The Heptameron (Machen)/Novel 57

It chanced that King Lewis the Eleventh sent my lord de Montmorency into England as his ambassador, who was so welcomed that the King and all the lords loved and esteemed him exceedingly, and did so much as tell him their secret occasions that they might have his advice thereon. One day, as he sat at a feast the King made for him, he had by him at the board a lord of a great house, who had a small lady's glove fixed on to his doublet by golden hooks, and where the fingers joined it was so adorned with diamonds, rubies, amethysts, and pearls, that it was assuredly a glove of great price. My lord de Montmorency looked at it so often that he who wore it perceived he would fain ask wherefore it was so magnificent, and esteeming that the tale would be altogether to his advantage, he began: "I plainly perceive that you find it a strange thing for me to have thus gorgeously arrayed a poor glove, and I still more desire to tell you the reason, for I esteem you for an honest gentleman and one who knows what manner of passion is love, and if I have done well therein you shall praise me for it, and if not, you will make excuse for me, inasmuch as this same love bears rule in every honourable heart. Know then that all my life I have loved one lady, whom I love now, and shall love after her death. But though my heart was so bold ​as to address itself in a high quarter, yet my tongue could not take courage to speak, and for seven years I tarried without a sign, fearing lest, if she was ware of it, I should lose the means I had of often seeing her, the which I feared more than death. But one day, as we were in a meadow, while I looked upon her, so violently did my heart beat, that I lost all colour and the manner of my countenance was changed. And she perceiving this, and asking what ailed me, I answered that it was a heartache hardly to be borne, and she, thinking it was a sickness in which love had no share, showed pity on me. Wherefore I entreated her to put her hand upon my heart to see how grievously it was beating, and this she did, but more out of kindness than love, and as I held her hand upon my heart, it fell to beating in such wise, that she perceived I had spoken nought but the truth. And then holding her hand upon my breast I said to her: 'Alas! mistress, take this poor heart of mine, that would fain break through my breast and lie in the hand of you from whom I crave favour, and life, and pity; wherefore I must now tell you of the love I have so long concealed, since neither I nor my heart can overcome this almighty deity.' And when she heard this discourse of mine, finding it mighty strange, she would have drawn back her hand, but I kept it so that this glove was left to me in the place of her cruel hand. And since I have never since had any commerce with her, I have fixed the glove upon my heart as the best emplaster for it, and have adorned it with all my fairest jewels, though I hold the glove itself as more excellent a thing than this whole realm of England, nor do I esteem any of the world's goods equal to having it upon my breast." My lord de Montmorency, who would have rather had the hand than the glove of a lady, extolled him for his honourable dealing, saying he was the most perfect lover he had ever seen and worthy of kinder treatment, since of so small a thing he had made so much. Though perchance, if he had more than the glove, he would die from mere excess of pleasure. To all this the English lord agreed, not perceiving that the other was making a mock of him,

"If all men were thus honourable, the ladies might well trust them, since the cost would be but a glove." "I was of the acquaintance of my lord de Montmorency," said Geburon, ​"and I am sure he would not have desired to love after the fashion of this Englishman; for had he contented himself with so little he would not have had his notable successes in love affairs, as the old song says: 'Faint heart ne'er won fair lady.'" "Trust me," said Saffredent, "the poor lady drew back her hand pretty speedily when she felt how the heart of him was beating; for she thought he might die, and they say there is nothing more hateful to a woman than to touch a dead man." "If you had resorted to the hospitals as much as to the taverns," said Ennasuitte, "you would not talk after this sort, for you would there see women making the dead ready for burial, when men, brave as they may be, dare not touch them," "It is true," said Saffredent, "that any woman, when a penance is laid upon her, will do that most contrary to her inclinations, as was apparent in a lady of a good house who was found at four of the clock one morning kissing the dead body of a gentleman who had been killed the day before, and with whom she had not been at all particular. And this was done by way of satisfaction for past delights, and the pleasure she had taken to kiss a man she loved." "Since every good work done of a woman," said Oisille, "is taken in bad part by man, I am of opinion that, dead or living, there should be no kissing if it be not in accordance with the commandment of God." "As for me," said Hircan, "I care so little for kissing women, save only my wife, that I will agree to whatsoever may be ordained in the matter; but I pity the young folk from whom you would take away this small contentment, thereby making the commandment of St. Paul, who will have us kiss in osculo sancto, of none effect." "If St. Paul had been like unto you," said Nomerfide, "we should have required most evident signs of the Spirit of God speaking in him." "To the last," said Geburon, "you will rather doubt Holy Writ than forsake one of your petty observances." "May God guard us," said Oisille, "from doubting Holy Writ, so long as we put small trust in your lies; for there is no woman who knows not what her belief should be, namely to have no doubt in the word of God, and no faith in the word of man." "Yet do I believe," said Simontault, "that there are more men deceived of women than women deceived of men. For they loving us but a little, put no trust in the truth we tell them; whilst we, loving them ​greatly, believe their lies in such sort that we are deceived before we suspect that it is possible." "Methinks," said Parlamente, "you have heard the complaint of a fool deceived of a wanton, for your conclusion is of so little weight, that it stands in great need of an example to confirm it. Wherefore, if you are advised of such, I give you my place to tell it. But I do not say that we are obliged to believe what you tell us, and if you speak evil of us our ears will not burn, since we know what is true and what false." "Insomuch as I have leave to speak," said Dagoucin, "I will tell you the story."