The Heptameron (Machen)/Novel 25

There lived in the town of Paris a sergeant-at-law, who stood in greater esteem than any other of like estate, and being sought out by all men, on account of the aptness of his parts, he became the richest of all the brethren of the coif. But having had no children of his first wife, he was minded to see what he could do with a second, and though his body was ​decayed, his heart and hopes were as lively as ever. Wherefore he made choice of the prettiest maid in the town, with a most excellent feature and colouring, and a yet more excellent taille. Her he loved and entreated as kindly as he was able, but nevertheless had no more children of her than of his first wife, at the which she before long grieved greatly. Wherefore her youth, that would not suffer her to be weary, made her seek pastime otherwise than at home, and she went to dances and feasts, but so openly and honourably that her husband could not take it in bad part, for she was always in the company of those in whom he had trust.

One day, when she was at a marriage-feast, a very great Prince was there also, and he, in telling me the story, forbade me to make mention of his name, but I will tell you this, that so brave and comely an one there never was in the realm before, and I think never will be again. So this Prince, seeing the dame that she was young and pretty, was overcome with love, and spoke to her in such words and so graciously that she deemed the discourse to have been well begun. And she concealed not from him that she had had for a long time in her heart the love for which he prayed, and entreated him not to give himself the trouble of persuading her to what Love at first sight had made her consent. And the young Prince, having freely received a love well worth a long service, gave thanks to the god who was favourable to him. And from that hour he forwarded matters so well, that they agreed together as to the means of seeing one another, themselves unseen. At the time and place appointed the young Prince failed not to present himself, and, to preserve the lady's honour, he went to her in disguise. But not wishing to be known by the Roaring Boys who coursed the town at night, he took with him some trusty companions, and at the beginning of the street where the lady lived he left them, saying: "If you hear no noise within a quarter of an hour, get you gone to your houses, and return again to fetch me about three or four o'clock. This they did, and hearing nothing, returned home. The young Prince went straight to the lawyer's house, and found the door open, as had been promised him. But while he was going up the stair he met the husband with a candle in his hand, of whom he was seen before he was ware of him. ​But love, which in straits of its own bringing about, finds wit and courage also, made the Prince go up to master lawyer and say: "Master sergeant, you are advised of the trust that I and my whole house have always put in you, and that I hold you for one of my best and most loyal servants. It has, therefore, come to my mind to visit you here privily, as much to commend to you my occasions as to pray you to give me to drink, of which I am in great need. And, prithee, tell no one of the matter of my coming, since from here I must go to a quarter where I am not willing to be known." The good sergeant was mighty glad that the Prince did him so great honour as to come thus secretly to his house, and led him to a room whither he bade his wife set forth the best fruits and confections she had, which she did with hearty goodwill, and after the best sort she was able. And notwithstanding that her gear of a kerchief and shawl made her look prettier than she was wont, the young Prince appeared not at all to gaze at her or recognise her, but continued to talk with her husband on his occasions, which for a long while had been in this lawyer's hands. And as the lady served the Prince on her knees, while the sergeant was gone to a side table for drink, she whispered him when he left the room to enter a closet on the right hand, whither she would speedily come and see him. When that he had drunken, the Prince thanked the lawyer, who would have gone with him, but he assured him that in the place whither he was going he had no need for company. And turning to the wife, he said to her: "I would by no means take from you your good husband, who is one of my most ancient servants So happy are you in the having of him that you have good cause to praise God, and to heartily obey this your husband, and if you do not this you are worthy of all blame." With this virtuous talk the Prince left them, and shutting the door after him so that he might not be followed to the stair, entered into the closet. And when her husband was asleep, my lady came there also, and led him into a small room very bravely decked out, though, to speak truth, there were no pictures in it as fine as he and she, in such gear as it pleased them to put on. And there I doubt not she kept in full all her promises.

