STORY THE FORTY-NINTH — THE SCARLET BACKSIDE.
By Pierre David.
Of one who saw his wife with a man to whom she gave the whole of her body, except her backside, which she left for her husband and he made her dress one day when his friends were present in a woollen gown on the backside of which was a piece of fine scarlet, and so left her before all their friends.
I am well aware that formerly there lived in the city of Arras, a worthy merchant, who had the misfortune to have married a wife who was not the best woman in the world, for, when she saw a chance, she would slip as easily as an old cross-bow.
The good merchant suspected his wife’s misdeeds, and was also informed by several of his friends and neighbours. Thereupon he fell into a great frenzy and profound melancholy; which did not mend matters. Then he determined to try whether he could know for certain that which was hardly likely to please him—that is to see one or more of those who were his deputies come to his house to visit his wife.
So one day he pretended to go out, and hid himself in a chamber of his house of which he alone had the key. The said chamber looked upon the street and the courtyard, and by several secret openings and chinks upon several other chambers in the house.
As soon as the good woman thought her husband had gone, she let one of the lovers who used to come to her know of it, and he obeyed the summons as he should, for he followed close on the heels of the wench who was sent to fetch him.
The husband, who as has been said, was in his secret chamber, saw the man who was to take his place enter the house, but he said not a word, for he wished to know more if possible.
“When the lover was in the house, the lady led him by the hand into her chamber, conversing all the while. Then she locked the door, and they began to kiss and to cuddle, and enjoy themselves, and the good woman pulled off her gown and appeared in a plain petticoat, and her companion threw his arms round her, and did that for which he came. The poor husband, meanwhile, saw all this through a little grating, and you may imagine was not very comfortable; he was even so close to them that he could hear plainly all they said. When the battle between the good woman and her lover was over, they sat upon a couch that was in the chamber, and talked of various matters. And as the lover looked upon his mistress, who was marvellously fair, he began to kiss her again, and as he kissed her he said;
“Darling, to whom does this sweet mouth belong?”
“It is yours, sweet friend,” she replied.
“I thank you. And these beautiful eyes?”
“Yours also,” she said.
“And this fair rounded bosom-does that belong to me?” he asked.
“Yes, by my oath, to you and none other,” she replied.
Afterwards he put his hand upon her belly, and upon her “front” and each time asked, “Whose is this, darling?”
“There is no need to ask; you know well enough that it is all yours.”
Then he put his hand upon her big backside, and asked smiling,
“And whose is this?”
“It is my husband’s,” she said. “That is his share; but all the rest is yours.”
“Truly,” he said, “I thank you greatly. I cannot complain, for you have given me all the best parts. On the other hand, be assured that I am yours entirely.”
“I well know it,” she said, and with that the combat of love began again between them, and more vigorously than ever, and that being finished, the lover left the house.
The poor husband, who had seen and heard everything, could stand no more; he was in a terrible rage, nevertheless he suppressed his wrath, and the next day appeared, as though he had just come back from a journey.
At dinner that day, he said that he wished to give a great feast on the following Sunday to her father and mother, and such and such of her relations and cousins, and that she was to lay in great store of provisions that they might enjoy themselves that day. She promised to do this and to invite the guests.
Sunday came, the dinner was prepared, those who were bidden all appeared, and each took the place the host designated, but the merchant remained standing, and so did his wife, until the first course was served.
When the first course was placed on the table, the merchant who had secretly caused to be made for his wife a robe of thick duffle grey with a large patch of scarlet cloth on the backside, said to his wife, “Come with me to the bedroom.”
He walked first, and she followed him. When they were there, he made her take off her gown, and showing her the aforesaid gown of duffle grey, said, “Put on this dress!”
She looked, and saw that it was made of coarse stuff, and was much surprised, and could not imagine why her husband wished her to dress in this manner.
“For what purpose do you wish me to put this on?” she asked. “Never mind,” he replied, “I wish you to wear it.” “Faith!” she replied, “I don’t like it! I won’t put it on! Are you mad? Do you want all your people and mine to laugh at us both?”
“Mad or sane,” he said, “you will wear it.” “At least,” she answered, “let me know why.” “You will know that in good time.” In short, she was compelled to put on this gown, which had a very strange appearance, and in this apparel she was led to the table, where most of her relations and friends were seated.
