When evening was come, and the dances were begun, the Grey Friar continued to observe the bride for a long time, and found her very handsome and to his taste. Then, inquiring carefully of the serving-woman concerning the room in which she was to lie, he found that it was close to his own, at which he was well pleased; and so good a watch did he keep in order to work his end, that he perceived the bride being led from the hall by the old women, as is the custom. As it was yet very early, the bridegroom would not leave the dance, in which he was so greatly absorbed that he seemed to have altogether forgotten his wife.
Not so the Friar, for, as soon as his ears told him that the bride was in bed, he put off his grey robe and went and took the husband's place.
Being fearful of discovery, however, he stayed but a very short time, and then went to the end of a passage where his comrade, who was keeping watch for him, signed to him that the husband was dancing-still.
The Friar, who had not yet satisfied his wicked lust, thereupon went back to bed with the bride, until his comrade gave him a signal that it was time to leave.
The bridegroom afterwards came to bed, and his wife, who had been so tormented by the Friar that she desired naught but rest, could not help saying to him--
"Have you resolved never to sleep or do anything but torment me?"
The unhappy husband, who had but just come in, was greatly astonished at this, and asked what torment he had given her, seeing that he had not left the dance.
"A pretty dance!" said the poor girl. "This is the third time that you have come to bed. I think you would do better to sleep."
The husband was greatly astonished on hearing these words, and set aside thought of everything else in order that he might learn the truth of what had passed.
When his wife had told him the story, he at once suspected the Grey Friars who were lodged in the house, and forthwith rising, he went into their room, which was close beside his own.
Not finding them there, he began to call out for help in so loud a voice that he speedily drew together all his friends, who, when they had heard the tale, assisted him with candles, lanterns, and all the dogs of the village to hunt for the Grey Friars.
Not finding them in the house, they made all diligence, and so caught them among the vines, where they treated them as they deserved; for, after soundly beating them, they cut off their arms and legs, and left them among the vines to the care of Bacchus and Venus, of whom they had been better disciples than of St. Francis.
"Be not amazed, ladies, if such folk, being cut off from our usual mode of life, do things of which adventurers (2) even would be ashamed.
Wonder rather that they do no worse when God withdraws his hand from them, for so little does the habit make the monk, that it often unmakes him through the pride it lends him. For my own part, I go not beyond the religion that is taught by St. James, who has told us to 'keep the heart pure and unspotted toward God, and to show all charity to our neighbours.'"(3)
2 This is an allusion to the dismissed French Swiss, and German lansquenets who roamed about France in little bands, kidnapping, plundering, and at times hiring themselves out as spadassins. These men, the pests of the country, were commonly known by the name of adventurers.--B. J.
3 "Pure religion and undefiled before God and the Father is this, To visit the fatherless and widows in their affliction and to keep himself unspotted from the world."--_James_ i.
27.--Ed.
"Heavens!" said Oisille, "shall we never have done with tales about these tiresome Grey Friars?"
Then said Ennasuite--
"If, ladies, princes and gentlemen are not spared, the Grey Friars, it seems to me, are highly honoured by being noticed. They are so useless that, were it not that they often do evil things worthy of remembrance, they would never even be mentioned; and, as the saying goes, it is better to do evil than to do nothing at all. Besides, the more varied the flowers the handsomer will our posy be."
"If you will promise not to be angry with me," said Hircan, "I will tell you the story of a great lady whose wantonness was so extreme that you will forgive the poor friar for having taken what he needed, where he was able to find it, seeing that she, who had enough to eat, nevertheless sought for dainties in too monstrous a fashion."
"Since we have sworn to speak the truth," said Oisille, "we have also sworn to hear it. You may therefore speak with freedom, for the evil things that we tell of men and women are not uttered to shame those that are spoken of in the story, but to take away all trust in created beings, by revealing the trouble to which these are liable, and this to the end that we may fix and rest our hope on Him alone who is perfect, and without whom every man is only imperfection."
"Well then," said Hircan, "I will relate my story without fear."
[Illustration: 218.jpg Tailpiece]
[Illustration: 219a.jpg The Countess facing her Lovers]
[The Countess facing her Lovers]
[Illustration: 219.jpg Page Image]
_TALE XLIX_.
_Same French gentlemen, perceiving that the King their master was exceedingly well treated by a foreign Countess whom he loved, ventured to speak to her, and sought her with such success, that one after another they had from her what they desired, each, however, believing that he alone possessed the happiness in which all the others shared. And this being discovered by one of their number, they all plotted together to be revenged on her; but, as she showed a fair countenance and treated them no worse than before, they brought away in their own bosoms the shame which they had thought to bring upon her_. (1)
At the Court of King Charles--which Charles I shall not mention, for the sake of the lady of whom I wish to speak, and whom I shall not call by her own name--there was a Countess of excellent lineage, (2) but a foreigner. And as novelties ever please, this lady, both for the strangeness of her attire and for its exceeding richness, was observed by all. Though she was not to be ranked among the most beautiful, she possessed gracefulness, together with a noble assurance that could not be surpassed; and, moreover, her manner of speech and her seriousness were to match, so that there was none but feared to accost her excepting the King, who loved her exceedingly. That he might have still more intimate converse with her, he gave some mission to the Count, her husband, which kept him away for a long time, and meanwhile the King made right good cheer with his wife.
