"If I were you," said Parlamente to Saffredent, "and held such an opinion as that, I would never make love to woman."

"My affection," said Saffredent, "and my folly are always so great, that where I cannot command I am well content to serve. All the ill-will of the ladies cannot subdue the love that I bear them. But, I pray you, tell me on your conscience, do you praise this lady for such great harshness?"

"Ay," said Oisille, "I do, for I think that she wished neither to receive love nor to bestow it."

"If such was her mind," said Simontault, "why did she hold out to him the hope of being loved after the seven years were past?"

"I am of your opinion," said Longarine, "for ladies who are unwilling to love give no occasion for the continuance of the love that is offered them."

"Perhaps," said Nomerfide, "she loved some one else less worthy than that honourable gentleman, and so forsook the better for the worse."

"'T faith," said Saffredent, "I think that she meant to keep him in readiness and take him whenever she might leave the other whom for the time she loved the best."

"I can see," said Oisille, (4) "that the more we talk in this way, the more those who would not be harshly treated will do their utmost to speak ill of us. Wherefore, Dagoucin, I pray you give some lady your vote."

4 Prior to this sentence the following pa.s.sage occurs in the De Thou MS.: "When Madame Oysille saw that the men, under pretence of censuring the Queen of Castille for conduct which certainly cannot be praised either in her or in any other, continued saying so much evil of women, that the most discreet and virtuous were spared no more than the most foolish and wanton, she could endure it no longer, but spoke and said," &c.--L.

"I give it," he said, "to Longarine, for I feel sure that she will tell us no melancholy story, and that she will speak the truth without sparing man or woman."

"Since you deem me so truthful," said Longarine, "I will be so bold as to relate an adventure that befel a very great Prince, who surpa.s.ses in worth all others of his time. Lying and dissimulation are, indeed, things not to be employed save in cases of extreme necessity; they are foul and infamous vices, more especially in Princes and great lords, on whose lips and features truth sits more becomingly than on those of other men. But no Prince in the world however great he be, even though he have all the honours and wealth he may desire, can escape being subject to the empire and tyranny of Love; indeed it would seem that the n.o.bler and more high-minded the Prince, the more does Love strive to bring him under his mighty hand. For this glorious G.o.d sets no store by common things; his majesty rejoices solely in the daily working of miracles, such as weakening the strong, strengthening the weak, giving knowledge to the simple, taking intelligence from the most learned, favouring the pa.s.sions, and overthrowing the reason. In such transformations as these does the Deity of Love delight. Now since Princes are not exempt from love's thraldom, so also are they not free from its necessities, and must therefore perforce be permitted to employ falsehood, hypocrisy and deceit, which, according to the teaching of Master Jehan de Mehun, (5) are the means to be employed for vanquishing our enemies. And, since such conduct is praiseworthy on the part of a Prince in such a case as this (though in any other it were deserving of blame), I will relate to you the devices to which a young Prince resorted, and by which he contrived to deceive those who are wont to deceive the whole world."

5 John dc Melun, who continued the _Roman de la Rose_ begun by Lorris.--D.

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[Ill.u.s.tration: 131a.jpg The Advocate's Wife attending on the Prince]

[The Advocate's Wife attending on the Prince]

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_TALE XXV_.

_A young Prince, whilst pretending to visit his lawyer and talk with him of his affairs, conversed so freely with the lawyer's wife, that he obtained from her what he desired_.

In the city of Paris there dwelt an advocate who was more highly thought of than any other of his condition, (1) and who, being sought after by every one on account of his excellent parts, had become the richest of all those who wore the gown.

1 In five of the oldest MSS. of the _Heptameron_, and in the original editions of 1558, 1559, and 1560, the words are "than nine others of his condition." The explanation of this is, that the advocate's name, as ascertained by Baron Jerome Pichon, was Disome, which, written Dix-hommes, would literally mean "ten men." Baron Pichon has largely elucidated this story, and the essential points of his notice, contributed to the _Melanges de la Societe des Bibliophiles Francais_, will be found summarized in the Appendix to this volume, B.--Ed.

