The Heptameron (Machen)/Novel 2

In the town of Amboise there was a muleteer who served the Queen of Navarre, sister to Francis the First. And she being at Blois brought to bed of a son, this muleteer went thither to be paid such monies as were owing to him, and his wife stayed at Amboise, being lodged in a house beyond the bridge. Now there was a servant of her husband who had for a long while loved her so greatly, that one day he must needs speak his mind to her. But she, being a woman of true virtuousness, so sharply reproved him, threatening that he should be beaten and sent away, that never after did he dare to address her. But he secretly kept the fire of lust in his heart, until one day when his master was abroad, and his mistress at evensong in the castle church of St. Florentin, no short distance from her house. So, since she was living alone, he conceived the humour of taking by force that which he could obtain by none of his prayers or good offices, to which end he broke the boards that were between his room and that of his mistress. And this was not perceived when she, having with her a wench of eleven or twelve years, came to bed, by reason of the curtains that were hung by the master's bed on one side, and the servant's on the other. And when the poor woman was in her first sleep, the fellow came in by the hole he had made, clad only in his shirt, and with a drawn sword in his hand. But as soon as she was aware of his being in the bed with her, she leapt forth from thence, and implored him in such wise as an honourable woman would. And he, whose ​love was but beastly lust, better able to understand the noise of his mules than fair conclusions, showed himself more brutal than the brutes he had a long while tended; for seeing that so swiftly did she chase round a table that he could not take her, and that she had twice escaped from his very hands, he despaired of being able to rape her alive, and so gave her a shrewd stroke in the reins, thinking that pain would make her do what fear could not. Yet it had a contrary effect, for like a good soldier who, when he sees his blood flowing, is stirred up all the more to be avenged on his enemies, and gain for himself glory, so her chaste heart made her fly yet more swiftly from the hands of this wretch, making still more earnest entreaty to him, if haply he might see the wickedness of his purpose. But in such furious case was he, that to nothing of this would he give ear, and aimed at her more and more blows, to avoid which she still kept running as fast as she was able. And when, by reason of loss of blood, she felt death to be near at hand, she raised her eyes to heaven, and with clasped hands gave thanks to God, calling upon him as her strength, her virtuousness, her long-suffering, and her purity; beseeching him to favourably accept that blood of hers which she had poured forth for the sake of his Son, by whom she steadfastly believed all her sins were blotted out from his sight. And saying: "Lord receive my soul, which by thy loving kindness hath been redeemed," she fell on her face to the floor, where the wretch gave her several strokes, and her tongue having lost speech and her body strength, he took that from her which she was no more able to defend against him.

And when he had appeased his evil lust, he fled forth in such hot haste that all pursuit was of no avail, for he was never found. The young wench who had been sleeping with the muleteer's wife had, for the fear she was in, hidden under the bed, but when she saw that the man was departed, she went to her mistress, and finding in her no speech or movement, called from the window to the neighbours to bring help. They, holding her in as good love and repute as any woman in the town, came presently to her, bringing with them chirurgeons, who made out that she had on her body five-and-twenty mortal wounds. All the aid they could give her was of no avail, and yet for more than an hour she languished on, showing by the ​signs she made with her eyes and hands, that she knew what was passing. Being asked by the parson in what faith she died, she gave answer by signs as plain as words, that she put the hope of her salvation in Jesus only; and so with glad countenance, and eyes lifted up to heaven, she gave up her soul and body to the Creator. And when she was being taken out for burial, the company thereto appointed attending, her poor husband came up, and saw the body of his wife in front of his house before tidings had been brought to him that she was dead. And the manner of her death being reported to him, he had then a double cause for lamentation, which he made in such grievous sort that he was well-nigh amort. So was this martyr of chastity buried in the church of St. Florentin, and at the burial of her all the honourable women of the town failed not to do her honour by their presence; thinking it no small thing to live in a place which had contained so virtuous a woman. And moreover, such women as were queans determined to live henceforth in amendment of life.

"Behold then, ladies, a true relation, by the consideration of which we should be enabled to guard yet more straitly this excellent virtue of chastity. And we, being of gentle blood, should die with shame on feeling in our hearts that worldly lust, to avoid which the wife of a poor muleteer did not shrink from a cruel death. And let not any one esteem herself a virtuous woman who has not like this one resisted unto death. Wherefore we must humble ourselves, for God giveth not his grace to men for that they are of gentle blood and have great riches, but only according to his good will. For he is no regarder of persons, but chooseth whom he will, and him, whom he hath chosen, he filleth with all goodness. And often he chooseth the lowly, that he may confound those that are in great esteem with this world, according as it is written, 'Let us not rejoice for our merits, but rather that our names are written in the book of life.'"

Not one lady was there in that company who did not weep for the pitiful and glorious death of this woman; each one resolving within herself that, if like case were to come to her, she would strive likewise to gain martyrdom. And Oisille, seeing that time was being lost by their praises of the dead woman, said to Saffredent: "Unless you can devise some ​pleasant tale to make the company laugh, they will not, I think, forgive me for making them weep. Wherefore I give my vote to you to tell the third novel."

Saffredent, who heartily desired to make some pleasant relation that might please them all, and particularly one of the ladies, said that this right did not belong to him, seeing that there were others who had seen more and could tell more than he; yet as the lot had fallen on him, the sooner it was fulfilled the better, for the more good speakers that came before him, the worse would his story be found when it was told.