When the gentleman was come to where she was waiting, she immediately
shut the two doors by which they might have been surprised, and then,
without taking off her mask, embraced him very closely, and in the
softest whisper imaginable said--
“For a long time, sweetheart, the love I bear you has made me desire
time and place for speaking with you, but fearfulness for my honour was
for a while so strong as to oblige me, in my own despite, to conceal my
passion. Albeit, in the end, the strength of love has vanquished fear,
and, in the knowledge that I have of your honour, I protest to you that
if you will promise to love me without ever speaking of the matter to
any one, or asking of me who I am, I will be your true and faithful
sweetheart, and will never love any man but you. But I would rather die
than that you should know who I am.”
The gentleman promised her what she asked, which made her very ready
to do as much for him, namely, to refuse him nothing he might desire
to have. It was between five and six o’clock in winter-time, so that
he could see nothing of the lady, but by the touch of her dress he
perceived that it was of velvet, which at that time was not worn every
day except by ladies of high and mighty lineage. And so far as his hand
could let him judge of what was beneath, there was nothing there that
was not excellent, trim, and plump. Accordingly, he was at pains to
entertain her as well as he was able. She on her part did no less, and
the gentleman readily perceived that she was a married woman.
She desired afterwards to return immediately to the place whence she had
come, but the gentleman said to her--
“I esteem greatly the undeserved favour that you have shown me, but I
shall esteem still more that which you may bestow at my request. So well
pleased am I by this your kindness, that I would fain learn whether I
may not look for more of the same sort, and, also, in what manner you
would have me act; for, knowing you not, I shall be powerless to woo.”
“Have no concern,” said the lady, “about that. You may rest assured that
every evening, before my mistress sups, I shall not fail to send for
you, and do you be in readiness on the terrace where you were just now.
I shall merely send you word to remember what you have promised, and in
this way you will know that I am waiting for you here in the gallery.
But if you hear talk of going to table, you may withdraw for that day
or else come into our mistress’s apartment. Above all things, I pray
you will never seek to know me, if you would not forthwith bring our
friendship to an end.”
So the lady and the gentleman went their several ways. And although
their love affair lasted for a great while, he could never learn who she
was. He pondered much upon the matter, wondering within himself who she
might be. He could not imagine that any woman in the world would fain be
unseen and unloved; and, having heard some foolish preacher say that no
one who had looked upon the face of the devil could ever love him, he
suspected that his mistress might be some evil spirit.
In this perplexity he resolved to try and find out who it was that
entertained him so well, and when next she sent for him he brought some
chalk, and, while embracing her, marked the back of her shoulder without
her knowledge. Then, as soon as she was gone, the gentleman went with
all speed to his mistress’s apartment, and stood beside the door in
order to look from behind at the shoulders of those ladies that might go
in.
He saw Jambicque enter among the rest, but with so haughty a bearing
that he feared to look at her as keenly as at the others, and felt quite
sure that it could not have been she. Nevertheless, when her back
was turned, he perceived the chalk mark, whereat he was so greatly
astonished that he could hardly believe his eyes.
However, after considering both her figure, which was just such a one as
his hands had known, and her features, which he recognised in the same
way, he perceived that it was indeed none other than herself. And he was
well pleased to think that a woman who had never been reputed to have a
lover, and who had refused so many worthy gentlemen, should have chosen
himself alone.
But Love, which is ever changeful of mood, could not suffer him to live
long in such repose, but, filling him with self-conceit and hope, led
him to make known his love, in the expectation that she would then hold
him still more dear.
One day, when the Princess was in the garden, the lady Jambicque went to
walk in a pathway by herself. The gentleman, seeing that she was alone,
went up to converse with her, and, as though he had never elsewhere met
her, spoke as follows--
“Mistress, I have long borne towards you in my heart an affection which,
through dread of displeasing you, I have never ventured to reveal. But
now my pain has come to be such that I can no longer endure it and live,
for I think that no man could ever have loved you as I do.”
The Lady Jambicque would not allow him to finish his discourse, but said
to him in great wrath--
“Did you ever hear or see that I had sweetheart or lover? I trow not,
and am indeed astonished to find you bold enough to address such words
to a virtuous woman like me. You have lived in the same house long
enough to know that I shall never love other than my husband; beware,
then, of speaking further after this fashion.”
At this hypocrisy the gentleman could not refrain from laughing and
saying to her--
“You are not always so stern, madam, as you are now. What boots it to
use such concealment towards me? Is it not better to have a perfect than
an imperfect love?”
“I have no love for you,” replied Jambicque, “whether perfect or
imperfect, except such as I bear to the rest of my mistress’s servants.
But if you speak further to me as you have spoken now, I shall perhaps
have such hatred for you as may be to your hurt.”
However, the gentleman persisted in his discourse.
“Where,” said he, “is the kindness that you show me when I cannot see
you? Why do you withhold it from me now when the light suffers me to
behold both your beauty and your excellent and perfect grace?”