The Heptameron (Machen)/Novel 7

In the town of Paris there lived a mercer, who was amorous of a young wench his neighbour, or, to speak by book, the wench was by far more amorous of him than he of her. For all his love-making and dalliance was but a pretence, whereby he concealed his love for a more honourable lady; but this wench, who let herself be cozened by him, loved him so hotly as to have quite forgotten the way to refuse. So the mercer, who before had taken much pains to go where he might find her, at last ended by making her come and find him. And this being brought to the mother, who was an honest woman, she straightly charged the wench to have no more dealings with the mercer, or she should be clapped up in a nunnery. But the girl, who had a love for the man greater than was her fear for her mother, sought him out all the more. And one day it fell out that, being all alone in a closet, the mercer came in unto her, and deeming the place a fitting one, fell to that kind of talk with her that wants two and not three. But a serving-maid, who saw him going in, ran quickly and advertised the mother of it, and she went thither in great wrath. And when the wench heard her coming, she said weeping to the mercer: "Alas, alas, sweetheart, this love of mine will cost ​me dear, for hither comes my mother, who will discover to be true that which she had always dreaded." The mercer, who was by no means troubled or affrayed, straightway left her, and going to her mother, caught her in his arms, and with the rage that was half-spent on the daughter threw the old woman on a small bed. And she, not knowing what to make of this device, could scarcely speak a word but: "What would you? Are you mad?" But for all that he pressed as hard and fast on her as if she had been the rarest beauty in the world, and had she not lifted up her voice and brought her servants to her rescue she would have gone the same gate she was afraid her daughter had passed through. However, by main force they wrenched the poor old dame from between the hands of the mercer, and to her dying day she could never find out for what reason she had been used in this fashion. As for the wench she got her away to a house hardby, where there was a wedding, and stayed there till all was quiet. And many an honest laugh did she and the mercer have together at the expense of the old dame, who never got any light on the matter.

"In which relation, ladies, you see how the subtilty of a man cozened an old dame and saved the honour of a wench. But anyone who could name names, and saw the face of the mercer, and the amazement of the old woman, would have to be very tender of his conscience, did he not laugh. It is enough for me to have clearly shown to you that the wit of men is as ready as that of women in their hour of need, wherefore fear not to fall into the hands of men, for if your own wit fail you theirs will not, and your honour shall be in no peril." "Truly, Hircan," said Longarine, "I do not deny that the relation is pleasant, and the wit beyond compare, but the wench's part is not an ensample to other girls. I doubt not you know maids whom you would fain have follow in her steps; but you are surely not fool enough to wish your wife, or any woman of whose honour you make more account than her pleasure, to play such games as these. I verily believe there is none who would more closely keep watch and ward upon them than you." "Pardy," said Hircan, "if she of whom you speak had gone and done likewise, I would think no worse of her, if I knew nothing about it. And indeed, for all I know, some one may have served me in this fashion. But ​knowing nothing, I care nothing." Parlamente could not refrain from saying: "Needs must be that the evil man is full of suspicion; but happy are they who have no suspicion, and give no occasion for it." Longarine said: "I have never seen a great fire from which there came no smoke; but I have plainly seen smoke arising from no fire. For one is as often suspected by the wicked when there is no cause as when there is." To whom replied Hircan: "Truly, Longarine, you have made so fine a defence of the honour of wrongly-suspected ladies, that I give you my vote for the eighth novel; in which take heed that you make us not to weep, as did Oisille, by your marvellous praise of honourable women." Longarine, herself laughing mightily, began to speak: "Since you are fain for me to make you laugh, as is my custom, I will do so, yet not at the expense of women; but my story shall be of how easy they are to be deceived, when jealousy is their humour, and they esteem themselves well able to deceive their husbands."