The Heptameron

by Marguerite de Navarre

  ‘I wish you God speed, my friend,’ said Bonnivet. ‘I’ll pray to Him that you don’t run into any trouble. If it would be of any help for me to come with you, I would gladly do so. There’s nothing in my power that I wouldn’t do for you!’

  The Italian thanked him heartily, but told him that in a matter like this one could not be too much alone, and so saying he went off to get himself ready.

  The Seigneur de Bonnivet did not go to bed that night. The time had come to take his revenge on the lady who had treated him so cruelly. He went back early to his residence, where he had his beard trimmed so that it was the same length and shape as the Italian’s. He had his hair cut, too, so that to the touch at least it was indistinguishable from that of his rival. Nor did he forget the felt slippers, and other details of clothing that were like the Italian’s. He had no qualms about going to the lady’s house early, since he was on good terms with her father-in-law, and he considered that if he was seen, he could simply go straight to the good fellow’s room to discuss a piece of business they had to settle. So, as midnight struck, Bonnivet went into the lady’s house. There were still quite a few people coming and going, but he passed unrecognized through their midst, and made his way to the gallery. He tried the first two doors. They were locked. But the third door was not, and he gently pushed it open. Once inside he bolted it behind him. He found the whole room draped in pure white, flooring and ceiling as well as the walls. There was a bed, too, with a canopy of fine linen, also pure white, and decorated with the most beautiful embroidery. In the bed lay the lady, alone, her dainty cap and nightdress adorned with pearls and precious stones. A huge white wax candle was burning and the room was as light as day. He took in the whole scene through a chink in the curtain. So far he had not been seen, but lest he be recognized, he quickly snuffed the candle. Then he took off his clothes and got into bed with his lady. She, thinking it was the man who had loved her so long, welcomed him with open arms. He, however, knowing perfectly well that all this was for the sake of another man, took care not to utter a word. He was bent only on revenge – [to take her honour and her chastity, without obligation or gratitude on his part, and without will, forethought or intention on hers.] But the revenge was sweet to the lady, and she was happy to let it continue till one o’clock, when she deemed that her lover was sufficiently rewarded for his labours. Then it was time to say adieu, and Bonnivet, in as low a voice as he could manage, asked if she was as content with him as he was with her. She, thinking it was her Italian paramour, replied that not only was she very happy, but also that she was amazed to find he loved her so much that he had not spoken a word for a whole hour. Bonnivet burst out laughing at this, and said: ‘Well now, Madame, are you going to turn me down yet again, as you’ve been doing up to now?’

  She recognized him at once from his voice and the way he laughed, and was overcome with shock and shame. ‘Traitor! Impostor! Villain!’ she yelled at him over and over again, as she struggled to get out of the bed. It was in her mind to get a knife and stab herself to death, to release herself from the miserable fate of having lost her honour to a man whom she did not even love, a man who, moreover, for the sake of revenge would be quite capable of divulging the episode to the whole world. But he held her tight in his arms, and spoke to her gently, vowing that he loved her far more than the other man, that he would conceal everything that concerned her honour and that he would be so careful that not the slightest blame would attach to her name. The poor silly woman believed all this, and when she further heard from Bonnivet how ingenious and painstaking he had been in his plan to win her, she swore that she would love him more than the other man! After all, he had not even been able to keep the secret. Moreover, she now knew that what people said about the French was not true. Frenchmen were evidently not only cleverer, and more persistent than the Italians, but also more discreet. So she would have nothing more to do with what her fellow-Italians thought. She would stick to Bonnivet. She did, however, insist that for a while at least he should not appear at banquets or on any other occasion where she might be present, unless he was in disguise, for she knew that otherwise she would be so embarrassed that everybody would see her disgrace written all over her face. He gave her his word, and for his part insisted that when his friend came to her at two o’clock she should accord him the same favours as he had received. Later on she could gradually release herself from the attachment. She was very reluctant to agree to this, and would have refused outright, had it not been for the love she had now conceived for Bonnivet. At this point he took his leave, and the way he did it made her so satisfied that she would gladly have kept him there still longer!

