“Father, I believe you to be so beloved of God, that He will refuse you
no request. I therefore entreat you to take pity on my poor wife, who
for a week past has been possessed by the evil spirit in such a way,
that she tries to bite and scratch every one. She cares for neither
cross nor holy water, but I verily believe that if you will lay your
hand upon her the devil will come forth, and I therefore earnestly
entreat you to do so.”
“My son,” said the good father, “all things are possible to a believer.
Do you, then, firmly believe that God in His goodness never refuses
those that in faith seek grace from Him?”
“I do, father,” said the gentleman.
“Be also assured, my son,” said the friar, “that He can do what He will,
and that He is even as powerful as He is good. Let us go, then, strong
in faith to withstand this roaring lion, and to pluck from him his prey,
whom God has purchased by the blood of Jesus Christ, His Son.”
Accordingly, the gentleman led this worthy man to where his wife lay on
a little bed. She, thinking that it was the Friar who had beaten her,
was much astonished to see him there and exceedingly wrathful; however,
her husband being present, she cast down her eyes, and remained dumb.
“As long as I am with her,” said the husband to the holy man, “the devil
scarcely torments her. But sprinkle some holy water upon her as soon as
I am gone, and you will soon see how the evil spirit does his work.”
The husband left them alone together, and waited at the door to see
how they would behave. When the lady saw no one with her but the good
father, she began to cry out like a woman bereft of reason, calling him
rascal, villain, murderer, betrayer. At this, the good father, thinking
that she was surely possessed by an evil spirit, tried to put his hands
upon her head, in order to utter his prayers upon it; but she scratched
and bit him in such a fashion, that he was obliged to speak at a greater
distance, whence, throwing a great deal of holy water upon her, he
pronounced many excellent prayers.
When the husband saw that the Friar had done his duty, he came into the
room and thanked him for his trouble. At his entrance his wife ceased
her cursings and revilings, and meekly kissed the cross in the fear
she had of him. But the holy man, having seen her in so great a frenzy,
firmly believed that Our Lord had cast out the devil in answer to his
prayer, and he went away, praising God for this wonderful miracle.
The husband, seeing that his wife was well punished for her foolish
fancy, did not tell her of what he had done. He was content to have
subdued her affection by his own prudence, and to have so dealt with her
that she now hated mortally what she had formerly loved, and, loathing
her folly, devoted herself to her husband and household more completely
than she had ever done before.
“In this story, ladies, you see the good sense of a husband and the
frailty of a woman of repute. I think that if you look carefully into
this mirror you will no longer trust to your own strength, but will
learn to have recourse to Him who holds your honour in His hand.”
“I am well pleased,” said Parlamente, “to find you become a preacher to
the ladies, and I should be even more so if you would make these fine
sermons to all those with whom you speak.”
“Whenever you are willing to listen to me,” said Hircan, “I promise you
that I will say as much.”
“In other words,” said Simontault, “when you are not present, he will
speak in a different fashion.”
“He will do as he pleases,” said Parlamente, “but for my content I wish
to believe that he always speaks in this way. At all events, the example
he has brought forward will be profitable to those who believe that
spiritual love is not dangerous. In my opinion it is more so than any
other.”
“Yet,” said Oisille, “it seems to me that to love a worthy, virtuous and
God-fearing man is in nowise a matter for scorn, and that one cannot but
be the better for it.”
“Madam,” said Parlamente, “I pray you believe that no one can be more
simple or more easily deceived than a woman who has never loved. For in
itself love is a passion that seizes upon the heart before one is aware
of it, and so pleasing a passion is it that, if it can make use of
virtue as a cloak, it will scarcely be recognised before some mischief
has come of it.”
“What mischief,” asked Oisille, “can come of loving a worthy man?”
“Madam,” said Parlamente, “there are a good many men that are esteemed
worthy, but to be worthy in respect of the ladies, and to be careful for
their honour and conscience--not one such man as that could, I think, be
found in these days. Those who think otherwise, and put their trust in
men, find at last that they have been deceived, and, having begun such
intimacy with obedience to God, will often end it with obedience to the
devil. I have known many who, under pretext of speaking about God, began
an intimacy from which they could not withdraw when at last they wished
to do so, being held in subjection by this semblance of virtue. A
vicious love perishes of its own nature, and cannot continue in a good
heart, but virtuous love has bonds of silk so fine that one is caught in
them before they are seen.”
“According to you,” said Ennasuite, “no woman should ever love a man;
but your law is too harsh a one to last.”
“I know that,” said Parlamente, “but none the less must I desire that
every one were as content with her own husband as I am with mine.”
Ennasuite, who felt that these words touched her, changed colour and
said--
“You ought to believe every one the same at heart as yourself, unless,
indeed, you think yourself more perfect than all others.”
“Well,” said Parlamente, “to avoid dispute, let us see to whom Hircan
will give his vote.”
“I give it,” Hircan replied, “to Ennasuite, in order to make amends to
her for what my wife has said.”
“Then, since it is my turn,” said Ennasuite, “I will spare neither man
nor woman, that all may fare alike. I see right well that you are unable
to subdue your hearts to acknowledge the virtue and goodness of men, for
which reason I am obliged to resume the discourse with a story like to
the last.”
[Illustration: 062.jpg Tailpiece]
[Illustration: 063a.jpg The Clerk entreating Forgiveness of the President]
[The Clerk entreating Forgiveness of the President]
[Illustration: 063.jpg Page Image]
_TALE XXXVI_.
_By means of a salad a President of Grenoble avenged himself
upon one of his clerks with whom his wife was smitten, and
so saved the honour of his house_.
In the town of Grenoble there dwelt a President whose name I shall not
mention, but he was not a Frenchman. (1) He had a very beautiful wife,
and they lived in great tranquillity together.
1 The personage referred to is Jeffroy Charles or Carles,
Chief President of the Parliament of Grenoble, and President
of the Senate of Turin; his wife’s name was Margaret du
Mottet; she came of a very old family of Embrun. Some
interesting particulars concerning President Charles,
supplied by that erudite scholar M. Jules Roman, will be
found in the Appendix to the present volume (A).--Ed.
This lady, finding that her husband was now old, fell in love with a
young clerk, called Nicholas. When the President went to the court in
the morning, Nicholas used to enter his room and take his place. This
was observed by a servant of the President’s who had served his master
well for thirty years, and in his faithfulness he could not refrain from
speaking to him of the matter.
The President, being a prudent man, would not lightly believe the story,
but said that the servant wished to create contention between himself
and his wife. If the matter, said he, were really as the servant
declared, he could easily prove it to him, and if proof were not given
he would believe that it was a lie contrived in order to destroy the
love existing between himself and his wife. The servant promised that he
would show him the truth of what he had said, and one morning, as soon
as the President was gone to the court and Nicholas had entered the
room, he sent one of his fellow-servants to tell his master to come,
while he himself remained watching at the door lest Nicholas should come
out.
As soon as the President saw the sign that was made to him by one of his
servants, he pretended to be ill, left the court and hastened home.
Here he found his old servant at the door, and was assured by him that
Nicholas was inside and had only just gone in.
“Do not stir from this door,” said his lord to him, “for, as you are
aware, there is no other means of going into or out of the room, except
indeed by way of a little closet of which I myself alone carry the key.”
The President entered the room and found his wife and Nicholas in bed
together. The clerk, clad in nothing but his shirt, threw himself at his
feet to entreat forgiveness, while his wife began to weep.