As you are all ready to listen to me, and no one comes forward at the present moment to continue this glorious and edifying book of a Hundred Stories, I will relate an instance which happened formerly in Dauphine, fit to be included in the number of the said novels.
A gentleman who lived in Dauphine, had in his house a sister, aged about eighteen or twenty, who was a companion to his wife, who loved her dearly, so that they agreed together like two sisters.
It happened that this gentleman was bidden to the house of a neighbour, who lived a couple of short leagues away, to visit him, and took with him his wife and sister. They went, and G.o.d knows how cordially they were received.
The wife of the neighbour who invited them, took the wife and sister of the said gentleman for a walk after supper, talking of various matters, and they came to the hut of the shepherd, which was near a large and fine park in which the sheep were kept, and found there the chief shepherd looking after his flock. And--as women will--they enquired about many and various things, and amongst others they asked if he was not cold in his cottage? He replied he was not, and that he was more comfortable in his hut than they were in their glazed, matted, and well-floored chambers.
They talked also of other matters, and some of their phrases had a bawdy meaning; and the worthy shepherd, who was neither a fool nor a blockhead, swore to them that he was prepared to undertake to do the job eight or nine times in one night.
The sister of our gentleman cast amorous glances at the shepherd when she heard this, and did not fail to tell him, when she found a fitting opportunity, that he had made an impression on her, and that he was to come to see her at her brother"s house, and that she would make him welcome.
The shepherd, who saw she was a pretty girl, was not a little pleased at this news, and promised to come and see her. And, in short, he did as he had promised, and at the hour arranged between his lady-love and him was in front of her window; and though it was a high and dangerous ascent, nevertheless he accomplished it by means of a cord which she let down, and a vine there was there, and was soon in her chamber, where, it need not be said, he was heartily welcomed.
He showed that it was no empty boast he had made, for before daylight, the stag had eight horns, at which the lady was greatly pleased. And you must know that before the shepherd could come to the lady, he had to walk two leagues, and swim the broad river, Rhone, which was close to the house where his mistress lived; and when day came he had to recross the Rhone, and return to his sheepfold; and he continued to do this for a long time without being discovered.
During this time many gentlemen of that country demanded the hand of this damsel turned shepherdess, in marriage, but not one of them was to her taste; at which her brother was not best pleased, and said so many times, but she was always well provided with answers and excuses.
She informed her lover, the shepherd, of all this, and one night she promised him that, if he wished, she would never have any other husband but him. He replied that he desired nothing better;
"But it can never be," he said; "on account of your brother and your other friends."
"Do not trouble yourself about that," she said, "let me manage as I like and it will be all right."
So they plighted troth to one another. But soon after that there came a gentleman to make a last request for the hand of the lady shepherdess, and who said he would marry her if she were only dressed in the manner becoming her station without any other portion. Her brother would have willingly listened to this demand, and tried to persuade his sister to give her consent, pointing out to her what her duty was in such a case; but he could not succeed, at which he was much displeased.
When she saw that he was angry with her, she took him on one side, and said;
"Brother, you have long lectured me, and pressed me to marry such and such a man, and I would never consent. Now I beg of you not to be angry with or bear any resentment towards me, and I will tell you what has prevented my acceding to any of these requests, if you will promise not to be still more enraged against me."
Her brother willingly promised. When she had obtained this a.s.surance, she told him that she was as good as married already, and that as long as she lived she would never have for husband any other man than the one she would show him that night if he wished.
"I should much like to see him," replied her brother, "but who is he?"
"You will see in good time," she said.
At the accustomed hour the shepherd came, and climbed to the lady"s chamber, G.o.d knows how wet from having crossed the river. The brother looked at him, and saw it was his neighbour"s shepherd, and was in no small degree astonished; and still more so was the shepherd, who would have fled when he saw him.
"Stay! Stay!" said the gentleman, "there is nothing to fear."
"Is this," he added turning to his sister, "the man of whom you spoke to me?"
"Yes, truly, brother," said she.
"Then make a good fire for him to warm himself," said the gentleman, "for he much needs it. And do you regard him as your husband; and truly you are not wrong to like him, for he has run great dangers for love of you. And since the matter has gone so far, and you have the courage to take him for a husband, never mind me, and cursed be he who does not hurry on the marriage."