  He got out of the lady’s bed, dressed himself and left the room, leaving the door ajar as he had found it. It was already nearly two o’clock, and, worried in case he met his Italian friend on the way to his tryst, he waited at the top of the staircase, until, not many minutes later, he saw him go into his lady’s bedroom. He then went straight back to his house to recover from his exertions, and slept so soundly that he was still asleep in bed at nine o’clock the next day. While he was getting up, the Italian arrived to tell him all about the night’s adventures. It had not, he told him, been so successful a night as he had hoped. When he had gone into the lady’s room he had found her out of bed wearing her dressing-gown. She had a high fever, her pulse was racing, her face was flushed and she was starting to break out in a sweat. Her condition had been so bad that she had asked him to go away again at once, saying that she had not dared call her women, for fear of being found out, [though she felt] so ill that her thoughts were more on God and Death than on Love and Cupid. She was very sorry, she had said, that he had taken the risks he had for her sake, for she had no power in this world to surrender to him that which she feared she was soon to surrender to the next. He had been so surprised and upset at this that all his joy and all his fire had turned to ice and to sorrow, and he had left his lady’s bedroom without more ado. At daybreak he had sent for further news of her condition, and he had received word that she was indeed very ill.

  As he told his sorry tale, the Italian wept bitterly, so bitterly you would have thought his soul was about to flow out with the tears. Bonnivet, as much disposed to burst out laughing as his friend was to weep, consoled him as best he could. He told him that it is always rather difficult at the beginning when one has been in love for so long, and that the God of Love had only brought about this setback in order that his enjoyment should be increased later on. And on this note they parted.

  The lady kept to her bed for a few days longer. When she recovered her health she dismissed her Italian, who had so long devoted himself to her service, her excuse being the fright she had had in the face of death, and the pangs of conscience that she was now experiencing. She gave herself entirely to Bonnivet, whose love, as usual, endured even as flowers of the field in their beauty endure!

  *

  ‘If you ask me, Ladies, the man’s ingenuity was a match for the lady’s hypocrisy, and hypocrisy it was, since she played hard at being an honest women, only to show that underneath she was a wanton.’

  ‘Say what you like about women,’ said Ennasuite, ‘but the man played a mean trick. If a woman is in love with one man, does that make it alright for some other man to take her by trickery?’

  ‘Take my word for it,’ observed Geburon, ‘you can’t put goods like that up for sale without their being carried off by the highest bidder! Please don’t think that men pursue ladies and take so much trouble just for their sakes – actually, they only do it for their own, and for the pleasure they get out of it!’

  ‘Quite!’ said Longarine. ‘I’m sure that what you say is true. The fact is that every man who’s ever wanted to be my devoted servant has always started by declaring that my life, my welfare and my honour were all he truly desired. But in the end it’s always their own interests that count, only their own pleasure and their own glory that they really desire. Consequently, the best thing to do
is to get rid of them before they’ve finished the first part of their speech. If one waits till they get into the second part, there is less honour in refusing them, for vice should be rejected as soon as it’s recognized.’

  ‘So,’ said Ennasuite, ‘as soon as a man starts to open his mouth, you ought to turn him down without even knowing what he’s going to say?’

  ‘That’s not what my companion means,’ said Parlamente. ‘It’s well known that when a man begins to speak, a lady should not let it appear that she understands what he is driving at; nor should she admit to believing him when he comes to the point. When he starts to swear on his oath, however, I think it’s more becoming for a lady to leave him to continue that particular route alone, rather than accompany him down to the valley, so to speak.’

  ‘But must we then take it that they only love us for bad reasons?’ asked Nomerfide. ‘Is it not a sin to judge one’s neighbour?’

  ‘You may believe what you please on this point,’ said Oisille, ‘but it is to be feared that what has been said is very much the case, so much so, indeed, that as soon as you see a spark you should flee from the fire immediately. It is a fire that has burnt more than one heart before it has even been noticed.’

