(1) One of the Queen's waiting-women, named Perrette, came to the d.u.c.h.ess and said--

"Madam, I pray you listen to me, and you will do a better deed than if you went to hear the whole day's service at the church."

1 This would have occurred in the late autumn of 1515, when the Court journeyed southward to meet Francis I. on his return from the Marignano campaign.--Ed.

The d.u.c.h.ess gave ready heed, knowing that nought but good counsel could come from her. Then Perrette forthwith told her how she had taken a young girl to help her in washing the Queen's linen, and how, on asking the news of the town, she had heard from her the vexation which all the honourable women endured at seeing the Canon's mistress go before them, together with some of the history of the wicked woman's life.

The d.u.c.h.ess went immediately to the Queen and my Lady the Regent, and told them the story; and they, without any form of law, sent for the unhappy woman. The latter sought no concealment, for her shame was turned to pride at being mistress in the household of so rich a man; and hence, with no feeling of confusion or disgrace, she presented herself before the ladies aforesaid, who were so abashed by her hardihood that at first they knew not what to say. After a time, however, my Lady the Regent rebuked her in a fashion which would have made a right-thinking woman weep, though this unhappy creature did not do so, but with great boldness said--

"I pray you, ladies, let my honour go unscathed, for, G.o.d be praised, I have lived so well and virtuously with the Canon that no person alive can say aught against me. And let it not be thought that I am living in opposition to the will of G.o.d, since, for three years past, the Canon has not come near me, and we live together as chastely and as lovingly as two little angels, without any speech or wish between us to the contrary. And any one separating us will commit a great sin, for the worthy man, who is nigh eighty years old, will not live long without me, who am forty-five."

You may imagine how the ladies then comported themselves, and what remonstrance they all made with her; but, in spite of the words that were spoken, and her own age, and the honourable indignation of those present, her obstinacy was not softened. That she might be the more effectually humbled, they sent for the good Archdeacon of Autun, and he condemned her to lie in prison for a year, faring on bread and water.

The ladies further sent for her husband, and he, after hearing their excellent exhortations, was content to take her back again after she should have performed her penance.

But when she found that she was a prisoner, and that the Canon was resolved to have her back no more, she thanked the ladies for having taken a devil off her shoulders, and showed such deep and perfect contrition that her husband, instead of waiting until the year should have expired, came and asked her of the Archdeacon before a fortnight was over; and since then they have lived together in all peace and affection.

"You see, ladies, how the chains of St. Peter are by wicked ministers converted into those of Satan, which it is so hard to break that even the sacraments, which cast out devils from the body, are here the means of making them abide longer in the conscience; for the best things, when abused, bring about most evil."

"Truly," said Oisille, "this woman was a very wicked one, but at the same time she was well punished by her appearance before such judges as the ladies you have named. The mere glance of the Lady Regent had such power that never was there a woman, however virtuous, that did not dread being found unworthy in her sight. Those who were looked upon kindly by her deemed that they had earned a high honour, knowing as they did that none but virtuous women were favoured by her." (2)

2 We are asked to believe that Oisille is none other than the Lady Regent (Louise of Savoy), but is it likely she would thus speak of herself? We can scarcely conceive Queen Margaret perpetrating such a flagrant anachronism.--Ed.

"It were indeed a fine thing," said Hircan, "that there should be greater dread of a woman's eyes than of the Holy Sacrament, which, if it be not received in faith and charity, brings with it eternal d.a.m.nation."

"Those," said Parlamente, "who are not inspired by G.o.d are, I promise you, in greater dread of the temporal than of the spiritual powers. And I believe that the poor creature was brought to mend her ways rather by her imprisonment and the thought of seeing her Canon no more, than by any remonstrance that might have been made to her."

"Nay," said Simontault, "you have forgotten the chief cause of her return to her husband, which was that the Canon was eighty years old, whilst her husband was younger than herself; so the worthy lady had the best of all her bargains. Had the Canon been young, she would not have been willing to forsake him, and the admonitions of the ladies would have been as ineffectual as the sacraments."

"Further," said Nomerfide, "I think she did well not to confess her sin so readily; such an offence ought to be humbly acknowledged to G.o.d, but stoutly denied before men. Even though it be true, still, by deception and swearing, doubt may be cast upon it."

"Not so," said Longarine. "A sin can scarcely be so secret that it will not become revealed, unless G.o.d in His pity conceal it, as in the case of those who for love of Himself have truly repented."

"And what," said Hircan, "will you say of those women who have no sooner done a deed of folly than they tell some one about it?"

"I think that a strange thing," answered Longarine, "and a sign that sin is not displeasing to them. If, as I said, a sin is not covered by the mercy of G.o.d, it cannot be denied before men; there are many who, delighting in such talk, glory to make their vices known, whilst others who contradict themselves in this way become their own accusers."

"If you know any such instance," said Saffredent, "I give you my place and beg you to tell it us."

"Listen then," said Longarine.

[Ill.u.s.tration: 117.jpg Tailpiece]

[Ill.u.s.tration: 119a. The Gentleman's Spur catching in the Sheet]

[The Gentleman's Spur catching in the Sheet]

[Ill.u.s.tration: 119.jpg Page Image]

_TALE LXII_.