"Amen!" she said. "It shall be to-morrow, if you wish."
"I do wish," he replied; then turning to the shepherd.
"What do you say?"
"Whatever you wish."
"There is nothing else for it then," said the gentleman. "You are, and shall be, my brother-in-law. Not so long ago our family was not n.o.ble; so I may well have a shepherd for a brother-in-law."
To cut the story short, the gentleman consented to the marriage of his sister to the shepherd; and it was performed, and they both continued to live in his house, though it was much talked about throughout the country.
And when he was in some place where the affair was being talked about, and surprise was expressed that he had not killed or beaten the shepherd, the gentleman replied that he would never harm one whom his sister loved; and that he would rather have for a brother-in-law, a shepherd his sister liked, than some great man she did not like.
All this was said as a joke, and sportingly; for he was, and has always been, a courteous and pleasant gentleman, and liked not to hear his sister"s name bandied about, even amongst his friends and boon companions.
STORY THE FIFTY-EIGHTH -- SCORN FOR SCORN.
By Monseigneur.
_Of two comrades who wished to make their mistresses better inclined towards them, and so indulged in debauchery, and said, that as after that their mistresses still scorned them, that they too must have played at the same game--as you will hear._
I knew, in the time of my green and virtuous youth, two gentlemen, good comrades, accomplished, and provided with every quality to be praised in a virtuous gentleman. They were friends, and were alike each other in every respect, not only bodily, but as regarded their clothes, their servants, and their horses.
It happened that they fell in love with two fair young damsels of good family and gracious, and they did for these fair ladies" sake a hundred thousand little courtesies. Their vows were listened to--but nothing more. Perhaps the damsels had lovers already, or did not wish to have a love affair on their hands, for in truth the youths were both good fellows, such as many a n.o.ble lady would have liked for a lover.
Be that as it may, they could not win their ladies" love, which caused them to pa.s.s many nights in G.o.d knows what sorrow, now cursing fortune, now love, and most often their mistresses for being so unkind. Whilst they were suffering this rage and grief, one of them said one day to his friend,
"We can see with half an eye that our mistresses do not care for us, and yet we more madly desire them than ever, and the more scorn and harshness they show us the more we desire to please, serve, and obey them! Upon my word this seems to me the height of folly. Let us, I pray you, think no more of them than they do of us, and you will see that when they know that, it will be their turn to seek and importune us."
"Ah!" said the other, "very good advice, no doubt, but how can it be carried out?"
"I have found the means," said the first. "I have always heard it said, and Ovid puts it in his book, The Remedy of Love, that to do--you know what--much and often, makes you forget or think little of the person with whom you are in love. I will tell you what we will do. We will take home with us a couple of nice young "cousins" (*), and we will sleep with them, and commit every folly with them that our strength will permit, and then we will go and see our ladies, and the devil is in it if they do not then care for us."
(*) Prost.i.tutes. The word is doubtless derived from _coussin_.
The other agreed, and the proposal was carried out, and each took home a nice wench. And after that they went to a great feast where their ladies were, and they flaunted in front of the damsels, chattering carelessly here and there, and seeming to say in a hundred thousand ways, "We do not care for you", believing that, as they had devised, their mistresses would be displeased, and would try to make their lovers return to their allegiance.
But it happened quite otherwise, for if the youths appeared to think but little of the ladies, they on the other hand, showed openly that they cared nothing for the young men, which the latter perceived, and were much amazed at. The one said to his friend;
"Do you know what is the matter? Morbleu! our mistresses have done exactly what we have done. Do you not see how scornful they are? They carry themselves exactly as we do--and, believe me, for the very same reason. They have each chosen a paramour and indulged in folly to the utmost. Devil take the b.i.t.c.hes! Let us leave them alone!"
"By my oath!" replied the other, "I believe it is as you say. I never expected to find them like this."
So the two friends thought that their mistresses had done the same as they had done themselves, because the damsels took no more heed of them than they did of the damsels--which may not have been true, but was not difficult to believe.