_TALE IX_.
_The perfect love borne by a gentleman to a damsel, being too deeplyconcealed and disregarded, brought about his death, to the great regretof his sweetheart_.
Between Dauphine and Provence there lived a gentleman who was far richerin virtue, comeliness, and honour than in other possessions, and who wasgreatly in love with a certain damsel. I will not mention her name,out of consideration for her kinsfolk, who are of good and illustriousdescent; but you may rest assured that my story is a true one. As he wasnot of such noble birth as herself, he durst not reveal his affection,for the love he bore her was so great and perfect that he would ratherhave died than have desired aught to her dishonour. Seeing that he wasso greatly beneath her, he had no hope of marrying her; in his love,therefore, his only purpose was to love her with all his strength andas perfectly as he was able. This he did for so long a time that at lastshe had some knowledge of it; and, seeing that the love he bore herwas so full of virtue and of good intent, she felt honoured by it, andshowed him in turn so much favour that he, who sought nothing betterthan this, was well contented.
But malice, which is the enemy of all peace, could not suffer thishonourable and happy life to last, and certain persons spoke to themaiden's mother of their amazement at this gentleman being thought somuch of in her house. They said that they suspected him of coming theremore on account of her daughter than of aught else, adding that hehad often been seen in converse with her. The mother, who doubted thegentleman's honour as little as that of any of her own children, wasmuch distressed on hearing that his presence was taken in bad part, and,dreading lest malicious tongues should cause a scandal, she entreatedthat he would not for some time frequent her house as he had been wontto do. He found this hard to bear, for he knew that his honourableconversation with her daughter did not deserve such estrangement.Nevertheless, in order to silence evil gossip, he withdrew until therumours had ceased; then he returned as before, his absence having in nowise lessened his love.
One day, however, whilst he was in the house, he heard some talk ofmarrying the damsel to a gentleman who did not seem to him to be so veryrich that he should be entitled to take his mistress from him. So hebegan to pluck up courage, and engaged his friends to speak for him,believing that, if the choice were left to the damsel, she would preferhim to his rival. Nevertheless, the mother and kinsfolk chose theother suitor, because he was much richer; whereupon the poor gentleman,knowing his sweetheart to be as little pleased as himself, gave way tosuch sorrow, that by degrees, and without any other distemper, he becamegreatly changed, seeming as though he had covered the comeliness of hisface with the mask of that death, to which hour by hour he was joyouslyhastening.
Meanwhile, he could not refrain from going as often as was possible toconverse with her whom he so greatly loved. But at last, when strengthfailed him, he was constrained to keep his bed; yet he would not havehis sweetheart know of this, lest he should cast part of his grief onher. And giving himself up to despair and sadness, he was no longer ableto eat, drink, sleep, or rest, so that it became impossible to recognisehim by reason of his leanness and strangely altered features.
Some one brought the news of this to his sweetheart's mother, who wasa lady full of charity, and who had, moreover, such a liking for thegentleman, that if all the kinsfolk had been of the same opinion asherself and her daughter, his merits would have been preferred to thepossessions of the other. But the kinsfolk on the father's side wouldnot hear of it. However, the lady went with her daughter to see theunhappy gentleman, and found him more dead than alive. Perceiving thatthe end of his life was at hand, he had that morning confessed andreceived the Holy Sacrament, thinking to die without seeing anybodymore. But although he was at death's door, when he saw her who for himwas the resurrection and the life come in, he felt so strengthened thathe started up in bed.
"What motive," said he to the lady, "has inclined you to come and seeone who already has a foot in the grave, and of whose death you areyourself the cause?"
"How is it possible," said the lady, "that the death of one whom welike so well can be brought about by our fault? Tell me, I pray, why youspeak in this manner?"
"Madam," he replied, "I concealed my love for your daughter as long as Iwas able; and my kinsfolk, in speaking of a marriage between myselfand her, made known more than I desired, since I have thereby had themisfortune to lose all hope; not, indeed, in regard to my own pleasure,but because I know that she will never have such fair treatment and somuch love from any other as she would have had from me. Her loss ofthe best and most loving friend she has in the world causes me moreaffliction than the loss of my own life, which I desired to preserve forher sake only. But since it cannot in any wise be of service to her, theloss of it is to me great gain."
