_TALE X_.
_Florida, after virtuously resisting Amadour, who had assailed herhonour almost to the last extremity, repaired, upon her husbands death,to the convent of Jesus, and there took the veil_. (1)
1 This tale appears to be a combination of fact and fiction. Although Queen Margaret states that she has changed the names of the persons, and also of the places where the incidents happened, several historical events are certainly brought into the narrative, the scene of which is laid in Spain during the reign of Ferdinand and Isabella. M. Le Roux de Lincy is of opinion, however, that Margaret really refers to some affair at the Court of Charles VIII. or Louis XII., and he remarks that there is great similarity between the position of the Countess of Aranda, left a widow at an early age with a son and a daughter, and that of Louise of Savoy with her two children. M. Lacroix and M. Dillaye believe the hero and heroine to be Admiral de Bonnivet and Margaret. It has often been suspected that the latter regarded her brother's favourite with affection until after the attempt related in Tale IV.--Ed.
In the county of Aranda, (2) in Aragon, there lived a lady who, whilestill very young, was left a widow, with a son and a daughter, by theCount of Aranda, the name of the daughter being Florida. This ladystrove to bring up her children in all the virtues and qualities whichbeseem lords and gentlemen, so that her house was reputed to be one ofthe most honourable in all the Spains. She often went to Toledo, wherethe King of Spain dwelt, and when she came to Saragossa, which was notfar from her house, she would remain a long while with the Queen and theCourt, by whom she was held in as high esteem as any lady could be.
2 Aranda, in the valley of the Duero, between Burgos and Madrid, is one of the most ancient towns in Spain, but of miserable aspect, although a large trade is carried on there in cheap red wines. (Ferdinand and Isabella resided for some time at Aranda.--Ed.)
Going one day, according to her custom, to visit the King, then at hiscastle of La Jasserye, (3) at Saragossa, this lady passed through avillage belonging to the Viceroy of Catalonia, (4) who, by reason of thegreat wars between the kings of France and Spain, had not been wont tostir from the frontier at Perpignan. But for the time being there waspeace, so that the Viceroy and all his captains had come to do homage tothe King. The Viceroy, learning that the Countess of Aranda was passingthrough his domain, went to meet her, not only for the sake of theancient friendship he bore her, but in order to do her honour as akinswoman of the King's.
3 This castle is called La Jafferie in Boaistuau's edition of 1558, and several learned commentators have speculated as to which is the correct spelling. Not one of them seems to have been aware that in the immediate vicinity of Saragossa there still stands an old castle called El Jaferia or Aljaferia, which, after being the residence of the Moorish sovereigns, became that of the Spanish kings of Aragon. It has of modern times been transformed into barracks.--Ed.
4 Henry of Aragon, Duke of Segorbe and Count of Ribagorce, was Viceroy of Catalonia at this period. He was called the Infante of Fortune, on account of his father having died before his birth in 1445.--B. J.
Now he had in his train many honourable gentlemen, who, in the longwaging of war, had gained such great honour and renown that all who sawthem and consorted with them deemed themselves fortunate. Among othersthere was one named Amadour, who, although but eighteen or nineteenyears old, was possessed of such well-assured grace and of suchexcellent understanding that he would have been chosen from athousand to hold a public office. It is true that this excellence ofunderstanding was accompanied by such rare and winsome beauty that nonecould look at him without pleasure. And if his comeliness was of thechoicest, it was so hard pressed by his speech that one knew not whetherto give the greatest honour to his grace, his beauty, or the excellenceof his conversation.
What caused him, however, to be still more highly esteemed was his greatdaring, which was no whit diminished by his youth. He had already shownin many places what he could do, so that not only the Spains, but Franceand Italy also made great account of his merits. For in all the warsin which he had taken part he had never spared himself, and when hiscountry was at peace he would go in quest of wars in foreign lands,where he was loved and honoured by both friend and foe.
This gentleman, for the love he bore his commander, had come to thedomain where the Countess of Aranda had arrived, and remarking thebeauty and grace of her daughter Florida, who was then only twelve yearsold, he thought to himself that she was the fairest maiden he had everseen, and that if he could win her favour it would give him greatersatisfaction than all the wealth and pleasure he might obtain fromanother. After looking at her for a long time he resolved to love her,although his reason told him that what he desired was impossible byreason of her lineage as well as of her age, which was such that shecould not yet understand any amorous discourse. In spite of this, hefortified himself with hope, and reflected that time and patience mightbring his efforts to a happy issue. And from that moment the kindlylove, which of itself alone had entered Amadour's heart, assured him ofall favour and the means of attaining his end.
To overcome the greatest difficulty before him, which consisted in theremoteness of his own home and the few opportunities he would have ofseeing Florida again, he resolved to get married. This was contraryto what he had determined whilst with the ladies of Barcelona andPerpignan, in which places he was in such favour that little or nothingwas refused him; and, indeed, by reason of the wars, he had dwelt solong on the frontiers that, although he was born near Toledo, he seemedrather a Catalan than a Castillan. He came of a rich and honourablehouse, but being a younger son, he was without patrimony; and thus itwas that Love and Fortune, seeing him neglected by his kin, determinedto make him their masterpiece, endowing him with such qualities asmight obtain what the laws of the land had refused him. He was ofmuch experience in the art of war, and was so beloved by all lordsand princes that he refused their favours more frequently than he hadoccasion to seek them.
The Countess, of whom I have spoken, arrived then at Saragossa and waswell received by the King and all his Court. The Governor of Cataloniaoften came to visit her, and Amadour failed not to accompany him thathe might have the pleasure of merely seeing Florida, for he had noopportunity of speaking with her. In order to establish himself in thisgoodly company he paid his addresses to the daughter of an old knight,his neighbour. This maiden was named Avanturada, and was so intimatewith Florida that she knew all the secrets of her heart. Amadour,as much for the worth which he found in Avanturada as for the threethousand ducats a year which formed her dowry, determined to address heras a suitor, and she willingly gave ear to him. But as he was poor andher father was rich, she feared that the latter would never consentto the marriage except at the instance of the Countess of Aranda. Shetherefore had recourse to the lady Florida and said to her--
"You have seen, madam, that Castilian gentleman who often talks to me.I believe that all his aim is to have me in marriage. You know, however,what kind of father I have; he will never consent to the match unless hebe earnestly entreated by the Countess and you."
Florida, who loved the damsel as herself, assured her that she wouldlay the matter to heart as though it were for her own benefit; andAvanturada then ventured so far as to present Amadour to her. He waslike to swoon for joy on kissing Florida's hand, and although he wasaccounted the readiest speaker in Spain, yet in her presence he becamedumb. At this she was greatly surprised, for, although she was onlytwelve years old, she had already often heard it said that there was noman in Spain who could speak better or with more grace. So, finding thathe said nothing to her, she herself spoke.
"Senor Amadour," she began, "the renown you enjoy throughout all theSpains has made you known to everybody here, and all are desirous ofaffording you pleasure. If therefore I can in any way do this, you maydispose of me."
Amadour was in such rapture a
t sight of the lady's beauty that he couldscarcely utter his thanks. However, although Florida was astonished tofind that he made no further reply, she imputed it rather to some whimthan to the power of love; and so she withdrew, without saying anythingmore.
Amadour, who perceived the qualities which even in earliest youth werebeginning to show themselves in Florida, now said to her whom he desiredto marry--
"Do not be surprised if I lost the power of utterance in presence ofthe lady Florida. I was so astonished at finding such qualities and suchsensible speech in one so very young that I knew not what to say to her.But I pray you, Avanturada, you who know her secrets, tell me if shedoes not of necessity possess the hearts of all the gentlemen of theCourt. Any who know her and do not love her must be stones or brutes."
