, who was renowned through all that district, but unknown to many of the common people, because he had long been out of the country, acquiring honour and renown in wars in distant countries.

The host told them also that the damsel was a young virgin, a relative of the knight, and of n.o.ble parentage.

"You can, messieurs," he said, "without danger to yourself or others, quench your l.u.s.t with many of the women who have come to the village on the occasion of the _fete_ expressly for you and the like of you, and for G.o.d's sake leave in peace this n.o.ble damsel, and think of the great danger that you run, the evil that you wish to commit and the small hope that you have of success."

"Drop your sermons," shouted the rascals, inflamed with carnal l.u.s.t, "and bring her to us quietly; or if not we will cause a scandal, for we will bring her down openly, and each of us four will do as he likes with her."

These speeches being finished, the good host went up to the chamber where the knight and the damsel were, and called the knight apart, and told him this news, which when he had heard, without being troubled in the least, he went down wearing his sword, to talk to the four swashbucklers, and asked them politely what they wanted?

And they, being foul-mouthed and abusive blackguards, replied that they wanted the _bona roba_ that he kept shut up in his chamber, and that, if he did not give her up quietly, they would take her from him by force.

"Fair sirs," said the knight, "if you knew me well you would be aware that I should not take about women of that sort. I have never done such a folly, thank G.o.d. And even if I ever did--which G.o.d forbid--I should never do it in this district, where I and all my people are well known--my n.o.bility and reputation would not suffer me to do it. This damsel is a young virgin, a near relative, related also to a n.o.ble house, and we are travelling for our pleasure, accompanied by my servants, who although they are not here at present, will come directly, and I am waiting for them. Moreover, do not flatter yourselves that I should be such a coward as to let her be insulted, or suffer injury of any kind; but I would protect and defend her as long as my strength endured, and until I died."

Before the knight had finished speaking, the villains interrupted him, and in the first place denied that he was the person he said, because he was alone, and that knight never travelled without a great number of servants. Therefore they recommended him, if he were wise, to bring the girl down, otherwise they would take her by force, whatever consequences might ensue.

When this brave and valiant knight found that fair words were of no use, and that force was the only remedy, he summoned up all his courage, and resolved that the villains should not have the damsel, and that he was ready to die in her defence.

At last one of the four advanced to knock with his bludgeon at the door of the chamber, and the others followed him, and were bravely beaten back by the knight. Then began a fight which lasted long, and although the two parties were so unequally matched, the good knight vanquished and repulsed the four villains, and as he pursued them to drive them away, one of them, who had a sword, turned suddenly and plunged it in the body of the knight, and pierced him through, so that he fell dead at once, at which they were very glad. Then they compelled the host to quietly bury the body in the garden of the inn.

When the good knight was dead, the villains came and knocked at the door of the chamber where the damsel was impatiently awaiting the return of her lover, and they pushed open the door.

As soon as she saw the brigands enter, she guessed that the knight was dead, and said;

"Alas, where is my protector? Where is my sole refuge? What has become of him? Why does he thus wound my heart and leave me here alone?"

The scoundrels, seeing that she was much troubled, thought to falsely deceive her by fair words, and told her the knight had gone to another house, and had commanded them to go to her and protect her; but she would not believe them, for her heart told her that they had killed him.

She began to lament, and to cry more bitterly than ever.

"What is this?" they said. "Why all these tricks and manners? Do you think we don't know you? If you imagine your bully is still alive, you are mistaken--we have rid the country of him. Therefore make your mind up that we are all four going to enjoy you." At these words one of them advanced, and seized her roughly, saying that he would have her company.

When the poor damsel saw herself thus forced, and that she could not soften their hearts, she said;

"Alas! sirs, since you will force me, and my humble prayers cannot soften you, at least have this decency; that if I abandon myself to you it shall be privately, that is to say each separately without the presence of the others."

They agreed to this, though with a bad grace, and then they made her choose which of the four should first have her company. She chose the one that she fancied was the mildest and best-tempered, but he was the worst of all. The door was closed, and then the poor damsel threw herself at the scoundrel's feet, and with many piteous appeals, begged that he would have pity on her. But he was obstinate, and declared that he would have his will of her.

When she saw that he was so cruel, and that her prayers could not melt him, she said.

"Well then, since so it must be, I am content; but I beg of you to close the windows that we may be more secret."

He willingly consented, and whilst he was closing them, she drew a little knife that she wore at her girdle, and uttering one long, piteous cry, she cut her throat, and gave up the ghost.

When the scoundrel saw her lying on the ground, he fled along with his companions, and it is to be supposed that they were afterwards punished according to their deserts.

Thus did these two sweet lovers end their days, one directly after the other, without ever having tasted of the joys and pleasures in which they hoped to have lived together all their days.

STORY THE NINETY-NINTH -- THE METAMORPHOSIS. [99]

By The Editor.