One Hundred Merrie And Delightsome Stories Part 57

To come to my story, this fur hat,--that is to say this councillor of Parliament,--fell in love with the wife of a cobbler of Paris,--a good, and pretty woman, and ready-witted. The fur hat managed, by means of money and other ways, to get an interview with the cobbler's fair wife on the quiet and alone, and if he had been enamoured of her before he enjoyed her, he was still more so afterwards, which she perceived and was on her guard, and resolved to stand off till she obtained her price.

His love for her was at such fever heat, that by commands, prayers, promises, and gifts, he tried to make her come to him, but she would not, in order to aggravate and increase his malady. He sent amba.s.sadors of all sorts to his mistress, but it was no good--she would rather die than come.

Finally--to shorten the story--in order to make her come to him as she used formerly to do, he promised her in the presence of three or four witnesses, that he would take her to wife if her husband died.

As soon as she obtained this promise, she consented to visit him at various times when she could get away, and he continued to be as love-sick as ever. She, knowing her husband to be old, and having the aforesaid promise, already looked upon herself as the Councillor's wife.

But a short time afterwards, the much-desired death of the cobbler was known and published, and his fair widow at once went with a bound to the abode of the fur cap, who received her gladly, and again promised to make her his wife.

These two good people--the fur cap, and his mistress, the cobbler's widow--were now together; But it often happens that what can be got without trouble is not worth the trouble of getting, and so it was in this case, for our fur cap soon began to weary of the cobbler's widow, and his love for her grew cold. She often pressed him to perform the marriage he had promised, but he said;

"By my word, my dear, I can never marry, for I am a churchman, and hold such and such benefices, as you know. The promise I formerly made you is null and void, and was caused by the great love I bear you, to win you to me the more easily."

She, believing that he did belong to the Church, and seeing that she was as much mistress of his house as though she had been his wedded wife, went her accustomed way, and never troubled more about the marriage; but at last was persuaded by the fine words of our fur cap to leave him, and marry a barber, their neighbour, to whom the Councillor gave 300 gold crowns, and G.o.d knows that the woman also was well provided with clothes.

Now you must know that our fur cap had a definite object in arranging this marriage, which would never have come off if he had not told his mistress that in future he intended to serve G.o.d, and live on his benefices, and give up everything to the Church. But he did just the contrary, as soon as he had got rid of her by marrying her to the barber; for about a year later, he secretly treated for the hand of the daughter of a rich and notable citizen of Paris.

The marriage was agreed to and arranged, and a day fixed for the wedding. He also disposed of his benefices, which were only held by simple tonsure.

These things were known throughout Paris, and came to the knowledge of the cobbler's widow, now the barber's wife, and, as you may guess, she was much surprised.

"Oh, the traitor," she said; "has he deceived me like this? He deserted me under pretence of serving G.o.d, and made me over to another man. But, by Our Lady of Clery, the matter shall not rest here."

Nor did it, for she cited our fur cap before the Bishop, and there her advocate stated his case clearly and courteously, saying that the fur cap had promised the cobbler's wife, in the presence of several witnesses, that if her husband died he would make her his wife. When her husband died, the Councillor had kept her for about a year, and then handed her over to a barber.

To shorten the story, the witnesses having been heard, and the case debated, the Bishop annulled the marriage of the cobbler's widow to the barber, and enjoined and commanded the fur cap to take her as his wife, for so she was by right, since he had carnal connection with her after the aforesaid promise.

Thus was our fur cap brought to his senses. He missed marrying the citizen's fair daughter, and lost the 300 crowns, which the barber had for keeping his wife for a year. And if the Councillor was ill-pleased to have his old mistress again, the barber was glad enough to get rid of her.

In the manner that you have heard, was one of the fur caps of the Parliament of Paris once served.

[Ill.u.s.tration: 68.jpg The Jade despoiled.]

STORY THE SIXTY-EIGHTH -- THE JADE DESPOILED.

By Messire Chrestien De Dygoigne.

_Of a married man who found his wife with another man, and devised means to get from her her money, clothes, jewels, and all, down to her chemise, and then sent her away in that condition, as shall be afterwards recorded._

It is no new and strange thing for wives to make their husbands jealous,--or indeed, by G.o.d, cuckolds. And so it happened formerly, in the city of Antwerp, that a married woman, who was not the chastest person in the world, was desired by a good fellow to do--you know what.

