The Heptameron (Machen)/Novel 36

There lived in the town of Grenoble a president, whose name I will not tell you; I say only that he was no Frenchman. He had a mighty pretty wife with whom he lived in great love and contentment. But she, finding her husband grow old, took for her lover a young clerk named Nicolas; and when he would go in the morning to the Justice Hall, the aforesaid Nicolas came into his room and took his place. And this was perceived by a servant of the president, the same having been in his household for thirty years, and from the loyalty he bore his master he could not refrain from advertising him of it. The president, for that he was a wise man, would not lightly believe this thing, telling the man he was desirous of putting contention between him and his wife, and that if the truth were as he said, he could easily show it to be so, but if he did not evidently prove it, he should be esteemed as one who had contrived a lying tale to put enmity betwixt him and his wife. The man assured him that he should see it to be true with his own eyes; and one morning as soon as the president was gone to court, and Nicolas was in the room, this servant sent one of his fellows to tell his master to come quickly, while he himself kept watch upon the door lest Nicolas should sally out. And as soon as the president saw one of his servants making signs at him, feigning sickness, he left the bench and came hastily to his house, where he found his old follower at the door of the room, who strongly affirmed to him that Nicolas was within, having scarce entered. And his lord said to him: "Stir not from this door, for you know well that there is none other incoming or outgoing to the room, save only a small closet, and I alone have the key of it." Then he entered the room and found his wife and Nicolas in bed together, of whom the clerk in his shirt, throwing himself on his knees before him, asked forgiveness, and his wife on the other hand fell to ​weeping. Then said the president: "Though the deed you have done is such as you yourself can judge it to be, yet I am not willing that on your account my house be dishonoured and the daughters I have had of you brought to shame. Wherefore I charge you weep no more, and hear what I shall do; and do you, Nicolas, hide yourself in my closet and make no sound." When it was thus done he opened the door and calling his old serving-man, said to him: "Didst thou not assure me that thou wouldst show me Nicolas and my wife together, and on thy word I am come hither in danger of putting this poor wife of mine to death, and have found nothing of what thou didst tell me? I have searched through this room as I will make plain to thee," and so saying he made the man look under the beds and in every quarter. And when he found nothing, all astonished he said to his master: "Needs must be that the devil has carried him away, for I saw him come in, and though he went not out at the door, I am persuaded he is not here." Then said his lord to him: "Thou art a very wicked servant who wouldst fain put enmity between me and my wife; wherefore I bid thee begone, and for all that thou hast done for me, I pay thee what I owe thee, and more also, but go quickly, and beware that I see thee not in the town after this day." And the president gave him payment for five or six years in advance, and knowing that he had been a faithful servant, hoped to advantage him in more. But when the man had gone out weeping, the president made Nicolas come forth from the closet, and having opened his mind to him and his wife on the wickedness they had wrought together, he forbade them to let any know of it. To his wife he gave command to array herself more bravely than she had been accustomed, and to go frequently to assemblies, dances, and entertainments. And he would have Nicolas live more merrily than he had afore, but that as soon as he should whisper in his ear, Begone! he should beware of being found in the town three hours after. And thereupon he returned to the Justice Hall and made no sign, but for two weeks and a day, against his custom, set himself to make feast for his neighbours and acquaintance. And after the feast he would have music for the ladies to dance thereto. And on the fifteenth day, seeing that his wife danced not at all he commanded Nicolas to lead her out, which he, thinking his past ​sins to have been forgotten, did most joyously. But when the dance was finished, the president, making pretence of giving him some charge as to his household concernments, whispered in his ear: "Begone, and return no more!" So went Nicolas, sorry enough to lose his mistress, but yet most glad to have saved himself alive. And when the president had set firmly in the heads of his kinsfolk and his acquaintance, and all the country side, the great love he bore his wife, one fine Mayday he went into his garden and gathered herbs and made a salad therefrom. And such herbs were they that his wife did not live more than twenty-four hours after the eating of them; whereat he made such an appearance of grief that none suspected him to have been the occasion of her death; so he avenged him on his enemy and preserved the honour of his house.

