Story 49
417 Several French noblemen, seeing their master the King well received by a certain foreign Countess and making bold to pursue her for themselves, severally receive her favours, discover they have been severally deceived, and swear vengeance, only to be discountenanced.
Story 50
424 Messire Jean-Pierre pursues a lady long and in vain, succumbs to an attack of melancholy, is bled by the physicians, but expires upon the fond attentions of his beloved, who in turn ends her own life.
SIXTH DAY:
OF THE DECEPTIONS PERPETRATED BY MEN ON WOMEN, BY WOMEN ON MEN, AND BY WOMEN ON WOMEN, THROUGH GREED, MALICE AND A DESIRE FOR VENGEANCE
Prologue
428
Story 51
429 The Duke of Urbino breaks his word to his wife and condemns to death by hanging a lady who has been carrying messages from his son to the girl he loves.
Story 52
434 An apothecary’s man provides a lawyer with a dainty morsel for his dinner one snowy morning.
Story 53
438 Madame de Neufchâtel provokes the Prince de Belhoste to put her to a test that turns to her dishonour.
Story 54
445 The wife of a man called Thogas, thinking he loves no one but her, permits a maid to entertain him and laughs out loud when they kiss before her very eyes.
Story 55
448 A merchant’s widow executes the last will and testament of her late husband to the advantage of herself and her children.
Story 56
451 A devout lady consults a friar in order to furnish her daughter with a husband, and unwittingly acquires for her a handsome young monk who dines and eats with his wife but returns by day to his monastery, until he is seen by mother and daughter singing mass in the monastery church.
Story 57
457 A noble English lord loves a lady seven long years without daring to declare himself, encounters her one day in a meadow, collapses with palpitations, seizes her gloved hand, keeps the glove, bedecks it with all manner of precious ornaments, and wears it next to his heart for evermore.
Story 58
461 A certain gentleman is given a false assignation by a lady he has offended and is made to look ridiculous before the whole court.
Story 59
465 This same lady, being much criticized by her husband for the men who devote themselves to her service, discovers that he is making amorous advances to a chambermaid and obliges him to permit her to lead the kind of life she desires.
Story 60
471 A Parisian, whose wife deserts him for one of the King’s cantors and subsequently feigns death, marries a second wife, lives with her for fifteen years and has several children by her, only to be forced to return to his first wife upon the discovery of her fraud.
SEVENTH DAY:
OF THOSE WHO HAVE ACTED CONTRARY TO THEIR DUTY OR TO THEIR DESIRES
Prologue
476
Story 61
478 A husband is reconciled with his wife after she has lived fifteen years with a canon from Autun.
Story 62
485 A certain lady tells a story, and to her great dishonour gives herself away by a slip of the tongue.
Story 63
488 A certain gentleman refuses to undertake an amorous adventure, enhances his reputation for virtue and earns the even greater love and respect of his wife.
Story 64
492 A lady puts to the test for six years the love professed by a gentleman, and puts him in such despair that he enters the cloister, whence she is unable to persuade him to withdraw.
Story 65
498 The falsity of a miracle exposed by the stupidity of an old woman, to the chagrin of the priests of Saint John in Lyons.
Story 66
500 Monsieur de Vendôme and the Princess of Navarre, recently married, are surprised asleep on a bed by an old chambermaid, who, thinking she has surprised a certain protonotary with his mistress, reveals to strangers something unknown even to those of the household.
Story 67
503 A poor woman, in order to save her husband’s life, puts her own at risk and remains faithful unto death.
Story 68
507 An apothecary’s wife, neglected by her husband, takes a prescription recommended to a neighbour with the same malady, with unfortunate effects.
Story 69
510 A lady has a hearty laugh over the silliness of her husband, whom she discovers sifting grain dressed up in a smock belonging to a chambermaid whose favours he hopes to receive.
Story 70
513 The Duchess of Burgundy, not content with the love of her husband, falls passionately in love with a young nobleman, fails to intimate her desires and declares herself by word, with tragic consequences.
EIGHTH DAY:
TRUTHFUL ACCOUNTS OF DEEDS OF FOLLY, WHICH MAY SERVE AS LESSONS TO ONE AND ALL
Prologue
535
Story 71
537 A saddler’s wife recovers from a fatal illness and regains the faculty of speech upon seeing her husband over-familiar with a chambermaid on a bed.
Story 72
540 While enacting the last rites and laying out a corpse, a monk turns to works of the flesh with a nun and gets her with child.
PROLOGUE
On the first day of September, when the springs of the Pyrenees are just beginning to be at their most potent, there were a number of people staying at the spa town of Cauterets. They had come from Spain [and other countries] as well as from France, some to drink the waters, some to bathe in them, and some to be treated with the mud. These are all very remarkable cures, so remarkable that patients long given up by their physicians go home completely restored to health. But it is not my purpose here to expatiate on the powers of these waters and their fine situation. I wish merely to relate those details which will serve the subject I have in hand.
