Tales and Novels of J. de La Fontaine Part 6

This seems a curious case.

MY reason's flown'! or have I lost my eyes?

WIFE

CAN you suppose my character I prize So very little, that these pranks I'd play Before your face, when I might ev'ry day Find minutes to divert myself at will, And (if lik'd such frolicks) take my fill?

HUSBAND

I KNOW not what to think nor what to do; P'rhaps this same tree can tricks at will pursue; Let's see again; aloft he went once more, And William acted as he'd done before; But now the husband saw the playful squeeze; Without emotion, and returned at ease.

To find the cause, said he, no longer try, The tree's enchanted, we may well rely.

SINCE, that's the fact, replied the cunning jade; To burn it, quickly William seek fort aid; The tree accurst no longer shall remain; Her will the servant wish'd not to restrain, But soon some workmen brought, who felled the tree; And wondered what the fault our fair could see.

Down hew it, cried the lady, that's your task; More concerns you not; folly 'tis to ask.

OUR second gossip thus obtained success; But now the third: we'll see if she had less: To female friends she often visits paid, And various pastimes there had daily play'd; A leering lover who was weary grown, Desired ONE night she'd meet him quite alone.

TWO, if you will, replied the smiling fair; A trifle 'tis you ask, and I'll repair Where'er you wish, and we'll recline at ease; My husband I can manage, if I please, While thus engag'd.--The parties soon agreed; But still the lady for her wits had need, Since her dear man from home but rarely went, No pardons sought at Rome, but was content With what he nearer got, while his sweet wife More fondness mark'd for gratifying life, And ever anxious, warmest zeal to show, Was always wishing distant scenes to know; As pilgrim oft she'd trod a foreign road, But now desir'd those ancient ways t'explode; A plan more rare and difficult she sought, And round her toe our wily dame bethought, To tie a pack-thread, fasten'd to the door, Which open'd to the street: then feign'd to snore Beside her husband, Harry Berlinguier, (So, usually, they nam'd her wedded dear.)

HOWE'ER, so cunningly with him she dealt, That Harry turn'd, and soon the pack-thread felt, Which rais'd distrust, and led him to suspect Some bad design the thread was meant t'effect.

A LITTLE time, as if asleep, he lay Considering how to act, or what to say; Then rose, (his spouse believing not awake,) And softly treading, lest the room should shake; The pack-thread follow'd to the outer door, And thence concluded (what he might deplore,) That his dear partner from her faith would stray, And some gallant that night design'd to play The lover's part and draw the secret clue, When she would rise, and with him freaks pursue, While he (good husband!) quietly in bed Might sleep, not dreaming that his wife had fled.

FOR otherwise, what use such pains to take?

A visit cuckoldom, perhaps, might make; An honour that he'd willingly decline; On which he studied how to countermine; And like a sentinel mov'd to and fro', To watch if any one would thither go To pull the string, that he could see with ease, And then he'd instantly the culprit seize.

THE reader will perceive, we may suppose, Besides the entrance which the husband chose, On t'other side a door, where our gallant Could enter readily, as he might want, And there the spark a chambermaid let in:-- Oft servants p.r.o.ne are found a bribe to win.

WHILE Berlinguier thus watch'd around and round; The friends with one another pleasures found; But heav'n alone knows how nor what they were:-- No fact transpir'd save all was free from care; So well the servant kept the careful watch, That not a chance was given the pair to catch:

THE spark at dawn the lady left alone, And ere the husband came the bird was flown; Then Harry, weary, took his place again, Complaining, that he'd felt such racking pain, And dreading, lest alarms her breast should seize, Within another room he'd sought for ease.

Two days had pa.s.s'd, when madam thought once more, To set the thread, as she had done before; He left the bed, pretending he was sick, Resumed his post; again the lover came, And, with my lady, play'd the former game.

THE scheme so well succeeded, that the pair Thrice wish'd to try the wily pack-thread snare; The husband with the cholic mov'd away, His place the bold gallant resum'd till day.

AT length their ardour 'gan, it seems, to cool, And Harry, they no longer tried to fool; 'Twas time to seek the myst'ry of the plot, Since, to three acts, the comedy was got.

