_TALE XX_.
_The Lord of Riant, being greatly in love with a widow lady and findingher the contrary of what he had desired and of what she had oftendeclared herself to be, was so affected thereby that in a momentresentment had power to extinguish the flame which neither length oftime nor lack of opportunity had been able to quench._ (1)
1 The unpleasant discovery related in this tale is attributed by Margaret to a gentleman of Francis I.'s household, but a similar incident figures in the introduction to the _Arabian Nights_. Ariosto also tells much the same tale in canto xxviii. of his _Rolando Furioso_, and another version of it will be found in No. 24 of Morlini's _Novella_, first issued at Naples in 1520. Subsequent to the _Heptameron_ it supplied No. 29 of the _Comptes du Monde Adventureux_, figured in a rare imitation of the _Cent Nouvelles Nouvelles_ printed at Rouen early in the seventeenth century, and was introduced by La Fontaine into his well-known tale _Joconde_. On the other hand, there is certainly a locality called Rians in Provence, just beyond the limits of Dauphine, and moreover among Francis I.'s "equerries of the stable" there was a Monsieur dc Rian who received a salary of 200 livres a year from 1522 to 1529.--See the roll of the officers of the King's Household in the French National Archives, _Sect. Histor_., K. 98. Some extracts from Brantome bearing on the story will be found in the Appendix to this vol. (A).--L. and En.
In the land of Dauphine there lived a gentleman named the Lord of Riant;he belonged to the household of King Francis the First, and was ashandsome and worshipful a gentleman as it was possible to see. Hehad long been the lover of a widow lady, whom he loved and revered soexceedingly that, for fear of losing her favour, he durst not solicitof her that which he most desired. Now, since he knew himself to bea handsome man and one worthy to be loved, he fully believed what sheoften swore to him--namely, that she loved him more than any living man,and that if she were led to do aught for any gentleman, it would be forhim alone, who was the most perfect she had ever known. She at the sametime begged him to rest satisfied with this virtuous love and to seeknothing further, and assured him that if she found him unreasonablyaiming at more, he would lose her altogether. The poor gentleman was notonly satisfied, but he deemed himself very fortunate in having gainedthe heart of a lady who appeared to him so full of virtue.
It would take too long to tell you his love-speeches, his lengthenedvisits to her, and the journeys he took in order to see her; it isenough to say that this poor martyr, consumed by so pleasing a fire thatthe more one burns the more one wishes to burn, continually sought forthe means of increasing his martyrdom.
One day the fancy took him to go post-haste to see the lady whom heloved better than himself, and whom he prized beyond every other womanin the world. On reaching her house, he inquired where she was, and wastold that she had just come from vespers, and was gone into the warrento finish her devotions there. He dismounted from his horse and wentstraight to the warren where she was to be found, and here he met withsome of her women, who told him that she had gone to walk alone in alarge avenue.
He was more than ever beginning to hope that some good fortune awaitedhim, and continued searching for her as carefully and as quietly as hecould, desiring above all things to find her alone. He came in this wayto a summer-house formed of bended boughs, the fairest and pleasantestplace imaginable, (2) and impatient to see the object of his love, hewent in; and there beheld the lady lying on the grass in the arms of agroom in her service, who was as ill-favoured, foul and disreputable asthe Lord of Riant was handsome, virtuous and gentle.
2 For a description of a summer-house of the kind referred to, see Cap's edition of Palissy's _Dessein du Jardin Delectable_, p. 69. Palissy there describes some summer- houses formed of young elmtrees, with seats, columns, friezes, and a roofing so cunningly contrived of bent boughs that the rain could not penetrate into the interior. It is to some such construction that Queen Margaret refers.--M.
I will not try to depict to you his resentment, but it was so great thatin a moment it had power to extinguish the flame which neither length oftime nor lack of opportunity had been able to impair.
"Madam," he said to her, being now as full of indignation as once hehad been of love, "much good may this do you! (3) The revelation of yourwickedness has to-day cured me, and freed me from the continual anguishthat was caused by the virtue I believed to be in you." (4)
3 The French words here are "prou face," which in Margaret's time were very generally used in lieu of "Amen" or "So be it."--M.
4 In _Joconde_ La Fontaine gives the end of the adventure as follows:--
"Sans rencontrer personne et sans etre entendu Il monte dans sa chambre et voit pres de la dame Un lourdaud de valet sur son sein etendu. Tous deux dormaient. Dans cet abord Joconde Voulut les envoyer dormir en l'autre monde, Mais cependant il n'en fit rien Et mon avis est qu'il fit bien."
Both in La Fontaine's _Conte_ and in Ariosto's _Rolando_ the lady is the Queen, and the favoured lover the King's dwarf. --Ed.
And with this farewell he went back again more quickly than he had come.
