_TALE XVI_.
_A lady of Milan, widow of an Italian Count, had resolved never againto marry or to love. But for three years she was so earnestly wooed by aFrench gentleman, that after repeated proof of the steadfastness of hislove, she granted him what he had so greatly desired, and they vowed toeach other everlasting affection_. (l)
In the days of the Grand Master of Chaumont, (2) there lived a lady whowas reckoned one of the most honourable women that there were at thattime in the city of Milan. She had married an Italian Count, and beingleft a widow, lived in the house of her brothers-in-law, refusing tohear speak of another marriage. And so discreetly and piously did shedemean herself that there was none in the Duchy, whether French orItalian, but held her in high esteem.
1 According to M. de Lincy, who points out that Bonnivet must be the hero of the adventure here related, the incidents referred to would have occurred at Milan between 1501 and 1503; but in M. Lacroix's opinion they would be posterior to 1506.--Ed.
2 See _ante_, note 1 to Tale XIV.
One day when her brothers and sisters-in-law offered an entertainment tothe Grand Master of Chaumont, this widow lady was obliged to be present,though she made it her rule not to attend such gatherings when held inother places. And when the Frenchmen saw her, they were all admirationfor her beauty and grace, especially one among them whose name I shallnot mention; for it will suffice for you to know that there was noFrenchman in Italy more worthy of love than he, for he was endowed withall the beauties and graces that a gentleman could have. And though hesaw that the lady wore black crape, and remained with several old womenin a corner apart from the young ones, yet, having never known what itwas to fear either man or woman, he set himself to converse with her,taking off his mask, and leaving the dance in order to remain in hercompany.
Throughout the whole of the evening he did not cease talking to her andto the old women, and found more pleasure in doing so than if he hadbeen with the most youthful and bravely attired ladies of the Court. Somuch, indeed, was this the case, that when the hour came to withdraw heseemed to have not yet had time even to sit down. And although he onlyspoke to the lady on such common matters as were suited to such company,she knew very well that he desired to win her favour, and this sheresolved to guard against by all means in her power, so that he wasnever afterwards able to see her at any banquet or assembly.
He inquired about the manner of her life, and found that she often wentto churches and convents; whereupon he kept such good watch that shecould never visit them so secretly but he was there before her. And hewould remain in the church as long as he had the happiness to seeher, and all the time that she was present would gaze at her soaffectionately that she could not remain in ignorance of the love hebore her. In order to avoid him, she resolved to feign illness for atime, and to hear mass in her own house; and at this the gentleman wasmost sorely grieved, for he had no other means of seeing her than atchurch.
Thinking that she had cured him of his habit, she at last returned tothe churches as before, but love quickly brought tidings of this to theFrench gentleman, who then renewed his habits of devotion. He feared,however, that she might again throw some hindrance in his way, and thathe might not have time to tell her what he would; and so one morning,when she thought herself well concealed in a chapel, he placed himselfat the end of the altar at which she was hearing mass; and seeing thatshe was but scantily attended, he turned towards her just as the priestwas elevating the host, and in a soft and loving voice said to her--
"May I be sent to perdition, madam, by Him whom the priest has now inhis hands, if you are not causing my death. Though you take from meall means of speaking with you, you cannot be ignorant of my desire; mywearied eyes and my deathly face must make the truth apparent to you."(3)
3 The Queen of Navarre is known to have had a considerable knowledge of the Italian language, and it is therefore quite possible that she was acquainted with the story of Poliphilus and Polia, which, although no French translation of it appeared until 1554, had been issued at Venice as early as 1499. In any case, however, there is a curious similarity between the speech of the French gentleman given above and the discourse which Poliphilus addresses to Polia when he finds her saying her prayers in the temple. A considerable portion of the Italian story is in keeping with the character of the _Heptameron_ tales.--M.
The lady pretended not to understand him, and replied--
"God's name should not thus be taken in vain; but the poets say thatthe gods laugh at the oaths and lies of lovers, and so women who regardtheir honour should not show themselves credulous or compassionate."
With these words she rose up and returned home.
The gentleman's anger at these words may well be imagined by such ashave experienced the like fortune. But having no lack of spirit, he heldit better to have received this unfavourable reply than to have failedin declaring his love, to which he held fast during three years, losingneither time nor opportunity in wooing her by letters and in other ways.
For three years, however, she vouchsafed him no reply, but shunnedhim as the wolf shuns the hound that is to take him; and this she didthrough fear for her honour and fair fame, and not because she hatedhim. He perceived this so clearly that he pursued her more eagerly thanever; and at last, after many refusals, troubles, tortures and despairs,the lady took pity upon him for the greatness and steadfastness of hislove, and so granted him what he had so greatly desired and so longawaited.
When they had agreed concerning the means to be employed, the Frenchgentleman failed not to repair to her house, although in doing so heplaced his life in great danger, seeing that she and her relations livedall together.
However, being as skilful as he was handsome, he contrived the matterso prudently that he was able to enter the lady's room at the hour whichshe had appointed, and found her there all alone, lying in a beautifulbed; but as he was hasting to put off his clothes in order to join her,he heard a great whispering at the door, and a noise of swords scrapingagainst the wall.