  ‘Really,’ said Hircan, ‘these laws you lay down are far too harsh! If women were as harsh as you want them to be, when it becomes them so well to be soft and gentle, we men would just have to give up submitting meek requests and turn to trickery and violence.’

  ‘The best thing in my view,’ said Simontaut, ‘would be for everyone to follow his natural disposition. Whether you’re in love or whether you’re not in love, show it without dissimulation!’

  ‘Would to God,’ added Saffredent, ‘that that law brought as much honour as it would pleasure!’

  At this Dagoucin could not keep silent, and said: ‘But those who would rather die than have their feelings known could not submit to this ordinance of yours.’

  ‘Die!’ exclaimed Hircan. ‘A knight who’d consent to die for a cause like that has yet to see the light of day! Let’s stop talking about impossibilities, and see who Simontaut will choose to tell the next story.’

  ‘I choose Longarine,’ replied Simontaut. ‘I noticed a moment ago that she seemed to be talking to herself. I think she was rehearsing a piece for us. She’s not in the habit of concealing the truth from anyone, man or woman, so it is she I choose to speak next.’

  ‘Since you regard me as such a truthful person,’ said Longarine, ‘I’ll tell you a story, which, although it doesn’t praise women as much as I’d like, does, as you will see, show that there are women who are just as courageous, just as intelligent and just as shrewd as men. If it is a little long, I ask you to bear with me.’

  STORY FIFTEEN

  At the court of Francis I there lived a certain gentleman, a gentleman whom I know well, but whose name I prefer not to tell you. He was poor. He did not have five hundred livres a year to live on. But the King was very fond of him on account of his many excellent qualities, and he ended up marrying a woman rich enough to do justice to the highest lord of the land. As his wife was still only a young girl, the gentleman asked one of the greatest ladies of the court to take her into her household, which the lady in question gladly did. The gentleman himself was endowed with such good looks, such nobility, such charm and grace, that he was held in high esteem by the ladies at court, and in particular by one who happened at that time to be the object of the King’s own affections. With this lady our handsome gentleman was passionately in love, though she was neither as beautiful nor as young as his own wife, of whom he took so little notice, that scarcely one night in a whole year did he sleep with her. What was even more insufferable to the girl was the fact that he never spoke to her or showed the least sign of affection. Moreover, although he drew on her wealth for his own pleasures, he gave her such a small share in it that she was not able to dress as she wished, or even as her station required. The lady in whose household she resided often complained to the husband about this state of affairs.

  ‘Your wife is rich, beautiful and of good birth,’ she would say, ‘yet you treat her just as if she were the very opposite. So far she has put up with all this, being little more than a child, but I am afraid that when she grows up, and her mirror tells her how beautiful she really is, someone with little love for you will come along who will tell her the same thing. You have thought but little of her beauty, and I fear that in her resentment she will do things that she would never dare even to think about if she had been well treated by you.’

  But the gentleman’s heart was set on other things, and remonstrate as she might, he merely laughed at her and carried on as before.

  Two or three years passed by, and the young wife began to turn into one of the most beautiful women in all France. It was said that no other woman at court could match her. The more she realized that she deserved to be loved, the more she became upset at her husband’s lack of consideration for her. So distressed did she become, in fact, that had it not been for the efforts her mistress made to console her, she would almost have despaired. She tried everything in her power to win him round. How could it be possible, she asked herself, that he [did not] love her, when she loved him so dearly? In the end there seemed to her to be only one explanation – that his head had been turned by some fancy for another woman. She investigated this possibility with great shrewdness, until she eventually learned the truth. Every night he was occupied elsewhere. He had quite forgotten both his conscience and his duty to his wife.

  Now that she knew for certain the kind of life her husband was leading, she sank into such a deep melancholy that she refused to wear anything but clothes of black and shunned all kinds of merrymaking. When her mistress noticed this, she did everything she could to draw her out of this gloomy frame of mind. But to no avail. The husband, although the situation was made abundantly clear to him, was more inclined to laugh at it than to do anything to remedy it.

