tlORNELL UNIVERSITY LIBRARIES. ITHACA. N. Y. 14853 URIS UNDtRGRADUATI LIBRAB.Y DATE DUE — SCI^BaqlB^ ^iii*»^^ -2 3004 raiNTCD IN U.S.A. A Cornell University M Library The original of tliis book is in tine Cornell University Library. There are no known copyright restrictions in the United States on the use of the text. http://www.archive.org/details/cu31924014250371 THE HEPTAMERON OF Margaret, Queen of Navarre. TRANSLATED FROM THE FRENCH. .^'' PUBLISHE D FOR THE TRADE. PREFACE Margaret of Angouleme, Duchess of Alen9on,QueeD of Navarre, only sister of Francis I., is certainly the author of the collection of tales which bears her name, though the fact has been doubted by some French writers. La Croix <}u Maine, for instance, says : " I question whether the princess composed this book; forasmuch as it is full of bold discourses and ticklish expressions." But, against this surmise we may set the positive testimony of Brantome. The Queen of Navarre, he says, " composed most of these novels in her litter as she travelled ; for her hours of retire- ment were employed in affairs of importance. I have heard this account from my grandmother, who always went with her in her litter, as her lady of honour, and held her stand- ish for her ; and she wrote them down as quickly and readily, or rather more so, than if they had been dictated to her." Besides, as Bayle remarks. La Croix du Maine could never have entertained a doubt on the matter if he had read Claude Gruget's dedication of the second edition of the work to Joan d'Albret, only daughter of Queen Mar- garet. Had the work been supposititious, it is incredible that Gruget should have thus addressed the princess : " Such a present will not be new to you ; you will only recognise it as your mother's heiress. However, I persuade myself that it will be acceptable to you to see it by this second im- pression restored to its primitive state ; for (as I have heard) the first displeased you ; not but that he who undertook it was a learned man, and had taken pains with it, and. as is W PREFACE. easy to believe, would not have thus disguised it without some reason for doing so ; yet his labour proved disagree- able." The history of the Heptameron is singular. It is the best known and the most popular of all the old collections of tales in the French language. It has been the delight of the unlearned, scholars have warmly commended it, and men of talent and genius have borrowed from its pages. Brant&me speaks of it with enthusiasm, and quotes it re^ peatedly ; Lafontaine, the conteur par excellence, acknowl- edges his obligations to it; Montaigne calls \t un gentil livre pour son ktoffe — " a nice book for its matter;" and Bayle says it is, " after the manner of Boccace's novels," and "has some beauties in that kind which are surprising." The book, too, has had its enertiies as well as its admirers, for it abounds with reflections on religious topics which ac- cord with the author's known leaning to the cause of the Reformers; and through the whole work the monks, es- pecially the Cordeliers, are treated with much severity, and are represented as committing, and sometimes with impu- nity even when discovered, the most cruel, deceitful, and im- moral actions. From all this, would it not seem reasonable to presume that the world had long possessed a tolerably correct text of this celebrated book — one at least which has not been seriously falsified both by omissions and interpo- lations ? But such is not the fact. The genuine Heptam- eron, after remaining in manuscript for more than three hundred years from the Queen of Navarre's death, was only published a few years ago by the Soci^t^ des Bibliophiles Frangais. Margaret died in 1549. In 1558, Pierre Boaistuau pub- lished the first edition of her novels under the title of Historie des Amans Fortunes, which he dedicated to Mar- garet of Bourbon, the deceased queen's niece. He took strange liberties with the original, inverting the order of the stories, and suppressing several of them, as well as many names of real personages, numerous passages that seemed PREPACE. V to him too bold, and nearly the whole series of conversa- tions by which one tale is followed and the next introduced. Now these conversations occupy almost one-half of the work, and comprise some of its most characteristic matter : no wonder, therefore, that Joan d'Albret was dissatisfied with Boaistuau's editorial labors. In 1559, Claude Gruget replaced the novels in their original order, restored most of the suppressed prologues and epilogues, and gave to the whole the title of Heptameron, instead of Decameron, which Margaret had intended to call it ; for she had mod- elled it ujon the Decameron of Boccaccio, but died before she had completed more than two novels of the eighth day. So far the second editor's work was a great improvement on that of his predecessor ; but Gruget did not venture to restore the proper names, or the passages which Boaistuau had suppressed as objectionable ; while, ori the other hand, he foisted into the work tales and dialogues of his own composition, without a word of warning to the reader, and left them to pass as the genuine productions of the Queen of Navarre. All this was bad enough ; but worse followed. The Heptameron having grown very scarce, the booksellers of Amsterdam reprinted it in 1698. "They published two editions of it," says Bayle : " one from that of Claude Gru- get, the other metamorph'osed into new French : the latter will please foreigners who only understand the modern lan- guage, and many ignorant and lazy Frenchmen, who care not to be at the pains of informing themselves how they spoke in thfe reign of Francis I. The other edition is the only one which will be used by Frenchmen of good taste and judgment." The majority of readers, however, not being persons of that description, the modernized edition quickly supplanted the antique one ; and for the last hun- dred and fifty years the Heptameron has scarcely been known in any other form than that given to it by the literary cobbler by whom it was mis en beau langrtage, et accommode au go&t de ce temps — " put into fair language, and accomrao- vi PREFACE. dated to the taste of the age." It is no eicaggeratiori of his demerits to say that he neither understood old French rightly, nor could write modern French passably. His " beau language " is mere slipslop ; he mistakes the mean- ing of his original a thousand times ; and, by way, no doubt, of " accommodating it to the taste of the age," he patches it with paltry scraps from the common repertory of the " fast school " of his day. Mai sur mdl n'est pas sante, says a French proverb. The work which survived all this accumulated ill-usage must have possessed no ordinary stock of vitality. It has at last been reproduced in its original form from MSS., of which there are twelve in the Bibliothfeque Nationale of Paris, all belonging to the second half of the sixteenth cen- tury. From this edition (L'Heptameron des Nouvelles de trbs haute et trbs illustre Princesse Marguerite D'Angou- l^me, Reine de Navarre. Nouvelle edition, publi^e surles manuscrits par la Socidt^ des Bibliophiles 'Franpais. A Paris, 1853. 3 vols.) the present translation has teen made. CONTENTS. Introduction i FIRST DA Y. NOVEI- I. A woman of Alen as well as his mother, Anne de Vivonne, was about Margaret's person, and it is generally regard- ed as true. It is to be observed, however, that Margaret has pur- posely introduced into her narrative several circumstances calcu lated to disguise her^own identity ; the second widowhood, for in- stance, for the King of Navarre survived her, and the absence of children by both marriages, for Margaret had a surviving daughter by her second husband. The handsome and gallant Bonnivet fig- ures repeatedly in the Heptameron 42- THE HEPTAMERON OF THE [ATcve/ 4 those who would seize what does not belong to them, and which should inspire ladies with courage, consider- ing the virtue of the young princess and the good sense of her lady of honour. Should a similar thing befall one of you, here you see how it is to be remedied. " To my thinking," said Hircan, " the tall gentleman you have been telling us of had such a faint heart that he did not deserve the honour of having his adventure talked of. Having such a fine opportunity, nothing should have prevented him from profiting by it. His love, it must be owned, was not very great, since the fear of death and of shame found a place beside it in his heart." "And what could the poor gentleman have done against two women .'' " said Nomerfide. " He should have killed the old one," replied Hircan, " and the young one, seeing herself alone, would have been half vanquished." "Killed!" exclaimed Nomerfide; "you would turn a lover into a murderer ! It would be a terrible thing to fall into your hands, I see." " If I had pushed matters so far," continued Hircan, " I should think myself ruined in reputation unless I went the whole way to the end." " Do you think it matter for wonder," said Geburon, " that a princess trained to virtue proves too much for one man i What would you say, then, to one woman in low life escaping from two men ! " " Geburon," said Ennasuite, " I call upon you for the fifth novel. If I am not mistaken, you know one about this poor woman which will not be displeasing to the company." " Be it so, then," said Geburon ; " I will tell you a story which I know to be true, having examined into it First day.\ QUEEN OF NA VARRE. 