“Do you assure me that you have wedded her?”
“Yes, sire,” said the Bastard, “but by word of mouth alone; however, if
it please you, we’ll make an ending of it.”
The King bent his head, and, without saying anything more, returned
straight towards the castle, and when he was nigh to it summoned the
Captain of his Guard, and charged him to take the Bastard prisoner.
However, a friend who knew and could interpret the King’s visage, warned
the Bastard to withdraw and betake himself to a house of his that was
hard by, saying that if the King, as he expected, sought for him, he
should know of it forthwith, so that he might fly the kingdom; whilst
if, on the other hand, things became smoother, he should have word to
return. The Bastard followed this counsel, and made such speed that the
Captain of the Guards was not able to find him.
The King and Queen took counsel together as to what they should do with
the hapless lady who had the honour of being related to them, and by
the Queen’s advice it was decided that she should be sent back to her
father, and that he should be made acquainted with the whole truth.
But before sending her away they caused many priests and councillors to
speak with her and show her that, since her marriage consisted in words
only, it might by mutual agreement readily be made void; and this, they
urged, the King desired her to do in order to maintain the honour of the
house to which she belonged.
She made answer that she was ready to obey the King in all such things
as were not contrary to her conscience, but that those whom God had
brought together man could not put asunder. She therefore begged them
not to tempt her to anything so unreasonable; for if love and goodwill
founded on the fear of God were the true and certain marriage ties, she
was linked by bonds that neither steel nor flame nor water could sever.
Death alone might do this, and to death alone would she resign her ring
and her oath. She therefore prayed them to gainsay her no more; for so
strong of purpose was she that she would rather keep faith and die than
break it and live.
This steadfast reply was repeated to the King by those whom he had
appointed to speak with her, and when it was found that she could by no
means be brought to renounce her husband, she was sent to her father,
and this in so pitiful a plight that all who beheld her pass wept to see
her. And although she had done wrong, her punishment was so grievous and
her constancy so great, that her wrongdoing was made to appear a virtue.
When her father heard the pitiful tale, he would not see her, but sent
her away to a castle in a forest, which he had aforetime built for a
reason well worthy to be related. (14) There he kept her in prison for a
long time, causing her to be told that if she would give up her husband
he would treat her as his daughter and set her free.
14 The famous château of Josselin in Morbihan. See notes to
Tale XL., vol. lv.--Ed.
Nevertheless she continued firm, for she preferred the bonds of prison
together with those of marriage, to all the freedom in the world without
her husband. And, judging from her countenance, all her woes seemed but
pleasant pastimes to her, since she was enduring them for one she loved.
And now, what shall I say of men? The Bastard, who was so deeply
beholden to her, as you have seen, fled to Germany where he had many
friends, and there showed by his fickleness that he had sought Rolandine
less from true and perfect love than from avarice and ambition; for he
fell deeply in love with a German lady, and forgot to write to the woman
who for his sake was enduring so much tribulation. However cruel Fortune
might be towards them, they were always able to write to each other,
until he conceived this foolish and wicked love. And Rolandine’s heart
gaining an inkling of it, she could no longer rest.
And afterwards, when she found that his letters were colder and
different from what they had been before, she suspected that some new
love was separating her from her husband, and doing that which all the
torments and afflictions laid upon herself had been unable to effect.
Nevertheless, her perfect love would not pass judgment on mere
suspicion, so she found a means of secretly sending a trusty servant,
not to carry letters or messages to him, but to watch him and discover
the truth. When this servant had returned from his journey, he told her
that the Bastard was indeed deeply in love with a German lady, and that
according to common report he was seeking to marry her, for she was very
rich.
These tidings brought extreme and unendurable grief to Rolandine’s
heart, so that she fell grievously sick. Those who knew the cause of
her sickness, told her on behalf of her father that, with this great
wickedness on the part of the Bastard before her eyes, she might now
justly renounce him. They did all they could to persuade her to that
intent, but, notwithstanding her exceeding anguish, she could not be
brought to change her purpose, and in this last temptation again gave
proof of her great love and surpassing virtue. For as love grew less and
less on his part, so did it grow greater on hers, and in this way make
good that which was lost. And when she knew that the entire and perfect
love that once had been shared by both remained but in her heart alone,
she resolved to preserve it there until one or the other of them should
die. And the Divine Goodness, which is perfect charity and true love,
took pity upon her grief and long suffering, in such wise that a few
days afterwards the Bastard died while occupied in seeking after another
woman. Being advised of this by certain persons who had seen him laid in
the ground, she sent to her father and begged that he would be pleased
to speak with her.