Hearing these words, the lady and her daughter sought to comfort him.
"Take courage, my friend," said the mother. "I pledge you my word that,if God gives you back your health, my daughter shall have no otherhusband but you. See, she is here present, and I charge her to promiseyou the same."
The daughter, weeping, strove to assure him of what her mother promised.He well knew, however, that even if his health were restored he wouldstill lose his sweetheart, and that these fair words were only utteredin order somewhat to revive him. Accordingly, he told them that had theyspoken to him thus three months before, he would have been the lustiestand happiest gentleman in France; but that their aid came so late, itcould bring him neither belief nor hope. Then, seeing that they stroveto make him believe them, he said--
"Well, since, on account of my feeble state, you promise me a blessingwhich, even though you would yourselves have it so, can never be mine, Iwill entreat of you a much smaller one, for which, however, I was neveryet bold enough to ask."
They immediately vowed that they would grant it, and bade him askboldly.
"I entreat you," he said, "to place in my arms her whom you promise mefor my wife, and to bid her embrace and kiss me."
The daughter, who was unaccustomed to such familiarity, sought to makesome difficulty, but her mother straightly commanded her, seeing thatthe gentleman no longer had the feelings or vigour of a living man.Being thus commanded, the girl went up to the poor sufferer's bedside,saying--
"I pray you, sweetheart, be of good cheer."
Then, as well as he could, the dying man stretched forth his arms,wherein flesh and blood alike were lacking, and with all the strengthremaining in his bones embraced her who was the cause of his death. Andkissing her with his pale cold lips, he held her thus as long as he wasable. Then he said to her--
"The love I have borne you has been so great and honourable, that,excepting in marriage, I have never desired of you any other favourthan the one you are granting me now, for lack of which and with whichI shall cheerfully yield up my spirit to God. He is perfect love andcharity. He knows the greatness of my love and the purity of my desire,and I beseech Him, while I hold my desire within my arms, to receive myspirit into His own."
With these words he again took her in his arms, and with such exceedingardour that his enfeebled heart, unable to endure the effort, wasdeprived of all its faculties and life; for joy caused it so to swellthat the soul was severed from its abode and took flight to its Creator.
And even when the poor body had lain a long time without life, and wasthus unable to retain its hold, the love which the damsel had alwaysconcealed was made manifest in such a fashion that her mother andthe dead man's servants had much ado to separate her from her lover.However, the girl, who, though living, was in a worse condition than ifshe had been dead, was by force removed at last out of the gentleman'sarms. To him they gave honourable burial; and the crowning point ofthe ceremony was the weeping and lamentation of the unhappy damsel,who having concealed her love during his lifetime, made it all the moremanifest after his death, as though she wished to atone for the wrongthat she had done him. And I have heard that although she was given ahusband to comfort her, she has never since had joy
in her heart. (1)
1 By an expression made use of by Dagoucin (see _ante_), Queen Margaret gives us to understand that the incidents here related occurred three years prior to the writing of the story. It may be pointed out, however, that there is considerable analogy between the conclusion of this tale and the death of Geffroy Rudel de Blaye, one of the earliest troubadours whose name has been handed down to us. Geffroy, who lived at the close of the twelfth century, became so madly enamoured of the charms of the Countess of Tripoli, after merely hearing an account of her moral and physical perfections, that, although in failing health, he embarked for Africa to see her. On reaching the port of Tripoli, he no longer had sufficient strength to leave the vessel, whereupon the Countess, touched by his love, visited him on board, taking his hand and giving him a kindly greeting. Geffroy could scarcely say a few words of thanks; his emotion was so acute that he died upon the spot. See J. de Nostredame's _Vies des plus Celebres et Anciens Poetes Provencaux_(Lyons, 1575, p. 25); Raynouard's _Choix des Poesies des Troubadours_ (vol. v. p. 165); and also Raynouard's _Histoire Litteraire de la France_ (vol. xiv. p. 559).--L.