43 on the spot. You will see from it that princesses are not the only prudent and the only virtuous of their sex, and that often those who are reputed very amorous and very sly are less so than is supposed." NOVEL V, A boatwoman escapes from two Cordeliers, who wanted to force her, and exposes them to public derision. There was in the port of Coulon, near Niort, a boatwoman, who did nothing day and night but convey people from point to point. Two Cordeliers of Niort crossed the river alone with her. As it was one of the wildest ferries in France, they took it into their heads to make love to her, for fear she should grow dull by the way ; she gave no more ear to them than they deserved ; but the good fathers, who were neither fatigued by the labour of the passage, nor chilled by the coldness of the water, nor abashed by the woman's refusal, resolved to force her, or throw her into the river if she was refrac- tory. But she was as good and as shrewd as they were wicked and witless, and said to them, " I am not so ill- natured as you might suppose ; only grant me two things I have to beg of you, and you will see I am not more willing to satisfy you than you are to be satisfied." The Cordeliers swore by their good St. Francis there was nothing they would not grant her to have from her what they wanted. " Well, then," said she, " I ask you, in the first, place,, to promise and vow that living man shall never know from you what passes between us." 44 THE HEPTAMEKON OF THE [NoveJ j. This they did with great readiness. " The second thing I ask is, that you will have to do with me one by one, for I should be too much ashamed if it was done in the presence of you both. Settle between yourselves which is to have me first." The Cordeliers thought that fair enough, and the younger of them yielded precedence to the elder. Running the boat ashore at a little island, she said to the younger one, " Say your prayers there whilst your comrade and I go to another island. If he is satisfied with me when we come back, we will leave him, and you and I will go away together." The younger friar jumped ashore at once, and the boatwoman rowed away with his companion to another island. When they reached it, she pretended to be making her boat fast, whilst she said to the monk, " See if you can find a con- venient spot." The Cordelier, like a booby, stepped out of the boat to do as she told him, and no sooner was he ashore than, setting her foot against a tree, she shot the boat out into the stream, and left the two good fathers in the lurch. "Wait there, my masters," said she, "till God's angels comes to console you, for you will get nothing from me." The duped Cordeliers went down on their knees, and begged her, for Heaven's sake, not to serve them so, but take them to the port, upon their solemn oath they would ask nothing of her. "A prettj' fool I should be," she replied, still rowing away, "to put myself into your hands again once I have got out of them.'' When she got home to the village, she told her hus- band what had occurred, and applied to the ministers of , justice to come and capture those two wolves from whose fangs she had contrived to escape. The ministeis of justice set out for the purpose, well accompanied, for PREMIERE JOURNfiE First day.] QUEEN OF NA VARRE. 45 there was no one, great or small, but was bent on taking ' part in this hunt. The poor friars, seeing such a multi- tude coming after them, hid themselves each on his island, as Adam did from the sight of God when he had eaten the apple. Half dead with shame and the fear of punishment, they were caught and led away prisoners, amid the jeers and hootings of men and women. " These good fathers," said one, " preach chastity to us and want to foul our wives." "They dare not touch money," said the husband, "but they are ready enough to handle women's thighs, which are far more dangerous." " They are sepulchres," said others, " whitened without, but full of rottenness within." " By their fruits you shall know the nature of these trees." In short, all the passages of Scripture against hypocrites were cast in the teeth of the poor prisoners. At last the warden came to the rescue. They were given up to him at his request, upon his assuring the magistrate that he would punish them more severely than secular justice itself could do, and that, by way of reparation to the offended parties, they should say as many masses and prayers as might be de- sired. As he was a worthy man, they were chaptered in such a manner that they never afterwards passed over the river without crossing themselves, and beseeching God to keep them out of all temptation. If this boatwoman had the wit to trick two such bad men, what should they do who have seen and read of so many fine examples ? If women who know nothing, who scarcely hear two good sermons in a year, and have no time to think of anything but earning their bread, do yet carefully guard their chastity, what ought not others of their sex to do who, having their livelihood secured, have nothing to do but to read the Holy Scrip- tures, hear sermons, and exercise themselves in all sorts ^6 THE HEPTAMERON OP THE [Novel t, of Virtues ? This is the test by which it is known that the heart is truly virtuous, for the more simple and un- enlightened the individual, the greater are the works of God's spirit. Unhappy the lady who does not carefully preserve the treasure which does her so much honour when well kept, and so much dishonour when she keeps it ill ! " It strikes me, Geburon," said Longarine, " that it does not need much virtue to refuse a Cordelier. On- the coivtrary, I should rather think it impossible to love such people." " Those who are not accustomed to have such lovers as you have," replied Geburon, " do not think so con- temptuously of Cordeliers. They are well-made, strap- ping fellows, can talk like angiels, and are for the most part importunate as devils. Accordingly, the grisettes who escape out of their hands may fairly be called virtuous." " O, by my faith ! " exclaimed Nomerfide, raising her voice, " you may say what you will, but for my part I would rather be flung into the river than go to bed with a Cordelier." " You can swim, then," retorted Oisille, laughing. Nomerfide was piqued at this, and said with warmth, " There are those who have refused better men than Cordeliers, without making any flourish of trumpets about it, for all that." " Or yet beating the drum about what they have done and granted," rejoined Oisille, who laughed to see her vexed. " I perceive that Nomerfide has a mind to speak," said Geburon, " and I give my voice in her favour, that she may unburden her heart upon some good novel." "The remarks which have just been made," said First day. I QUEEN OF NAVARRE. ^y Nomerfide, " concern me so little that they can give me neither paip nor pleasure. But as I have your voice, I beg you to hear mine, while I show you that, if one is sly for a good purpose, others are so for a bad one. We are vowed to speak the truth, and therefore I will not conceal it ; for just as the boatwoman's virtue is no honour to other women if they do not resemble her in it, so the vice of another cannot dishonour them. Listen, then." NOVEL yi. Stratagem Dy which a woman enabled her gallant to escape, when her husband, .who was blind of an eye, thought to surprise them together. Charles, the last Duke of Alengon, had an old valet-de-chambre who was blind of an eye, and who was married to a woman much younger than himself. The duke and duchess liked this valet better than any other domestic of that order in their household, and the conse- quence was that he could not go and see his wife as often as he could have wished, whilst she, unable to accommo- date herself to circumstances, so far forgot her honour and her conscience as to fall in love with a young gentleman of the neighbourhood. At last the affair got wind, and there was so much talk about it that it reached the ears of the husband, who could not believe it, so warm was the affection testified to him by his wife. One day, however, he made up his mind to know the truth of the matter, and to revenge himself, if he could, on the person who put this affront upon him. With this view he pre- tended to go for two or three days to a place at some 48 THE HEPTAMERON OF THE INcrvelf,. little distance ; and no sooner had he taken his departure than his wife sent for her gallant. They had hardly been half an hour together, when the husband came and knocked loudly at the door. The wife, knowing but too well who it was, told her lover, who was so astounded that he could have wished he was still in his mother's womb. But while he was swearing, and confounding her and the intrigue which had brought him into such a perilous scrape, she told him not to be uneasy, for she would get him off without its costing him anything ; and that all he had to do was to dress himself as quickly as possible. Meanwhile, the husband kept knocking, and calling to his wife as loud as he could bawl, but she pretended not to know him. "Why don't you get up," she cried to the people of the house, " and go and silfence those who are making such a noise .'' Is this a proper time to come to honest people's houses .' If my husband were here he would make you know better." The husband hear- ing her voice, shouted louder than ever : " Let me in, wife ; do you mean to keep me at the door till day- light .' " At last, when she saw that her lover was ready to slip out, " Oh, is that you, husband .'' " she said ; " I am so glad you are come ! I was full of a dream I had that gave me the greatest pleasure I ever felt in my life. I thought you had recovered the sight of your eye." Here she opened the door, and catching her husband round the neck, kissed him, clapped one hand on his sound eye, and asked him if he did not see better than usual. Whilst the husband was thus blindfolded the gallant made his escape. The husband guessed how it was, but said, " I will watch you no more, wife. I thought to deceive you, but it is I who have been the dupe, and you have put the cunningest trick upon me that ever First das'.] QUEEN OF NA VARRE. 