But you imagine they were very astonished to see her thus dressed, and, as you may suppose, she was very much ashamed, and would not have come to the table if she had not been compelled.
Some of her relatives said they had the right to know the meaning of this strange apparel, but her husband replied that they were to enjoy their dinner, and afterwards they should know.
The poor woman who was dressed in this strange garb could eat but little; there was a mystery connected with the gown which oppressed her spirits. She would have been even more troubled if she had known the meaning of the scarlet patch, but she did not.
The dinner was at length over, the table was removed, grace was said, and everyone stood up. Then the husband came forward and began to speak, and said;
“All you who are here assembled, I will, if you wish, tell you briefly why I have called you together, and why I have dressed my wife in this apparel. It is true that I had been informed that your relative here kept but ill the vows she had made to me before the priest, nevertheless I would not lightly believe that which was told me, but wished to learn the truth for myself, and six days ago I pretended to go abroad, and hid myself in an upstairs chamber. I had scarcely come there before there arrived a certain man, whom my wife led into her chamber, where they did whatsoever best pleased them. And amongst other questions, the man demanded of her to whom belonged her mouth, her eyes, her hands, her belly, her ‘front’, and her thighs? And she replied, ‘To you, dear’. And when he came to her backside, he asked, ‘And whose is this, darling?’ ‘My husband’s’ she replied. Therefore I have dressed her thus. She said that only her backside was mine, and I have caused it it to be attired as becomes my condition. The rest of her have I clad in the garb which is befitting an unfaithful and dishonoured woman, for such she is, and as such I give her back to you.”
The company was much astonished to hear this speech, and the poor woman overcome with shame. She never again occupied a position in her husband’s house, but lived, dishonoured and ashamed, amongst her own people.
STORY THE FIFTIETH — TIT FOR TAT. [50]
By Anthoine De La Sale.
Of a father who tried to kill his son because the young man wanted to lie with his grandmother, and the reply made by the said son.
Young men like to travel and to seek after adventures; and thus it was with the son of a labourer, of Lannoys, who from the age of ten until he was twenty-six, was away from home; and from his departure until his return, his father and mother heard no news of him, so they often thought that he was dead.
He returned at last, and God knows what joy there was in the house, and how he was feasted to the best of such poor means as God had given them.
But the one who most rejoiced to see him was his grandmother, his father’s mother. She was most joyful at his return, and kissed him more than fifty times, and ceased not to praise God for having restored her grandson in good health.
After the feasting was over, bed-time came. There were in the cottage but two beds—the one for the father and mother, and the other for the grandmother. So it was arranged that the son should sleep with his grandmother, at which she was very glad, but he grumbled, and only complied to oblige his parents, and as a makeshift for one night.
When he was in bed with his grandmother, it happened, I know not how, that he began to get on the top of her.
“What are you doing?” she cried.
“Never you mind,” he replied, “and hold your tongue.” When she saw that he really meant to ravish her, she began to cry out as loud as she could for her son, who slept in the next room, and then jumped out of bed and went and complained to him, weeping bitterly meanwhile.
When the other heard his mother’s complaint, and the unfilial conduct of his son, he sprang out of bed in great wrath, and swore that he would kill the young man.
The son heard this threat, so he rose quickly, slipped out of the house, and made his escape. His father followed him, but not being so light of foot, found the pursuit hopeless, so returned home, where his mother was still grieving over the offence her grandson had committed.
“Never mind, mother!” he said. “I will avenge you.”
I know not how many days after that, the father saw his son playing tennis in the town of Laon, and drawing his dagger, went towards him, and would have stabbed him, but the young man slipped away and his father was seized and disarmed.
There were many there who knew that the two were father and son; so one said to the son,
“How does this come about? What have you done to your father that he should seek to kill you?”
“Faith! nothing,” he replied. “He is quite in the wrong. He wants to do me all the harm in the world, because, just for once, I would ride his mother—whereas he has mounted mine more than five hundred times, and I never said a word about it.”
All those who heard this reply began to haugh heartily, and swore that he must be a good fellow. So they did their best to make peace for him with his father, and at last they succeeded, and all was forgiven and forgotten on both sides.
