"Oh, well," he said, "there is no need of a long sermon. Let us consider what is to be done."
"You must hide somewhere in the house," she said, "and I do not know of any place where you would be safe."
"Should I be safe," he asked, "in our pigeon house? Who would look for me there?"
She was, of course, highly delighted at the suggestion, but pretended not to be, and said; "It is not a very nice place; it stinks too much."
"I don"t mind that," he said. "I would rather be there an hour or two, and be safe, than be in a better place and be caught."
"Oh, well, if you are brave enough to go there, I am of your opinion that it would be a good hiding-place."
The poor man ascended into the pigeon-house, which fastened outside, and was locked in, and told his wife that if the sergeants did not come soon, that she was to let him out.
She left him to coo with the pigeons all night, which he did not much like, and he was afraid to speak or call, for fear of the sergeants.
At daybreak, which was the time when her lover left the house, the good woman came and called her husband and opened the door; and he asked her why she had left him so long along with the pigeons. And she, having prepared her reply, said that the sergeants had watched round their house all night, and spoken to her several times, and had only just gone, but they said that they would come back at a time when they were likely to find him.
The poor fellow, much wondering what the sergeants could want with him, left at once, and returned to the country, vowing that he would not come back for a long time. G.o.d knows how pleased the wench was at this, though she pretended to be grieved. And by this means she enjoyed herself more than ever, for she had no longer any dread of her husband"s return.
STORY THE EIGHTY-NINTH -- THE FAULT OF THE ALMANAC.
By Poncelet.
_Of a cure who forgot, either by negligence or ignorance, to inform his parishioners that Lent had come until Palm Sunday arrived, as you will hear--and of the manner in which he excused himself to his parishioners._
In a certain little hamlet or village in this country, far from any good town, there happened an incident, which is worth hearing, my good sirs.
This village or hamlet was inhabited by a handful of rough and simple peasants, who knew nothing except how to gain their livelihood. Rough and ignorant as they were, their cure was not less so, for he did not know things of common knowledge, as I will show you by relating an incident that happened to him.
You must know that this cure was so simple and ignorant that he could not announce the feasts of the saints, which come every year on a fixed day, as every one knows; and when his parishioners asked when such and such a feast would fall, he could not, right off, answer them correctly.
Amongst other such mistakes, which often occurred, he made one which was by no means slight, for he allowed the five weeks of Lent to slip by without informing his parishioners.
But hear how he discovered his error. On the Sat.u.r.day which was the eve before Palm Sunday, he had need to go to the nearest town for something that he required. When he had entered the town, and was riding along the streets, he saw that the priests were purchasing palms and other greenstuff, which were being sold at the market for the procession the next day.
If anyone was astonished it was our good cure, though he pretended not to be. He went to the woman who sold the palms and boughs, and bought some--pretending that he had come to town specially for that purpose.
Then he hastily mounted his horse, which was loaded with his purchases, galloped to the village, and arrived there as quickly as possible.
As soon as he had dismounted, he met several of his parishioners, whom he commanded to go and ring the bells for every one to come to church at once, for he had certain things necessary for the salvation of their souls to tell them.
A meeting was soon called, and all were a.s.sembled in the church, where the cure, booted and spurred, came, much fl.u.s.tered, G.o.d knows. He mounted into the pupil, and said the following words,
"Good sirs, I have to signify and inform you that to-day was the eve of the solemn feast of Palm Sunday, and this day next week will be the eve of Easter Sunday, the day of Our Lord"s Resurrection."
When these good people heard this news they began to murmur, and were so astonished they did not know what to do.
"Silence!" said the cure, "I will soon satisfy you, and will tell you the true reasons why you have only eight days of Lent in which to perform your penitences this year, and marvel not at what I am about to tell you, as to why Lent came so late. I suppose there is not one amongst you who does not know and remember that the frosts were very long and sharp this year--much worse than ever they were--and that for many weeks it was dangerous to ride, on account of the frost and the snow, which lasted a long time."
"Every one here knows that is as true as the Gospel, therefore be not astonished that Lent has been so long coming, but rather wonder that it was able to come at all, seeing how long the road is from here to his house. I would ask, and even beg of you, to excuse him, for I dined with him to day" (and he named the place--that is to say the town to which he had been).
"However," he added, "manage to come and confess this week, and appear to morrow in the procession, as is customary. And have patience this time; the coming year will be milder, please G.o.d, and then Lent will come quicker, as it usually does."
Thus did the cure find means to excuse his simple ignorance. Then he p.r.o.nounced the benediction saying,
"Pray to G.o.d for me, and I will pray to G.o.d for you."
After that he came down out of the pulpit, and went to his house to prepare the boughs and palms which were to be used in the procession the next day.
And that is all.
[Ill.u.s.tration: 90.jpg A good Remedy.]
STORY THE NINETIETH -- A GOOD REMEDY. [90]
By Monseigneur De Beaumont.
_Of a good merchant of Brabant whose wife was very ill, and he supposing that she was about to die, after many remonstrances and exhortations for the salvation of her soul, asked her pardon, and she pardoned him all his misdeeds, excepting that he had not worked her as much as he ought to have done--as will appear more plainly in the said story._
To increase the number of stories that I promised to tell, I will relate a circ.u.mstance that occurred lately.
In the fair land of Brabant--the place in the world where adventures most often happen--there lived a good and honest merchant, whose wife was very ill, and had to keep her bed continually because of her disease.
The good man, seeing his wife so ill and weak, led a sad life; he was so vexed and distressed and he much feared she would die. In this state of grief, and believing that he was about to lose her, he came to her bedside, and gave her hopes of being cured, and comforted her as best he could. And after that he had talked with her a little time, and ended his admonitions and exhortations, he begged her pardon, and requested that if he had ever wronged her in any way that she would pardon him.
Amongst other instances of things which he knew had annoyed her, he mentioned that he had not polished up her armour (that part which is called the _cuira.s.s_) as often as she would have liked, and therefore he humbly begged her pardon.
The poor invalid, as soon as she could speak, pardoned him all his minor offences, but this last she would not willingly pardon without knowing the reasons which had induced her husband to neglect polishing up her armour when he knew well what a pleasure it was to her, and that she asked for nothing better.
"What?" he said; "Will you die without pardoning those who have done you wrong?"
"I do not mind pardoning you," she said, "but I want to know your reasons--otherwise I will not pardon you."
The good husband thought he had hit on a good excuse, and one that would obtain his pardon, and replied;