45 was invented. God mend you ! for it passes the act of man to bring back a wicked woman from her evil ways by any means short of putting her to death. But since the regard I have had for you has not availed to make you behave better, perhaps the contempt with which I shall henceforth look upon you will touch you more, and have a more wholesome effect." Therefore he went away, leaving her in great confusion. At last, however, he was prevailed upon, by the solicitations of relations and friends, and by the tears and excuses of his wife, to cohabit with her again.* You see from this example, ladies, with what adroit' ness a woman can get herself out of a scrape. If she is prompt at finding an expedient to conceal a bad deed, I believe she would be still more prompt and ingenious in discovering means to hinder herself from doing a good one ; for, as I have heard say, good wit is always the stronger. " You may boast of your cunning as much as you will," said Hircan, " but I believe if the same thing had happened to you, you could not have concealed it." " I would as soon you told me flatly," said Nomer- fide, " that I am the most stupid woman in the world." " I do not say that," replied Hircan ; " but I look upon you as more likely to be alarmed at a rumour against you than to find an ingenious way of putting an end to it." * Although Margaret asserts that this is a true story, and that the actors in it belonged to the household of her 'first husband, it is to be found in many previous collections ; as, for instance, the Cent Nouvelles Nowuelles, where it occurs as the sixteenth novel, entitled Le Borgne Aveugle. It is the sixth fable of the first book of the Pantcha Tantra, a collection of Hindoo stories. 50 THE HEPTAMERON OF THE [Novel y. " You think that everyone is like yourself, who to get rid of one rumour set another afloat. You pass for a very cunning man, but if you think that you surpass woman in that way, I will give up my turn to you, that you may tell us some story in point. Of course you know plenty, of which you are yourself the hero." " I am not here to make myself appear worse than I am," returned Hircan, " though there are some who give me a worse character than I desire to deserve," he added, looking at his wife. " Don't let me hinder you from speaking the truth," said she. " I would rather hear you relate your sly tricks than see you play. them. But be assured that nothing can diminish the love I have for you." " For that reason," said Hircan, " I do not complain of the injustice with which you often judge me. And so, since we understand each other, there will be so much the more peace and quiet for the future. But I am not the man to tell a story of myself, the truth of which may be displeasing to you, but shall relate one of a person who was an intimate friend of mine." NOVEL VII. Trick put by a mercer of Paris upon an old woman, to conceal his intrigue with her daughter. There was a mercer in Paris who was enamoured of a girl in his neighbourhood, or, to speak more properly, who was loved by her, rather than she by him, for he only pretended to be attached to her in order to conceal another amour with a more exalted object. For her First day ^^ QUEEN OF NAVARRE. 51 part, she was very willing to be deceived, and loved him so much that she forgot all the ivsual coyness of her sex. After the mercer had long taken the trouble of going in search of her, he used afterwards to make her come to him wherever he pleased. The mother, who was a re- spectable woman, perceived this, and forbade her daugh- ter ever to speak to the mercer, under pain of being sent to a convent ; but the giri, who loved the mercer more than she feared her mother, behaved worse than ever. One day the mercer, finding her alone in a convenient place, began to entertain her on matters that ought not to be discussed before witnesses ; but a servant, who had seen him come in, ran and told the mother, who hastened to the spot to put an end to the conversation. The daughter, hearing her footsteps, said, with tears in her eyes, " My love for )'ou will cost me dear ; here comes my mother, and she will now be convinced of what she always feared." The mercer, without losing his presence of mind, instantly quitted the girl, ran to meet her mother, threw his arms around the old wo- man's neck, hugged her with all his might, threw her on a little bed, and began to expend upon her all the rage her daughter had excited within him. The poor old woman, quite confounded at being treated in this way, could only exclaim, " What are you about .' Are you mad.?" But he no more desisted than if she had been the handsomest young girl in the world ; and if her screams had not brought the servant men and maids to her assistance, she would have suffered the fate she apprehended so much for her daughter. The servants dragged the good woman by force out of the mercer's hands, without the poor creature ever knowing why she had been so worried. During the scuffle, the daughter escaped to a neighbour's house, where there was a wed- 52 THE HEPTAMERON OF THE [Novtly, ding going on ; and she and the mercer often afterwards laughed at the expense of the old woman, who never detected their intercourse. Here you have, ladies, an instance of a man having been cunning enough to deceive an old woman, and save the honour of a young one. If I were to name the per- sons, or if you had seen the countenance of the mercer and the surprise of the old woman, you must have had very tender consciences to keep from laughing. I have sufficiently proved to you by this example that men are not less ingenious than women in inventing at need ex- pedients upon the spot ; and so, ladies, you need not be afraid of falling into their hands, for, should your own wit fail, you will find theirs ready to screen your honour. " I own, Hircan," said Longarine, " that the story is comical and the stratagem well invented ; but, for all that, it does not follow that the example is one which ought to be imitated by girls. I have no doubt there are plenty whom you would wish to approve of it ; but you have too much sense to wish that jour wife and your daughter, whose honour is dearer to you than pleasure, should play at such a game. I believe there is no one who would watch them more closely, and put a stop to such doings more promptly, than yourself." "Upon my conscience," replied Hircan, "if my wife had done the same thing, I should not esteem her the less, provided I knew no;thing about it. I don't know if some one has not played as good a trick at my expense, but, fortunately, as I know nothing, I give myself no concern." "The wicked are always suspicious," said Parla- mente ; " but happy are they who give no cause of sus- picion." First day.] QUEEN OF NA VARRE. ,, " I can't say I ever saw a fire without some smoke," said Longarine ; " but I have certainly seen smoke with- out any fire. Those who have bad hearts suspect ahke where there is mischief and where there is none." " You have so well supported the cause of ladies unjustly suspected," said Hircan to Longarine, " that I call upon you for your novel. I hope you will not make us weep, as Madame Oisille has done, by too much praise of honest women." " Since you would have me make you laugh," said Longarine, laughing with all her heart, " it shall not be at the expense of our sex. I will let you see how easy it is to cheat jealous wives who think they are wise enough to cheat their husbands." NOVEL VIII. A man having lain with his wife, believing that he was in bed with his servant, sends his friend to do the same thing ; and the friend makes a cuckold of him, without the wife being aware of it. There was in the county of AUez a person named Bornet, who had married a virtuous wife, and held her honour and reputation dear, as is the case, I suppose, with all the hu-sbands here present. Though he desired that his wife should be faithful to him, he did not choose to be equally bound to her ; in fact, he made love to his servant, though all the good he could get by the change was the pleasure attending a diversity of viands. He had a neighbour, much of his own sort, named Sandras, a tailor by trade, with whom he was on terms of such close friendship that everything was common fegtweeq them, 54 THE HEPTAMERON OF THE iNavel s. except the wife. Accordingly, Bornet declared the de- sign he had formed upon the servant-girl to his friend, who not only approved of it, but did what he could for its success, in hopes of having a finger in the pie. But the servant would not hear of such a thing, and, finding herself persecuted on all sides, she complained to her mistress, and begged to be allowed to go home to her re- lations, as she could no longer endure her master's im- portunity. The mistress, who was very fond of her husband, and who even before this had been jealous of him, was very glad to have this opportunity of reproach- ing him, and showing that it was not without reason she had suspected him. With this view she induced the servant to finesse with her master, give him hopes by degrees, and finally promise to let him come to bed to her in her mistress's wardrobe. " The rest you may leave to me," she said. " I will take care that you shall not be troubled at all, provided you let me know the night he is to come to you, and that you do not breathe a syl- lable of the matter to anyone living." The girl faithfully obeyed her mistress's instructions, and her master was so delighted that he hastened at once to impart this good news to his friend, who begged that, since he had been concerned in the bargain, he should also partake of the pleasure. This being agreed to, and the hour being come, the master went to bed, as he supposed, with the servant ; but the mistress had taken her place, and received him, not as a wife, but as a bashful and frightened maid, and she played her part so well that he never suspected anything. I cannot tell you which of the two felt the greater satisfaction, he in the belief that he was cheating his wife, or she in the belief that she was cheating her husband. After he had remained with her not so long as he Y!'irst day.] QUEEN OF NAVARRE. 