The Heptameron (Machen)/Novel 53

Once upon a time King Francis the First was at a fine castle whither he had gone with a small following for the sake of hunting, and also to get some rest from affairs of state. In his following was one called the Prince of Belhoste, as honourable, virtuous, and prudent a man as any at Court, and married to a wife of somewhat low condition. Yet he loved her and treated her as well as any husband could treat his wife, and altogether trusted her, and when he fell into love with any other woman he concealed it not from her, knowing she thought only as he did. Now this prince conceived a great affection for a widow lady named Madam de Neufchâtel, who passed for as pretty a woman as was to be seen: and if the Prince of Belhoste loved her well, his wife did the like, often bidding her to dinner, and found her to be so discreet and virtuous, that in place of being wrathful with her husband, she rather rejoiced to see him do his suit in so good and honourable a quarter. This friendship lasted a long while, and was of such sort that in all the affairs of Madam de Neufchâtel the prince employed himself as if they had been his own; and his wife did no less. But by reason of her beauty her favour was earnestly sought by many great lords and gentlemen; some craving love alone, and others the wedding ring also, for beside her comeliness she had much riches. Among the rest there was one young gentleman called my lord des Cheriots, who pressed her so hard, that he failed not to be at her levee and couchee, and as far as was in his power he kept by her side all the whole day. Now this was not pleasing to the Prince of Belhoste, since he thought a man of his small estate and mean address did not deserve so good and kindly a reception: wherefore he often made remonstrance with the lady. But she, being a true daughter of Eve, excused herself, saying she held parley with all men, and their ​love would be the more concealed that she spoke to one as much as to another. But at the end of some time my lord des Cheriots pressed his suit so well that, more for his importunity than for any love she bore him, she promised marriage, praying him not to make her declare the same till that her daughters were wed. Henceforth, without fear or scruple, the gentleman went to her room at all hours as he was minded, and only a bedchamber woman and gentleman were privy to the matter. The prince, seeing the gentleman grow more and more familiar in the house of her he loved, took it in so bad part that he could not refrain from saying to the lady: "I have always prized your honour, even as that of mine own sister, and you know the honourable passages that have been between us, and the contentment I have had in the loving of a lady as discreet and virtuous as you are: but if I conceived that another, who deserves it not, had gained by his importunity that which I would not crave from you against your inclination, this would be a grievous weight for me to bear, and to you a great dishonour. I dare tell you this because you are young and comely, and hitherto have been in good repute: and now you begin to be in ill-fame, for though he be no match for you in house, nor substance, far less in authority, wit, and address, yet it would have been better for you to have married him than to have made all men suspicious. Wherefore, prithee tell me whether or no you are resolved to have him for a lover, since I will be no fellow of his, and will leave him to you altogether, and rid myself of the goodwill I have borne you." The poor lady fell to weeping, for fear lest she should lose his friendship, and swore to him she had rather die than wed the gentleman of whom he spoke; but so importunate was he that she could not keep him out of her room when all other folk entered it. "Of that," said the prince, "I do not speak, for I can come there then as well as he, and all can see what you do; but it is reported to me that he goes to you after your couchee, the which I esteem so indiscreet, that if you continue this manner of living and do not declare him for your husband, you will be esteemed the most scandalous of all women." She swore to him that she held him neither as a lover nor a husband, but the most importunate gentleman that ever was. "Since it is so, and he wearies you," said the prince, "be assured that I will ​rid you of him." "What!" said she, "would you then kill him?" "Not so, not so," answered the prince, "but I will make him understand that the house of His Most Sacred Majesty is not the place to bring shame upon ladies: and I swear by the love I bear you, that if after my words he will not cleanse his ways I will cleanse them for him in such wise that others shall take example by him." Thereupon he went out, and failed not at the door to light upon my lord des Cheriots, to whom he spoke after the same sort, assuring him that the first time he found him there after the accustomed hour for gentlemen to speak with ladies, he would give him such a fright as he would never forget, and that her kinsfolk were too noble for him to play with her in this fashion. The gentleman swore he had never been in the room except with others, and gave him leave, if he found him there, to entreat him as evilly as he was able. But some time after, believing the prince to have forgotten the matter, he went to see his lady in the evening and stayed with her somewhat late. And the prince told his wife that Madam de Neufchâtel had a grievous rheum, wherefore she prayed him to go see her for the two, and to make her excuses for not going, since she was kept to her room by a necessary occasion. So the prince waited until after the King's couchee, and then went to see the lady; but, as he began to mount the stair, a servant came down, who when he asked how his mistress did, replied that she was a-bed and asleep. The prince went down the stair thinking that he lied to him, wherefore he looked behind him and saw the servant returning at great speed whither he came. The prince then sauntered in the courtyard by the door to see if the servant would come back or no, and a quarter of an hour after he saw him coming down the stair again, and looking all around to see who was in the courtyard. From this he suspected that my lord des Cheriots was in the room with the lady, and durst not come down for fear of him, which made him persist to walk about the