From thence he departed at the hour he had advised his ​companions, whom he found in waiting at the appointed place. And since this intercourse lasted a long time, the young Prince chose a shorter way to go thither, the which passed through a religious house. And such good interest did he make with the prior that towards midnight the porter failed not to open the gate, and in like manner did he at his return. And since the house of the lawyer was hard-by he took no one with him. And though he led the life I tell you, yet was this Prince in the love and fear of God; and though as he went he would make no stay, yet on his return he never failed to tarry a long while in prayer in the church; so that the monks, who coming in and going out still saw him on his knees, had good reason to think him one of the holiest men in the world.

Now it chanced that this Prince had a sister, who often went to this monastery, and, loving her brother above the rest of mankind, was accustomed to commend him to the prayers of all she knew to be good men. And one day, as she was commending him affectionately to the prior of the monastery, he said to her: "Alas! who is this you commend to me? You speak to me of the one man whose prayers I most desire, for if he is not good and holy I can have no hope of being accounted for such. For what saith the Scripture: 'Blessed is he who can do evil, and doeth it not.'" His sister, who was desirous to know what proof the holy father had of her brother's goodness, asked him so many questions that he told her the secret after a very solemn fashion. "Is it not a thing worthy of admiration," said he, "to behold a young Prince and a handsome leave his pleasures and his rest to come and hear our matins? And he comes not as a Prince, seeking the praise of men, but like a simple monk he comes all alone and hides himself in one of the side-chapels. In truth, this piety of his so puts to shame me and my monks that we are not worthy to be compared with him or to be called 'religious.'" Hearing this, his sister knew not what to believe, for though her brother were a worldly man he had great faith and love of God, but as to his making observances of this sort she had never suspected it of him. Wherefore she told him the good opinion the monks had of him, at which he could not restrain himself from laughing in such wise that she, who knew him as well as her own heart, was persuaded something was hidden under his devotion, and did ​not desist till he had told her the truth. And she has made me put it here in writing, to the end that you, ladies, may understand that neither the keenness of a lawyer nor the craft of monks (the men most accustomed to cozen others) can in a case of necessity hinder them from being deceived by them, whose only experience is that they are deep in love.

"And since Love thus deceives the deceivers, we poor simple folk ought to stand in awe of it. Though," said Geburon, "I have a strong suspicion as to who this young Prince is, I needs must declare that in this matter he was praiseworthy; for one sees few great lords that have a care for the honour of women, or of a public scandal, if only they have their pleasure of them—nay, oftentimes they are well pleased to be thought worse than they are." "Of a truth," said Oisille, "I wish all our young nobles would take this for an ensample, since the scandal is often worse than the sin." "Think you," said Nomerfide, "that the prayers he offered in the monastery were made in good earnest?" "One must not judge," answered Parlamente, "for perchance, as he returned, his repentance was so great that his sin was forgiven him." "It is mighty difficult," said Hircan, "to repent of so pleasant a matter. For my part, many a time have I made confession, but seldom repented." "It would be better," said Oisille, "not to confess at all if there be no repentance." "Nay," answered Hircan, "the sin displeases me, and I am sorry that I have offended against God, but the pleasure always delights me." "You and your fellows," said Parlamente, "would fain have nor God nor law save your own desires." "I confess," replied Hircan, "that I would that God was as pleased with my pleasures as I am, for in that case I would often give to Him matter of contentment." "Yet we cannot make us a new God," said Geburon, "and so must obey the one we have. But let us leave all these matters to the theologians, and let Longarine give her vote to someone." "I give it," said she, "to Saffredent. And, prithee, tell us the best tale you can, and be not so steadfastly purposed to speak evil of women, as not, when there is any good, to tell the truth." "Verily," said Saffredent, "I agree, since I have in my hand the history of a gay woman and likewise of a grave, so take which is most to your pleasure. And understand that, as in the wicked, love works wickedness, ​so in a virtuous heart it brings to pass notable good deeds; for in itself love is a good thing, but the evil that is in the lover often gives it the surname of loose, light, cruel, or shameful. And by the history that I will presently relate you, you shall see that love changeth not the heart, but shows of what sort it is; light in the light, and prudent in the prudent."