"What think you of that, gentlemen, you who would not believe what Isaid? Is not this example sufficient to make you confess that perfectlove, when concealed and disregarded, may bring folks to the grave?There is not one among you but knows the kinsfolk on the one and theother side, (2) and so you cannot doubt the story, although nobody wouldbe disposed to believe it unless he had some experience in the matter."
2 This certainly points to the conclusion that the tale is founded upon fact, and not, as M. Leroux de Lincy suggests, borrowed from the story of Geffroy Rudel de Blaye. It will have been observed (_ante_) that the Queen of Navarre curiously enough lays the scene of her narrative between Provence and Dauphine. These two provinces bordered upon one another, excepting upon one point where they were separated by the so-called Comtat Venaissin or Papal state of Avignon. Here, therefore, the incidents of the story, if authentic, would probably have occurred. The story may be compared with Tale L. (_post_).--Ed.
When the ladies heard this they all had tears in their eyes, but Hircansaid to them--
"He was the greatest fool I ever heard of. By your faith, now, I askyou, is it reasonable that we should die for women who are made only forus, or that we should be afraid to ask them for what God has commandedthem to give us? I do not speak for myself nor for any who are married.I myself have all that I want or more; but I say it for such men asare in need. To my thinking, they must be fools to fear those whom theyshould rather make afraid. Do you not perceive how greatly this poordamsel regretted her folly? Since she embraced the gentleman's deadbody--an action repugnant to human nature--she would not have refusedhim while he was alive had he then trusted as much to boldness as hetrusted to pity when he lay upon his death-bed."
"Nevertheless," said Oisille, "the gentleman most plainly showed that hebore her an honourable love, and for this he will ever be worthy ofall praise. Chastity in a lover's heart is something divine rather thanhuman."
"Madam," said Saffredent, "in support of Hircan's opinion, which is alsomine, I pray you believe that Fortune favours the bold, and that thereis no man loved by a lady but may at last, in whole or in part, obtainfrom her what he desires, provided he seek it with wisdom and passion.But ignorance and foolish fear cause men to lose many a good chance; andthen they impute their loss to their mistress's virtue, which they havenever verified with so much as the tip of the finger. A fortress wasnever well assailed but it was taken."
"Nay," said Parlamente, "I am amazed that you two should dare to talk inthis way. Those whom you have loved owe you but little thanks, or elseyour courting has been carried on in such evil places that you deem allwomen to be alike."
"For myself, madam," said Saffredent, "I have been so unfortunate thatI am unable to boast; but I impute my bad luck less to the virtue ofthe ladies than to my own fault, in not conducting my enterprises withsufficient prudence and sagacity. In support of my opinion I will citeno other authority than the old woman in the _Romance of the Rose_, whosays--
'Of all, fair sirs, it truly may be said, Woman for man and man for woman's made.' (3)
3 From John de Mehun's continuation of the poem.--M. 2
Accordingly I shall always believe that if love once enters awoman's heart, her lover will have fair fortune, provided he be not asimpleton."
"Well," said Parlamente, "if I were to name to you a very loving womanwho was greatly sought after, beset and importuned, and who, like avirtuous lady, proved victorious over her heart, flesh, love and lover,would you believe this true thing possible?"
"Yes," said he, "I would."
"Then," said Parlamente, "you must all be hard of belief if you do notbelieve this story."
"Madam," said Dagoucin, "since I have given an example to show how thelove of a virtuous gentleman lasted even until death, I pray you, if youknow any such story to the honour of a lady, to tell it to us, and soend this day. And be not afraid to speak at length, for there is yettime to relate many a pleasant matter."
"Then, since I am to wind up the day," said Parlamente, "I will make nolong preamble, for my story is so beautiful and true that I long to haveyou know it as well as I do myself. Although I was not an actual witnessof the events, they were told to me by one of my best and dearestfriends in praise of the man whom of all the world he had loved themost. But he charged me, should I ever chance to relate them, to changethe names of the persons. Apart, therefore, from the names of personsand places the story is wholly true."
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[The Countess asking an Explanation from Amadour]
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