55 wished, but as long, as he could, for he showed symptoms of an old married man, he went out of doors to his friend, who was younger and more vigorous, and told him what a fine treat he had just had. " You know what you promised me," said the friend. " Well, be quick then," said the master, " for fear she gets up, or my wife wants her." The friend lost no time, but took the unoccupied place beside the supposed servant, who, thinking he was her husband, let him do whatever he liked, without a word said on either side. He made a much longer business of it than the husband, greatly to the surprise of the wife, who was not accustomed to be so well re- galed. However, she took it all patiently, comforting herself with the thought of what she would say to him in the morning, and how she would make game of him. The friend got out of bed towards daybreak, but not without taking the stirrup-cup. During this ceremony he drew from her finger the ring with which her husband ' had wedded her, a thing which the women of that coun- try preserve with great superstition, thinking highly of a woman who keeps it till death : on the other hand, one who has had the mischance to lose it is looked upon as having given her faith to another than her husband. When the friend had rejoined the husband, the latter asked him what he thought of his bedfellow. " Never was a better," replied the friend ; " and if I had not been afraid of being surprised by daylight, I should not have come away from her so soon." That said, they went to bed, and slept as quietly as they could. In the morning, when they were dressing, the husband perceived on his friend's finger the ring, which looked very like that he had given his wife when he married her. He asked who had given him that ring, and was astounded to hear that he had taken it from the servant's finger. " Oh Lord ! 56 THE HEPTAMERON OF THE INovelZ. have I made a cuckold of myself, without my wife's know- ing it ? " cried the husband, knocking his head against the wall. The friend suggested for his consolation that possibly his wife might have given the ring overnight to the servant to keep. Home goes the husband, and finds his wife looking handsomer and gayer than usual, delighted as she was to have hindered her servant from committing a sin, and to have convicted her husband without any more incon- venience to herself than having passed a night without sleeping. The husband, seeing her in such good spirits, said to himself, " She would not look so merry if she knew what has happened." Falling into chat with her upon indifferent matters, he took her hand, and saw that the ring she always wore was not on her finger. Aghast, and with a trembling voice, he asked her what she had done with it. This gave her the opportunity she was on the watch for to let loose upon him, and she seized it with avidity. " Oh, you most abominable of men ! " she said, " from whom do you suppose you took it ? You thought you had it from the servant. You thought it was for her you did more than you ever did for me. The first time you came to bed to her, I thought you made as much of her as it was possible to do ; but after you left the room and came again the second time,, it seemed as though you were the very devil of incontinence. What infatuation has possessed you to praise me so much, you wretch .' You have had me long enough, and never cared about me. Is it the beauty and plumpness of your servant that made the pleasure seem so sweet to you .? No, base man, it is the fire of your own disorderly lust that makes you so blindly and madly in love with the servant, that in the furious fit you were in I believe you would have First day.] QUEEN OF NAVARRE. r- taken a she-goat with' a nightcap on for a fine girl. It is high time, husband, that you should mend your ways» and content yourself with me, who am your wife, and, as you know, an honest woman, as much as you did when you mistook me for a vicious woman. My only object in the matter has been to withdraw you from vice, so that in our old days we may live in amity and repose of conscience ; for if you choose to continue the life you have led hitherto, I would rather we should separate than that I should see you daily treading the path that leads to hell, and at the same time using up your body and your substance. But if you resolve to behave better, and to fear God and keep his commandments, I am willing to forget the past, as I trust God will forgive the ingrat- itude I am guilty of in not loving him as much as I ought." If ever a man was utterly confounded and horrified, it was the poor husband. It was bad enough to think that he had forsaken his wife, who was fair, chaste, and virtuous, and overflowing with affection for him, for a woman who did not love him ; but it was infinitely worse when he represented to himself that he had been so un- lucky as to make her quit the path of virtue, in spite of herself and without knowing it, to share with another the pleasures which should have been his alone, and to have forged for himself the horns of perpetual mockery. Seeing, however, that his wife was already angry enough about his intended intrigue with the servant, he did not dare to tell her of the villainous trick he had played upon herself. He implored her pardon, promised to make amends for the past by the strictest propriety of conduct in future, and gave her back her ring, which he had taken from his friend, whom he begged not to say a word of what had happened. But as everything whispered in the eg THE HEPTAMERON OF THE [Naveli. ear is by-and-by proclaimed from the house-top, the ad- venture became public at last, and people c!klled him a cuckold, without any regard for his wife's feelings.* It strikes me, ladies, that if all those who have been guilty of similar infidelity to their wives were punished in the same way, Hircan and Saffredent would have great cause to fear. " Why, Longarine } " said Saffredent. " Are Hircan and I the only married men in the' company .? " " You are not the only married men," she replied, " but you are the only ones capable of playing, such a trick." " Who told you," returned Saffredent, " that we have sought to debauch oUr wives' servant-maids .■' " " If those who are interested in the matter," she an- swered, " were to speak the truth, we should certainly hear of servant-maids dismissed before their time." "This is pleasant, truly," observed Geburon ; "you promised to make the company laugh, and instead of that you vex these gentlemen." " It comes to the same thing," replied Longarine. " Provided they do not draw their swords, their anger will not fail to make us laugh." " If our wives were to listen to this lady," said Hircan, " there is not a married couple in the company but she would set at variance." " Nay," said Longarine, " I know before whom I speak„ Your wives are so prudent, and love you so much, that though you were to make them bear horns as big as those of a deer, they would believe, and try to make others believe, that they were chaplets of roses." * This tale is taken from the fabliau of Le Meunier cPAlens, and also occurs in the facetiae of Poggio, in Sacchetti, and in the Ceni Nouvelles Nouvelles. First t/ay.] QUEEN OF NA VARRE. eg The whole company, including even the ladies con. cerned, laughed so heartily that the conversation would have ended there, if Dagoucin, who had not yet spoken, had not taken it into his head to say, " A man is surely very unreasonable who cannot content himself when he has the means. I have often known people who, think- ing to better themselves, only made themselves much worse off, because they could not be satisfied in reason. Such people deserve no pity ; for, after all, inconstancy is unpardonable." " But what would you do," inquired Simontault, " with those who have not found their true half ? Would you call it inconstancy on their part to seek it wherever it might be found .' " "As it is impossible to know," replied Dagoucin, " where is that half so exactly like its counterpart that there is no difference between them, one should hold fast where love has once attached him, and change neither in heart nor will, happen what may. For if she you love is like you, and has but one will with you, it is yourself you will love, and not her." " You will fall into a false opinion, Dagoucin," said Hircan, " as though we ought to love our wives without being loved." " When one loves a woman, Hircan," said Dagoucin, " only because she has beauty, charming manners, and fortune, and the end he proposes to himself is pleasure, honours, or riches, such a love is not of long duration ; for when the principle that inspired it ceases, the love itself vanishes at once. I am then convinced that he who loves, and has no other end and desire than to love Well, will die rather than cease to love." " In good faith, Dagoucin," said Simontault, " I do not believe you have ever been really in love. Had you 6o THE HEPTAMERON OF THE \Novd%. known what it is to be so, like other men, you would not now be picturing to us Plato's Republic, founded on fine phrases, and on little or no experience." "You are mistaken," replied Dagoucin. "I have been in love ; I am so still, and shall be so as long as I live. But I am so much afraid that the demonstration of my passion would do injustice to the perfection of my love, that I shrink from making it known to her by whom I would be loved in equal measure. I dare not even think how I love her, lest my eyes should betray the secret of my heart ; for the more I conceal my flame, the more pleasure I feel in the consciousness that I love per- fectly." " Yet I suppose you would be very glad to be loved in return "i " said Geburon. " I own I should ; but as nothing could diminish my love, though I love much and am not loved, so it could not be augmented, even were I loved as much as I love." "Take care, Dagoucin," said Parlamente, who dis- approved of this fantastic sentiment. " I have known others who chose rather to die than to declare them- selves." "And they were happy, doubtless," returned Da- goucin. " Yes," retorted Saffredent, " and worthy, moreover, of being classed with those innocents for whom the Church chants Non loquendo, sed moriendo confessi sunt. I have heard much of these languishing lovers, but I never yet saw one of them die for love. Since I myself have recovered, after much tribulation, I do not believe that any other man can ever die from that cause." " Ah, Saffredent ! " said Dagoucin, " how can you expect to be loved ! I know many instances of lovers First day\ Q UEEN OF NA VARRE. 