The Heptameron (Machen)/Novel 45

In the town of Tours there lived a man of very subtile and keen wit, who was tapestry-maker to the late Duke of Orleans, son of King Francis the First. And though he by the hap of sickness was become deaf, yet was his understanding not diminished, for in his trade he had no match for keenness, and so in other matters, and you shall see how good a care he could have for himself. He had to wife an honest woman with whom he lived in great peace and quietness, fearing much to do ​her a displeasure, whilst she for her part only sought to be obedient to him in all things. But notwithstanding the great love he bore her, so charitable was he, that he would often give to neighbouring women what belonged only to his wife, and this as secretly as he was able. Now they had in their household a serving wench of a very pretty figure, of whom this tapestry-maker became amorous. Yet, fearing lest his wife might come to know of it, he often made pretence of chiding and rebuking her, saying she was the idlest wench he had ever seen, and that he marvelled not at it, since her mistress never beat her. And one day when they were talking about giving the Innocents, the tapestry-maker said to his wife: "It were mere charity to give them to that idle wench of yours, but it must not be from your hand, for it is too feeble, and your heart too pitiful; but if I made use of mine, we should perchance be better served than we are now." His poor wife, suspecting nothing, prayed him to do execution on her, confessing she had neither heart nor strength for the business; so the husband, who accepted the charge with mighty goodwill, playing the stern executioner, made buy the sharpest rods that could be found, and, to show his great desire not to spare her, put them in pickle, so that his wife had more pity for the wench than suspicion of her husband. So Innocents Day being come, master tapestry-maker rose very early in the morning, and went up on high to the room where the wench slept all alone, and there gave her the Innocents, but in a different fashion from that he had spoken of with his wife. The wench fell amain to weeping, but it availed her nothing; natheless, for fear lest his wife should come up he began striking the rods which he held in his hand against the bedstead, till he had got the bark off them and had broken them; and thus broken he carried them down to his wife, saying: "I believe, sweetheart, that your maid will have some remembrance of the Innocents." And when the master was gone from the house the poor wench came and threw herself on her knees before her mistress, and told her that he had done her the greatest wrong that a man might do a maid. But the mistress, thinking that this was on account of the beating he had given her, would not let her finish her discourse, but said: "My husband has done well, for it is more than a month I prayed him to do so; and if he pressed hard on you I am well ​content thereat. But whatever he did set it down to none but me, and even as it is he has not done as much as he ought to have done." The wench, seeing her mistress approve of the affair, thought it could not be the great sin she had conceived, since so good a woman had been the occasion of it, and henceforth durst say no more on the matter. But the master, seeing his wife as content to be deceived as he was to deceive, determined to give her often matter for contentment, and took such order with the wench that she wept no more at having the Innocents. For a long while he continued this manner of living, without his wife perceiving anything of it, till there was a great fall of snow; and just as he had given her the Innocents in his garden on the grass, so he wished to give her them upon the snow. And one morning, before any in the house were awake, he took her in her shift to make the sign of the crucifix upon the snow, and there they pelted one another, but did by no means forget the game of the Innocents. And this was seen by a neighbour of theirs, who had set herself at a window looking straight upon the garden, to see what weather it was; but seeing this wickedness she waxed so wrathful that she resolved to tell her good gossip, to the end that she might no longer be deceived by such a bad husband, nor served by such a wicked wench. The tapestry-maker, after these brave diversions, looked all around him to discover if any saw them, and perceived his neighbour at the window, at which he was sore troubled. But he, knowing how to colour tapestry of any device, thought he would so colour this matter that their neighbour would be as much deceived as his wife. And as soon as he had got back to bed, he made his wife rise in her shift, and took her to the garden as he had taken the wench, and played a long while with her in the snow as he had done with the other, and gave her the Innocents just as he had given them to the other; and afterwards they both went to bed together. When this good wife was going to mass, her neighbour and dear gossip did not fail to seek her out, and with great zeal but without saying any more entreated her to send away her serving-maid, for that she was a very bad and dangerous wench. But she would not do this before she knew wherefore her neighbour held her in such ill-fame, and at last she told her how she had seen the wench that morning in the garden with ​her husband. The good woman fell to laughing heartily, and said: "Why, dear gossip, 'twas myself" "What, gossip? She was in her shift; at five o'clock in the morning," The good woman replied: "Faith, gossip, 'twas myself." The other continued her discourse: "They pelted one another with snow, maybe on the breasts, maybe on certain still more privy parts." The good woman said: "Why, dear gossip, 'twas myself." "But gossip, I saw them afterwards doing on the snow a thing that was not pretty nor seemly." "Gossip," said the good woman, "I have told you, and I tell you again, 'twas myself and none other who did all you mention, for my good husband and myself do use to play thus privily. Prithee, then, be not scandalized thereat, for you know we are bound to do our husband's pleasure." So her neighbour went her way, more desirous of having such a husband than she had 'been before wishful of exposing him to her good gossip. And when the tapestry-maker returned home his wife told him the whole story. "Consider then, sweetheart," replied he, "that if you had not been an honest woman and of a good understanding, we should a long while ago have been divided the one from the other; but I hope God will keep us in this love of ours to His glory and our contentment." "Amen, sweetheart," said the good woman, "and I hope that on my side you will never find any fault."

"He would be slow of belief, ladies, who, after hearing this true story, would still maintain that your craft is greater than men's; though, without doing wrong to anyone, if we are to praise this man and his wife, we must, to speak truth, allow that neither was of much account." "The man," said Parlamente, "was wondrous wicked, for on one side he deceived the wench, and on the other his wife." "You have not well understood the story," said Hircan, "for it is said he contented the pair of them in one morning, and this I count a mighty deed of valour both of the flesh and of the spirit, to say and do things to make two opposites content." "Therein," said Parlamente, "he is doubly bad, to satisfy the simplicity of the one with a lie, and the wickedness of the other with a wicked deed. But I am assured that when such sins come before such judges they get an easy pardon." "Yet," answered Hircan, "you may likewise be persuaded that I shall never ​undertake so great and hard a task, for if I satisfy you I shall have done no bad day's work." "If mutual love contenteth not the heart," said Parlamente, "no other can content it." "Truly," said Simontault, "I believe there is no greater anguish in the world than to love and not to be beloved." "To be loved," said Parlamente, "you should turn to them that love. But oftentimes they that are beloved, and will not love, are beloved the most, and they that are the least beloved, love the most." "You bring to remembrance," said Oisille, "a tale I was not minded to tell amidst good ones." "Prithee tell it us," said Simontault. "That will I do willingly," answered Oisille.