_A lady's tongue tripped so awkwardly whilst she was telling a story, as if of another, to a dame of high degree, that her honour thenceforward bore a stain which she could never remove_.

In the time of King Francis the First there lived a lady of the blood royal, who was endowed with honour, virtue and beauty, and well knew how to tell a story with grace and to laugh at such as might be told to her. (1) This lady being at one of her houses, all her subjects and neighbours came to see her; for she was as much liked as it were possible for woman to be.

1 M. de Lincy thinks that this lady may be Louise of Savoy, who was very fond of listening to stories of an equivocal character. This, it may be pointed out, is one of the reasons why the commentators of the _Heptameron_ suppose her to be Oisille, though the latter in the conversational pa.s.sages following the tales displays considerable prudery and devoutness. That Louise was a woman of extremely amorous tendency is well known; we need, indeed, no better proof of it than her unseemly pa.s.sion for the Constable de Bourbon when she was five-and-forty years of age. If she be the lady of royal blood spoken of above, the incidents of the tale may have occurred in the Bourbonnais, a considerable portion of which pa.s.sed into her hands after the flight of the Constable from France. It will be noted that allusion is made to the lady's subjects, showing that she exercised a feudal sway. As one of the commentators of the _Heptameron_ has pointed out, Queen Margaret always saw her mother--that "donna terribilissima!" as De Lussy called her--in such an ideal light that M. de Lincy's surmise may well be a correct one despite the attributes of honour, virtue and beauty bestowed on the lady whom she speaks of.--Ed.

Among others there came a lady who hearkened whilst the rest told every story they could think of in order to amuse the Princess. This lady then resolved that she would not be behind the others, and accordingly said--

"Madam, I will tell you a fine story, but you must promise me not to speak of it."

Then she forthwith continued--

"The story, madam, is on my conscience a perfectly true one, and concerns a married lady who lived in all honour with her husband, although he was old and she was young. A gentleman who was her neighbour, seeing her married to this old man, fell in love with her, and importuned her for several years; but never received of her any reply save such as a virtuous woman should make. One day the gentleman bethought him that if he could take her at a disadvantage she might perchance be less harsh towards him, and, after he had for a long while weighed the danger that he might run, his love for the lady wholly banished his fears, and he resolved to find a time and place. He kept excellent watch, and so one morning, when the lady's husband was going to another of his houses, and leaving at daybreak by reason of the heat, the young gallant came to the house, where he found the lady asleep in her bed, and perceived that the serving-women were gone out of the room.

"Then, without having sense enough to fasten the door, he got into the lady's bed all booted and spurred as he was, and when she awoke, she was as distressed as she could possibly be. But in spite of any remonstrance that she could make to him, he took her by force, saying that if she should make the matter known he would tell every one that she had sent for him; and at this the lady was so greatly afraid that she durst not cry out. Afterwards, on some of her women coming in, he rose in haste and would have been perceived by none if his spur, which had become fastened in the upper sheet, had not drawn it right off, leaving the lady quite naked in her bed."

So far the lady had told the story as if of another, but at the end she involuntarily said--

"Never was a woman so confounded as I was, when I found myself lying quite naked."

At these last words the lady, who had hitherto hearkened to the story without laughing, could not refrain from doing so, and said--

"By what I can see, you are well qualified to tell the tale."

The poor lady tried in every possible way to clear her honour, but it was already flown so far away that she was never able to recall it.

"I a.s.sure you, ladies, that had she felt any deep displeasure in doing such a deed, she would have desired to forget it. But, as I have told you, sin will of itself be discovered before it could otherwise be known, unless it be hidden by the mantle which, as David says, makes man blessed."

"In good sooth," said Ennasuite, "she was the greatest fool I have ever heard of, to make the others laugh at her own expense."

"I do not deem it strange," said Parlamente, "that the word should follow the deed, for it is easier to say than to do."

"Why," said Geburon, "what sin had she committed? She was asleep in her bed, he threatened her with shame and death; Lucrece, who is so highly praised, did just the same."

"That is true," said Parlamente, "and I confess that there is none too righteous to fall. But when one has felt great offence in the deed, the same holds good of the recollection; and whereas Lucrece to efface the latter killed herself, this foolish woman tried to make others laugh."

"Nevertheless," said Nomerfide, "it seems that she was a virtuous woman, seeing that she had been many times entreated but would never consent, so that the gentleman must needs resort to treachery and force in order to wrong her."

"What!" said Parlamente. "Do you think that a woman has answered for her honour, when she gives herself up after refusing two or three times?

There would then be many virtuous women among those that are deemed the opposite, for many of them have been known to refuse for a long while those to whom their hearts had been given, some doing this through fear for their honour, and others in order to make themselves still more ardently loved and esteemed. No account, therefore, should be made of a woman unless she stands firm to the end. But if a man refuse a beautiful girl, do you regard that as great virtue?"

"Truly," said Oisille, "if a young and l.u.s.ty man so refused, I should hold it worthy of high praise, but none the less difficult of belief."

"Yet," said Dagoucin, "I know one who refused to partake in amours that were sought after by all his comrades."