6 1 who have died from nothing else than the intensity of their passion." " Since that is the case, tell us one of those stories, and let it be a good one," said Longarine. " Yes," said he ; " to confirm my doctrine by signs and miracles, I will tell you a story that happened three years ago." NOVEL IX. Deplorable death of a lover in consequence of his knowing too late that he was beloved by his mistress. On the confines of Dauphin^ and Provence there lived a gentleman who was much better endowed with the gifts of nature and education than with those of fortune. He was passionately enamoured of a demoiselle whose name I will not mention, on account of her re lations, who are of good and great houses ; but you may rely on the reality of the act. Not being of as good family as she was, he durst not declare his passion ; but though his inferior birth made him despair of ever being able to marry her, nevertheless the love he bore her was so jJure and respectful that he would have died rather than ask of her anything which could compromise her honour. He loved her, then, only because he thought her perfectly lovable, and he loved her so long that at last she had some suspicion of the fact. Seeing, then, that his love for her was founded on virtue only, she deemed herself fortunate in being loved by so upright a man ; and she treated him with such affability that, he, who aspired to nothing better than this, was transported 62 THE HEPTAMERON OF THE [IVmiel 9. with delight. But envy, the enemy of all quiet, could not suffer so innocent and so sweet an intercourse to con- tinue. Some one told the girl's mother he was surprised the gentleman went so often to her house, that people saw it was her daughter's beauty that attracted him, and that they had often been seen together. The mother, who was thoroughly assured of the gentleman's probity, was greatly annoyed at finding that a bad interpretation was put upon his visits ; but in the end, dreading scan- dal and malicious gossip, she begged he would for some time cease to frequent her house. The gentleman was the more mortified at this, as the proper and respectful manner in which he had always behaved towards the daughter had deserved very different treatment. How- ever, to put an end to the gossip about him, he discon- tinued his visits. Absence, meanwhile, by no means diminished his love ; but one day, when he was paying a visit to his mistress, he heard it proposed that she should marry a gentleman not richer than himself, and whom, conse- quently, he thought no better entitled to have her. He began to take heart, and employed his friends to speak on his part in the hope that if the lady was allowed to choose, she would prefer him to his rival ; but as the latter was much the wealthier man, the young lady's mother and relations gave him the preference. The gentleman,* who knew that his mistress was a loser as well as himself, was so grieved at being rejected that, without any malady, he began by degrees to waste -away, and became so changed that one would have said he had covered his handsome face with the mask of death, to which from hour to hour he was hastening. Still he could not refrain from going as often as he could to see her whom he loved so well ; but at last, his strength being worn out, he was First day\ QUEEN OF NA VARRE. 63 compelled to keep his bed, but would never let his mis- tress know of it for fear of distressing her. So entirely did he give himself up to despair, that he neither ate, drank, slept, nor rested ; and became so lean and wan that he was no longer to be recognised. Some one made his state known to the mother of the demoiselle, who was very kind-hearted, and had besides so much esteem for the gentleman, that if the 'relations had been of the same mind as herself and her daughter, the personal merit of the invalid would have been preferred to the alleged wealth of the other suitor : but the paternal re- lations would not hear of it. However, she went with her daughter to see the poor gentleman, whom she found more dead than alive. As he knew that his end was near, he had confessed and communicated, and never ex- pected to see any more visitors ; but on beholding again her who was his life and his resurrection, his strength returned so that he at once sat up in the bed, and said, " What brings you hither, madam 1 How come you to visit a man who has already one foot in the grave, and of whose death you are the cause .' " " What ! " exclaimed the lady. "Is it possible we should cause the death of one we love so much 1 Tell me, I entreat, why you speak in this manner .' " " Madam, I concealed my love for your daughter as long as I could ; my relations, however, who have asked her of you in marriage, have gone further than I wished, since I have thereby had the misfortune to lose hope. I say misfortune, not with reference to my individual satisfaction, but because I know that no one will ever treat her so well or love her so much as I would have done. Her loss of the best and most faithful friend and servant she has in the world touches me more sensibly than the loss of my life, which I wish to preserve for her 64 THE HEPTAMERON OF THE {Novel ^. alone. Nevertheless, since henceforth it can be of no use to her, I gain much in losing it." The mother and daughter tried to comfort him. " Cheer up, my friend," said the mother, " I promise you that, if God restores you to health, my daughter shall never have any other husband than you. She is present, and I command her to make you the same promise." The daughter, weeping sorely, assured him of what her mother said ; but he, knowing that although God were to restore him to health, he should not have his mistress, and that it was only to cheer him that these hopes were held out, replied, " Had you spoken in this manner three months ago, I should have been the health- iest and happiest gentleman in France ; but this suc- cour comes so late that I can neither believe it nor rest any hope upon it." Then, as they strove to overcome his incredulity, he continued, " Since you promise me a bless- ing which can never be mine, even if you would grant it, I will ask you to confer on me one much less, which I have never ventured to demand of you." They both vowed that they would grant his request, and that he might declare it boldly. " I implore you," said he, " to put into my arms her whom you promise me for a wife, and to bid her embrace and kiss me." The daughter, who was not accustomed to such caresses, was on the point of making objections ; but her mother expressly commanded her to comply, seeing that there was no longer in him either the feeling or the power of a living man. After such a command, the daughter no longer hesitated, but going up to the bedside, " Cheer up, my friend," she said, " cheer up, I conjure you." The poor dying creature, notwithstanding his extreme weakness, stretched out his emaciated arms, embraced with all his might her who was the cause of his death, First day.l QUEEN OF NA VARRE. 5, and laying his cold pale lips to hef s, clung there as long as he could. "I have loved you," he said at last, "with a love so intense and so pure that, marriage excepted, I have never desired any other favor of you than that which I now receive. But as God has not been pleased to unite us in marriage, I gladly surrender up my soul to Him who is love and perfect charity, and who knows how much I have loved you, and how pure my desires have been, be- seeching Him that, since I hold the dear object of my desires within my arms. He will receive my soul in his." So saying, he clasped her again in his embrace with such vehemence that his enfeebled heart, being unable to sustain the effort, was abandoned by all his spirits ; for joy so dilated them that the seat of the soul gave way and fled to its Creator. Though it was already some time since the poor gentleman had expired, and could not retain his hold, the love she had felt for him, and which she had always concealed, broke forth at this moment in such wise that the mother and the servants had much difficulty in de- taching the almost dead survivor from the corpse. The poor gentleman was honourably interred ; but the great- est triumph in his obsequies was the tears and cries of that poor demoiselle, who as openly displayed her feelings after his death as she had concealed them during his life, as if she would make amends for the wrong she had done him. And I have been told that for all they gave her a husband to console her, she never afterwards knew real joy.