One Hundred Merrie And Delightsome Stories Part 59

When the n.o.ble knight saw his hostess ready to listen to whatever he had to say, you may fancy that he was joyful beyond measure; and in his great haste and ardent desire to discuss the question he wanted to argue with her, forgot to shut the door of the room, which his servant, when he departed after bringing the woman in, had left half open.

The knight, without troubling about preludes, began an oration in dumb-show; and the hostess, who was not sorry to hear him, replied to his arguments in such a manner that they soon agreed well together, and never was music sweeter, or instruments in better tune, than it was for those two, by G.o.d's mercy.

But it happened, by I know not what chance, that the host of the inn, the husband of the woman, was seeking his wife to tell her something, and pa.s.sing by chance by the chamber where his wife and the knight were playing the cymbals, heard the sound. He turned towards the spot where this pleasant pastime was going on, and pushing open the door, saw the knight and his wife harnessed together, at which he was by far the most astonished of the three, and drew back quickly, fearing to prevent and disturb the said work which they were performing. But all that he did by way of menace or remonstrance was to call out from behind the door; "Morbleu! you are not only wicked but thoughtless. Have you not the sense, when you want to do anything of that sort, to shut the door behind you? Just fancy what it would have been if anyone else had found you! By G.o.d, you would have been ruined and dishonoured, and your misdeeds discovered and known to all the town! In the devil's name, be more careful another time!" and without another word, he closed the door and went away; and the honest couple re-tuned their bagpipes, and finished the tune they had begun.

And when this was finished, each went his or her own way as unconcernedly as though nothing had happened; and the circ.u.mstance would I believe have never been known--or at least not so publicly as to come to your ears, and the ears of so many other people,--had it not been that the husband vexed himself so little about the matter that he thought less of being cuckolded than he did of finding the door unbolted.

STORY THE SEVENTY-SECOND -- NECESSITY IS THE MOTHER OF INVENTION.

By Monseigneur De Commensuram.

_Of a gentleman of Picardy who was enamoured of the wife of a knight his neighbour; and how he obtained the lady's favours and was nearly caught with her, and with great difficulty made his escape, as you will hear later._

Apropos of the previous story, there lived formerly in Picardy--and I believe he is living there now--a gentlemen who was so enamoured of the wife of a knight, his neighbour, that he deemed no day or hour happy if he were not with her, or at least had news of her;--and he was quite as dear to her--which is no small matter.

But the misfortune was that they could find no means of meeting secretly to open their hearts to each other, and in no case would they do so in the presence of a third person, however good a friend he or she might be. At last, after many sad nights and days, Love, who aids and succours his loyal servants when he pleases, procured for them the much-desired day, when the poor husband,--the most jealous man living--was obliged to leave his house on account of some pressing business by which he would gain a large sum if he were present, and would lose his money if he were absent. By gaining which sum he reaped an even better reward--that of being called a cuckold as well as a jealous man--for he had no sooner left his house than the gentleman, who was watching for no other quarry, popped into the house, and without staying long, at once performed that for which he came, and received from his lady all that a lover can and dare demand; as pleasantly and as leisurely as they could both wish.

And they did not suppose that the husband would surprise them, but looked forward to a time of unalloyed pleasure, hoping that the night would complete that which the most joyful day--by far too short--had begun, and really believing that the poor devil of a husband could not return before dinner-time the following day at the earliest.

But it happened otherwise, for the devil brought him home. I know not, and care not to know how it was that he could get through his business so quickly, suffice it to say that he came back that night, at which the company--that is to say the two lovers--was much alarmed, and so taken by surprise, (for they did not expect this inopportune return) that the poor gentleman could think of nothing else to do than to hide in the privy which was close to the chamber, hoping to escape by some means that his mistress would find before the knight came into the chamber.

It chanced that our knight, who that day had ridden sixteen or eighteen long leagues, was so tired and stiff that he would sup in his chamber, where he had his boots taken off, and would not go to the dining-hall.

You may guess that the poor gentleman paid dear for the pleasure he had had that day, for he was half dead with hunger, cold, and fear; and, to aggravate his misfortune, he was taken with such a horrible cough that it was wonderful that it was not heard in the chamber, where were a.s.sembled, the knight, the lady, and the other knights of the household.

The lady, whose eyes and ears were open for any sign of her lover, heard him by chance, and her heart sank within her, for she feared that her husband would hear also. Soon after supper she found an opportunity to go to the privy, and told her lover to take care, for G.o.d's sake, and not cough like that.

"Alas, my dear," he said, "I cannot help it. G.o.d knows how I am punished. And for G.o.d's sake think of some way of getting me out of this."

"I will," she said, and with that she went away, and the good squire began his song over again, so loud indeed that he was much afraid he would be heard in the chamber; and might have been had not the lady talked very loudly in order to drown the noise.