1 The incidents here related must have occurred during the reign of Charles VIII., probably in or about 1490.--L.
2 This Countess cannot be identified. She was probably the wife of one of the many Italian noblemen, like the Caraccioli and San Severini, who entered the French service about the time of the conquest of Naples. Brantome alludes to the story in his _Dames Galantes_ (Fourth Discourse) but gives no names.--Ed.
Several of the King's gentlemen, knowing that their master was well treated by her, took courage to speak to her, and among the rest was one called Astillon, (3) a bold man and graceful of bearing.
3 This is James de Chastillon, not, however, J. Gaucher de Chastillon, "King of Yvetot," as M. de Lincy supposes, but J. de Coligny-Chastillon, as has been pointed out by M.
Frank. Brantome devotes the Nineteenth Discourse of his _Capitaines francois_ to this personage, and says: "He had been one of the great favourites and _mignons_ of King Charles VIII., even at the time of the journey to the kingdom of Naples; and 'twas then said, 'Chastillon, Bourdillon and Bonneval [see post, note 5] govern the royal blood.'" Wounded in April 1512 at the battle of Ravenna, "the most bloody battle of the century," he was removed to Ferrara, where he died (May 25). He was the second husband of Blanche de Tournon, Lady of Honour to Queen Margaret, respecting whom see _ante_, vol. i. pp. 84-5, 122-4, and vol. iv. p. 144, note 2.--L., F. and Ed.
At first she treated him so seriously, threatening to tell of him to the King his master, that he well-nigh became afraid of her. However, as he had not been wont to fear the threats even of the most redoubtable captains, he would not suffer himself to be moved by hers, but pressed her so closely that she at last consented to speak with him in private, and taught him the manner in which he should come to her apartment.
This he failed not to do, and, in order that the King might be without suspicion of the truth, he craved permission to go on a journey, and set out from the Court. On the very first day, however, he left all his following and returned at night to receive fulfilment of the promises that the Countess had made him. These she kept so much to his satisfaction, that he was content to remain shut up in a closet for five or six days, without once going out, and living only on restoratives.
During the week that he lay in hiding, one of his companions called Durassier (4) made love to the Countess. At the beginning she spoke to this new lover, as she had spoken to the first, with harsh and haughty speech that grew milder day by day, insomuch that when the time was come for dismissing the first prisoner, she put the second into his place.
While he was there, another companion of his, named Valnebon, (5) did the same as the former two, and after these there came yet two or three more to lodge in the sweet prison.
4 This in all probability is the doughty James Galliot de Genouillac, who--much in the same way as in our own times the names of the "Iron Duke" and the "Man of Iron" have been bestowed on Wellington and Bismarck--was called by his contemporaries the "Seigneur d'Acier" or "Steel Lord,"
whence "Durassier"--hard steel. Born in Le Quercy in or about 1466, Genouillac accompanied Charles VIII. on his Italian expeditions, and, according to Brantome, surpassed all others in valour and influence. He greatly distinguished himself at the battle of Fornova (1495), and in 1515 we find him one of the chief commanders of the French artillery. For the great skill he displayed at Marignano he was appointed Grand Master of the Artillery and Seneschal of Armagnac, and he subsequently became Grand Equerry of France. At Pavia, where he again commanded the artillery, he would have swept away the Spaniards had not the French impetuously charged upon them, preventing him from firing his pieces. Most of the latter he contrived to save, severe as was the defeat, and he effectually protected the retreat of the Duke of Alencon and the Count of Clermont into France. Genouillac died in 1546, a year after he had been appointed Governor of Languedoc.--B. J. and Ed.
5 Valnebon is an anagram of the name Bonneval, and Queen Margaret evidently refers here to a member of the Bonneval family. In the time of Charles VIII. this illustrious Limousin house had two principal members, Anthony, one of the leading counsellors of that king (as of his predecessor Louis XI. and his successor Louis XII.), and Germain, also a royal counsellor and chamberlain. The heroes of the above story being military men and old friends and comrades, it is probable that the reference is to Germain de Bonneval, he, like Chastillon and Genouillac, having accompanied Charles VIII. on his expedition into Italy. Germain de Bonneval, moreover, was one of the seven noblemen who fought at the battle of Fornova, clad and armed exactly like the French king. He perished at the memorable defeat of Pavia in 1525.
From him descended, in a direct line, the famous eighteenth century adventurer, Claud Alexander, Count de Bonneval.--B.
J. and Ed.
This manner of life continued for a long time, and was so skilfully contrived that none of the lovers knew aught of the others; and although they were aware of the love that each of them bore the lady, there was not one but believed himself to be the only successful suitor, and laughed at his comrades who, as he thought, had failed to win such great happiness.
One day when the gentlemen aforesaid were at a banquet where they made right good cheer, they began to speak of their several fortunes and of the prisons in which they had lain during the wars. Valnebon, however, who found it a hard task to conceal the great good fortune he had met with, began saying to his comrades--
"I know not what prisons have been yours, but for my own part, for love of one wherein I once lay, I shall all my life long give praise and honour to the rest. I think that no pleasure on earth comes near that of being kept a prisoner."
Astillon, who had been the first captive, had a suspicion of the prison that he meant, and replied--
"What gaoler, Valnebon, man or woman, treated you so well that you became so fond of your prison?"
"Whoever the gaoler may have been," said Valnebon, "my prisonment was so pleasant that I would willingly have had it last longer. Never was I better treated or more content."
Durassier, who was a man of few words, clearly perceived that they were discussing the prison in which he had shared like the rest; so he said to Valnebon--
"On what meats were you fed in the prison that you praise so highly?"