The patients all remained at the spa for over three weeks, until their condition improved and they felt they could return home. But as they were preparing to leave, the rain came. It fell in such torrents and with such extraordinary force, you would have thought that God had quite forgotten that once He had promised to Noah never again to destroy the world by water. In Cauterets the huts and houses were all so badly flooded that it was impossible for anyone to stay there. Visitors who had come from the Spanish side went back over the mountains as best they could, with those among them who knew the tracks coming off the best. But the French lords and their ladies, thinking they could get back to Tarbes just as easily as they had come, discovered that the streams were so swollen they they could ford them only with difficulty. And when they came to the Gave de Pau, which on the way there had not been two feet deep, they found that it had turned into a raging torrent. So they turned back to look for the bridges, only to find that the flimsy wooden structures had been swept away by the force of the water. Some of the party thought they might be able to resist the current if they waded across in groups. But they were carried off so swiftly that those who had been about to follow them could not bring themselves to make the attempt. At this point, disagreeing on what they should do next, they split up to look for different routes. Some of them crossed the mountains, passed through Aragon into Roussillon, and from there went to Narbonne. Others went straight to Barcelona, from where they went by sea to Marseilles and Aigues-Mortes. But one of the travellers was an old lady named Oisille, a widow, with much experience of life. She resolved not to let the treacherous roads frighten her, and made her way to the abbey of Our Lady at Sarrance. Not that she was so superstitious as to believe that the glorious Virgin should leave her seat at her Son’s right hand in order to come and take up residence in such a desolate spot. She simply had a desire to see this holy place about which she had heard such a lot, and was also fairly certain that if there was any way at all of finding refuge from danger, the monks were sure to have found it. Eventually, she reached her destination, but only after struggling through r
ugged and hostile terrain. Indeed, so arduous were the climbs with which she was confronted, that in spite of her age and weight, she was obliged for the most part to go on foot. But the most tragic thing was that most of her horses and servants died on the way, so that by the time she arrived at Sarrance she was accompanied only by one man and one woman. There the monks received them charitably.
Amongst the French travellers there were also two noblemen who had gone to the spa more because they were devoted to the service of two ladies who were there than because they had anything wrong with their health. When they saw the party was breaking up, and that the ladies were being led off by their husbands in another direction, these two gentlemen decided to follow at a distance, without saying anything to anyone. One evening during the journey the two married men and their wives arrived at the house of a man who was more of a bandit than a peasant. The two young gentlemen who were following behind stayed in a farm cottage nearby. Towards midnight they were woken up by a tremendous din. They jumped out of bed, roused their servants, and asked their host what was going on. The poor man was in a fair state of fright. It was a band of outlaws, he told them, and they had come to get their share in some loot that their comrade was keeping in his house next door. Immediately the two men grabbed their swords, and, taking their servants with them, dashed to the aid of their ladies, counting death for their sakes a far happier fate than a long life without them. When they got to the house, they found the outside door broken in, and the two other men and their servants putting up a valiant fight. But they were already badly wounded, and outnumbered by the bandits. Most of their servants were dead. They were beginning to give way. Through the window the two younger men could see the ladies wailing and weeping. So inflamed were their hearts by pity and by love, they fell upon the outlaws in a paroxysm of fury, like two enraged bears coming down from the mountains, and killed so many that the rest fled for safety to their hideout. The villains having been thus defeated, and the host himself being among those killed, it remained only for the two young noblemen to send his wife, who they had learned was even worse than he, the same way. A single thrust of the sword did the job. They then went into a downstairs room, where they found one of the married gentlemen breathing his last. The other was not hurt, although his clothes were torn to shreds and his sword had been broken. The poor man thanked the pair for coming to his aid in the way they had, embraced them, and asked them not to leave him and those of his party who had survived. The two young men were only too glad to agree. And so, after burying the dead man, and consoling his wife as best they could, they took to the road again, not knowing which way they should go, but trusting in God’s guidance.
If you would like to know the names of the three gentlemen and the two ladies with them, they were Hircan, his wife Parlamente, and Longarine, the young widow. The two young men were Dagoucin and Saffredent. They rode all day, and towards evening they glimpsed a church tower in the distance. Eventually, after a hard struggle along the tracks, they arrived at the abbey of Saint-Savin, where the monks received them humanely. The abbot, who was himself of a good family, provided them with accommodation worthy of their station and asked them about their adventures, as he showed them to their quarters. When he had heard what had happened to them, he was able to inform them that there were others in the same boat. There were, in fact, in another room, two young ladies who had escaped from dangers just as great or even greater, inasmuch as they had had to deal, not with men, but with wild beasts. Half a league this side of Pierrefitte they had met a bear coming down the mountain. They had taken flight and galloped so fast that their horses had dropped dead beneath them as they rode through the abbey gates. Two of their women had arrived some time after them, and reported that the bear had killed all their male servants. So the three newly arrived gentlemen and the two ladies went in to see them, and recognized them at once as their companions Nomerfide and Ennasuite. They were both in tears, but once they had all embraced, told one another about their misfortunes, and heard a few [pious] exhortations from the good abbot, they began to take some consolation from their reunion. The next morning they heard mass with great devotion, praising God for delivering them from the perils of the mountains.
