“God, who judges the heart,” said Longarine, “must decide that. But it
is an important thing that men should not be able to accuse us, for the
goodness of God is so great, that He will not judge us unless there
be an accuser. And so well, moreover, does He know the frailty of our
hearts, that He will even love us for not having put our thoughts into
execution.”
“I pray you,” said Saffredent, “let us leave this dispute, for it
savours more of a sermon than of a tale. I give my vote to Ennasuite,
and beg that she will bear in mind to make us laugh.”
“Indeed,” said she, “I will not fail to do so; for I would have you know
that whilst coming hither, resolved upon relating a fine story to you
to-day, I was told so merry a tale about two servants of a Princess,
that, in laughing at it, I quite forgot the melancholy story which I had
prepared, and which I will put off until to-morrow; for, with the merry
face I now have, you would scarce find it to your liking.”
[Illustration: 170.jpg Tailpiece]
[Illustration: 171a.jpg The Secretary imploring the Lady not To Tell Of His Wickedness]
[The Secretary imploring the Lady not To Tell Of His Wickedness]
[Illustration: 171.jpg Page Image]
_TALE XXVII_.
_A secretary sought the wife of his host and comrade in
dishonourable and unlawful love, and as she made show of
willingly giving ear to him, he was persuaded that he had
won her. But she was virtuous, and, while dissembling
towards him, deceived his hopes and made known his
viciousness to her husband_. (1)
1 The incidents here related would have occurred at Amboise
between 1540 and 1545. The hero of the story would probably
be John Frotté, Queen Margaret’s First Secretary, who also
apparently figures in Tale XXVIII. The Sires de Frotté had
been in the service of the Dukes of Alençon since the early
part of the fifteenth century. Ste-Marthe says of John
Frotté that he was a man of great experience and good wit,
prudent, dutiful and diligent. He died secretary to Francis
I.--L. and B. J.
In the town of Amboise there lived one of this Princess’s servants, an
honest man who served her in the quality of valet-de-chambre, and who
used readily to entertain those that visited his house, more especially
his own comrades; and not long since one of his mistress’s servants came
to lodge with him, and remained with him ten or twelve days.
This man was so ugly that he looked more like a King of the cannibals
than a Christian, and although his host treated him as a friend and a
brother, and with all the courtesy imaginable, he behaved in return not
only like one who has forgotten all honour, but as one who has never had
it in his heart. For he sought, in dishonourable and unlawful love, his
comrade’s wife, who was in no sort attractive to lust but rather the
reverse, and was moreover as virtuous a woman as any in the town in
which she lived. When she perceived the man’s evil intent, she thought
it better to employ dissimulation in order to bring his viciousness to
light, rather than conceal it by a sudden refusal; and she therefore
made a pretence of approving his discourse. He then believed he had won
her, and, paying no heed to her age, which was that of fifty years, or
to her lack of beauty, or her reputation as a virtuous woman attached to
her husband, he urged his suit continually.
One day, the husband being in the house, the wife and her suitor were in
a large room together, when she pretended that he had but to find some
safe spot in order to have such private converse with her as he desired.
He immediately replied that it was only necessary to go up to the
garret. She instantly rose, and begged him to go first, saying that
she would follow. Smiling with as sweet a countenance as that of a big
baboon entertaining a friend, he went lightly up the stairway; and,
on the tip-toe of expectation with regard to that which he so greatly
desired, burning with a fire not clear, like that of juniper, but dense
like that of coal in the furnace, he listened whether she was coming
after him. But instead of hearing her footsteps, he heard her voice
saying--
“Wait, master secretary, for a little; I am going to find out whether it
be my husband’s pleasure that I should go up to you.”
His face when laughing was ugly indeed, and you may imagine, ladies, how
it looked when he wept; but he came down instantly, with tears in his
eyes, and besought her for the love of God not to say aught that would
destroy the friendship between his comrade and himself.
“I am sure,” she replied, “that you like him too well to say anything he
may not hear. I shall therefore go and tell him of the matter.”
And this, in spite of all his entreaties and threats, she did. And if
his shame thereat was great as he fled the place, the husband’s joy
was no less on hearing of the honourable deception that his wife had
practised; indeed, so pleased was he with his wife’s virtue that he
took no notice of his comrade’s viciousness, deeming him sufficiently
punished inasmuch as the shame he had thought to work in another’s
household had fallen upon his own head.
“I think that from this tale honest people should learn not to admit to
their houses those whose conscience, heart and understanding know nought
of God, honour and true love.”
“Though your tale be short,” said Oisille, “it is as pleasant as any I
have heard, and it is to the honour of a virtuous woman.”
“‘Fore God,” said Simontault, “it is no great honour for a virtuous
woman to refuse a man so ugly as you represent this secretary to have
been. Had he been handsome and polite, her virtue would then have been
clear. I think I know who he is, and, if it were my turn, I could tell
you another story about him that is no less droll.”
“Let that be no hindrance,” said Ennasuite, “for I give you my vote.”