The Heptameron (Machen)/Novel 8

In the county of Alet, there was a man named Bornet, who being married to a woman of honour, had for her good name such a regard as I suppose all husbands here present have for that of their wives. But though he was fain for her to be without reproach, yet this law of his did not press on husband and wife with equal rigour, for he loved his serving-maid, from whom he could get no more delight than that arising from a diversity of meats. Now he had a neighbour named Sandras, a drum-maker and tailor; and there was such friendship betwixt them that, except the wife, they had all things in common. So to this Sandras he made known the enterprise he had undertaken against the serving-maid, who not only thought well of it, but gave his friend all the aid in his power to bring matters to a conclusion, since he had good hope of dividing the spoil. The wench, who would by no means consent, seeing herself hard-pressed on every side, went to her mistress, and prayed her that she might go home to her kinsfolk, since she could no longer live in such torment. The wife, ​who greatly loved her husband, and had before had some suspicion of him, was mightily pleased to hear this, thinking to show him that her jealousy was not altogether without foundation; and so said to the girl: "Do you, by little and little, entice my husband and then make appointment with him to lie with you in my closet, failing not to tell me the night agreed upon; and above all take heed that none be advised of this." All this the maid performed, and so much to the pleasing of her master, that he went to his friend to make known the good tidings. And he, since he had helped to fight the fight, entreated a share in the victory. This being granted, and the hour determined, the master went to lie, as he thought, with his maid, but his wife, who had renounced the authority of commanding for the pleasure of obeying, had put herself in place of the serving-maid, and received her husband not after the fashion of a wife, but like a timid and frightened girl. And this she did so well that her husband perceived nothing.

I cannot tell you which of the two had most delight, he at the thought of cozening his wife, or she at the thought of cozening her husband. And when he had remained with her, not according to his wish but according to his power, for he began to feel that he was an old married man, he went outside the house and found his friend, who was by far younger and handsomer than he, and boasting to him that a sweeter morsel he had never tasted, his friend said: "You know what you promised me?" "Come then, and quickly," said the master, "or she will have got up, or my wife may require her." His friend went, and found still there the serving-maid, who, taking him for her husband, refused him nothing he liked to ask. Much longer stay did he make than the husband, at which the wife was in amaze, for it was not her custom to have such work of nights; all the same, she bore it patiently; fortifying herself with the discourse she would have with her husband in the morning, and the jeers she would make at him. But a little while before dawn he got up from her, and in taking a last taste before he went, he snatched a ring off her finger, the same with which her husband had espoused her. And this ring of espousal the women of that country hold in high honour, and have in great regard the woman who keeps her ring even unto death. But on the other hand, if she loses ​it, she is held in no account, and esteemed as one who has given her faith to another than her husband. And she was glad to see him take it, thinking it would be sure proof of the deceit she had laid upon him.

And when Sandras returned to Bornet, the latter asked of him what his hap had been, to whom he replied that he had fared excellently well, and that if it had not been that the day was breaking he would have stayed still longer. And then they betook them to a most hearty sleep. But in the morning, as they were dressing, the husband perceived the ring his companion wore on his finger made in the exact likeness of the one he had given his wife at their betrothal, and so required of Sandras whence it came. But when he heard that it was snatched from the finger of the serving-maid, he was in great affray, and fell to knocking his head against the wall, saying: "Oddsfish! have I then made myself a cuckold, without the knowledge of my wife?" His companion, for his consolation, said: "Perchance your wife gave the ring to the wench for her to take care of it." To this the husband had nothing to say, but gat him home straightway, where he found his wife prettier, gayer, and more frolicsome than was her custom, as was indeed to have been looked for in a wife who had saved her maid's conscience, and sounded her husband to the depths, at the small price of a sleepless night. He, seeing her with so pleasant a countenance, said within himself: "Did she but know of what has been done, she would have an otherguise visage." And making discourse on various concerns he took her by the hand, and perceived that she had not her ring, whereat in great affray, and with a tremor in his voice, he asked her: "What have you done with your ring?" But she, glad that he had brought that matter into discourse, from which it was her mind to draw out some points to his edification, made this beginning: "O thou vilest of men! From whom, think you, did you ravish it? In good sooth from my maid, on whose behalf you poured forth more of your substance than ever fell to my share; for the first time you were bedded with me I judged you to be as vigorous as you were able. But after you had gone out and come back again you seemed the incarnate devil of concupiscence. Wretch! conceive your blindness in praising so much this poor body of mine, which you have enjoyed ​a year without placing it in any great esteem. It was not then the beauty or the breasts of the maid that gave you such great delight, but the deadly sin of lust which enflames your heart and so enfeebles your reason, that I verily believe in that mad heat of yours you would have taken a she-goat in a nightcap for a girl of surpassing comeliness. Of a truth, husband, it is time for you to cleanse your ways, and to be as content with what I can give you, in my proper person as a good wife and an honest woman, as you were when you took me for a naughty quean. This that I have done has been for the correction of your evil ways, and to the end that in our old age we may love one another with an honest love and a good conscience. For if you will still continue in your former manner of living, I had rather be severed from you than see from day to day before mine eyes the ruin of your soul, body, and substance. But if you will bring to mind the wickedness of your heart and live obediently to the law of God, faithfully observing his commandments, I will forget your sins that are past, as I trust God will forget my sin, who have not loved him as I ought." Who then was in despair but this poor husband? For he had abandoned this wise and chaste wife of his for a wench that loved him not, and, worse than this, had, without her knowledge, made her a strumpet, and caused another man to share in that delight which was for him alone. So well had he made him horns of everlasting derision. But seeing his wife, how wrath she was at his love for the serving-maid, he took good care to tell her nothing of the evil turn he had done her; and giving her back the ring, asked her pardon, and promised an entire amendment of his former iniquitous living. And he strictly charged his friend to tell no man anything; but since what is whispered in the ear is ere long proclaimed from the housetop, the whole truth became known, and making no account of his wife, all folk called him cuckold.