Now, although he had had no children by his first wife, he was in hopes of having some by a second; for, although his body was no longer hearty, his heart and hopes were as much alive as ever. Accordingly, he made choice of one of the fairest maidens in the city; she was between eighteen and nineteen years of age, very handsome both in features and complexion, and still more handsome in figure. He loved her and treated her as well as could be; but he had no children by her any more than by his first wife, and this at last made her unhappy. And as youth cannot endure grief, she sought diversion away from home, and betook herself to dances and feasts; yet she did this in so seemly a fashion that her husband could not take it ill, for she was always in the company of women in whom he had trust.

One day, when she was at a wedding, there was also present a Prince of very high degree, who, when telling me the story, forbade me to discover his name. I may, however, tell you that he was the handsomest and most graceful Prince that has ever been or, in my opinion, ever will be in this realm. (2)

2 Francis L, prior to his accession.--Ed.

The Prince, seeing this fair and youthful lady whose eyes and countenance invited him to love her, came and spoke to her with such eloquence and grace that she was well pleased with his discourse.

Nor did she seek to hide from him that she had long had in her heart the love for which he prayed, but entreated that he would spare all pains to persuade her to a thing to which love, at first sight, had brought her to consent. Having, by the artlessness of love, so promptly gained what was well worth the pains of being won by time, the young Prince thanked G.o.d for His favour, and forthwith contrived matters so well that they agreed together in devising a means for seeing each other in private.

The young Prince failed not to appear at the time and place that had been agreed upon, and, that he might not injure his lady's honour, he went in disguise. On account, however, of the evil fellows (3) who were wont to prowl at night through the city, and to whom he cared not to make himself known, he took with him certain gentlemen in whom he trusted.

3 The French expression here is _mauvais garsons_, a name generally given to foot-pads at that time, but applied more particularly to a large band of brigands who, in the confusion prevailing during Francis I.'s captivity in Spain, began to infest the woods and forests around Paris, whence at night-time they descended upon the city. Several engagements were fought between them and the troops of the Queen-Regent, and although their leader, called King Guillot, was captured and hanged, the remnants of the band continued their depredations for several years.--B. J.

And on entering the street in which the lady lived, he parted from them, saying--

"If you hear no noise within a quarter of an hour, go home again, and come back here for me at about three or four o'clock."

They did as they were commanded, and, hearing no noise, withdrew.

The young Prince went straight to his advocate's house, where he found the door open as had been promised him. But as he was ascending the staircase he met the husband, carrying a candle in his hand, and was perceived by him before he was aware. However Love, who provides wit and boldness to contend with the difficulties that he creates, prompted the young Prince to go straight up to him and say--

"Master advocate, you know the trust which I and all belonging to my house have ever put in you, and how I reckon you among my best and truest servants. I have now thought it well to visit you here in private, both to commend my affairs to you, and also to beg you to give me something to drink, for I am in great thirst. And, I pray you, tell none that I have come here, for from this place I must go to another where I would not be known."

The worthy advocate was well pleased at the honour which the Prince paid him in coming thus privately to his house, and, leading him to his own room, he bade his wife prepare a collation of the best fruits and confections that she had.

Although the garments she wore, a kerchief and mantle, made her appear more beautiful than ever, the young Prince affected not to look at her or notice her, but spoke unceasingly to her husband about his affairs, as to one who had long had them in his hands. And, whilst the lady was kneeling with the confections before the Prince, and her husband was gone to the sideboard in order to serve him with drink, she told him that on leaving the room he must not fail to enter a closet which he would find on the right hand, and whither she would very soon come to see him.

As soon as he had drunk, he thanked the advocate, who was all eagerness to attend him; but the Prince a.s.sured him that in the place whither he was going he had no need of attendance, and thereupon turning to the wife, he said--

"Moreover, I will not do so ill as to deprive you of your excellent husband, who is also an old servant of mine. Well may you render thanks to G.o.d since you are so fortunate as to have such a husband, well may you render him service and obedience. If you did otherwise, you would be blameworthy indeed."