While they were at mass a man came rushing into the church in his shirt sleeves, shouting for help as if someone was chasing him. Hircan and the other two gentlemen got up at once to see what was the matter. Two men with drawn swords were in hot pursuit. When they saw so many people about they tried to get away, but Hircan and the others ran after them and made sure they did not get away with their lives. When Hircan came back he found that the man in the shirt sleeves was another of their companions, a man by the name of Geburon. He told them how he had been in a farm cottage near Pierrefitte, when three men had appeared. He had been in bed at the time, and dressed in nothing but his shirt. But he had jumped up, grabbed his sword, and had managed to wound one of the men and immobilize him. While the other two were busy picking up their companion, he had weighed up the odds, and decided that rather than face two armed men in his present state of undress, his best chance was to make a run for it. He thanked God now that he had been so lightly dressed, and he expressed his gratitude to Hircan and the other two for avenging him.
After they had heard mass and dined, they sent someone to find out if it was possible yet to cross the Gave de Pau. When they learned that the river was still impassable, they were extremely worried, in spite of the fact that the abbot repeatedly reassured them that they could have lodging in the abbey until the floods subsided. For that day they accepted this offer, and the same evening, as they were about to go to bed, an old monk turned up. He had come from Sarrance where he went every year for the Nativity of our Lady. On being asked about the journey, he told how, because of the floods, he had come over the mountains, and found the tracks more treacherous than he had ever seen them. On the way he had witnessed a very moving spectacle. He had come across a gentleman by the name of Simontaut, who, tired of waiting for the flood waters to go down, had decided to try to attempt a crossing. He had placed his trust in his excellent horse, and had grouped his servants round him to break the force of the current. But in the middle all the men on weaker mounts had been swept off down the stream. Neither men nor horses were ever seen again. The gentleman, finding himself completely alone, turned his horse back. But the animal could not make it, and collapsed under him. By God’s will he was close enough to the edge to be able to drag himself on all fours out of the water and up the hard stony bank, though he had swallowed a good deal of water, and was so exhausted that he could hardly keep going. He lay amongst the rocks, soaked through and sick at heart at having seen his servants perish before his eyes. By a stroke of good fortune he was found in the evening by a shepherd bringing home the sheep. The mere sight of the gentleman, let alone the tale he had to tell, was enough to make the shepherd understand his plight. He had taken him by the hand and led him to his humble abode, where he had kindled a few sticks to dry him out as best he could. That same evening God had brought to the shepherd’s house the old monk, who had told Simontaut the way to Sarrance, and assured him that he would find better accommodation there than anywhere else. He had also told him that he would meet there an old widow by the name of Oisille, who had suffered misfortunes similar to his own.
When they heard the old monk mention the name of the good Lady Oisille and the gentle knight Simontaut, they were overjoyed beyond description. They praised their Creator that He had been satisfied to take the servants and save their masters and mistresses. Parlamente in particular gave heartfelt thanks to God, for Simontaut had long served her as her devoted and loving servant. They pressed the monk to tell them the road to Sarrance, and although he made it sound very difficult, they were not deterred from setting out that very day. The abbot provided them with everything they needed – [the best horses in Lavedan, good Béarnese cloaks,] wine and victuals, as well as guides to conduct them safely over the mountains. Most of the jour
ney had to be done on foot rather than on horseback, but eventually they arrived, exhausted and bathed in sweat, at the abbey of Our Lady at Sarrance. The abbot was not a particularly nice character, but he did not dare to refuse them board and lodging, for fear of offending the Seigneur de Béarn, who, as he knew perfectly well, was on friendly terms with them. Hypocrite that he was, he put on as pleasant an air as he was able, and took them to see the good Lady Oisille and the noble Simontaut. They were overjoyed to be reunited so miraculously, and they spent the whole night in the church without finding it a moment too long, praising and thanking God for the great mercy He had bestowed upon them. In the morning they took a little rest, then heard mass. They all received the holy sacrament of union, in which all Christians are united in one, beseeching Him, who in His goodness had brought them together, that their journey might be finished to His glory.
After they had dined they sent someone to inquire whether the water had gone down, only to learn that the river was more swollen than before, and that it would be a long time before they could cross with safety. So they decided to build a bridge, using two rocks which were fairly close to one another. To this day there are planks at this point for the use of foot-travellers coming from Oléron who do not want to use the ford. The abbot was rather pleased that they were offering to put themselves to this expense, because it meant that he might get an increased number of pilgrims. So he provided the necessary workmen, but he was so mean that he contributed not a penny to the actual cost. The workmen said that they could not do the job in under ten or twelve days. This was rather a boring prospect for all of them, men and women alike. However, Parlamente, the wife of Hircan, was not one to let herself become idle or melancholy, and having asked her husband for permission, she spoke to the old Lady Oisille.
The Heptameron Page 6