The unhappy woman made him no other reply than to put her hand to herface; for being unable to hide her shame, she covered her eyes that shemight not see him who in spite of her deceit now perceived it only tooclearly.
"And so, ladies, if you are not minded to love perfectly, do not, Ipray you, seek to deceive and annoy an honest man for vanity's sake; forhypocrites are rewarded as they deserve, and God favours those who lovewith frankness."
"Truly," said Oisille, "you have kept us a proper tale for the end ofthe day. But that we have all sworn to speak the truth, I could notbelieve that a woman of that lady's condition could be so wicked bothin soul and in body, and leave so gallant a gentleman for so vile amuleteer."
"Ah, madam," said Hircan, "if you knew what a difference there isbetween a gentleman who has worn armour and been at the wars all hislife, and a well-fed knave that has never stirred from home, you wouldexcuse the poor widow."
"I do not believe," said Oisille, "whatever you may say, that you couldadmit any possible excuse for her."
"I have heard," said Simontault, "that there are women who like tohave apostles to preach of their virtue and chastity, and treat them askindly and familiarly as possible, saying that but for the restraints ofhonour and conscience they would grant them their desire. And so thesepoor fools, when speaking in company of their mistresses, swear thatthey would thrust their fingers into the fire without fear of burning inproof that these ladies are virtuous women, since they have themselvesthoroughly tested their love. Thus are praised by honourable men, thosewho show their true nature to such as are like themselves; and theychoose such as would not have courage to speak, or, if they did, wouldnot be believed by reason of their low and degraded position."
"That," said Longarine, "is an opinion which I have before now heardexpressed by jealous and suspicious men, but it may indeed be calledpainting a chimera. And even although it be true of one wretched woman,the same suspicion cannot attach to all."
"Well," said Parlamente, "the longer we talk in this way, the longerwill these good gentlemen play the critics over Simontault's tale, andall at our own expense. So in my opinion we had better go to vespers,and not cause so much delay as we did yesterday."
The company agreed to this proposal, and as they were going Oisillesaid:--
"If any one gives God thanks for having told the truth to-day,Saffredent ought to implore His forgiveness for having raked up so vilea story against the ladies."
"By my word," replied Saffredent, "what I told you was true, albeit Ionly had it upon hearsay. But were I to tell you all that I have myselfseen of women, you would have need to make even more signs of the crossthan the priests do in consecrating a church."
"Repentance is a long way off," said Geburon, "when confession onlyincrea
ses the sin."
"Since you have so bad an opinion of women," said Parlamente, "theyought to deprive you of their honourable society and friendship."
"There are some women," he returned, "who have acted towards me so muchin accordance with your advice, in keeping me far away from things thatare honourable and just, that could I do and say worse to them, I shouldnot neglect doing so, in order that I might stir them up to revenge meon her who does me so much wrong."
Whilst he spoke these words, Parlamente put on her mask (5) and wentwith the others into the church, where they found that although the bellhad rung for vespers, there was not a single monk, present to say them.
5 Little masks hiding only the upper part of the face, and called _tourets-de-nez_, were then frequently worn by ladies of rank. Some verses by Christine de Pisan show them to have been in vogue already in the fourteenth century. In the MS. copy of Margaret's poem of _La Coche_ presented to the Duchess of Etampes, the ladies in the different miniatures are frequently shown wearing masks of the kind referred to. Some curious particulars concerning these _tourets_ will be found in M. Leon do Laborde's _Le Palais Mazarin et les grandes habitations de ville et de campagne au XVIIe Siecle_, Paris, 1846, 8vo, p. 314.--L.
The monks, indeed, had heard that the company assembled in the meadow totell the pleasantest tales imaginable, and being fonder of pleasure thanof their prayers, they had gone and hidden themselves in a ditch, wherethey lay flat on their bellies behind a very thick hedge; and they hadthere listened so eagerly to the stories that they had not heard theringing of the monastery bell, as was soon clearly shown, for theyreturned in such great haste that they almost lacked breath to begin thesaying of vespers.
After the service, when they were asked why they had been so late andhad chanted so badly, they confessed that they had been to listen to thetales; whereupon, since they were so desirous of hearing them, it wasgranted that they might sit and listen at their ease every day behindthe hedge.
Supper-time was spent joyously in discoursing of such matters as theyhad not brought to an end in the meadow. And this lasted through theevening, until Oisille begged them to retire so that their minds mightbe the more alert on the morrow, after a long, sound sleep, one hourof which before midnight was, said she, better than three after it.Accordingly the company parted one from another, betaking themselves totheir respective rooms; and in this wise ended the Second Day.
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THIRD DAY.
_On the Third Day are recounted Tales of theLadies who have only sought what washonourable in Love, and of thehypocrisy and wickednessof the Monks_.