With these virtuous words the young Prince went away, and, closing the door behind him so that he might not be followed to the staircase, he entered the closet, whither also came the fair lady as soon as her husband had fallen asleep.

Thence she led the Prince into a cabinet as choicely furnished as might be, though in truth there were no fairer figures in it than he and she, no matter what garments they may have been pleased to wear. And here, I doubt not, she kept word with him as to all that she had promised.

He departed thence at the hour which he had appointed with his gentlemen, and found them at the spot where he had aforetime bidden them wait.

As this intercourse lasted a fairly long time, the young Prince chose a shorter way to the advocate's house, and this led him through a monastery of monks. (4) And so well did he contrive matters with the Prior, that the porter used always to open the gate for him about midnight, and do the like also when he returned. And, as the house which he visited was hard by, he used to take n.o.body with him.

4 If at this period Jane Disome, the heroine of the story, lived in the Rue de la Pauheminerie, where she is known to have died some years afterwards, this monastery, in Baron Jerome Pichon's opinion, would be the Blancs-Manteaux, in the Marais district of Paris. We may further point out that in the Rue Barbette, near by, there was till modern times a house traditionally known as the "hotel de la belle Feronniere." That many writers have confused the heroine of this tale with La Belle Feronniere (so called because her husband was a certain Le Feron, an advocate) seems manifest; the intrigue in which the former took part was doubtless ascribed in error to the latter, and the proximity of their abodes may have led to the mistake. It should be pointed out, however, that the amour here recorded by Queen Margaret took place in or about the year 1515, before Francis I.

ascended the throne, whereas La Feronniere was in all her beauty between 1530 and 1540. The tradition that the King had an intrigue with La Feronniere reposes on the flimsiest evidence (see Appendix B), and the supposition, re-echoed by the Bibliophile Jacob, that it was carried on in the Rue de l'Hirondelle, is entirely erroneous. The house, adorned with the salamander device and corneted initials of Francis I., which formerly extended from that street to the Rue Git-le- Coeur, never had any connection with La Feronniere. It was the famous so-called Palace of Love which the King built for his acknowledged mistress, Anne de p.i.s.seleu, d.u.c.h.ess of etampes.--Ed.

Although he led the life that I have described, he was nevertheless a Prince that feared and loved G.o.d, and although he made no pause when going, he never failed on his return to continue for a long time praying in the church. And the monks, who when going to and fro at the hour of matins used to see him there on his knees, were thereby led to consider him the holiest man alive.

This Prince had a sister (5) who often visited this monastery, and as she loved her brother more than any other living being, she used to commend him to the prayers of all whom she knew to be good.

5 This of course is Queen Margaret, then d.u.c.h.ess of Alencon. On account of her apparent intimacy with the prior, M. de Montaiglon conjectures that the monastery may have been that of St. Martin-in-the-Fields.--See ante, Tale XXII.--Ed.

One day, when she was in this manner commending him lovingly to the Prior of the monastery, the Prior said to her--

"Ah, madam, whom are you thus commending to me? You are speaking to me of a man in whose prayers, above those of all others, I would myself fain be remembered. For if he be not a holy man and a just"--here he quoted the pa.s.sage which says, "Blessed is he that can do evil and doeth it not"--"_I_ cannot hope to be held for such."

The sister, wishing to learn what knowledge this worthy father could have of her brother's goodness, questioned him so pressingly that he at last told her the secret under the seal of the confessional, saying--

"Is it not an admirable thing to see a young and handsome Prince forsake pleasure and repose in order to come so often to hear our matins? Nor comes he like a Prince seeking honour of men, but quite alone, like a simple monk, and hides himself in one of our chapels. Truly such piety so shames both the monks and me, that we do not deem ourselves worthy of being called men of religion in comparison with him."