AT midnight, when the spark had left the bed; A servant, by his orders, drew the thread; On whom the husband, without fear, laid hold, And with him enter'd like a soldier bold, Not then supposing he'd a valet seiz'd; Well tim'd it prov'd, howe'er;--the lady pleas'd Her voice to raise, on hearing what was said, And through the house confusion quickly spread.

THE valet now before them bent the knee, And openly declar'd, he came to see The chambermaid, whom he was wont to greet, And by the thread to rouse when time to meet:

ARE these your knavish tricks, replied the dame, With eyes upon her maid that darted flame; When I by chance observ'd about your toe, A thread one night, I then resolv'd to know Your scheme in full, and round my own I tied A clue, on which I thoroughly relied, To catch this gay gallant, that you pretend Your husband will become, I apprehend.

Be that as 'twill, to-night from hence you go.

My dear, said Berlinguier, I'd fain say no; Let things remain until to-morrow, pray And then my lady presently gave way.

A fortune Harry on the girl bestow'd; The like our valet to his master ow'd; To church the happy couple smiling went:-- They'd known each other long, and were content.

THUS ended then, the third and last amour; The trio hasten'd Macae to implore, To say which gain'd the bet, who soon replied:-- I find it, friends, not easy to decide.

THE case hangs up, and there will long remain; 'Tis often thus when justice we'd obtain:

THE OLD MAN'S CALENDAR

OFT have I seen in wedlock with surprise, That most forgot from which true bliss would rise When marriage for a daughter is designed, The parents solely riches seem to mind; All other boons are left to heav'n above, And sweet SIXTEEN must SIXTY learn to love!

Yet still in other things they nicer seem, Their chariot-horses and their oxen-team Are truly matched;--in height exact are these, While those each shade alike must have to please; Without the choice 'twere wonderful to find, Or coach or wagon travel to their mind.

The marriage journey full of cares appears, When couples match in neither souls nor years!

An instance of the kind I'll now detail: The feeling bosom will such lots bewail!

QUINZICA, (Richard), as the story goes, Indulged his wife at b.a.l.l.s, and feasts, and shows, Expecting other duties she'd forget, In which howe'er he disappointment met.

A judge in Pisa, Richard was, it seems, In law most learned: wily in his schemes; But silver beard and locks too clearly told, He ought to have a wife of diff'rent mould; Though he had taken one of n.o.ble birth, Quite young, most beautiful, and formed for mirth, Bartholomea Galandi her name; The lady's parents were of rank and fame; Our JUDGE herein had little wisdom shown, And sneering friends around were often known To say, his children ne'er could fathers lack: At giving counsel some have got a knack, Who, were they but at home to turn their eyes, Might find, perhaps, they're not so over-wise.

QUINZICA, then perceiving that his pow'rs Fell short of what a bird like his devours, T'excuse himself and satisfy his dear, Pretended that, no day within the year, To Hymen, as a saint, was e'er a.s.signed, In calendar, or book of any kind, When full ATTENTION to the G.o.d was paid:-- To aged sires a nice convenient aid; But this the s.e.x by no means fancy right; Few days to PLEASURE could his heart invite At times, the week entire he'd have a fast; At others, say the day 'mong saints was cla.s.sed, Though no one ever heard its holy name;-- FAST ev'ry Friday--Sat.u.r.day the same, Since Sunday followed, consecrated day; Then Monday came:--still he'd abstain from play; Each morning find excuse, but solemn feasts Were days most sacred held by all the priests; On abstinence, then, Richard lectures read, And long before the time, was always led By sense of right, from dainties to refrain: A period afterward would also gain; The like observed before and after Lent; And ev'ry feast had got the same extent; These times were gracious for our aged man; And never pa.s.s them was his constant plan.

OF patron saints he always had a list; Th' evangelists, apostles, none he miss'd; And that his scruples might have constant food; Some days malign, he said, were understood; Then foggy weather;--dog-days' fervent heat: To seek excuses he was most complete, And ne'er asham'd but manag'd things so well, Four times a year, by special grace, they tell, Our sage regal'd his youthful blooming wife, A little with the sweets of marriage life.

WITH this exception he was truly kind, Fine dresses, jewels, all to please her mind; But these are bawbles which alone controul Those belles, like dolls, mere bodies void of soul.