And she, being kind and courteous, did not like to refuse the request, but gladly consented, and they two continued this life for a long time.

In the end, Fortune, tired of always giving them good luck, willed that the husband should catch them in the act, much to his own surprise.

Perhaps though it would be hard to say which was the most surprised--the lover, or his mistress, or the husband. Nevertheless, the lover, with the aid of a good sword he had, made his escape without getting any harm. There remained the husband and wife, and what they said to each other may be guessed. After a few words on both sides, the husband, thinking to himself that as she had commenced to sin it would be difficult to break her of her bad habits, and that if she did sin again it might come to the knowledge of other people, and he might be dishonoured; and considering also that to beat or scold her would be only lost labour, determined to see if he could not drive her out, and never let her disgrace his house again. So he said to his wife;

"Well, I see that you are not such as you ought to be; nevertheless, hoping that you will never again behave as you have behaved, let no more be said. But let us talk of another matter. I have some business on hand which concerns me greatly, and you also. We must put in it all our jewels; and if you have any little h.o.a.rd of money stored away, bring it forth, for it is required."

"By my oath," said the wench, "I will do so willingly, if you will pardon me the wrong I have done you."

"Don't speak about it," he replied, "and no more will I."

She, believing that she had absolution and remission of her sins, to please her husband, and atone for the scandal she had caused, gave him all the money she had, her gold rings, rich stuffs, certain well-stuffed purses, a number of very fine kerchiefs, many whole furs of great value--in short, all that she had, and that her husband could ask, she gave to do him pleasure.

"The devil!" quoth he; "still I have not enough."

When he had everything, down to the gown and petticoat she wore, he said, "I must have that gown."

"Indeed!" said she. "I have nothing else to wear. Do you want me to go naked?"

"You must," he said, "give it me, and the petticoat also, and be quick about it, for either by good-will or force, I must have them."

She, knowing that force was not on her side, stripped off her gown and petticoat, and stood in her chemise.

"There!" she said; "Have I done what pleases you?"

"Not always," he replied. "If you obey me now, G.o.d knows you do so willingly--but let us leave that and talk of another matter. When I married you, you brought scarcely anything with you, and the little that you had you have dissipated or forfeited. There is no need for me to speak of your conduct--you know better than anyone what you are, and being what you are, I hereby renounce you, and say farewell to you for ever! There is the door! go your way; and if you are wise, you will never come into my presence again."

The poor wench, more astounded than ever, did not dare to stay after this terrible reproof, so she left, and went, I believe, to the house of her lover, for the first night, and sent many amba.s.sadors to try and get back her apparel and belongings, but it was no avail. Her husband was headstrong and obstinate, and would never hear her spoken about, and still less take her back, although he was much pressed both by his own friends and those of his wife.

She was obliged to earn other clothes, and instead of her husband live with a friend until her husband's wrath is appeased, but, up to the present, he is still displeased with her, and will on no account see her.

STORY THE SIXTY-NINTH -- THE VIRTUOUS LADY WITH TWO HUSBANDS. [69]

By Monseigneur.

_Of a n.o.ble knight of Flanders, who was married to a beautiful and n.o.ble lady. He was for many years a prisoner in Turkey, during which time his good and loving wife was, by the importunities of her friends, induced to marry another knight. Soon after she had remarried, she heard that her husband had returned from Turkey, whereupon she allowed herself to die of grief, because she had contracted a fresh marriage._

It is not only known to all those of the city of Ghent--where the incident that I am about to relate happened not long ago--but to all those of Flanders, and many others, that at the battle fought between the King of Hungary and Duke Jehan (whom may G.o.d absolve) on one side, and the Grand Turk and all his Turks on the other, (*) that many n.o.ble knights and esquires--French, Flemish, German, and Picardians--were taken prisoners, of whom some were put to death in the presence of the said Great Turk, others were imprisoned for life, and others condemned to slavery, amongst which last was a n.o.ble knight of the said country of Flanders, named Clayz Utenhoven.

(*) The battle of Nicopolis (28th September, 1396) when Sigismond, King of Hungary, and Jean-sans-Peur, son of the Duke of Burgundy, who had recruited a large army for the purpose of raising the siege of Constantinople, were met and overthrown by the Sultan, Bajazet I.

For many years he endured this slavery, which was no light task but an intolerable martyrdom to him, considering the luxuries upon which he had been nourished, and the condition in which he had lived.