Griselda had a little girl at last, which was a great joy to them both,
and to all the people. But Walter had a great longing to put his wife to
the test--to see whether she was really as meek and patient and submissive
as she seemed.
I know not why he wanted to do this, for he had often tried her in little
ways before, and had found her perfect; and for my part I think it is a
cruel deed to grieve and torment a wife who does not deserve it, for the
sake of needless proof.
However, Walter did as follows. One night, while the baby was still very
young, he came to her, looking stern and troubled; she was all alone, and
he said, “Griselda, you have not forgotten the day when I took you out of
your poor home. Well, although you are very dear to me, to my people you
are not dear; they feel it a great shame to be the subjects of one who
came of such mean rank. And since thy daughter was born they have murmured
so greatly that I cannot disregard them, so I must do with the baby as the
people choose, if I want to live in peace with them all. Yet what I must
do is much against my will, and I will not do it without your consent; but
I pray you to show me now how patient you can be, even as you swore to be,
on our marriage day.”
When Griselda heard this she did not know that it was all untrue, and she
said calmly, “My lord, all shall be as you will. My child and I, we are
both yours, living or dying. Do as you choose. For my part, there is
nothing I fear to lose, but _you_.”
The marquis was overjoyed to hear that, but he concealed his pleasure, and
kept a very stern and sad face, and presently departed.
He went to a man, to whom he gave certain directions how to act; then he
sent the man to Griselda.
This man was a sergeant,[147] the trusted servant of the marquis, and he
stalked into Griselda’s chamber. “Madam,” he said, “you must forgive me if
I do what I am compelled to by my lord. This child I am ordered to take
away,” and the man made as though he would kill it at once.
Suspecious was the defame of this man, ill-fame
Suspect his face, suspect his word also,
Suspect the tyme in which he this bigan.
Allas! hir doughter, that she lovede so,
Sche wende he wold han slayen it right tho; believed, then
But natheles sche neyther weep ne sikede, nevertheless,
sighed
Conformyng hir to that the marquis likede.
But atte laste speke sche bigan, to speak
And mekely sche to the sergeant preyde,
So as he was a worthy gentil man,
That she moste kisse hir child er that it deyde. might
And in hir barm[148] this litel child sche leyde, lap
With ful sad face, and gan the child to blesse,
And lullyd it, and after gan it kesse. began, kiss
Suspicious of repute was this stern man,
Suspicious in his look, and speech also,
So was the time when he the deed began.
Alas! her baby, that she lovëd so,
Would he destroy it ere he turned to go?--
And yet she did not weep, she was resign’d
To all the wishes of her master’s mind.
To say a few meek words she then began,
And for one boon she pitifully pray’d,
That as he was a kind and worthy man
She might but kiss her baby ere it died.
And in her lap the little child she laid,
With mournful face, and did the baby bless,
And lull’d it with how many a soft caress!
And then she said, in her gentle voice, “Farewell, my child; I shall never
see thee again; but since I have marked thee with the cross, may He who
died for us all bless thee! To him, little child, I give thy soul, for
this night thou shalt die for my sake.”
Truly, even to a nurse, this would have been hard to bear, but to a mother
how far more grievous! Still she was so firm and brave that she soon gave
up the baby to the sergeant, saying, “Take the little, tiny maid, and go,
do my lord’s command. But one thing I pray you, that when it is dead you
will bury the little body in some place where birds and beasts will not
mangle it.”
The sergeant would not promise her even that, but carried the child off
with him.[149]
He took the babe to the marquis, and told him exactly all that Griselda
had said. The marquis certainly showed some little feeling and regret; yet
he kept to his purpose, as men will when they are determined. He then bade
the sergeant wrap up the child softly and tenderly, and carry it in
secret, in a box or the skirt of a garment, to Bologna, where dwelt his
sister, Countess of Panik.[150] She would foster it kindly; but whom the
child belonged to was to be kept from all men’s knowledge.
The sergeant did as he was commanded, and the marquis watched his wife to
see if there should be any rebellion in her manner. But she did not
change. She was always kind, and loving, and serious, and as busy and
humble as ever. Not a word she spoke of the poor baby.