"I do not wish, ladies, to praise the president, but only to show you the folly of a woman and the great prudence and patience of a man, and I entreat you be not angry at the truth which may sometimes go against us as well as men. For to men and women virtue and vice are common." "If all the women who love their servants," said Parlamente, "were constrained to eat of such salads, I do not suppose they would take such delight in their gardens, but rather would pluck out certain herbs to avoid that which preserves the honour of the line at the expense of the wanton mother's life." Hircan, who guessed for whom this was spoken, said in wrath: "A good woman should by no means suspect that in another she would not do herself." Parlamente replied: "Knowledge is not foolish suspicion; and this poor woman suffered the penalty many an other deserves. And I think her husband, though he desired vengeance, governed himself with an admirable prudence and wisdom." "And likewise with a great hatred and a cruel vengeance," said Longarine, "that well showed him not to have his God or his conscience before his eyes." "What would you have him do then," said Hircan, "to be avenged for the greatest wrong a wife can work her husband?" "I would have him," said she, "kill her in his wrath, for the divines say such sin is pardonable, since the first motions of a man are not in his power, and on this account forgiveness may be granted him." "Ay," said Geburon, "but his daughters ​and his line would always have borne the stain of it." "He should not have slain her at all," said Longarine, "for since his hot anger was overpast she would have lived with him as an honest wife, and there would have been no talk about it." "Think you," said Saffredent, "that his anger was appeased because he concealed it? As for me I think that on that last day when he gathered herbs for the salad, he was as wrathful as on the first; for there are men whose passions rest not till they have put them into action, and I am mightily pleased that the school-authors esteem such sins pardonable, for such is my opinion." "One must take heed to one's words," said Parlamente, "before such dangerous folk as you, for I spoke of passion when it is so strong that it takes hold on all the senses, and reason can find no place." "So," said Saffredent, "I understand your words, and conclude from them that a man deeply in love can do no sin save a venial one, do he what he may; for I am persuaded that if love hold him fast bound, reason can get no hearing from his heart or from his understanding. And, to speak truth, there is not one amongst us but has been thus brainsick; and the sins done by one thus affected I deem not only to gain an easy pardon, but I believe also that God will not be wrath thereat, since love is a ladder to climb unto his perfect love, to which none shall attain who hath not trod the steps of this world's love. For St. John saith: 'How shall a man love God whom he hath not seen, if he love not his brother whom he hath seen.'" "There is no place of Scripture too good for you to twist to your own use," said Oisille. "But beware lest like the spider you turn wholesome meat into poison. And consider that it is a perilous thing to quote the Scripture nor advisedly nor of necessity." "Do you say," said Saffredent, "that to speak the truth is to speak nor advisedly nor of necessity? You would then also say that when in speaking to you incredulous women we call God to witness, we take his name in vain; but if these be sins, you alone ought to bear the punishment, for your unbelief makes us search out every oath our brains can conceive. And even then we cannot kindle the flame of love in your hearts of ice." "'Tis a sure proof," said Longarine, "that you are all liars, for if truth were in your words, so strong is it that it would make us to believe. But there is danger lest the daughters of Eve give ear too soon ​unto the serpent." "I am persuaded, Parlamente," said Saffredent, "that the women are not to be overcome by us men, wherefore I will be silent, and hear to whom Ennasuitte will give her vote." "I give it," said she, "to Dagoucin, for I think he will never speak against the ladies." "Would to God," said he, "that I got from them as good as I give. But to show you how I have set myself to honour virtuous gentlemen, by studying the deeds they have done well, I will tell you of one. And I do not deny, that the patience of the gentleman of Pampeluna and of the president of Grenoble was great, but so also was their vengeance. And when one praises a man for that he is virtuous, one must not take account of one virtue only, for it may be but a cloak to cover as great a vice; but to do a virtuous deed, and this only from the love of virtue, is praiseworthy. And the manner of this I desire to show you by my relation of the patient virtue of a lady, who in all her good deeds had no other end than God's honour, and her husband's salvation."