“Do not wait for him, brother, for I know that he will not come to-day.”
The brother-in-law believed her and brought her back again, and when she
had reached home she let him know her extreme anger, telling him that he
was the devil’s servant, and did yet more than he was commanded, for she
was sure that the plan had been devised by him and the gentleman and not
by the young Prince, whose money he would rather earn by aiding him in
his follies, than by doing the duty of a good servant. However, now that
she knew his real nature, she would remain no longer in his house,
and thereupon indeed she sent for her brother to take her to his own
country, and immediately left her sister’s dwelling.
Having thus failed in his attempt, the butler went to the castle to
learn what had prevented the arrival of the young Prince, and he had
scarcely come thither when he met the Prince himself sallying forth
on his mule, and attended only by the gentleman in whom he put so much
trust.
“Well,” the Prince asked of him, “is she still there?”
Thereupon the butler related all that had taken place.
The young Prince was deeply vexed at having failed in his plan, which he
looked upon as the very last that he could devise, but, seeing that it
could not be helped, he sought out Frances so diligently that at last
he met her in a gathering from which she could not escape. He then
upbraided her very harshly for her cruelty towards him, and for having
left her brother-in-law, but she made answer that the latter was, in
regard to herself, the worst and most dangerous man she had ever known,
though he, the Prince, was greatly beholden to him, seeing that he
was served by him not only with body and substance, but with soul and
conscience as well.
When the Prince perceived by this that the case was a hopeless one, he
resolved to urge her no more, and esteemed her highly all his life.
Seeing this maiden’s goodness, one of the said Prince’s attendants
desired to marry her, but to this she would not consent without the
command and license of the young Prince, upon whom she had set all her
affection; and this she caused to be made known to him, and with his
approval the marriage was concluded. And so she lived all her life in
good repute, and the young Prince bestowed great benefits upon her. (4)
4 We take this concluding paragraph from MS. 1520; it is
deficient in ours.--L.
“What shall we say to this, ladies? Have we hearts so base as to make
our servants our masters--seeing that this woman was not to be subdued
either by love or torment? Let us, I pray you, take example by her
conduct and conquer ourselves, for this is the most meritorious conquest
that we can make.”
“I see but one thing to be regretted,” said Oisille, “which is that
these virtuous actions did not take place in the days of the old
historians. Those who gave so much praise to their Lucretia would have
neglected her to set down at length the virtues of this maiden.”
“They are indeed so great,” said Hircan, “that, were it not for the
solemn vow that we have taken to speak the truth, I could not believe
her to have been what you describe. We have often seen sick persons
turn in disgust from good and wholesome meats to eat such as are bad and
hurtful, and in the same way this girl may have had some gentleman of
her own estate for whose sake she despised all nobility.”
But to this Parlemente replied that the girl’s whole life showed that
she had never loved any living man save him whom she loved more than her
very life, though not more than her honour.
“Put that notion out of your head,” said Saffredent, “and learn the
origin of the term ‘honour’ as used among women; for perhaps those
that speak so much of it are ignorant of how the name was devised. Know
then that in the earliest times, when there was but little wickedness
among men, love was so frank and strong that it was never concealed, and
he who loved the most perfectly received most praise. But when greed and
sinfulness fastened upon heart and honour, they drove out God and love,
and in their place set up selfishness, hypocrisy and deceit. Then, when
some ladies found that they fostered in their hearts the virtue of true
love but that the word ‘hypocrisy’ was hateful among men, they adopted
instead the word ‘honour.’ At last, too, even those who could feel no
honourable love said that ‘honour’ forbade them, and cruelly made this a
law for all, so that now even those who love perfectly use concealment,
holding virtue for a vice. But such as have an excellent understanding
and a sound judgment never fall into any such error. They know the
difference between darkness and light, and are aware that true honour
consists in manifesting the purity of their hearts, (which should
live upon love alone), and not in priding themselves on the vice of
dissimulation.”
“Yet,” said Dagoucin, “it is said that the most secret love is the most
worthy of praise.”
“Ay, secret,” said Simontault, “from the eyes of those who might
misjudge it, but open and manifest at least to the two persons whom it
concerns.”
“So I take it,” said Dagoucin, “but it would be better to have one of
the two ignorant of it rather than have it known to a third. I believe
that the love of the woman in the story was all the deeper for not being
declared.”
“Be that as it may,” said Longarine, “virtue should be esteemed, and
the highest virtue is to subdue one’s own heart. Considering the
opportunities that the maiden had of forgetting conscience and honour,
and the virtue she displayed in all these opportunities and temptations
by subduing her heart, will, and even him whom she loved better than
herself, I say that she might well be called a strong woman. And, since
you measure virtue by the mortification of self, I say that the lord
deserved higher praise than she, if we remember the greatness of his
love, his opportunities, and his power. Yet he would not offend against
that rule of true love which renders prince and peasant equal, but
employed only such means as honour allows.”