Then the widow said to him, with the face of one nigh to death--
"Now is your life and my honour in as great danger as well can be, for Ihear my brothers outside seeking you to slay you. I pray you, therefore,hide yourself under this bed, and when they fail to find you I shallhave reason to be angry with them for alarming me without just cause."
The gentleman, who had never yet known fear, replied--
"And what, pray, are your brothers that they should frighten a man ofmettle? If the whole breed of them were there together, I am sure theywould not tarry for the fourth thrust of my sword. Do you, therefore,rest quietly in bed, and leave the guarding of this door to me."
Then he wrapped his cloak about his arm, took his drawn sword in hishand, and opened the door so that he might have a closer view ofthe swords that he had heard. When the door was opened, he saw twoserving-women, who, holding a sword in each hand, had raised this alarm.
"Sir," they said to him, "forgive us. We were commanded by our mistressto act in this manner, but you shall be hindered by us no more."
Seeing that they were women, the gentleman could do no more than bidthem go to the devil, and shut the door in their faces. Then he got intobed to the lady with all imaginable speed, his passion for her being inno wise diminished by fear; and forgetting to inquire the reason of thisskirmish, he thought only of satisfying his desire.
But when daybreak was drawing nigh, he begged his mistress to tell himwhy she had treated him so ill, both in making him wait so long, and inhaving played this last trick upon him.
"My intention," she answered, laughing, "had been never to love again,and I had observed it from the time I became a widow; but, after youhad spoken to me at the entertainment, your worth led me to changemy resolve, and to love you as much as you loved me. It is true thathonour, which had ever guided me, would not suffer me to be led by loveto do aught to the disparagement o
f my reputation. But as the poor hindwhen wounded unto death thinks by change of place to change the pain itcarries with it, so did I go from church to church thinking to flee fromhim whom I carried in my heart, and the proof of whose perfect devotionhas reconciled honour and love. However, that I might be the morecertain that I was giving my heart and love to a true man, I desired tomake this last proof by means of my serving-women. And I vow to you thathad I found you so timorous as to hide beneath my bed, either for fearof your life or for any other reason, I was resolved to rise and go intoanother room and never see you more. But since I have found that you arepossessed of more beauty, and grace, and virtue, and valour than rumourhad given you, and that fear has no power over your heart, nor can coolone whit the love you bear me, I am resolved to cleave to you for theremainder of my days. I feel sure that I could not place life andhonour in better hands than those of one whom I deem unmatched in everyvirtue."
And, just as though the human will could be unchangeable, they vowed andpromised what was not in their power, namely, perpetual affection. Forthis is a thing that can neither spring up nor abide in the heart ofman, as only those ladies know who have had experience of how long suchfeelings last. (4)
4 In Boaistuau's edition of the _Heptameron_ the final part of the above sentence is given as follows: "And those women that have had experience of it know this, and also how long such fancies last." An extract from Brantome in connection with the story will be found in the Appendix to this volume, D.
"So, ladies, if you are wise, you will beware of us even as the stag,had he understanding, would beware of the hunter; for our glory,happiness, and delight is to see you captured in order to rob you ofthat which is more precious to you than life."
"Why, Geburon," said Hircan, "since when have you turned preacher? I canremember a time when you did not talk after that fashion."
"It is quite true," said Geburon, "that I have just spoken contrary towhat I have always said my life long; but since my teeth are no longerable to chew venison, I warn the hapless deer to beware of the hunters,in order that I may atone in my old age for all the mischief which Isought to do in my youth."
"We thank you, Geburon," said Nomerfide, "for warning us to our profit,but for all that we do not feel very greatly beholden to you. You neverspoke in that way to one you truly loved, and this is a proof thatyou have little love for us, and, moreover, would not have us loved.Nevertheless, we hold ourselves as discreet and as virtuous as theladies whom you so long pursued in your youth. But old folk are commonlyvain enough to think that they have been wiser in their time than thosewho come after them."
"Well, Nomerfide," said Geburon, "will you believe that I have toldyou the truth when the faithlessness of one of your lovers has made youacquainted with the evil nature of men?"
"It seems to me," said Oisille to Geburon, "that the gentleman whom youpraise so highly for his boldness ought rather to be praised for theardour of his love. So strong is this passion, that it impels the mostcowardly to embark on enterprises about which the bravest would thinktwice."
"If, madam," said Saffredent, "he'had not deemed the Italians to bebetter at talking than acting, me-thinks he had reason to be afraid."
"Yes," said Oisille, "if he had not had in his heart the fire thatconsumes fear."
"Since you do not deem the boldness of this gentleman altogether worthyof praise," said Hircan, "you doubtless know of some one else moredeserving of commendation."
"Nay," said Oisille, "the gentleman in the story deserves praise, but Ido know of one who is more worthy of being admired."
"I pray you, madam," said Geburon, "if that be so, take my place andtell us the tale."
"If," began Oisille, "a man who showed such boldness against theMilanese to save his own life and his mistress's honour is to beesteemed so very brave, what shall be said of one who, without any needfor it, and from pure and simple valour, performed the deed of which Iwill now tell you?"
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