Her father, who had never spoken to her since her imprisonment, came
without delay. He listened to all the pleas that she had to urge, and
then, instead of rebuking her or killing her as he had often threatened,
he took her in his arms and wept exceedingly.
“My daughter,” he said, “you are more in the right than I, for if there
has been any wrongdoing in this matter, I have been its principal cause.
But now, since God has so ordered it, I would gladly atone for the
past.”
He took her home and treated her as his eldest daughter. A gentleman
who bore the same name and arms as did her own family sought her in
marriage; he was very sensible and virtuous, (15) and he thought so much
of Rolandine, whom he often visited, that he gave praise to what
others blamed in her, perceiving that virtue had been her only aim.
The marriage, being acceptable both to Rolandine and to her father, was
concluded without delay.
It is true, however, that a brother she had, the sole heir of their
house, would not grant her a portion, for he charged her with having
disobeyed her father. And after his father’s death he treated her so
harshly that she and her husband (who was a younger son) had much ado to
live. (16)
15 Peter de Rohan-Gié, Lord of Frontenay, third son of
Peter de Rohan, Lord of Gié, Marshal of Prance and preceptor
to Francis I. As previously stated, the marriage took place
in 1517, and eight years later the husband was killed at
Pavia.--Ed.
16 Anne de Rohan (Rolandine) had two brothers, James and
Claud. Both died without issue. Some particulars concerning
them will be found in the notes to Tale XL. The father’s
death, according to Anselme, took place in 1516, that is,
prior to Anne’s marriage.--Ed.
However, God provided for them, for the brother that sought to keep
everything died suddenly one day, leaving behind him both her wealth,
which he was keeping back, and his own.
Thus did she inherit a large and rich estate, whereon she lived piously
and virtuously and in her husband’s love. And after she had brought up
the two sons that God gave to them, (17) she yielded with gladness her
soul to Him in whom she had at all times put her perfect trust.
17 Anne’s sons were René and Claud. Miss Mary Robinson (_The
Fortunate Lovers_, London, 1887) believes René to be
“Saffredent,” and his wife Isabel d’Albret, sister of Queen
Margaret’s husband Henry of Navarre, to be “Nomerfide.”--Ed.
“Now, ladies, let the men who would make us out so fickle come forward
and point to an instance of as good a husband as this lady was a good
wife, and of one having like faith and steadfastness. I am sure they
would find it so difficult to do this, that I will release them from
the task rather than put them to such exceeding toil. But as for you,
ladies, I would pray you, for the sake of maintaining your own fair
fame, either to love not at all, or else to love as perfectly as she
did. And let none among you say that this lady offended against her
honour, seeing that her constancy has served to heighten our own.”
“In good sooth, Parlamente,” said Oisille, “you have indeed told us
the story of a woman possessed of a noble and honourable heart; but her
constancy derives half its lustre from the faithlessness of a husband
that could leave her for another.”
“I think,” said Longarine, “that the grief so caused must have been
the hardest to bear. There is none so heavy that the love of two united
lovers cannot support it; but when one fails in his duty, and leaves
the whole of the burden to the other, the load becomes too heavy to be
endured.”
“Then you ought to pity us,” said Geburon, “for we have to bear the
whole burden of love, and you will not put out the tip of a finger to
relieve us.”
“Ah, Geburon,” said Parlamente, “the burdens of men and of women are
often different enough. The love of a woman, being founded on godliness
and honour, is just and reasonable, and any man that is false to it must
be reckoned a coward, and a sinner against God and man. On the other
hand, most men love only with reference to pleasure, and women, being
ignorant of their ill intent, are sometimes ensnared; but when God shows
them how vile is the heart of the man whom they deemed good, they may
well draw back to save their honour and reputation, for soonest ended is
best mended.”
“Nay, that is a whimsical idea of yours,” said Hircan, “to hold that an
honourable woman may in all honour betray the love of a man; but that
a man may not do as much towards a woman. You would make out that the
heart of the one differs from that of the other; but for my part, in
spite of their differences in countenance and dress, I hold them to
be alike in inclination, except indeed that the guilt which is best
concealed is the worst.”