Avanturada, who already loved Amadour more than any other man in theworld, could conceal nothing from him, but told him that Florida wasloved by every one. However, by reason of the custom of the country, fewspoke to her, and only two had as yet made any show of love towardsher. These were two princes of Spain, and they desired to marry her, onebeing the son of the Infante of Fortune (5) and the other the young Dukeof Cardona. (6)
5 M. Lacroix asserts that the Infante of Fortune left no son by his wife, Guyomare de Castro y Norogna; whereas M. Le Roux de Lincy contends that he had a son--Alfonso of Aragon-- who in 1506 was proposed as a husband for Crazy Jane. Alfonso would therefore probably be the prince referred to by Margaret.--Ed.
6 Cardona, a fortified town on the river Cardoner, at a few miles from Barcelona, was a county in the time of Ferdinand and Isabella, and was raised by them to the rank of a duchy in favour of Ramon Folch I. To-day it has between two and three thousand inhabitants, and is chiefly noted for its strongly built castillo. The young Duke spoken of by Queen Margaret would be Ramon Folch's son, who was also named Ramon.--B. J. and Ed.
"I pray you," said Amadour, "tell me which of them you think she lovesthe most."
"She is so discreet," said Avanturada, "that on no account would sheconfess to having any wish but her mother's. Nevertheless, as far as canbe judged, she likes the son of the Infante of Fortune far more than shelikes the young Duke of Cardona. But her mother would rather have her atCardona, for then she would not be so far away. I hold you for a manof good understanding, and, if you are so minded, you may judge of herchoice this very day, for the son of the Infante of Fortune, who is oneof the handsomest and most accomplished princes in Christendom, is beingbrought up at this Court. If we damsels could decide the marriage by ouropinions, he would be sure of having the Lady Florida, for they wouldmake the comeliest couple in all Spain. You must know that, althoughthey are both young, she being but twelve and he but fifteen, it isnow three years since their love for each other first began; and ifyou would secure her favour, I advise you to become his friend andfollower."
Amadour was well pleased to find that Florida loved something, hopingthat in time he might gain the place not of husband but of lover. He hadno fear in regard to her virtue, but was rather afraid lest she shouldbe insensible to love. After this conversation he began to consort withthe son of the Infante of Fortune, and readily gained his favour, beingwell skilled in all the pastimes that the young Prince was fond of,especially in the handling of horses, in the practice of all kinds ofweapons, and indeed in every diversion and pastime befitting a youngman.
However, war broke out again in Languedoc, and it was necessary thatAmadour should return thither with the Governor. This he did, but notwithout great regret, since he could in no wise contrive to return towhere he might see Florida. Accordingly, when he was setting forth, hespoke to a brother of his, who was majordomo to the Queen of Spain,and told him of the good match he had found in the Countess of Aranda'shouse, in the person of Avanturada; entreating him, in his absence,to do all that he could to bring about the marriage, by employing hiscredit with the King, the Queen, and all his friends. The majordomo, whowas attached to his brother, not only by reason of their kinship, but onaccount of Amadour's excellent qualities, promised to do his best. Thishe did in such wise that the avaricious old father forgot his own natureto ponder over the qualities of Amadour, as pictured to him by theCountess of Aranda, and especially by the fair Florida, as well as bythe young Count of Aranda, who was now beginning to grow up, and toesteem people of merit. When the marriage had been agreed upon by thekinsfolk, the Queen's majordomo sent for his brother, there being atthat time a truce between the two kings. (7)
Meanwhile, the King of Spain withdrew to Madrid to avoid the bad airwhich prevailed in divers places, and, by the advice of his Council, aswell as at the request of the Countess of Aranda, he consented to themarriage of the young Count with the heiress Duchess of Medina Celi.(8) He did this no less for their contentment and the union of the twohouses than for the affection he bore the Countess of Aranda; and hecaused the marriage to be celebrated at the castle of Madrid. (9)
7 There had been a truce in 1497, but Queen Margaret probably alludes to that of four months' duration towards the close of 1503.--B.J.
8 Felix-Maria, widow of the Duke of Feria, and elder sister of Luis Francisco de la Cerda, ninth of the name. She became heiress to the titles and estates of the house of Medina- Celi upon her brother's death. If, however, Queen Margaret is really describing some incident in her own life, she must refer to Louis XII.'s daughter, Claude, married in 1514 to Francis I.--D.
9 The castle here referred to was the Moorish Alcazar, destroyed by fire in 1734. The previous statement that King Ferdinand withdrew to Madrid on account of the bad air prevailing in other places is borne out by the fact that the town enjoyed a most delightful climate prior to the destruction of the forests which surrounded it.--Ed.
Amadour was present at this wedding, and succeeded so well in furtheringhis own union, that he married Avanturada, whose affection for him wasfar greater than his was for her. But this marriage furnished him with avery convenient cloak, and gave him an excuse for resorting to the placewhere his spirit ever dwelt. After he was married he became very boldand familiar in the Countess of Aranda's household, so that he was nomore distrusted than if he had been a woman. And although he wasnow only twenty-two years of age, he showed such good sense that theCountess of Aranda informed him of all her affairs, and bade her sonconsult with him and follow his counsel.
Having gained their esteem thus far, Amadour comported himself soprudently and calmly that even the lady he loved was not aware of hisaffection for her. By reason, however, of the love she bore his wife, towhom she was more attached than to any other woman, she concealed noneof her thoughts from him, and was pleased to tell him of all her lovefor the son of the Infante of Fortune. Although Amadour's sole aim wasto win her entirely for himself, he continually spoke to her ofthe Prince; indeed, he cared not what might be the subject of theirconverse, provided only that he could talk to her for a long time.However, he had not remained a month in this society after his marriagewhen he was constrained to return to the war, and he was absent for morethan two years without returning to see his wife, who continued to livein the place where she had been brought up.
Meanwhile Amadour often wrote to her, but his letters were for the mostpart messages to Florida, who on her side never failed to return them,and would with her own hand add some pleasant words to the letters whichAvanturada wrote. It was on this account that the husband of the latterwrote to her very frequently; yet of all this Florida knew nothingexcept that she loved Amadour as if he had been her brother. Severaltimes during the course of five years did Amadour return and go awayagain; yet so short was his stay that he did not see Florida for twomonths altogether. Nevertheless, in spite of distance and length ofabsence, his love continued to increase.
At last it happened that he made a journey to see his wife, and foundthe Countess far removed from the Court, for the King of Spain was goneinto Andalusia, (10) taking
with him the young Count of Aranda, who wasalready beginning to bear arms.
10 There had been a revolt at Granada in 1499, and in the following year the Moors rose in the Alpujarras, whereupon King Ferdinand marched against them in person.--L.
Thus the Countess had withdrawn to a country-house belonging to heron the frontiers of Aragon and Navarre. She was well pleased on seeingAmadour, who had now been away for nearly three years. He was madewelcome by all, and the Countess commanded that he should be treatedlike her own son. Whilst he was with her she informed him of all theaffairs of her household, leaving most of them to his judgment. And somuch credit did he win in her house that wherever he visited all doorswere opened to him, and, indeed, people held his prudence in such highesteem that he was trusted in all things as though he had been an angelor a saint.
Florida, by reason of the love she bore his wife and himself, soughthim out wherever he went. She had no suspicion of his purpose, and wasunrestrained in her manners, for her heart was free from love, save thatshe felt great contentment whenever she was near Amadour. To more thanthis she gave not a thought.
Amadour, however, had a hard task to escape the observation of thosewho knew by experience how to distinguish a lover's looks from anotherman's; for when Florida, thinking no evil, came and spoke familiarly tohim, the fire that was hidden in his heart so consumed him that he couldnot keep the colour from rising to his face or sparks of flame fromdarting from his eyes. Thus, in order that none might be any the wiser,he began to pay court to a very beautiful lady named Paulina, a womanso famed for beauty in her day that few men who saw her escaped from hertoils.