  Well now, as you know, Ladies, just as the heights of happiness may give way to tears, so the depths of misery may end in transports of joy. Thus it was that a certain noble lord of high estate, who was a close relative of the lady’s mistress, and a frequent visitor, came to hear of the outlandish way the husband behaved towards her. He felt so sorry for her that he made an attempt to console her, and as he talked with her he was so struck by her goodness, her beauty and her modest demeanour, that he became rather more concerned to win her favour than to talk about her husband, except to show her what little cause she had to have any affection for the man. As for the lady herself, there she was, on the one hand abandoned by the very man who ought to have loved her, and on the other hand sought after and loved by a handsome prince, so it was hardly surprising that she felt overjoyed at having won his favour. Although she was concerned always to preserve her honour, nevertheless, starved as she was of love and consideration, she took the greatest delight in talking to him, and basking in his love and admiration. This tender friendship lasted for some time, but was eventually noticed by the King, who, being extremely fond of the lady’s husband, was not prepared to let anybody cause him the least distress or disgrace. So he urged the prince to rid himself of his infatuation, and told him that if he did not, he was likely to incur royal displeasure. The prince was far more anxious to win the King’s favour than he was to win all the favours of all the ladies in the world, so he promised that for the King’s sake he would abandon his designs, and that he would go that very evening and take his leave of the lady.

  True to his word, he went to the lady’s house as soon as he was sure she had returned. As usual in the evening the husband was sitting at his window, so he saw the prince go into his wife’s room, which was just beneath his own. But the prince, though he knew he had been seen, was not deterred. Once in her room, he told the fair lady, whose love was only beginning to blossom, that he was saying goodbye. The sole reason, he told her, was that he had been ordered to do so by the King himself. Till an hour
after midnight the lady wailed and wept. Then by way of a parting speech she turned to him and said:

  ‘Monseigneur, I give thanks to God that you no longer have the feelings you had before, for they must be weak indeed if you can pick them up and put them down again upon the orders of mere mortals! I asked permission neither from my mistress, nor from my husband, nor from myself, when I fell in love with you. It was Love alone, with the help of your handsome appearance and your charm, that had such authority over me that I recognized no other God and no other King. But since your heart is not so overflowing with love that all fear is banished from it, you cannot be a perfect lover, and I have no desire to take one who is imperfect, and make him, as once I was resolved to do, a lover loved with perfect love. So, Monseigneur, since you are too craven to deserve my true affection, I say farewell!’

  And the noble lord went off in tears. [On his way out he noticed the husband watching again at the window,] so the next day he went to explain to him why he had been to see his wife, and what the King had ordered him to do. The gentleman was very gratified to hear all this, and thanked the King. However, seeing his wife growing daily more beautiful, while he was getting older and losing his good looks, he began to change his role. It was his turn now to play the part he had imposed on his wife for so long, for he spent more time with her than he had hitherto, and kept a constant watch on her actions. But the more he followed her about, the more she kept out of his way, since she had conceived a desire to pay him back for the sorrows that his lack of love had brought her in the past. What is more, she was beginning to learn the pleasures of love, and had no desire to be deprived of them so soon. So she made advances to a young nobleman. He was a very good-looking young man, very elegant, very nimble with his tongue, and consequently much adored by all the ladies at court. She bemoaned her lot to him, telling him how badly she was treated, and he was so moved by her tale that he left no stone unturned in an attempt to comfort her. In order to make up for the loss of her prince, she set about falling in love with this young man with such passion that she eventually got over her earlier disappointment. She no longer had any other concern than to carry on her new intrigue with as much finesse as possible. So careful was she, that her mistress, in whose presence she scrupulously avoided addressing the young man, suspected nothing at all. But when she did want to talk to him, she would go off to see some of the other ladies who resided at court, amongst whom there happened to be one with whom her husband was affecting to be in love.