“There are many,” said Hircan, “who would not have acted in the same
way.”
“So much the more is he to be esteemed,” said Longarine, “in having
subdued the common craftiness of men. He who can do evil and yet does it
not is happy indeed.”
“Your words,” said Geburon, “remind me of one who was more afraid of
doing wrong in the eyes of men than of offending against God, her honour
and love.”
“Then I pray you tell us the story,” said Parlamente, “for I give you my
vote.”
“There are some persons,” said Geburon, “who have no God, or, if they
believe in one, think Him so far away that He can neither see nor know
the wicked acts that they commit; or, if He does, imagine that He pays
no heed to things here below, and is too careless to punish them. Of
this opinion was a lady, whose name I will alter for the sake of her
family, and whom I will call Jambicque.( 5) She used often to say that a
woman who had only God to deal with was very fortunate, if for the rest
she was able to maintain her honour among men. But you will see, ladies,
that her prudence and her hypocrisy did not prevent her secret from
being discovered, as will appear from her story, wherein the truth shall
be set forth in full, except that the names of persons and places will
be changed.”
5 Some of the MSS. give the name as Camele or Camille,
which is also that adopted by Boaistuau.--L.
[Illustration: 142.jpg Tailpiece]
[Illustration: 143a.jpg Jambicque repudiating her Lover]
[Jambicque repudiating her Lover]
[Illustration: 143.jpg Page Image]
_TALE XLIII_.
_Jambicque, preferring the praise of the world to a good
conscience, strove to appear before men other than site
really was; but her friend and lover discovered her
hypocrisy by means of a little chalk-mark, and made known to
everybody the wickedness that she was at such pains to
hide_.
There dwelt in a very handsome castle a high and mighty Princess, who
had in her train a very haughty lady called Jambicque. (1) The latter
had so deceived her mistress that the Princess did nothing save by her
advice, deeming her the discreetest and most virtuous lady of her day.
1 There are no means of positively identifying this woman.
Brantôme, who refers at length to the above tale in his
_Vies des Dames Galantes_ (Lalanne’s edition, pp. 236-8),
implies that he knew her name but would not tell it. He
says, however, that “she was a widow and lady of honour to a
very great Princess, and knew better how to play the prude
than any other lady at Court.”--M.
This Jambicque used greatly to inveigh against wanton passion, and
whenever she perceived any gentleman in love with one of her companions,
she would chide them with much harshness, and, by making ill report
of them to her mistress, often cause them to be rebuked; hence she was
feared far more than she was loved by all the household. As for
herself, she never spoke to a man except in a loud voice, and with
much haughtiness, and was therefore reputed a deadly enemy to all love.
Nevertheless, it was quite otherwise with her heart, for there was a
gentleman in her mistress’s service towards whom she entertained so
strong a passion that, at last, she could no longer endure it. (2)
2 Brantôme writes as follows concerning the gentleman
referred to above: “According to what I have heard from my
mother, [Anne de Vivonne, wife of Francis de Bourdeille],
who was in the Queen of Navarre’s service and knew some of
her secrets, and was herself one of the narrators [of the
_Heptameron_, i.e., Ennasuite], this gentleman was my late
uncle La Chastàigneraye, who was brusque, hasty, and rather
fickle. The tale, however, is so disguised as to hide this,
for my said uncle was never in the service of the great
Princess, who was mistress of the lady [Jambicque], but in
that of the King her brother.” This shows the Princess to
have been Queen Margaret herself; and Jambicque, being
described by Brantôme as a widow and lady of honour to the
Princess, might possibly be Blanche de Tournon ( Madame de
Chastillon), concerning whom see vol. i. of the present
work, p. 84 (note 7) and pp. 122-4. Her successor as lady of
honour to Margaret was Brantôme’s own grandmother, of whom
he says that she was not so shrewd, artful, or ready-witted
in love matters as her predecessor. On the other hand,
Blanche de Tournon must have been over forty when La
Chastàigneraye engaged in this adventure, even allowing that
he was only a youth at the time.--Ed.
The regard which she had for honour and good name caused her to conceal
her affection, but after she had been consumed by this passion for a
full year, being unwilling to find relief as other lovers do in look and
speech, she felt her heart so aflame that, in the end, she sought the
final cure. And she resolved that it were better to satisfy her desire
with none but God in the secret of her heart, rather than speak of it to
a man who might some time make it known.
After taking this resolve, she chanced to be one day in her mistress’s
apartment, when, looking out upon a terrace, she perceived walking there
the man whom she so dearly loved. She gazed upon him until the falling
darkness was hiding him from her sight, when she called a little page of
hers, and pointing to the gentleman, said--
“Do you see yonder that gentleman who wears a crimson satin doublet and
cloak of lynx fur? Go and tell him that one of his friends would speak
with him in the garden gallery.”
As soon as the page was gone, she herself passed through her mistress’s
wardrobe and into the gallery, having first put on her low hood and
half-mask. (3)