This Paulina had heard how Amadour had made love at Barcelona andPerpignan, insomuch that he had gained the affection of the highest andmost beautiful ladies in the land, especially that of a certain Countessof Palamos, who was esteemed the first for beauty among all the ladiesof Spain; and she told him that she greatly pitied him, since, after somuch good fortune, he had married such an ugly wife. Amadour, who wellunderstood by these words that she had a mind to supply his need, madeher the fairest speeches he could devise, seeking to conceal the truthby persuading her of a falsehood. But she, being subtle and experiencedin love, was not to be put off with mere words; and feeling sure thathis heart was not to be satisfied with such love as she could give him,she suspected he wished to make her serve as a cloak, and so kept closewatch upon his eyes. These, however, knew so well how to dissemble, thatshe had nothing to guide her but the barest suspicion.
Nevertheless, her observation sorely troubled Amadour; for Florida, whowas ignorant of all these wiles, often spoke to him before Paulina insuch a familiar fashion that he had to make wondrous efforts to compelhis eyes to belie his heart. To avoid unpleasant consequences, he oneday, while leaning against a window, spoke thus to Florida--
"I pray you, sweetheart, counsel me whether it is better for a man tospeak or die?"
Florida forthwith replied--
"I shall always counsel my friends to speak and not to die. Thereare few words that cannot be mended, but life once lost can never beregained."
"Will you promise me, then," said Amadour, "that you will not bedispleased by what I wish to tell you, nor yet alarmed at it, until youhave heard me to the end?"
"Say what you will," she replied; "if you alarm me, none can reassureme."
"For two reasons," he then began, "I have hitherto been unwilling totell you of the great affection that I feel for you. First, I wished toprove it to you by long service, and secondly, I feared that you mightdeem it presumption in me, who am but a simple gentleman, to addressmyself to one upon whom it is not fitting that I should look. Andeven though I were of royal station like your own, your heart, in itsloyalty, would suffer none save the son of the Infante of Fortune,who has won it, to speak to you of love. But just as in a great warnecessity compels men to devastate their own possessions and to destroytheir corn in the blade, that the enemy may derive no profit therefrom,so do I risk anticipating the fruit which I had hoped to gather inseason, lest your enemies and mine profit by it to your detriment.Know, then, that from your earliest youth I have devoted myself to yourservice and have ever striven to win your favour. For this purpose aloneI married her whom I thought you loved best, and, being acquainted withthe love you bear to the son of the Infante of Fortune, I have strivento serve him and consort with him, as you yourself know. I have soughtwith all my power for everything that I thought could give you pleasure.You see that I have won the esteem of your mother, the Countess, andof your brother, the Count, and of all you love, so that I am regardedhere, not as a dependant, but as one of the family. All my efforts forfive years past have had no other end than that I might spend my wholelife near you.
"Understand that I am not one of those who would by these means seek toobtain from you any favour or pleasure otherwise than virtuous. I knowthat I cannot marry you, and even if I could, I would not do so in faceof the love you bear him whom I would fain see your husband. And as forloving you with a vicious love like those who hope that long servicewill bring them a reward to the dishonour of a lady, that is far from mypurpose. I would rather see you dead than know that you were less worthyof being loved, or that your virtue had diminished for the sake ofany pleasure to me. For the end and reward of my service I ask but onething, namely, that you will be so faithful a mistress to me, as neverto take your favour from me, and that you will suffer me to continue asI now am, trusting in me more than in any other, and accepting from methe assurance that if for your honour's sake, or for aught concerningyou, you ever have need of a gentleman's life, I will gladly place mineat your disposal. You may be sure also that whatever I may do that ishonourable and virtuous, will be done solely for love of you. If for thesake of ladies less worthy than you I have ever done anything that hasbeen considered of account, be sure that, for a mistress like yourself,my enterprise will so increase, that things I heretofore foundimpossible will become very easy to me. If, however, you will not acceptme as wholly yours, I am resolved to lay aside my arms and to renouncethe valour which has failed to help me in my need. So I pray you grantme my just request, for your honour and conscience cannot refuse it."
The maiden, hearing these unwonted words, began to change colour and tocast down her eyes like a woman in alarm. However, being sensible anddiscreet, she replied--
"Since you already have what you ask of me, Amadour, why make me sucha long harangue? I fear me lest beneath your honourable words there besome hidden guile to deceive my ignorance and youth, and I am sorelyperplexed what to reply. Were I to refuse the honourable love you offer,I should do contrary to what I have hitherto done, for I have alwaystrusted you more than any other man in the world. Neither my consciencenor my honour oppose your request, nor yet the love I bear the son ofthe Infante of Fortune, for that is founded on marriage, to which you donot aspire. I know of nothing that should hinder me from answering youaccording to your desire, if it be not a fear arising from the smallneed you have for talking to me in this wise; for if what you ask isalready yours, why speak of it so ardently?"
Amadour, who was at no loss for an answer, then said to her--
"Madam, you speak very discreetly, and you honour me so greatly by thetrust which you say you have in me, that if I were not satisfied withsuch good fortune I should be quite unworthy of it. But consider, madam,that he who would build an edifice to last for ever must be carefulto have a sure and stable foundation. In the same way I, wishing tocontinue for ever in your service, must not only take care to have themeans of remaining near to you, but also to prevent any one from knowingof the great affection that I bear you. Although it is honourable enoughto be everywhere proclaimed, yet those who know nothing of lovers'hearts often judge contrary to the truth, and thence come reports asmischievous as though they were true. I have been prompted to say this,and led to declare my love to you, because Paulina, feeling in her heartthat I cannot love her, holds me in suspicion and does nought but watchmy face wherever I may b
e. Hence, when you come and speak to me sofamiliarly in her presence, I am in great fear lest I should make somesign on which she may ground her judgment, and should so fall into thatwhich I am anxious to avoid. For this reason I am lead to entreat younot to come and speak to me so suddenly before her or before others whomyou know to be equally malicious, for I would rather die than have anyliving creature know the truth. Were I not so regardful of your honour,I should not have sought this converse with you, for I hold myselfsufficiently happy in the love and trust you bear me, and I ask nothingmore save that they may continue."
Florida, who could not have been better pleased, began to be sensibleof an unwonted feeling in her heart. She saw how honourable were thereasons which he laid before her; and she told him that virtue andhonour replied for her, and that she granted him his request. Amadour'sjoy at this no true lover can doubt.
Florida, however, gave more heed to his counsel than he desired, for shebecame timid not only in presence of Paulina but elsewhere, and ceasedto seek him out as she had been accustomed to do. While they were thusseparated she took Amadour's constant converse with Paulina in bad part,for, seeing that the latter was beautiful, she could not believethat Amadour did not love her. To beguile her sorrow she conversedcontinually with Avanturada, who was beginning to feel very jealous ofher husband and Paulina, and often complained of them to Florida, whocomforted her as well as she could, being herself smitten with the samedisease. Amadour soon perceived the change in Florida's demeanour, andforthwith thought that she was keeping aloof from him not merely by hisown advice, but also on account of some bitter fancies of her own.
One day, when they were coming from vespers at a monastery, he spoke toher, and asked--
"What countenance is this you show me, madam?"
"That which I believe you desire," replied Florida.
Thereupon, suspecting the truth, and desiring to know whether he wasright, he said to her--
"I have used my time so well, madam, that Paulina no longer has anysuspicion of you."
"You could not do better," she replied, "both for yourself and for me.While giving pleasure to yourself you bring me honour."
Amadour gathered from this speech that she believed he took pleasure inconversing with Paulina, and so great was his despair that he could notrefrain from saying angrily to her--
"In truth, madam, you begin betimes to torment your lover and pelt himwith hard words. I do not think I ever had a more irksome task than tobe obliged to hold converse with a lady I do not love. But since youtake what I have done to serve you in bad part, I will never speakto her again, happen what may. And that I may hide my wrath as I havehidden my joy, I will betake me to some place in the neighbourhood, andthere wait till your caprice has passed away. I hope, however, I shallthere receive tidings from my captain and be called back to the war,where I will remain long enough to show you that nothing but yourselfhas kept me here."