"It appears to me, ladies, that if all who have committed a like offence against their wives, should receive like punishment, Hircan and Saffredent would have shrewd cause for fear." At this Saffredent said: "What, Longarine, of all this company are Hircan and I alone married?" "Many there are married," quoth she, "but no other who would play a game like this." "Whence had you," said Saffredent, "that we have attempted ​our wives' serving-maids?" "If they, whom this discourse pricks, were to speak the whole truth, they could tell us of many a wench that had notice of dismission and her quarterage." "Truly," said Geburon, "you are a fine lady who, in place of affording us our promised laughter, have given occasion of wrath to these two gentlemen." "'Tis all one," replied Longarine, "so long as their swords are sheathed their anger will serve but to increase our diversion." "Goodly diversion is this," said Hircan, "which, if our wives gave credit to her tale, would make an uproar in the best ordered household in the company." "I know well what I am saying," answered she, "for so well do your wives love you that, if you were to give them horns as big as stags', they would willingly persuade themselves and all beside that they were garlands of roses." At this the whole company, and even the wives aforesaid, fell to laughing in such wise that the discourse came to an end. But Dagoucin, who hitherto had kept silence, must needs say: "Man is, in truth, irrational, since when he has good matter of contentment at home, he must needs go and search for it abroad. For I have often seen men, through their lust of gaining more, and their ill-liking to what should suffice them, fall into far worse case than they were before, and so get their deserts, for fickleness is well worthy of blame." Simontault said to this: "But what do you say as to those who have not found their other half? Call you it fickleness to seek every quarter, if haply they may find it?" "Ay, verily I do, and for this reason—that man knoweth not where to look for this other half, with whom there is such perfect union that the one differs not from the other. Wherefore love should be steadfastly fixed, and in whatever hap, change not its heart or inclination, for if she whom you love is like to yourself, so that there is but one will between you, then it is yourself you love and not her." "Dagoucin," said Hircan, "this position of yours is false, as if we should bear love to women by whom we are not beloved." "My intent is," answered Dagoucin, "to maintain that when love is bottomed merely upon the beauty, gracious ways, or wealth of a woman, and our aim be only pleasure, honour, or profit, that love will not long endure. For when that upon which we found our love becomes wanting, the love itself perishes. But I am steadfast in my opinion, ​that he who loves, and desires nothing better than to love with a perfect love, will cling to this love while his soul clings to his body." "Pardy," said Simontault, "I cannot believe that you have ever been in love, for if you had felt this fire like other men, you would not treat us in this fashion with a Republic like Plato's, that has life only on paper." "Not so," said Dagoucin, "I have loved, do still love, and while I live, will love. But I have so great a fear lest, when I make manifest this love, I thereby do injustice to its perfection, that I conceal it even from her of whom I desire a like return. Hardly indeed do I suffer it to enter my thoughts, lest my eyes make revelation of it, for so much the more that I keep this fire hidden out of sight, so the more earnestly do I delight to know that it is perfect and without stain." "Yet," said Geburon, "I am well assured that to be loved in return would not be to your misliking." "This I acknowledge, but since my love is not lessened for that it is not returned, so it would not be increased if it were returned." Whereupon Parlamente, who held this fantasy in small favour, said: "Take care, Dagoucin, for I have seen others beside you who had rather die than speak." "These, mistress," answered Dagoucin, "I deem exceeding happy." "Even so," said Saffredent, "and well deserving a place among the Innocents, of whom the church sings: Non loquendo, sed moriendo confessi sunt. I have heard much of these feeble lovers, but never yet stood I at the death-bed of one of them. And since I have come scot-free from all my dolours, I believe not that another man will die of such woes." "How then," said Dagoucin, "do you expect to be loved? But lovers of your sort need never fear death. Yet have I known many an one to whom death came by no sickness but love." "Since you are advised of such," said Longarine, "I give you my vote for the telling some pleasant story that shall be the ninth novel." "To the intent," he replied, "that your faith may be confirmed by signs and miracles, I will tell you an authentic history, which came to pass not three years ago."