* * It is possible that this may be, as Margaret asserts, a true story of her own day, but it very closely resembles the history of the troubadour Geoffroi Rudel of Blaye, who lived in the latter part of the twelfth century. Merely upon hearsay of the moral and S 66 THE HEPTAMERON OF THE \_Nmu 9. Does it not strike you, gentlemen, who refuse to believe me, that this example must force you to confess that love, too much concealed and too little known, brings people to the grave ? There is not one of you but knows the relations on both sides ; therefore you cannot question the fact. But this is one of those things which no one believes until he has experienced it. "Well," said Hircan, who saw that the ladies were weeping, " a greater fool I never heard of. Now, in good faith, is it reasonable that we should die for women who are made only for us, and that we should be afraid of asking of them what God commands them to give "i I do not speak for myself, or for others who are married, for I have as much as I want in that way, or more ; but I say it for those who stand in need. They are, to my thinking, great blockheads to fear those who ought to fear them. Don't you see that this girl repented of her imprudence .' Since she embraced the dead man — a thing repugnant to nature — rely upon it, she would still better have embraced the living man, if he had been as bold as he was pitiable on his deathbed." " By the very conduct for which you upbraid him," said Oisille, " he showed that he loved honestly, and for that he. deserves eternal praise ; for chastity in an enamoured heart is a thing more divine than human." "Madam," replied Saffredent, "to confirm what personal perfections of the Countess of Tripoli, he fell so des- perately in love with her that he pined away, and embarked, in an advanced stage of illness, to go and see her. When the vessel reached the port of Tripoli he was too weak to quit it. Moved by so extraordinary a display of love, the countess visited him on board, took his hand, and spoke graciously and cheeringly to him. GeofEroi could hardly falter out his thanks, and, overcome by emo- tion, instantly expired. First day] QUEEN OF NA VARRE. 67 Hircan has just said, I beg you to believe that fortune favours those who are bold, and that no man who is loved by a lady fails to obtain from her at last what he demands, either in whole or in part, provided he knows how to set about it sagely and amorously ; but ignorance and timidity make men lose many a good fortune. What is singular is, that they attribute the loss of them to the virtue of their mistress, which they have never put to the least proof. Be assured, madam, that no fortress was ever well attacked but it was taken at last." " I am shocked at you two," said Parlamente, " that you dare to hold such language. Those whom you have loved have little reason to be obliged to you ; or else you have employed your address upon such easy conquests that you have concluded all others are like them." " For my part, madam," said Saffredent, " I have the misfortune to have nothing to boast of ; but this I at- tribute much less to the virtue of the ladies than to the fault I have committed in not having conducted my en- terprises with sufficient sagacity and prudence. In support of my opinion, I shall cite no other authority than that of the old woman in the ' Romance of the Rose,' who says, ' Without question, fair sir, we are all made for each other ; every she for every he, and every he for every she.' In short, I am persuaded that if a woman is once in love, her lover will compass his end unless he be a booby." " Now if I should name a lady," returned Parlamente, "who loved well, was strongly solicited, pressed, and importuned, and yet remained a virtuous woman, vic- torious over her love and her lover, would you own that this fact, which is truth itself, was possible .' " " Why, yes," replied Saffredent. 6g THE HEPTAMERON OF THE [Novel la " Then you are very incredulous if you do not believe the example adduced by Dagoucin." " As I have given you," said Dagoucin, " an authen- tic instance of virtuous love on the part of a gentleman, which continued to his last gasp, if you, madam, know any story that is to the honour of some lady, I beg you will be good enough to finish the day by relating it. Never mind the length ; for there is time enough still to say many good things." " Since I am to finish the day," said Parlamente, " I will not make you a long preamble, my story being so good, so beautiful, and so true, that I long to put you in possession of it. I have not been an eye-witness to the facts ; but I have them from an intimate friend of the hero, who related them to me on condition that if I re- peated them I should conceal the names of the persons. Everything, then, which I am about to tell you is true, except the names, places, and the country." NOVEL X. The loves of Amadour and Florida, wherein are seen several strat- agems and dissimulations, and the exemplary chastity of Florida. There was in the county of Aranda, in Aragon, a lady who, while still quite young, was left a widow by Count Aranda, with one son and one daughter, the latter of whom was named Florida. She spared no pains to bring up her childfen according to their qualities in virtue and good breeding, so that her house was con- sidered to be one of the most honourable in all the First day.] QUEEN OP NAVARRE. 6g Spains. She often went to Toledo, where the King of Spain then resided ; and when she came to Saragossa, which was not far from her own house, she used to re- main a long time at the queen's court, where she was as much esteemed as any lady could be. Going one day, according to her custom, to pay her court to the king, who was then in Saragossa, she passed through a village ' belonging to the Viceroy of Catalonia, who did not quit the frontiers of Perpignan, on account of the wars be- tween the Kings of France and Spain. But as peace was then made, the viceroy, accompanied by several ofiBcers, had come to pay his devoirs to the king. The viceroy, having been apprised that the countess was to pass through his domains, went to meet her, as well by reason of the old friendship he bore her, as to do her honour as the king's kinswoman. He was accompanied by several gentlemen of merit, who had acquired so much glory and reputation during the wars that every- one thought it a good fortune to enjoy their society. There was one among them named Amadour, who, not- withstanding his youth (he was not more than eighteen or nineteen), had such an air of self-possession, and a judgment so ripe, that one would have chosen him among a thousand as a fit man to govern a state. It is true that besides good sense he had so engaging a mien, and graces so vivid and natural, that one never tired of gazing upon him. His conversation so well corres- ponded with all this, that it was hard to say whether nature had been more bountiful in regard to corporeal or to mental endowments. But what gained him most esteem was his great daring, far exceeding what was common with persons of his age. He had on so many occasions shown what he was capable of, that not only Spain, but France and Italy also, highly esteemed his JO THE HEPTAMERON OF THE \Niwel w. virtues, for he had never spared himself in any of the wars in which he had been engaged. When his country- was at peace he went in search of war among foreigners^ and won the respect and love of friends and enemies. This gentleman was among those who accompanied his captain to the domain at which the countess had arrived. He could not behold with indifference the beauty and the charms of her daughter, who was then but twelve years old. He had never, he thought, seen a being so beautiful and of such high breeding, and he believed that if he could have her good grace he should be happier than if he possessed all the wealth and all the pleasures he could receive from another. After having long regarded her, he finally resolved to love her, in spite of all the insurmountable obstacles to success which reason presented to his view, whether on account of disparity of birth, or as regarded the extreme youth of , the beautiful girl, who was not yet of an age to listen t0 tender speeches. Against all these obstacles he set' a resolute hope, and promised himself that time and pa- tience would bring all his toils to a happy end. To rem- edy the greatest difficulty, which consisted in the remote- ness of his residence and the few opportunities he had of seeing Florida, he resolved to marry contrary to what he had resolved in Barcelona and Perpignan, where he was in such favour with the ladies that they hardly re- fused him anything. He had lived so long on those frontiers during the war that he had the air of a Catalan rather than of a Castilian, though he was born at Toledo, of a rich and distinguished family. Being a younger son, he had not much patrimony ; but love and fortune, seeing him ill provided by his parents, resolved to make him a chef-d'oeuvre, and gave him by means of his valour what the laws of the country refused him. He was First day.] QUEEN OF NA VARRE. 