When the squire had this fresh attack of coughing, he knew of nothing better to do to prevent being heard than to stuff his head down the hole of the privy, where he was well "incensed", G.o.d knows, by the stuff therein, but he preferred that to being heard. In short, he was there a long time, with his head down the hole, spitting, sniffing, and coughing so much that it seemed as though he would never do anything else.

After this fit finished, the cough left him, and then he tried to draw out his head, but it was not in his power, so far had he pushed his shoulders through, and you may fancy that he was not very comfortable.

In short he could not find means to get out, try as he would. He sc.r.a.ped his neck, and nearly pulled his ears off, and in the end, by G.o.d's will, he pulled so hard that he tore away the seat of the privy, which hung round his neck. It was beyond his power to get out of it, but troublesome as it was, he preferred that to his previous position:

His mistress came and found him in that state, and was much astonished.

She could not help him, and all the consolation she could give him was to tell him that she could find no means of getting him out of the house.

[Ill.u.s.tration: 72.jpg Necessity is the Mother of Invention.]

"Is that so?" he said. "Morbleu! I am well armed to fight any one, but I must have a sword in my hand."

He was soon provided with a good one, and the lady, seeing his extraordinary appearance, although her heart was lull of doubt and uncertainty, could not refrain from laughing, and the squire also.

"Now I commend myself to G.o.d," he said. "I am going to try if I can get out of the house; but first black my face well."

She did so, and recommended him to G.o.d, and the poor fellow, with the seat of the privy round his neck, a drawn sword in his hand, and his face blacker than charcoal, sallied out into the room, and by luck the first person he met was the husband, who was in such mortal fear at the sight of him--believing it was the Devil himself--that he tumbled full length on the floor and nearly broke his neck, and was for a long time in a swoon.

His wife, seeing him in this condition, came forward, and pretending to show much more fear than she really felt, supported him in her arms, and asked him what was the matter. As soon as he came to himself, he said in broken accents, and with a piteous air; "Did you see that devil I met."

"Yes, I did," she replied, "and I nearly died of fright at the sight."

"Why does it come to our house?" he asked, "And who could have sent it? I shall not recover myself for a year or two, I have been so frightened."

"Nor shall I, by G.o.d," said the pious lady. "I believe it must mean something. May G.o.d keep us, and protect us from all evil fortune. My heart forebodes some mischief from this vision."

Every one in the castle gave his or her version of the devil with a drawn sword, and they all believed it was a real devil. The good lady, who held the key of the mystery, was very glad to see them of that opinion. Ever after that the said devil continued to do the work that everyone does so willingly, though the husband, and everybody except a discreet waiting woman, were ignorant of the fact.

[Ill.u.s.tration: 73.jpg The Bird in the Cage.]

STORY THE SEVENTY-THIRD -- THE BIRD IN THE CAGE.

By Jehan Lambin.

_Of a cure who was in love with the wife of one of his parishioners, with whom the said cure was found by the husband of the woman, the neighbours having given him warning--and how the cure escaped, as you will hear._

In the district of Saint Pol, in a village near that town, there formerly resided a worthy man, a labourer, married to a fair and buxom woman with whom the cure of the village was in love. He was burning with love for her, but he foresaw that his intentions might be suspected, and thought that the best way to win her would be to first gain the friendship of her husband.

He confided this opinion to the woman, and asked her advice, and she replied that it was a very good plan to enable them to carry out their amorous intentions.

The cure, by flattery and subtle means, made the acquaintance of the good man, and managed him so well that he was always talking of "his cure", and would not eat or do anything else without him. Every day he would have him to dinner and supper, in short there was nothing done at the good man's house without the cure being present. By this means he could come to the house as often as he pleased, and whatever time he liked.

But the neighbours of this foolish labourer, seeing what he could not see, his eyes being bandaged by weakness and confidence,--told him that it was not right and proper to have the cure at his house every day, and that, if it continued, his wife's reputation would suffer, these frequent visits having been noticed and spoken about by his neighbours and friends.

When the good man found himself thus sharply reproved by his neighbours for the frequent visits of the cure to his house, he was obliged to tell the cure that he must cease his constant calls, and forbade him by strict orders and menaces ever to come again until he was invited; affirming by a great oath that if ever he found the cure in his house there would be an account to settle between them, and it would not be pleasant for the visitor.

This prohibition displeased the cure more than I can tell you, but though vexed, he would not break off his love affair, for it was so deeply rooted in the hearts of both parties that it could not be easily eradicated. But hear how the cure managed after this prohibition. By an agreement with his mistress, he used to be informed of the times when her husband was absent, and then visit her. But he managed clumsily, for he could not pay his visits without the knowledge of the neighbours, who had been the cause of the interdict, and who were as much displeased at the cure's acts as though they had been personally concerned.

The good man was again informed that the cure used to come and put out the fire at his house every night, (*) as he did before he was forbidden. The foolish husband, hearing that, was much astonished and also angry, and to remedy this state of affairs, thought of the means which I will relate.

(*) That is to say came at curfew time.