“Now, madam, will you refuse me another time, as you have hitherto been
wont to do?”
The lady, recognising him by his speech and laughter, was in such
despair with grief and shame, that she called him villain, traitor, and
deceiver a thousand times over, and tried to throw herself out of bed
to search for a knife in order to kill herself, since she was so
unfortunate as to have lost her honour through a man whom she did not
love, and who to be revenged on her might publish the matter to the
whole world.
But he held her fast in his arms, and in fair soft words declared that
he would _love_ her more than her lover, and would so carefully conceal
all that affected her honour that she should never be brought to
reproach. This the poor foolish thing believed, and on hearing from him
the plan that he had devised and the pains that he had taken to win her,
she swore to him that she would love him better than the other, who had
not been able to keep her secret. She now knew, said she, how false
was the repute in which the French were held; they were more sensible,
persevering, and discreet than the Italians; wherefore she would
henceforward lay aside the erroneous opinions of her nation and hold
fast to him. But she earnestly entreated him not to show himself for
some time at any entertainment or in any place where she might be unless
he were masked; for she was sure she should feel so much ashamed that
her countenance would betray her to every one.
This he promised to do, and he then begged that she would give her
lover a good welcome when he came at two o’clock, getting rid of him
afterwards by degrees. This she was very loth to do, and but for the
love she bore to Bonnivet would on no account have consented. However,
when bidding her farewell, he gave her so much cause for satisfaction
that she would fain have had him stay with her some time longer.
Having risen and donned his garments again, he departed, leaving the
door of the room slightly open, as he had found it. And as it was now
nearly two o’clock, and he was afraid of meeting the Italian gentleman,
he withdrew to the top of the staircase, whence he not long afterwards
saw the other pass by and enter the lady’s room.
For his own part, he then betook himself home to rest, in such wise that
at nine of the clock on the following morning he was still in bed. While
he was rising, there arrived the Italian gentleman, who did not fail to
recount his fortune, which had not been so great as he had hoped; for
on entering the lady’s chamber, said he, he had found her out of bed,
wearing her dressing-gown, and in a high fever, with her pulse beating
quick and her countenance aflame, and a perspiration beginning to break
out upon her. She had therefore begged him to go away forthwith, for
fearing a mishap, she had not ventured to summon her women, and was
in consequence so ill that she had more need to think of death than
of love, and to be told of God than of Cupid. She was distressed, she
added, that he should have run such risk for her sake, since she was
wholly unable to grant what he sought in a world she was so soon to
leave. He had felt so astonished and unhappy on hearing this that
all his fire and joy had been changed to ice and sadness, and he had
immediately gone away. However, he had sent at daybreak to inquire about
her, and had heard that she was indeed very ill. While recounting his
griefs he wept so piteously that it seemed as though his soul must melt
away in his tears.
Bonnivet, who was as much inclined to laugh as the other was to weep,
comforted him as well as he could, telling him that affections of long
duration always had a difficult beginning, and that Love was causing him
this delay only that he might afterwards have the greater joy. And so
the two gentlemen parted. The lady remained in bed for some days, and on
regaining her health dismissed her first suitor, alleging as her
reason the fear of death that had beset her and the prickings of her
conscience. But she held fast to my lord Bonnivet, whose love, as is
usual, lasted no longer than the field flowers bloom.
“I think, ladies, that the gentleman’s craftiness was a match for the
hypocrisy of the lady, who, after playing the prude so long, showed
herself such a wanton in the end.”
“You may say what you please about women,” said Ennasuite, “but the
gentleman played an evil trick. Is it allowable that if a lady loves one
man, another may obtain her by craft?”
“You may be sure,” said Geburon, “that when such mares are for sale
they are of necessity carried off by the last and highest bidder. Do not
imagine that wooers take such great pains for the ladies’ sakes. It is
for their own sakes and their own pleasure.”
“By my word,” said Longarine, “I believe you; for, truth to tell, all
the lovers that I have ever had have always begun their speeches by
talking about me, declaring that they cherished my life, welfare, and
honour; but in the end they only thought of themselves, caring for
nought but their own pleasure and vanity. The best plan, therefore,
is to dismiss them as soon as the first portion of their discourse is
ended; for when they come to the second, there is not so much credit in
refusing them, seeing that vice when recognised must needs be rejected.”
“So as soon as a man opens his mouth,” said Ennasuite, “we ought to
refuse him, without knowing what he is going to say?”
“Nay,” replied Parlamente, “my friend does not mean that. We know that
at first a woman should never appear to understand what the man desires,
or even to believe him when he has declared what it is; but when he
comes to strong protestations, I think it were better for ladies to
leave him on the road rather than continue to the end of the journey
with him.”
“That may be,” said Nomerfide; “but are we to believe that they love us
for evil? Is it not a sin to judge our neighbours?”
“You may believe what you please,” said Oisille; “but there is so
much cause for fearing it to be true, that as soon as you perceive the
faintest spark, you should flee from this fire, lest it should burn up
your heart before you even know it.”
“Truly,” said Hircan, “the laws you lay down are over harsh. If women,
whom gentleness beseems so well, were minded to prove as rigorous as
you would have them be, we men, on our part, would exchange our gentle
entreaties for craft and force.”
“In my opinion,” said Simontault, “the best advice is that each should
follow his natural bent. Whether he love or not, let him do so without
dissimulation.”
“Would to God,” said Saffredent, “that such a rule would bring as much
honour as it would give pleasure.”