7 1 thoroughly versed in the art of war, and princes and lords esteemed him so highly that he oftener refused their good offices than took the trouble to solicit them. The Countess of Aranda arrived then in Saragossa, and was extremely well received by the king and the whole court. The Governor of Catalonia paid her fre- quent visits, in which Amadour failed not to accompany him, for the sole pleasure of seeing Florida, for he, in order to make himself known in such good company, attached himself to the daughter of an old knight, his neighbour. Her name was Aventurada. She had been brought up from childhood with Florida, and knew all the secrets of her heart. Whether it was that Amadour found her to his taste, or that her dowry of three thou- sand ducats a year tempted him, he made her an offer of marriage. She listened to him with pleasure ; but as he was poor, and the old knight was rich, she was afraid he would never consent to the marriage, except at the solicitation of the Countess of Aranda. She addressed herself, therefore, to Florida, and said, " I believe, madam, that this Castilian gentleman, who, as you are aware, often speaks to me here, intends to seek me in marriage. You know what sort of man my father is, and you must be sure he will never give his consent unless the count- ess and you have the goodness to press him strongly." Florida, who loved the damsel like herself, assured her she would make the business her own; whereupon Aventurada presented Amadour to her, who on kissing her hand had like to faint for joy. Though he was con- sidered one of the men who spoke best in all the Spains, he could not find a tongue in presence of Florida. She was greatly surprised at this, for though she was but twelve years old, she nevertheless well remembered to have heard that there was not in Spain a man who could •J2 THE HEPTAMERON OF THE [Novel lo. deliver what he had to say more fluently, or with a better grace. Seeing, then, that he uttered not a word, she broke silence. " You are so well known by reputation all over the Spains," she said, " that it would be surpricing, Senor Amadour, if you were unknown here ; and all who know you desire to have an opportunity to serve you. So if I can be of use to you in any way, I beg you will employ me." Amadour, who was gazing on Florida's charms, was so rapt and transported that he could hardly say grammercy. Though Florida was much surprised at his silence, she attributed it to some caprice rather than to its true cause, and retired without saying more. " Do not be surprised," said Amadour to her he wished to marry, " if I was tongue-tied in presence of the Lady Florida. She speaks so discreetly, and so many virtues are latent under her great youth, that admiration made me dumb. As you know her secrets, I beg you will tell me, Aventurada, how is it possible that she does not possess the hearts of all the gentlemen of this court, for those who shall know her and love her not must be stones or brutes." Aventurada, who already loved Amadour above all men, and could conceal nothing from him, told him that Florida was loved by everybody.; but that, in accordance with the custom of the country, she spoke to few ; and that as yet she was aware of only two persons who made much show of love for Florida, and those were two young Spanish princes, who desired to marry her. One was the son of the Fortunate In- fante, and the other was the young Duke of Cardona. " Tell me, pray," said Amadour, " which of the two do ypu think she loves best .' " " She is so good and virtuous that all she can be pre- vailed on to say is, that she has no choice but as her First Jay.] QUEEN OF NA VARRE. 73 mother pleases. As far, however, as we can judge, she likes the son of the Fortunate Infante better than the young Duke of Cardona. I believe you to be a man of such good sense that you may, if you like, come to a right surmise upon the matter at once. The son of the Fortunate Infante was brought up at this court, and is the handsomest and most accomplished young prince in Europe. If the question were to be decided by the votes of us maidens, this match would take place, in order that the most charming couple in all Spain might be united. You must know that, although they are both very young, she being but twelve and he fifteen, they have loved each other these three years. If you wish to have her good grace, I advise you to become his friend and servant." Amadour was very glad to hear that Florida loved something, for he hoped, with the help of time, to be- come, not her husband, but her lover ; for her virtue caused him no uneasiness, his only fear being lest she should not love at all. He had little difficulty in intro- ducing himself to the son of the Fortunate Infante, and still less in gaining his goodwill, for he was expert in all the exercises which the young prince was fond of. He was, above all, a good horseman, skilled in feats of arms, and in all sorts of exercises befitting a young man. As war was then beginning again in Languedoc, Amadour was obliged to return with the governor ; but it was not without keen regret, for there was no prospect of his returning to the place where he could see Florida. Be- fore his departure he spoke to his brother, who was ma- jor-domo to the Queen of Spain, told him the good match he had in the Countess of Aranda's house in the Lady Aventurada, and begged him to do his best during his absence to further his marriage, and to procure on his y^ THE HBPTAMERON OF THE \Amtt la behalf the influence of the king, the queen, and all his friends. The brother, who loved Amadour not only as a brother, but for his great worth, promised to do all he could, and bestirred himself so well that Aventurada's miserly old father forgot his avarice, and suffered him- self to be moved by Amadour's virtues, as they were represented to him by the Countess of Aranda, the beautiful Florida, and the young Count of Aranda, who was beginning, as he grew up, to love people of merit. After the marriage had been agreed on between the re- lations, the major-domo made his brother return to Spain under favour of a truce then pending between the two kings. During this truce the King of Spain withdrew to Madrid, to avoid the bad air which was in several places, and at the request of the Countess of Aranda gave his sanction to the marriage of the heiress-Duchess of Medinaceli with the little Count of Aranda. The wedding was celebrated at the palace of Madrid. Ama- dour was present, and turned the occasion to such account that he married her whomhe had inspired with more love than he felt for her, and whom he made his wife only that he might have a plausible pretext fpr frequenting the place where his mind incessantly dwelt. After his marriage he became so bold and so familiar in the family of the Countess of Aranda that no more distrust was entertained of him than if he had been a woman. Though he was then but twenty-two years old, he was so prudent that the countess communicated all her affairs to him, and commanded her daughter and her son to converse with him and follow all his advice. Hav- ing gained this capital point, he conducted himself so discreetly and with such address that even she whom he loved never suspected it. As she was very fond of Amadour's wife, she had such confidence in the husband First day :\ QUEEN OF NAVARRE. 75 that she concealed nothing from him, and even declared to him all the love she felt for the son of the Fortunate Infante ; and Amadour, whose views were all directed to gaining her entirely, talked to her incessantly of the young prince ; for he cared not what was the subject on which he spoke to her, provided he could hold her long in conversation. He had hardly been a month married when he was obliged to go to the wars again, and it was more than two years before he could return to his wife, who all the while continued to reside where she had been brought up. He wrote frequently to her in the interval ; but the chief part of his letters consisted of compliments to Florida, who on her part failed not to return them, and often even wrote with her own hand some pretty phrase in Aventurada's letters. This was quite enough to in- duce the husband to write frequently to his wife ; yet in all this Florida knew nothing but that she loved him like a brother. Amadour went and came several times, and during five years he saw Florida not more than two months altogether. Yet, in spite of distance and long absence, his love not only remained in fuU force, but even grew stronger. At last Amadour, coming to see his wife, found the countess far away from the court. The king had gone into Andalusia, and had taken with him the young Count of Aranda, who was already beginning to bear arms, and the countess had retired to a country-house of hers on the frontier of Aragon and Navarre. She was very glad of the arrival of Amadour, whom she had not seen for nearly three years. He was welcomed by every- body, and the countess commanded that he should be treated as her own son. When he was with her, she consulted him on all the affairs of her house, and did just ;6 THE HEPTAMERON OF THE INovel lo. as he advised. In fact, his influence in the family was unbounded ; and so strong was the belief in his discern- ment that he was trusted on all occasions as though he had been a samt or an angel. As for Florida, who loved Aventurada, and had no suspicion of her husband's in- tentions, she testified her affection for him without reserve. Her heart being free from passion, she felt much pleasure in his society, but she felt nothing more. He, on the other hand, found it a very hard task to evade the penetration of those who knew by experience the difference between the looks of a man who loves and of one who does not love ; for when Florida talked familiarly with him in her frank simplicity, the hidden fire in his heart blazed up so violently that he could not help feel- ing it in his face, and letting some sparks from it escape from his eyes. To baffle observation, therefore, he entered into an intrigue with a lady named Paulina, who was considered in her time so beautiful that few men saw her and es- caped her fascinations. Paulina being aware how Ama- dour had made love in