So saying, he forthwith departed without waiting for her reply.
Florida felt the greatest vexation and sorrow imaginable; and love,meeting with opposition, began to put forth its mighty strength. Sheperceived that she had been in the wrong, and wrote continually toAmadour entreating him to return, which he did after a few days, whenhis anger had abated.
I cannot undertake to tell you minutely all that they said to each otherin order to destroy this jealousy. But at all events he won the victory,and she promised him that not only would she never believe he lovedPaulina, but that she would ever be convinced he found it an intolerablemartyrdom to speak either to Paulina or to any one else except to doherself a service.
When love had conquered this first suspicion, and while the two loverswere beginning to take fresh pleasure in conversing together, news camethat the King of Spain was sending all his army to Salces. (11)
11 Salces, a village about fifteen miles north of Perpignan, noted for its formidable fortress, still existing and commanding a pass through the Corbiere Mountains, which in the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries separated France from Roussillon, then belonging to Spain. The French burnt the village and demolished the fort of Salces in 1496, but the latter was rebuilt by the Spaniards in the most massive style. The walls of the fort are 66 feet thick at the base and 54 feet thick at the summit. When Queen Margaret returned from Spain in 152,5 she reached France by the pass of Salces. (See vol. i. p. xlvi.).--Ed.
Amadour, accustomed ever to be the first in battle, failed not to seizethis opportunity of winning renown; but in truth he set forth withunwonted regret, both on account of the pleasure he was losing andbecause he feared that he might find a change on his return. He knewthat Florida, who was now fifteen or sixteen years old, was sought inmarriage by many great princes and lords, and he reflected that if shewere married during his absence he might have no further opportunity ofseeing her, unless, indeed, the Countess of Aranda gave her his wife,Avanturada, as a companion. However, by skilful management with hisfriends, he obtained a promise from both mother and daughter thatwherever Florida might go after her marriage thither should his wife,Avanturada, accompany her. Although it was proposed to marry Floridain Portugal, it was nevertheless resolved that Avanturada should neverleave her. With this assurance, yet not without unspeakable regret,Amadour went away and left his wife with the Countess.
When Florida found herself alone after his departure, she set aboutdoing such good and virtuous works as she hoped might win her thereputation that belongs to the most perfect women, and might prove herto be worthy of such a lover as Amadour. He having arrived at Barcelona,was there welcomed by the ladies as of old; but they found a greaterchange in him than they believed it possible for marriage to effect inany man. He seemed to be vexed by the sight of things he hadformerly desired; and even the Countess of Palamos, whom he had lovedexceedingly, could not persuade him to visit her.
Amadour remained at Barcelona as short a time as possible, for he wasimpatient to reach Salces, where he alone was now awaited. When hearrived, there began between the two kings that great and cruel warwhich I do not purpose to describe. (12) Neither will I recount thenoble deeds that were done by Amadour, for then my story would take upan entire day; but you must know that he won renown far above all hiscomrades. The Duke of Najera (13) having arrived at Perpignan in commandof two thousand men, requested Amadour to be his lieutenant, and so welldid Amadour fulfil his duty with this band, that in every skirmish theonly cry was "Najera!" (14)
12 In 1503 the French, under Marshals de Rieux and de Gie, again besieged Salces, which had a garrison of 1200 men. The latter opposed a vigorous defence during two months, and upon the arrival of the old Duke of Alba with an army of succour the siege had to be raised.--B. J.
13 Pedro Manriquez de Lara, Count of Trevigno, created Duke of Najera by Ferdinand and Isabella in 1501.--B. J.
14 The Duke's war-cry, repeated by his followers as a rallying signal in the _melee_. War-cries varied greatly. "Montjoie St. Denis" was that of the kings of France, and "Passavant le meilleur" (the best to the front) that of the Counts of Champagne. In other instances the war-cry consisted of a single word, "Bigorre" being that of the kings of Navarre, and "Flanders" that of the Princess of Beaujeu. When the war-cry was merely a name, as in the case of the Duke of Najera, it belonged to the head of the family.--D.
Now it came to pass that the King of Tunis, who for a long time had beenat war with the Spaniards, heard that the kings of France and Spain werewarring with each other on the frontiers of Perpignan and Narbonne, andbethought himself that he could have no better opportunity of vexing theKing of Spain. Accordingly, he sent a great number of light galleys andother vessels to plunder and destroy all such badly-guarded places asthey could find on the coasts of Spain. (15)The people of Barcelonaseeing a great fleet passing in front of their town, sent word of thematter to the Viceroy, who was at Salces, and he forthwith despatchedthe Duke of Najera to Palamo
s. (16) When the Moors saw that placeso well guarded, they made a feint of passing on; but returning atmidnight, they landed a large number of men, and the Duke of Najera,being surprised by the enemy, was taken prisoner.
15 The above two sentences, deficient in the MS. followed by M. Le Roux de Lincy, have been borrowed from MS. No. 1520 (Bib. Nat.). It was in 1503 that a Moorish flotilla ravaged the coast of Catalonia.--Ed.
16 The village of Palamos, on the shores of the Mediterranean, south of Cape Bagur, and within fifteen miles from Gerona.--Ed.
Amadour, who was on the alert and heard the din, forthwith assembled asmany of his men as possible, and defended himself so stoutly that theenemy, in spite of their numbers, were for a long time unable to prevailagainst him. But at last, hearing that the Duke of Najera was taken, andthat the Turks had resolved to set fire to Palamos and burn him in thehouse which he was holding against them, he thought it better to yieldthan to cause the destruction of the brave men who were with him. Healso hoped that by paying a ransom he might yet see Florida again.Accordingly, he gave himself up to a Turk named Dorlin, a governor ofthe King of Tunis, who brought him to his master. By the latter he waswell received and still better guarded; for the King deemed that in himhe held the Achilles of all the Spains.
Thus Amadour continued for two years in the service of the King ofTunis. The news of the captures having reached Spain, the kinsfolkof the Duke of Najera were in great sorrow; but those who held thecountry's honour dear deemed Amadour the greater loss. The rumour cameto the house of the Countess of Aranda, where the hapless Avanturada atthat time lay grievously sick. The Countess, who had great misgivings asto the affection which Amadour bore to her daughter, though she sufferedit and concealed it for the sake of the merits she perceived in him,took Florida apart and told her the mournful tidings. Florida, who waswell able to dissemble, replied that it was a great loss to the entirehousehold, and that above all she pitied his poor wife, who was herselfso ill. Nevertheless, seeing that her mother wept exceedingly, she sheda few tears to bear her company; for she feared that if she dissembledtoo far the feint might be discovered. From that time the Countess oftenspoke to her of Amadour, but never could she surprise a look to guideher judgment.
I will pass over the pilgrimages, prayers, supplications, and fastswhich Florida regularly performed to ensure the safety of Amadour.As soon as he had arrived at Tunis, he failed not to send tidings ofhimself to his friends, and by a trusty messenger he apprised Floridathat he was in good health, and had hopes of seeing her again. This wasthe only consolation the poor lady had in her grief, and you may be surethat, since she was permitted to write, she did so with all diligence,so that Amadour had no lack of her letters to comfort him.
The Countess of Aranda was about this time commanded to repair toSaragossa, where the King had arrived; and here she found the youngDuke of Cardona, who so pressed the King and Queen that they beggedthe Countess to give him their daughter in marriage. (17) The Countessconsented, for she was unwilling to disobey them in anything, andmoreover she considered that her daughter, being so young, could have nowill of her own.