Bartholomea was of diff'rent clay; Her only pleasure (as our hist'ries say), To go in summer to the neighb'ring coast, Where her good spouse a charming house could boast, In which they took their lodging once a week; At times they pleasure on the waves would seek, As fishing with the lady would agree, And she was wond'rous partial to the sea, Though far to sail they always would refuse.

One day it happened better to amuse, Our couple diff'rent fishing vessels took, And skimm'd the wave to try who most could hook, Of fish and pleasure; and they laid a bet, The greatest number which of them should get.

On board they had a man or two at most.

And each the best adventure hop'd to boast.

A CERTAIN pirate soon observ'd the ship, In which this charming lady made the trip, And presently attack'd and seiz'd the same; But Richard's bark to sh.o.r.e in safety came; So near the land, or else he would not brave, To any great extent, the stormy wave, Or that the robber thought if both he took, He could not decently for favours look, And he preferr'd those joys the FAIR bestow, To all the riches which to mortals flow.

ALTHOUGH a pirate, he had always shown Much honour in his acts, as well was known; But Cupid's frolicks were his heart's delight: None truly brave can ever beauty slight; A sailor's always bold and kind and free, Good lib'ral fellows, such they'll ever be; 'Mong saints indeed 'twere vain their names to seek!

The man was good howe'er of whom we speak; His usual name was Pagamin Montegue; For hours the lady's screams were heard a league, While he each minute anxiously would seize, To cheer her spirits and her heart to please; T'attain his wish he ev'ry art combined; At length the lovely captive all resigned.

'Twas Cupid conquer'd, Cupid with his dart; A thousand times more pirate in his art, Than Pagamin; on bleeding hearts he preys, But little quarter gives, nor grace displays: To pay her ransom she'd enough of gold; For this her spouse was truly never cold; No fast nor festival therein appear'd, And her captivity he greatly fear'd.

THIS calendar o'erspread with rubrick days; She soon forgot and learn'd the pirate's ways; The matrimonial zone aside was thrown, And only mentioned where the fact was known:

OUR lawyer would his fingers sooner burn; Than have his wife but virtuous home return; By means of gold he entertain'd no doubt, Her restoration might be brought about.

A pa.s.sport from the pirate he obtain'd, Then waited on him and his wish explain'd; To pay he offer'd what soe'er he'd ask; His terms accept, though hard perhaps the task;

THE robber answer'd, if my name around, Be not for honourable acts renown'd, 'Tis quite unjust:--your partner I'll restore In health, without a ransom:--would you more?

A friendship so respect'd, heav'n forefend!

Should ever, by my conduct, have an end.

The fair, whom you so ardently admire, Shall to your arms return as you desire, Such pleasure to a friend I would not sell; Convince me that she's your's, and all is well; For if another I to you should give, (And many that I've taken with me live,) I surely should incur a heavy blame; I lately captur'd one, a charming dame, With auburn locks, a little fat, tall, young; If she declare she does to you belong, When you she's seen, I will the belle concede; You'll take her instantly; I'll not impede.

THE sage replied, your conduct's truly wise; Such wond'rous kindness fills me with surprise; But since 'tis said that every trade must live, The sum just mention:--I'll the ransom give; No compliment I wish, my purse behold You know the money presently is told; Consider me a stranger now I pray; With you I'd equal probity display, And so will act, I swear, as you shall see; There 's not a doubt the fair will go with me; My word for this I would not have you take:-- You'll see how happy 'twill the lady make To find me here; to my embrace she'll fly; My only fears--that she of joy will die.

To them the charmer now was instant brought, Who eyed her husband as beneath a thought; Received him coldly, just as if he'd been A stranger from Peru, she ne'er had seen.

LOOK, said Quinzica, she's ashamed 'tis plain So many lookers on her love restrain; But be a.s.sured, if we were left alone, Around my neck her arms would soon be thrown.

IF this, replied the pirate, you believe, Attend her toilet:--naught can then deceive.

Away they went, and closely shut the door; When Richard said, thou darling of my store, How can'st thou thus behave? my pretty dove, 'Tis thy Quinzica, come to seek his love, In all the same, except about his wife; Dost in this face a change observe my life?