courtyard. But he called to mind that in the lady's room there was a window, not over high and looking on a garden, and thinking of the saw: He who is not able to pass through the door may leap through the window, instantly beckoned to a servant he had with him and said: "Go into the garden behind the house, and if you see a gentleman come down from a ​window, as soon as he shall put foot to earth, draw your sword and clash it against the wall, and cry aloud: "Slay, slay! But beware you touch him not at all." So the servant did as his master had bidden him, and the prince walked in the courtyard till it was about three hours after midnight. But when my lord des Cheriots heard that the prince was still in the courtyard, he determined to get away by the window, and after having first thrown out his cloak, with the aid of his good friends he leapt into the garden. And so soon as the servant saw him he failed not to clash his sword, and cried aloud: "Slay, slay!" at which the poor gentleman, taking him for his master, was so grievously afeared that, without a thought of his cloak, he fled away as speedily as he could. And he lit upon the bowmen of the watch, who were mightily astonished to see him thus running, but he durst not tell them anything, and only prayed them to open him the gate, or to lodge him with them till the morrow: and this they did, for as to the gate they had not the keys of it. In that hour the prince came to bed, and finding his wife asleep he awoke her, saying: "Guess what hour it is." She replied: "Since I went to bed I have not heard one stroke of the clock." He said: "It is three hours past midnight." "Where then," said his wife, "have you been? I fear greatly your health will suffer for it." "Sweetheart," answered the prince, "waking will never hurt me, when thereby I keep them that would deceive me from sleeping." So saying he fell to laughing heartily, and his wife asked him the cause wherefore he did it, which he told her, and showed her the wolfskin cloak that his servant had brought. And after they had made merry at the expense of the poor couple they fell into a pleasant sleep, while the two others passed the night in fear and trembling lest their passages should be revealed to all. But the gentleman, knowing he could not hide the matter from the prince, came on the morrow to his levee, entreating him not to make it manifest, and to give him back his cloak. The prince made pretence of his being ignorant of the whole affair, and kept so well his countenance that the gentleman was altogether at a loss. But at last he talked to him after another fashion than he had looked for, telling him that if he went again to the lady's room he would tell the King, and make him to be banished from the Court.

​"I pray you consider, ladies, if this poor woman had not done better to have spoken freely to him who so honoured her by his love and esteem, than by deceit to have forced him to make so shameful a proof of her." "She knew," said Geburon, "that if she confessed the truth, she would altogether lose his favour, the which she was not at all minded to do." "Methinks," said Longarine, "since she had chosen a husband to her liking, she had no need to fear to lose the friendship of all other men." "I do believe," said Parlamente, "that if she durst have declared her marriage she would have satisfied herself with her husband, but since she wished to conceal it till that her daughters were wed, she would not lose so honourable a cloak." "'Twas not on that account," said Saffredent, "but for the ambition that is so great in all women, that they will not content themselves with one alone. And I have heard that the more discreet will have three, nor more nor less—namely, one for honour, one for profit, one for pleasure; and each of these three deems himself the best beloved, but the two first are as slaves to the last." "The women of whom you speak," said Oisille, "have nor love nor honour." "Mistress," answered he, "the ladies I speak of are honourable ladies, ay, and esteemed the most virtuous in the land." "Trust me," said Hircan, "a crafty woman will gain her bread when all the rest die of hunger." "Yet," said Longarine, "when their craft is known, it is the death of them." "Not so, but rather their life," answered Simontault, "for they account it no small glory to be reputed crafty of their fellows. And this reputation for craftiness doth more avail to bring them lovers than beauty. For the greatest pleasure of two lovers is to order their passages with cunning." "You speak," said Ennasuitte, "of unlawful love, for honest love doth stand in no need of concealment." "I entreat you," said Dagoucin, "to get quit of that opinion, since the more precious the drug the less it should feel the air, and because of the malice of them that only judge by outward signs. Wherefore love, be it virtuous or the contrary, should always be hidden from such folk as cannot believe that a man ever loves a woman honourably, for they think, since they are subject to lust, so are all others. But if we were all of good faith, looks and words need not be concealed, at least from them that had rather die than think evilly of their brethren." ​"I assure you, Dagoucin," said Hircan, "you have so high a philosophy that there is not a man here understands or believes it, for you would have us believe that men are angels, or stones, or devils." "I know well," said Dagoucin, "that men are men, and subject to all manner of passions, yet there have been lovers who would die rather than have their ladies do for their pleasure aught against conscience." "Rather die is a great deal," said Geburon; "I would not believe this did it come from the mouth of the austerest monk in the world." "But I believe," said Hircan, "there is not one that does not believe the very contrary thereto. Natheless, they say the grapes are sour when they grow too high to be plucked." "I do suppose," said Nomerfide, "that the prince's wife was mighty glad when her husband found out what women are like." "Not so," answered Ennasuitte, "but sorry, for she loved this lady." "I like her also," said Saffredent, "who laughed when her husband kissed the serving maid." "Of a truth," said Ennasuitte, "you shall tell us the tale; I give you my vote." "Though my tale be short," said Saffredent, "I will it you, for I had rather make you laugh than talk for a long time."