17 The Spanish historians state that in 1513 the King, to put an end to a quarrel between the Count of Aranda and the Count of Ribagorce, charged Father John of Estuniga, Provincial of the Order of St. Francis, to negotiate a reconciliation between them, based on the marriage of the eldest daughter of the Count of Aranda with the eldest son of the Count of Ribagorce. The latter refusing his consent, was banished from the kingdom.--D.
When all was settled, she told Florida that she had chosen for her thematch which seemed most suitable. Florida, knowing that when a thing isonce done there is small room for counsel, replied that God was to bepraised for all things; and, finding her mother look coldly upon her,she sought rather to obey her than to take pity on herself. It scarcelycomforted her in her sorrows to learn that the son of the Infante ofFortune was sick even to death; but never, either in presence of hermother or of any one else, did she show any sign of grief. So stronglydid she constrain herself, that her tears, driven perforce back into herheart, caused so great a loss of blood from the nose that her life wasendangered; and, that she might be restored to health, she was given inmarriage to one whom she would willingly have exchanged for death.
After the marriage Florida departed with her husband to the duchy ofCardona, taking with her Avanturada, whom she privately acquainted withher sorrow, both as regards her mother's harshness and her own regretat having lost the son of the Infante of Fortune; but she never spoke ofher regret for Amadour except to console his wife.
This young lady then resolved to keep God and honour before her eyes. Sowell did she conceal her grief, that none of her friends perceived thather husband was displeasing to her.
In this way she spent a long time, living a life that was worse thandeath, as she failed not to inform her lover Amadour, who, knowing thevirtue and greatness of her heart, as well as the love that she hadborne to the son of the Infante of Fortune, thought it impossible thatshe could live long, and mourned for her as for one that was more thandead. This sorrow was an increase to his former grief, and forgettinghis own distress in that which he knew his sweetheart was enduring, hewould willingly have continued all his life the slave he was if Floridacould thereby have had a husband after her own heart. He learnt from afriend whom he had gained at the Court of Tunis that the King, wishingto keep him if only he could make a good Turk of him, intended to givehim his choice between impalement and the renunciation of his faith.Thereupon he so addressed himself to his master, the governor who hadtaken him prisoner, that he persuaded him to release him on parole. Hismaster named, however, a much higher ransom than he thought could beraised by a man of such little wealth, and then, without speaking to theKing, he let him go.
When Amadour reached the Court of the King of Spain, he stayed there buta short time, and then, in order to seek his ransom among his friends,he repaired to Barcelona, whither the young Duke of Cardona, his mother,and Florida had gone on business. As soon as Avanturada heard that herhusband was returned, she told the news to Florida, who rejoiced asthough for love of her friend. Fearing, however, that her joy at seeingAmadour might make her change her countenance, and that those who didnot know her might think wrongly of her, she remained at a window inorder to see him coming from afar. As soon as she perceived him she wentdown by a dark staircase, so that none could see whether she changedcolour, and embracing Amadour, led him to her room, and thence to hermother-in-law, who had never seen him. He had not been there for twodays before he was loved as much as he had been in the household of theCountess of Aranda.
I leave you to imagine the conversation that he and Florida hadtogether, and how she complained to him of the misfortunes that had cometo her in his absence. After shedding many tears of sorrow, both forhaving been married against her will and also for having lost one sheloved so dearly without any hope of seeing him again, she resolved totake consolation from the love and trust she had towards Amadour. Thoughshe durst not declare the truth, he suspected it, and lost neither timenor opportunity to show her how much he loved her.
Just when Florida was all but persuaded to receive him, not as a lover,but as a true and perfect friend, a misfortune came to pass, for theKing summoned Amadour to him concerning some important matter.
His wife was so grieved on hearing these tidings that she swooned, andfalling down a staircase on which she was standing, was so hurt that shenever rose again. Florida having by this death lost all her consolation,mourned like one who felt herself bereft of friends and kin. But Amadourgrieved still more; for on the one part he lost one of the best wivesthat ever lived, and on the other the means of ever seeing Floridaagain. This caused him such sorrow that he was near coming by a suddendeath. The old Duchess of Cardona visited him incessantly, reciting thearguments of philosophers why he should endure his loss with patience.But all was of no avail; for if on the one hand
his wife's deathafflicted him, on the other his love increased his martyrdom. Having nolonger any excuse to stay when his wife was buried, and his master againsummoned him, his despair was such that he was like to lose his reason.
Florida, who thinking to comfort him, was herself the cause of hisgreatest grief, spent a whole afternoon in the most gracious conversewith him in order to lessen his sorrow, and assured him that she wouldfind means to see him oftener than he thought. Then, as he was to departon the following morning, and was so weak that he could scarcely stirfrom his bed, he prayed her to come and see him in the evening afterevery one else had left him. This she promised to do, not knowing thatlove in extremity is void of reason.
Amadour altogether despaired of ever again seeing her whom he had lovedso long, and from whom he had received no other treatment than I havedescribed. Racked by secret passion and by despair at losing all meansof consorting with her, he resolved to play at double or quits, andeither lose her altogether or else wholly win her, and so pay himself inan hour the reward which he thought he had deserved. Accordingly he hadhis bed curtained in such a manner that those who came into the roomcould not see him; and he complained so much more than he had donepreviously that all the people of the house thought he had nottwenty-four hours to live.
After every one else had visited him, Florida, at the request of herhusband himself, came in the evening, hoping to comfort him by declaringher affection and by telling him that, so far as honour allowed, she waswilling to love him. She sat down on a chair beside the head of hisbed, and began her consolation by weeping with him. Amadour, seeing herfilled with such sorrow, thought that in her distress he might the morereadily achieve his purpose, and raised himself up in the bed. Florida,thinking that he was too weak to do this, sought to prevent him, but hethrew himself on his knees before her saying, "Must I lose sight of youfor ever?" Then he fell into her arms like one exhausted. The haplessFlorida embraced him and supported him for a long time, doing all shecould to comfort him. But what she offered him to cure his pain onlyincreased it; and while feigning to be half dead, he, without saying aword, strove to obtain that which the honour of ladies forbids.
When Florida perceived his evil purpose, in which she could hardlybelieve after all his honourable conversation, she asked him what hesought to do. Amadour, fearing her reply, which he knew could notbe otherwise than chaste and virtuous, said nothing, but pursued hisattempt with all the strength that he could muster. Florida, greatlyastonished, suspected rather that he had lost his senses than that hewas really bent upon her dishonour, and called out to a gentleman whomshe knew to be in the room; whereupon Amadour in extreme despair flunghimself back upon his bed so suddenly that the gentleman thought himdead.
Florida, who had risen from her chair, then said to the gentleman--
"Go quickly for some strong vinegar."
This the gentleman did, whereupon Florida said--
"What madness, Amadour, has mounted to your brain? What was it youthought and wished to do?"
Amadour, who had lost all reason in the vehemence of his love, replied--
"Does so long a service merit so cruel a reward?"
"And what of the honour of which you have so often preached to me?" saidFlorida.
