_A punishment more rigorous than death, of a husband towarde his
wife that had committed adulterie._
King Charles of Fraunce, the eight of that name, sent into
Germany a gentleman called Bernage, lorde of Cyure besides
Amboise: who to make speede, spared neither daye nor nighte for
execution of his Prince's commaundement. In sutch wyse as very
late in an euening he arriued at the Castle of a Gentleman, to
demaunde lodging, which very hardly he obtained. Howbeit, when
the gentleman vnderstode that he was the seruaunt of such a
kyng, he prayed him not to take it in ill parte the rudinesse of
his seruantes because vppon occasion of certain his wiue's
frends which loued him not, he was forced to kepe his house so
straight. Then Bernage tolde him the cause of his iourney,
wherein the Gentleman offered to doe to the king his maister all
seruice possible. Leading him into his house where he was
feasted and lodged very honorably. When supper was ready, the
Gentleman conueyed him into a parler wel hanged with fayre
Tapistrie. And the meate being set vpon the table, and he
required to sit down, he perceiued a woman comming forth behind
the hanging, which was so beautifull as might be seene, sauing
that her head was all shauen, and apparelled in Almaine blacke.
After bothe the Gentlemen had washed, water was brought to the
Gentlewoman, who when she had washed she sat down also, without
speaking to any, or any word spoken vnto her againe. The Lorde
Bernage beholding her well, thought her to be one of the fayrest
Ladies that euer he sawe, if her face had not bene so pale and
her countenaunce so sadde. After she had eaten a litle, she
called for drinke, which one of the seruauntes brought vnto her
in a straunge cup: for it was the head of a dead man trimmed
with siluer, wherof she drancke twice or thrice. When she had
supped and washed her handes, making a reuerence to the Lord of
the house, shee retourned backe againe that way shee came,
without speaking to any. Bernage was so much amased at that
straunge sighte, as he waxed very heauie and sadde. The
gentleman who marked hym, sayde vnto hym: "I see well that you
be astonned at that you saw at the table, but seyng your honest
demeanour, I wyll not keepe it secrete from you, because you
shal not note that crueltie to be done without greate occasion.
This gentlewoman whiche you see, is my wyfe, whom I loued better
than was possible for any man to loue his wyfe. In such sorte as
to marry her I forgat all feare of friendes, and brought her
hither in despite of her parentes. She likewyse shewed vnto me
suche signes of loue, as I attempted a thousande wayes to place
her here for her ioye and myne, where wee lyued a long tyme in
suche reste and contentation, as I thought my self the happiest
Gentleman in Christendome. But in a iourney whiche I made, the
attempt whereof myne honour forced me, shee forgot bothe her
selfe, her conscience, and the loue whiche shee bare towardes
mee, and fell in loue with a Gentleman that I brought vp in this
house, whiche her loue vpon my retourne I perceiued to be true.
Notwithstanding the loue that I bare her, was so great as I had
no mistrust in her, tyll sutch tyme as experience did open myne
eyes, and sawe the thynge that I feared more than death. For
whiche cause my loue was tourned into furie and dispayre, so
greate, as I watched her so nere, that vppon a daye fayning my
selfe to goe abroade, I hydde my selfe in the chamber where now
shee remayneth. Into the whiche sone after my departure shee
repayred, and caused the Gentleman to come thether. Whome I did
beholde to doe that thinge, which was altogether vnmeete for any
man to doe to her, but my selfe. But when I sawe him mounte
vppon the bed after her, I stepped forth and tooke him betwene
her armes, and with my dagger immediatly did kill him. And
because the offence of my wife semed so great as the doing of
her to death was not sufficient to punish her, I deuised a
torment which in mine opinion is worse vnto her than death. For
thus I vse her, I doe locke her vp in the chamber wherein she
accustomed to vse her delightes, and in the companie of hym that
she loued farre better than me. In the closet of which chamber I
haue placed the Anatomie of her friend, reseruing the same as a
precious Iewell. And to the ende shee may not forget him at
meales, at the table before my face, she vseth his skulle in
steade of a cup to drinke in, to the intent she may behold him
(aliue) in the presence of hym whom through her owne fault she
hath made her mortal enemy, and him dead and slain for her sake,
whose loue she preferred before mine. And so beholdeth those
twoo thinges at dinner and supper which ought to displease her
moste, her enemie liuing, and her friend dead, and al through
her own wickednesse, howbeit I doe vse her no worse than my
self, although shee goeth thus shauen: for the ornament of the
heare doth not appertaine to an adultresse, nor the vayle or
other furniture of the head to an unchast woman. Wherefore she
goeth so shauen, in token she hath lost her honestie. If it
please you, sir, to take the payne to see her, I wil bring you
to her." Whereunto Bernage willingly assented. And descending
into her chamber whiche was very richely furnished, they founde
her sitting alone at the fier. And the Gentleman drawing a
Curteine, whiche was before the Closet, he sawe the Anatomie of
the dead man hanging. Bernage had a great desire to speake vnto
the Ladye, but for feare of her husband he durst not. The
Gentleman perceiuin the same, said vnto him: "If it please you
to speake vnto her, you shal vnderstand her order of talke."
Therwithall Bernage sayde vnto her: "Madame, if your pacience be
correspondent to this torment, I deme you to be the happiest
woman of the worlde." The lady with teares trickeling down her
eyes with a grace so good and humble as was possible, spake thus
vnto him: "Sir, I doe confesse my fault to be so great, as all
the afflictions and torment that the Lorde of this place (for I
am not worthy to call him husbande) can doe vnto me, be nothing
comparable to the sorrowe I haue conceiued of myne offence." And
in sayinge so, she began pitifully to weepe. Therewithall the
Gentleman toke Bernage by the hande, and led him forth. The next
day morning he departed about the businesse which the king had
sent him. Notwithstanding, in bidding the Gentleman fare well,
he sayde vnto hym: "Sir, the loue whiche I beare vnto you, and
the honor and secretes wherewith you haue made me priuie, doth
force me to saye vnto you howe I doe thinke good (seing the
great repentance of the poore Gentlewoman your wife) that you
doe shewe her mercie. And bicause you be yong and haue no
children, it were a verie great losse and detriment to lose such
a house and ligneage as yours is. And it may so come to passe,
that your enemies thereby in time to come may be your heires,
and inioye the goodes and patrimonie whiche you doe leaue
behinde you." The Gentleman which neuer thought to speake vnto
his wife, with those wordes paused a great while, and in thend
confessed his saying to be true, promising him that if she would
continue in that humilitie, he would in time shew pittie vppon
her, with whiche promise Bernage departed. And when he was
retourned towardes the king his maister, hee recompted vnto him
the successe of his iourneyes. And amonges other thinges he
tolde him of the beautie of this Ladie, who sent his Painter
called Iohn of Paris, to bring him her counterfaicte: which with
the consent of her husband, he did. Who after that long
penaunce, for a desire he had to haue children, and for the
pitie hee bare to his wyfe which with great humblenesse receiued
that affliction, tooke her vnto hym agayne, and afterwardes
begat of her many children.