Barcelona and Perpignan, and won the hearts of the handsomest ladies in the country, especially that of a certain Countess of Palamos, who was reputed the finest woman in all Spain, told him one day that she pitied him for having, after so many good fortunes, married a wife so ugly as his own. Amadour, who well knew that she had, a mind to supply his wants, talked to her in the most engaging terms he could use, hoping to conceal a truth from her by making her be- lieve a falsehood. As she had experience in love, she did not content herself with words, and plainly perceiv- ing tha'c Amadour's heart was not her own, she made no doubt that he wanted to use her as a stalking-horse. With this suspicion in her mind, she observed him so First day.] QUEEN OF NAVARRE. yy narrowly that not a single glance of his eyes escaped her ; but he managed, though with the utmost difificulty, to regulate them so well that she could never get beyond conjectures. Florida, who had no notion of the nature of Amadour's feelings towards her, used to speak to him so familiarly before Paulina that he could hardly prevent his eyes from following the movements of his heart. To prevent bad consequences, one day, as Florida and he were talking together at a window, he said to her, " My dear, I beseech you to advise me which of the two is better, to speak or to die ? " " I shall always advise my friends to speak," she re- plied, without hesitation ; " for there are few words which cannot be remedied : but from death there is no return." " You promise me, then, that not only you will not be angry at what I want to tell you, but even that you will not give way to surprise until I have laid my whole mind open to you .' " " Say what you please," replied Florida, "for if you surprise me there is no one who can reassure me." "Two reasons, madam, have hindered me hitherto from declaring the strong passion I feel for you : one is, thai I wished to make it known to you by long services, and the other, that I was afraid you would regard it as a great vanity that a simple gentleman like myself should raise his desires so high. Even though my birth were as illustrious as your own, a heart so true as yours would take it ill that any other than he on whom you have be- stowed it, the son of the Fortunate Infante, should talk to you of love. But, madam, as in war necessity often compels the belligerent to destroy his own property, and ruin his standing crops that the enemy may not profit by them, so I venture to forestall the fruit which I hoped yg THE HEPTAMERON OF THE \Nmid lo. to gather in time, lest your enemies and mine profit by our loss. Know, madam, that from the first moment I had the honour of seeing you, I so wholly consecrated my- self to your service, though you were very young, that I have forgotten nothing whereby I could hope to acquire your good grace. It was to that end alone that I mar- ried her whom I thought you loved best ; and knowing the love you bore to the son of the Fortunate Infante, I took pains to serve him and be about him ; in short, whatever I thought could please you, I have tried with all my might to do. You see that I have had the good for- tune to win the esteem of the countess your mother, of the count your brother, and of all those whom you love, and that I am regarded here not as a servant, but as a son of the family. All the pains I have taken for five years have had no other object than to procure me the happiness of passing my whole life with you. I crave no favour or pleasure of you which is not consistent with virtue. I know that I cannot wed you, and if I could I would not do so to the prejudice of the love you bear to him whom I would gladly see as your husband. To love you with a criminal love, like those who presume to think that a lady's dishonour should be the recompense of their long services, is a thought I am so far from en- tertaining, that I would rather see you dead than know that you were less worthy of love, and that your virtue should suffer the least blemish for the sake of any pleas-' ure whatever to myself. I ask but one thing of you in recompense for my long services, and that is, that you will deign to become a mistress so loyal as never to re- move me from your good grace, but let me continue on my present footing, and trust in me more than in anyone besides. Furthermore, madam, do me the honour to be well assured that, be the matter what it may, should you First day.] QUEEN OF NA VARRE. 79 have need of the life of a gentleman, you may count on mine, which I would sacrifice for you right gladly. I beseech you to believe, likewise, madam, that whatever I shall do that is honourable and virtuous shall be done for love of you. If, for sake of ladies inferior to you, I have done things which have been thought well of, what shall I not do for a mistress like you .' Things which I found difficult or impossible will seem easy to me. But if you will not permit me to be wholly devoted to you, my resolution is to forsake the career of arms, and re- nounce the virtue which shall not have helped me at need. I entreat you, then, madam, to grant me the just grace which I ask, and you cannot refuse in conscience and with honour," Florida changed colour at a speech so novel to her. Surprise made her cast down her eyes ; nevertheless, her good sense prompted her to reply, " Does it need so long an harangue, Amadour, to ask of me what you have already .' ' I fear so much that, under your seemingly courteous and modest language, there is some lurking mischief to deceive my unpractised youth, that I know not how to reply to you. Were I to reject the virtuous friendship you offer me, I should do contrary to what I have done hitherto ; for you are the person in whom I have reposed most confidence. My conscience and my honour do not revolt either against your request or against the love I bear to the son of the Fortunate In- fante, since it rests on marriage, to which you do not aspire. There is nothing, then, to hinder me from re- plying in accordance with your desires, except a fear I have in my heart, proceeding from the little occasion yoH have for speaking to me as you do ; for if you already have what you ask, how comes it that you ask for it again with so much eagerness } " go THE HEPTAMERON OF THE [Nmel la " You speak very prudently madam," replied Amadour, who had his answer ready, " and you do me so much honour and so much justice in .putting the confidence in me you say, that if I were not content with such a blessing, I were unworthy of all others. But consider, madam, that he who wants to build a durable edifice must begin by laying a good and solid foundation. As I desire to remain for ever in your service, I think not only of the means of being near you, but also of hin- dering my attachment to you from Being perceived. Though this attachment, madam, is quite pure, yet those who do not know the hearts of lovers often judge ill of them, and this gives occasion for scandal as much as if their conjectures were well founded. What makes me speak of this is, that Paulina, who knows well that I cannot love her, suspects me so much that wherever I am she has her eyes continually upon me. When you speak to me before her with so much kindness, I am so much afraid of making some gesture on which she may ' rest a surmise that I fall into the very thing I wish to avoid. I am therefore constrained, madam, to request you will not for the future address me so suddenly be- fore her, or before those whom you know to be as mali- cious as she is, for I would rather die than that any creat- ure living should perceive it. If your honour was less dear to me, I should not have been in haste to say this to you, since I am so happy in the love and the con- fidence you manifest towards me, that I desire nothing more than their continuance." Florida was so gratified that she could hardly con- tain herself, and thenceforth she felt in her heart emo- tions that were new to her. " Virtue and good breeding reply for me," she said, " and grant you what you re- quest." First day.-\ QUEEN OF NA VARRE. 8 1 That Amadour was transported-with joy will not be doubted by any who love. Florida followed his advice bet- ter than he could have wished ; for as she was timid not only in presence of Paulina, but everywhere else too, she no longer sought his society as she had been used to do. She even disapproved of his intercourse with Paulina, who seemed to her so handsome that she could not believe he did not love her. Florida vented her grief with Aventurada, who was beginning to be very jealous of her husband and Paulina. She poured out her lamen- tations to Florida, who, being sick of the same distemper, consoled her as well as she could. Amadour, soon perceiving the change in Florida's conduct, believed not only that she was reserved, as he had advised her to be, but even that she had conceived unfavourable sentiments with regard to him. One day, as he was escorting her home from a convent where she had heard vespers, "What sort of countenance do you show me, madam .' " he said. " Such as I believe you wish me to show," she re- plied. Suspecting the truth then, he continued, " I have taken such means, madam, that Paulina no longer sus- pects you." " You could not do better for yourself and for me," she replied ; " for while doing yourself pleasure, you do me honour." Amadour, inferring from this that she believed he took pleasure in talking with Paulina, was so incensed that he could not help saying in anger, "You begin betimes, madam, to make me suffer. I am more to be pitied than blamed, and the most cruel mortification I have ever endured in my life is the painful necessity I am under of speaking to a woman I do not love. Since 6 82 THE HBPTAMERON OF THE \N