"Ah! madam," said Amadour, "it would be impossible to hold your honourmore dear than I have held it. Before you were married, I was able soto subdue my heart that you knew nothing of my desires, but now that youare wedded and your honour may be shielded, do I wrong you in asking forwhat is mine? By the strength of my love I have won you. He who firstpossessed your heart had so little desire for your person that hedeserved to lose both. He who now owns your person is not worthy to haveyour heart, and hence even your person does not properly belong to him.But for five or six years I have for your sake borne many pains andwoes, which must show you that your body and heart belong to me alone.Think not to defend yourself by speaking of conscience, for when loveconstrains body and heart sin is never imputed. Those who are driven byfrenzy so far as to slay themselves cannot sin, for passion leaves noroom for reason; and if the passion of love be more intolerable than anyother, and more blinding to the senses, what sin could you fasten uponone who yields to the conduct of such indomitable power? I am goingaway, and have no hope of ever seeing you again; but if before mydeparture I could have of you that assurance which the greatness ofmy love deserves, I should be strengthened sufficiently to endure inpatience the sorrows of a long separation. If you will not grant me myrequest you will ere long learn that your harshness has brought me to amiserable and a cruel death." (18)
18 The passage commencing "Those who are driven" and ending "a cruel death" is deficient in the earlier editions of the _Heptameron_, which give the following in place of it: "Do not doubt but what those who have felt the power of love will cast the blame on you who have so robbed me of my liberty and dazzled my senses with your divine graces, that not knowing what to do henceforth, I am constrained to go away without the hope of ever seeing you again; certain, however, that wherever I may be, you will still have part of my heart, which will ever remain yours, be I on land, on the sea, or in the hands of my most cruel enemies." The above is one of various instances of the liberty taken by Boaistuau and Gruget with Margaret's text.--Ed.
Florida was not less grieved than astonished to hear these words fromone whom she had never imagined capable of such discourse, and, weeping,she thus replied--
"Alas, Amadour, is this the honourable converse that we used to havetogether while I was young? Is this the honour or conscience which manya time you counselled me to value more than life? Have you forgottenboth the worthy examples you set before me of virtuous ladies whowithstood unholy love, and also your own contempt for erring women? Icannot believe you so changed, Amadour, that regard for God, your ownconscience, and my honour is wholly dead within you. But if it indeedbe as you say, I praise the divine goodness which has prevented themisfortune into which I was about to fall, and has revealed to me byyour own words the heart of which I was so ignorant. Having lost theson of the Infante of Fortune, not only by my marriage, but also, asis known to me, by reason of his love for another, and finding myselfwedded to a man whom, strive as I may, I cannot love, I resolved to setheart and affection entirely on loving you. This love I built upon thatvirtue which I had so often perceived in you, and to which by your ownassistance I think I have attained--I mean the virtue of loving one'shonour and conscience more than life. I came hither thinking to makethis rock of virtue a sure foundation of love. But you have in amoment shown me, Amadour, that instead of a pure and cleanly rock, thisfoundation would have been one of shifting sand or filthy mire; andalthough a great part of the house in which I hoped always to dwellhad already been raised, you have suddenly demolished it. Lay aside,therefore, any hope you had concerning me, and make up your mind not toseek me by look or word wherever I may be, or to hope that I shall everbe able or willing to change my resolve. It is with the deepest sorrowthat I tell you this, though had I gone so far as to swear eternallove with you, I know that my heart could not have lived through thismeeting. Even now I am so confounded to find myself deceived, that Iam sure my life will be either short or sad. With these words I bid youfarewell, and for ever."
I will not try to describe to you the grief that Amadour felt on hearingthis speech. It is impossible not only to describe it, but even toconceive it, except indeed to such as have experienced the like. Seeingthat with this cruel conclusion she was about to leave him, he seizedher by the arm, knowing full well that, if he did not remove her evilopinion of him, he would lose her for ever. Accordingly he dissembledhis looks as well as he could, and said--
"During my whole life, madam, I have desired to love a woman of virtue,and having found so few of them, I was minded to put you to proof, andso discover whether you were as well worthy of esteem as of love. Now Iknow for certain that you are; and therefore I give praise to God, whohas inclined my heart to the lo
ve of such great perfection. I entreatyou to pardon my mad and foolhardy attempt, seeing that the issue of ithas turned to your honour and to my great satisfaction."
Florida was beginning to learn through him the deceitfulness of men;and, just as she had formerly found it difficult to believe in evilwhere it existed, so did she now find it even more difficult to believein virtue where there was none.
"Would to God you spoke the truth," she said to him; "but I am not soignorant as not to know by my experience in marriage that the blindnessof strong passion led you to act as you did. Had God given me a looserein I am sure that you would not have drawn bridle. Those who go inquest of virtue are wont to take a different road to yours. But enough;if I have been too hasty in crediting you with some goodness, it is timeI learned the truth, by which I am now delivered out of your hands."
So saying, Florida left the room. As long as the night lasted she didnought but weep; for the change that had taken place caused her intensegrief, and her heart had much ado to hold out against the sorrowing oflove. Although, guided by reason, she had resolved to love no more, yetthe heart, which cannot be subdued, would in no wise permit this. Thusshe was unable to love him less than before, and knowing that love hadbeen the cause of his offence, she made up her mind to satisfy love bycontinuing to love him with her whole heart, and to obey honour by nevergiving any sign of her affection either to him or to any one else.
In the morning Amadour departed in the distress that I have described.Nevertheless his heart, which was so lofty that there was none likeit in the world, suffered him not to despair, but prompted him tonew devices for seeing Florida again and winning her favour. So as heproceeded to the King of Spain, who was then at Toledo, he took his waythrough the county of Aranda, where he arrived very late one evening,and found the Countess in great sadness on account of the absence of herdaughter.
When she saw Amadour she kissed and embraced him as though he had beenher own son, and this no less for the love she herself bore him as forthat which she suspected he had for Florida. She asked minutely for newsof her daughter, and he told her what he could, though not the entiretruth. However, he confessed the love which existed between them, andwhich Florida had always concealed; and he begged the Countess to aidhim in hearing often of Florida, and to take her as speedily as possibleto Aranda.
At daybreak he went on his way, and when he had despatched his businesswith the King he left for the war. So sad was he and so changed inevery way that ladies, captains, and acquaintances alike could scarcelyrecognise him.
He now wore nothing but black, and this of a heavier pile than wasneedful as mourning for his dead wife; but indeed her death served onlyas a cloak for the sorrow that was in his heart. Thus Amadour spentthree or four years without returning to Court.
The Countess of Aranda hearing that Florida was changed and that it waspitiful to see her, sent for her, hoping that she would return home. Thecontrary, however, happened. When Florida learned that Amadour hadtold her mother of their love, and that she, although so discreet andvirtuous, had approved of it, she was in extraordinary perplexity. Onthe one hand she perceived that if her mother, who had such great esteemfor Amadour, were told the truth some mischief might befall the latter;and this even to save her life she would not have brought to pass, forshe felt strong enough to punish his folly herself without calling onher kinsfolk for assistance. On the other hand she saw that, if sheconcealed the evil she knew of him, she would be constrained by hermother and all her friends to speak to him and show him favour, and thisshe feared would only strengthen his evil purpose. However, as he wasa long way off, she kept her own counsel, and wrote to him whenever theCountess commanded her. Still her letters were such that he could seethey were written more out of obedience than goodwill; and the griefhe felt in reading them was as great as his joy had been in reading theearlier ones.
At the end of two or three years, when he had performed so many nobledeeds that all the paper in Spain could not contain the records of them,(19) he conceived a very skilful device, not indeed to win Florida'sheart, which he looked upon as lost, but to gain the victory over hisenemy, since such she had shown herself to be. He put aside all thepromptings of reason and even the fear of death, and at the risk ofhis life resolved to act in the following way. He persuaded the chiefGovernor (20) to send him on an embassy to the King concerning somesecret attempt against Leucate; (21) and he procured a command totake counsel with the Countess of Aranda about the matter beforecommunicating it to the King.
19 Margaret, perhaps, wrote "All the paper of Spain could not contain them," simply because Spanish paper was then of very small size. Paper-making had, however, been almost monopolised by Spain until the end of the thirteenth century, the cotton used in the manufacture being imported from the East.--M.
20 The Viceroy of Catalonia.--D.
21 Leucate, now a village, but said to have been a flourishing town in the fourteenth century, lies near the Mediterranean, at a few miles from Salces, and gives its name to a large salt-water lake. Formerly fortified, it was repeatedly besieged and burnt by the Spaniards; notably by the Duke of Alba in 1503, after he had relieved Salces.--Ed.
Then he came post haste to the county of Aranda, where he knew Floridato be, and secretly sent a friend to inform the Countess of his coming,praying her to keep it secret, and to grant him audience at nightfallwithout the knowledge of any one.
The Countess, who was very pleased at his coming, spoke of it toFlorida, and sent her to undress in her husband's room, that she mightbe ready when sent for after every one was gone to bed. Florida had notyet recovered from her first alarm, but she said nothing of it to hermother, and withdrew to an oratory in order to commend herself to OurLord. While she was praying that her heart might be preserved fromall evil affection, she remembered that Amadour had often praised herbeauty, and that in spite of long illness it had not been impaired.Being, therefore, more willing to injure her beauty than suffer it tokindle an evil flame in the heart of an honourable gentleman, she took astone which lay in the chapel and struck herself a grievous blow on theface so that her mouth, nose, and eyes were quite disfigured. Then,in order that no one might suspect it to be of her own doing, she letherself fall upon her face on leaving the chapel when summoned by theCountess, and cried out loudly. The Countess coming thither found herin this pitiful state, and forthwith caused her face to be dressed andbandaged.
Then the Countess led her to her own apartment, and begged her to goto her room and entertain Amadour until she herself had got rid of hercompany. This Florida did, thinking that there were others with him.
But when she found herself alone with him, and the door closed upon her,she was as greatly troubled as he was pleased. He thought that, by loveor violence, he would now have what he desired; so he spoke to her, andfinding that she made the same reply as before, and that even to saveher life she would not change her resolve, he was beside himself withdespair.
"Before God, Florida," he said to her, "your scruples shall not rob meof the fruits of my labour. Since love, patience, and humble entreatyare of no avail, I will spare no strength of mine to gain the boon, uponwhich all its existence depends."
Florida saw that his eyes and countenance were altered exceedingly, sothat his complexion, naturally the fairest in the world, was now as redas fire, and his look, usually so gentle and pleasant, had become ashorrible and furious as though fierce flames were blazing in his heartand face. In his frenzy he seized her delicate, weak hands in his ownstrong, powerful ones; and she, finding herself in such bondage that shecould neither defend herself nor fly, thought that her only chance wasto try whether he had not retained some traces of his former love, forthe sake of which he might forego his cruelty. She therefore said tohim--
"If you now look upon me, Amadour, in the light of an enemy, I entreatyou, by that pure love which I once thought was in your heart, tohearken to me before you put me to torture."
Seeing that he became attentive, she continued--
"Alas! Amadour, what can prompt you to seek after a thing that canafford you no satisfaction, and thus afflict me with the profoundestgrief? You made trial of my inclinations in the days of my youth andearliest beauty, and they perhaps served to excuse your passion; but Iam amazed that now, when I am old, and ugly, and sorrow-stricken, youshould seek for what you know you can never find. I am sure you do notdoubt that my mind is as it used to be, and so by force alone can youobtain what you desire. If you observe the condition of my face, and layaside the memory of the beauty that once you saw in it, you will have noinclination to draw any nearer; and if you still retain within you anyremnants of your past love, it is impossible that pity will not subdueyour frenzy. To this pity, which I have often found in you, I appealwith prayers for mercy. Suffer me to live in peace, and in that honourwhich by your own counsel I have resolved to preserve. But if the loveyou once bore me is now turned to hate, and you desire, in vengeancerather than in love, to make me the unhappiest woman alive, I protest toyou that it shall not be so. You will force me against my will to makeyour evil purpose known to her who thinks so highly of you; and you maybe sure that, when she learns it, your life will not be safe."
But Amadour interrupted her.
"If I must die," he said, "I shall be the sooner rid of my torment.The disfigurement of your face, which I believe is of your own seeking,shall not restrain me from making you mine. Though I could have nothingbut your bones, I would yet hold them close to me."
When Florida saw that prayers, reasoning, and tears were alike of noavail, and that while he cruelly pursued his evil purpose she lackedthe strength to resist him, she summoned the aid which she dreaded asgreatly as death, and in a sad and piteous voice called as loudly as shecould upon her mother. The Countess, hearing her daughter's cries,had grave misgivings of the truth, and hastened into the room with allpossible speed.
Amadour, who was not so ready to die as he affirmed, desisted promptlyfrom his enterprise; and when the lady opened the door she found himclose beside it, and Florida some distance from him. "Amadour," said theCountess, "what is the matter? Tell me the truth."
Amadour, who was never at a loss for invention, replied with a pale anddaunted face--
"Alas! madam, what change is this in the lady Florida? I was never soastonished before, for, as I have told you, I thought I had a share inher favour; but I now see clearly that I have lost it all. While she wasbeing brought up by you, she was, I think, no less discreet or virtuousthan she is at present; however, she had then no qualms of conscienceabout speaking with any one. But now, when I sought to look at her, shewould not suffer me to do so. When I saw this behaviour on her part Ithought I must be dreaming, and asked her for her hand to kiss it afterthe manner of the country. This she utterly refused me. I acknowledge,madam, that then I acted wrongfully, and I entreat your pardon for it;for I took her hand, as it were by force, and kissed it. I asked nothingmore of her, but I believe that she intends my death, for she called outto you as you know. Why she did this I cannot tell, unless indeed shefeared that I had some other purpose in view. Nevertheless, madam, bethis as it may, I confess that I am in the wrong; for although she oughtto love all who are devoted to you, fortune wills it that I, who am ofall most attached to her, am banished from her good graces. Still, Ishall ever continue the same both to you and to her; and I entreat youto continue me in your good favour since, by no fault of my own, I havenow lost hers."
The Countess, who partly believed and partly suspected him, went up toher daughter and asked--"Why did you call me so loudly?"
Florida replied that she had felt afraid; and, although the Countessquestioned her minutely on many points, she would give no other reply.Finding that she had escaped from her enemy she deemed him sufficientlypunished by the failure of his attempt.
After the Countess had had a long conversation with Amadour, shesuffered him to speak again in her presence with Florida, to see howhe would behave. He said but little, save that he thanked her for nothaving confessed the truth to her mother, and begged that since she hadexpelled him from her heart, she would at least allow no other to takehis place.
"If my voice had not been my only means of defending myself," shereplied, "it would never have been heard; and from me you shall have noworse punishment, if you do not force me to it by troubling me again asyou have done. Do not fear that I can ever love another; since I havenot found the good I wished for in a heart that I considered to be themost virtuous in the world, I do not expect to find it in any man. Thisevil fortune will henceforth free me of all the passion that love cangive."
With these words she bade him farewell.
Her mother, who had been watching her face, was unable to form anyopinion; though from that time forth she clearly saw that her daughterhad lost all affection for Amadour. She imagined her so devoid of reasonas to hate everything that she herself loved; and from that hour shewarred with her in a strange way, spending seven years without speakingto her except in anger, all which she did at Amadour's request.
Meanwhile, on account of her mother's harsh treatment, Florida's formerdread of being with her husband was changed into a desire of neverleaving him. Seeing, however, that all her efforts were useless, sheresolved to deceive Amadour, and laying aside her coldness for a dayor two, she advised him to pay court to a lady who, she said, had beenspeaking of their love.
This lady lived with the Queen of Spain, and was called Loretta. Amadourbelieved the story, and, thinking that he might in this way regainFlorida's good graces, he made love to Loretta, who was the wife of acaptain, one of the viceroys of the King of Spain. She, in her pleasureat having gained such a lover, showed so much elation that the affairwas rumoured abroad. Even the Countess of Aranda, who was at Court, hadknowledge of it, and thenceforward treated Florida less harshly thanbefore.
One day Florida heard that the captain, Loretta's husband, had grownjealous, and was resolved to kill Amadour in one way or another as besthe might. In spite of her altered treatment of Amadour, Florida did notdesire that evil should befall him, and so she immediately informedhim of what she had heard. He was quite ready to hark back again to hisfirst love, and thereupon told her that, if she would grant him threehours of her conversation every day, he would never again speak toLoretta. But this she would not grant. "Then," said Amadour, "if youwill not give me life, why prevent me from dying, unless indeed you hopeto make me suffer more pain during life than any death could cause? Butthough death shun me, I will seek it until I find it; then only shall Ihave rest."
While they were on this footing, news came that the King of Granada (22)was entering upon a great war against the King of Spain. The latter,therefore, sent the Prince, his son, (23) to the war, and with him theConstable of Castille and the Duke of Alba, (24) two old and prudentlords. The Duke of Cardona and the Count of Aranda were unwilling toremain behind, and prayed the King to give them some command. Thishe did as befitted their rank, and gave them into the safe keeping ofAmadour, who performed such extraordinary deeds during the war, thatthey seemed to be acts as much of despair as of bravery.
22 The last King of Granada was Mahomed Boabdil, dethroned in 1493. The title may have been assumed, however, by the leader of an insurrection.--D.
23 As Ferdinand and Isabella had no son, the reference must be to their daughter's husband, Philip the Fair of Austria, son of the Emperor Maximilian I. and father of Charles V.-- B. J.
24 Frederick of Toledo, Marquis of Coria and Duke of Alba, generally called the old Duke of Alba to distinguish him from his son.--B. J.
Coming now to the point of my story, I have to relate how hisoverboldness was proved by his death. The Moors had made a show ofoffering battle, and finding the Christian army very numerous hadfeigned a retreat. The Spaniards started in pursuit, but the oldConstable and the Duke of Alba, who suspected the trickery of the Moors,restrained the Prince of Spain against his will from cro
ssing the river.The Count of Aranda, however, and the Duke of Cardona crossed, althoughit was forbidden; and when the Moors saw that they were pursued by onlya few men they faced about again. The Duke of Cardona was struck downand killed with a blow of a scimitar, and the Count of Aranda was sogrievously wounded that he was left for dead. Thereupon Amadour came upfilled with rage and fury, and bursting through the throng, caused thetwo bodies to be taken up and carried to the camp of the Prince, whomourned for them as for his own brothers. On examining their wounds theCount of Aranda was found to be still alive, and was sent in a litterto his home, where he lay ill for a long time. On the other hand, theDuke's body was sent back to Cardona.
Meanwhile Amadour, having made this effort to rescue the two bodies, hadthought so little of his own safety that he found himself surrounded bya large number of Moors. Not desiring his person to be captured any morethan he had captured that of his mistress, nor to break his faith withGod as he had broken faith with her--for he knew that, if he were takento the King of Granada, he must either die a cruel death or renounceChristianity--he resolved to withhold from his enemies the gloryeither of his death or capture. So kissing the cross of his sword andcommending his body and soul to God, he dealt himself such a thrust asto be past all help.
Thus died the unhappy Amadour, lamented as deeply as his virtuesdeserved. The news spread through the whole of Spain; and the rumour ofit came to Florida, who was at Barcelona, where her husband had formerlycommanded that he should be buried. She gave him an honourable funeral,(25) and then, without saying anything to her mother or mother-in-law,she became a nun in the Convent of Jesus, taking for husband and loverHim who had delivered her from such a violent love as that of Amadour's,and from such great affliction as she had endured in the company of herhusband. Thus were all her affections directed to the perfect loving ofGod; and, after living for a long time as a nun, she yielded up her soulwith gladness, like that of the bride when she goes forth to meet thebridegroom.
25 The Franciscan monastery of the little village cf Bellpuig, near Lerida, contains the tomb of Ramon de Cardona, termed one of the marvels of Catalonia on account of the admirable sculptures adorning it. One of the beautiful white marble bas-reliefs shows a number of galleys drawn up in line of battle, whilst some smaller boats are conveying parties of armed men to a river-bank on which the Moors are awaiting them in hostile array. On the frieze of an arch the Spaniards and Moors are shown fighting, many of the former retreating towards the water. An inscription records that the tomb was raised to the best of husbands by Isabella, his unhappy spouse.
Margaret gives the name of Florida to the wife of the Duke whom she mentions, but it should be borne in mind that she has systematically mingled fact with fiction throughout this story; and that she was alluding to the Duke buried at Bellpuig seems evident from an examination of the bas- reliefs mentioned above. Ramon de Cardona was, however, a more important personage than she pictures him. He became Charles V.'s viceroy in Naples, and did not die till 1520, whereas Margaret's story appears to end in or about 1513. Possibly she saw the tomb when in Spain.--Ed.
"I am well aware, ladies, that this long tale may have been wearisometo some among you, but had I told it as it was told to me it would havebeen longer still. Take example, I beg you, by the virtue of Florida,but be somewhat less cruel; and think not so well of any man that, whenyou are undeceived, you occasion him a cruel death and yourselves a lifeof sorrow."
Having had a long and fair hearing Parlamente said to Hircan--
"Do you not think that this lady was pressed to extremities and that sheheld out virtuously?"
"No," said Hircan; "a woman can make no more feeble resistance than tocry out. If she had been in a place where none could hear her I do notknow how she would have fared. And if Amadour had had more love and lessfear he would not have desisted from his attempt for so little. Sothis story will not cause me to change my firm opinion that no manever perfectly loved a lady, or was loved by her, that he did not provesuccessful if only he went the right way to work. Nevertheless, I mustpraise Amadour for having in part done his duty."
"What duty?" asked Oisille. "Do you call it a lover's duty to tryand take his mistress by force when he owes her all reverence andsubmission?"
Here Saffredent took up the discourse.
"Madam," he said, "when our mistresses hold their state in chamber orhall, seated at their ease as though they were our judges, we leadthem to the dance in fear; we wait upon them with all diligence andanticipate their commands; and we are so afraid of offending them and sodesirous of doing them service that those who see us pity us, and oftendeem us more witless than brutes. They account us dull and void ofunderstanding, and give praise to the ladies, whose faces are soimperious and their speech so fair that they make themselves feared,loved, and honoured by those who only know them outwardly. But when weare together in private, and love alone can judge our behaviour, weknow full well that they are women and we are men. Then is the name'mistress' changed to 'sweetheart,' and the 'slave' becomes a 'lover.'As the proverb says--'By service true and loyalty, do servants rise tomastery.' They have honour equally with men, who can give it to them andcan take it away; and seeing us suffer in patience, they should rewardus when they can do so without hurt to their honour."
"You do not speak of that true honour," said Longarine, "which is thegreatest happiness this world can give. If every one calls me a virtuouswoman, and I myself know the contrary, the praise I receive onlyincreases my shame and puts me in secret to still greater confusion. Inthe same way, if people condemn me and I know that I am innocent, theircondemnation will only make me the better pleased with myself."
"In spite of what you all have said," interposed Geburon, "it seems tome that Amadour was as noble and virtuous a knight as ever lived, and Ithink I can recognise him under his feigned name. Since Parlamente wouldnot name him, neither will I. But you may rest assured that, if he bethe man whom I have in mind, his heart never knew fear, nor was evervoid of love and bravery."
"The day has been spent so pleasantly," said Oisille, "that if theothers are like it I think our talk will make the time pass quickly by.But see where the sun is, and listen to the abbey bell, which has longbeen calling us to vespers. I did not mention this to you before, for Iwas more inclined to hear the end of the story than to go to prayers."
At these words they all rose, and when they reached the abbey they foundthat the monks had been waiting for them a full hour and more. Aftervespers they went to supper, and during the whole evening they conversedabout the stories they had heard, all of them searching every corner oftheir memories to try and make the second day as pleasant as the first.And after playing many games in the meadow they went to bed, and so madea glad and happy ending of the first day.
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SECOND DAY.
_On the Second Day is recounted the first conceit that presents itselfto each_.