STORY THE NINETY-SECOND — WOMEN’S QUARRELS.
By The Editor.
Of a married woman who was in love with a Canon, and, to avoid suspicion, took with her one of her neighbours when she went to visit the Canon; and of the quarrel that arose between the two women, as you will hear.
In the noble city of Metz in Lorraine, there lived, some time ago a woman who was married, but also belonged to the confraternity of the houlette (*); nothing pleased her more than that nice amusement we all know: she was always ready to employ her arms, and prove that she was right valiant, and cared little for blows.
(*) “The frail sisterhood”.
Now hear what happened to her whilst she was exercising her profession. She was enamoured of a fat canon, who had more money than an old dog has fleas. But as he lived in a place where people came at all hours, she did not know how she was to come to her canon un-perceived.
She pondered over the matter, and at last determined to take into her confidence a neighbour of hers, a sister-in-arms also of the houlette, for it seemed to her that she might go and see her canon, if accompanied by her neighbour, without causing any suspicion.
As it was devised, so was it done, and she went to see the canon, as though on an affair of great importance, and honourably escorted, as has been said.
To shorten the story, as soon as our bourgeoises arrived, after all due salutations, the principal personage shut herself up with her lover, the canon, and he gave her a mount, as he well knew how.
The neighbour, seeing the other have a private audience with the master of the house, had no small envy, and was much displeased that she could not do the same.
When the first-named woman came out of the room, after receiving what she came for, she said to her neighbour;
“Shall We go?”
“Oh, indeed,” said the other, “am I to go away like that? If I do not receive the same courtesy that you did, by God I will reveal everything. I did not come to warm the wax for other people.”
When they saw what she wanted, they offered her the canon’s clerk, who was a stout and strong gallant well suited for the work, but she refused him point blank, saying that she deserved his master and would have none other.
The canon was obliged, to save his honour, to grant her request, and when that was accomplished, she wished to say farewell and leave.
But then the other would not, for she said angrily that it was she who had brought her neighbour, and for whom the meeting was primarily intended, and she ought to have a bigger share than the other, and that she would not leave unless she had another “truss of oats.”
The Canon was much alarmed when he heard this, and, although he begged the woman who wanted the extra turn not to insist, she would not be satisfied.
“Well,” he said, “I am content, since it needs must be; but never come back under similar conditions—I shall be out of town.”
When the battle was over, the damsel who had had an additional turn, when she took leave, asked the canon to give her something as a keepsake.
Without waiting to be too much importuned, and also to get rid of them, the good canon handed them the remainder of a piece of stuff for kerchiefs, which he gave them, and the “principal” received the gift, and they said farewell.
“It is,” he said, “all that I can give you just now; so take it in good part.”
They had not gone very far, and were in the street, when the neighbour, who had had nothing more than one turn, told her companion that she wanted her share of the gift.
“Very well,” said the other, “I have no objection. How much do you want?”
“Need you ask that,” said she. “I am going to have half, and you the same.”
“How dare you ask,” said the other, “more than you have earned? Have you no shame? You know well that you only went once with the canon, and I went twice, and, pardieu, it is not right that you should have as much as I.”
“Pardieu! I will have as much as you,” said the second.
“Did I not do my duty as well as you?”
“What do you mean by that?”
“Is not once as good as ten times? And now that you know my will, instead of standing here squabbling over a trifle, I recommend you to give me my half, or you will soon see a fight. Do you think you can do as you like with me?”
“Oh, indeed!” said the other, “will you try force? By God’s power you shall only have what is right,—that is to say one third part—and I will have the rest. Did I not have twice as much trouble as you?”
With that the other doubled up her fist and landed it in the face of her companion, the one for whom the meeting had been first arranged, who quickly returned the blow. In short they fought as though they would have killed each other, and called one another foul names. When the people in the street saw the fight between the two companions, who a short while previously had been so friendly, they were much astonished, and came and separated the combatants. Then the husbands were called, and each asked his wife the cause of the quarrel. Each tried to make the other in the wrong, without telling the real cause, and set their husbands against each other so that they fought, and the sergeants came and sent them to cool their heels in prison.
Justice intervened, and the two women were compelled to own that the fight was about a piece of stuff for a kerchief. The Council, seeing that the case did not concern them, sent it to the “King of the Bordels”, because the women were his subjects. And during the affair the poor husbands remained in gaol awaiting sentence, which, owing to the infinite number of cases, is likely to remain unsettled for a long time.
STORY THE NINETY-THIRD — HOW A GOOD WIFE WENT ON A PILGRIMAGE. [93]
By Messire Timoleon Vignier.
Of a good wife who pretended to her husband that she was going on a pilgrimage, in order to find opportunity to be with her lover the parish-clerk—with whom her husband found her; and of what he said and did when he saw them doing you know what.
Whilst I have a good audience, let me relate a funny incident which happened in the district of Hainault.
In a village there, lived a married woman, who loved the parish clerk much more than she did her own husband, and in order to find means to be with the clerk, she feigned to her husband that she owed a pilgrimage to a certain saint, whose shrine was not far from there; which pilgrimage she had vowed to make when she was in travail with her last child, begging the saint that he would be content that she should go on a certain day she named. The good, simple husband, who suspected nothing, allowed her to go on this pilgrimage; and as he would have to remain alone he told her to prepare both his dinner and supper before she left, or else he would go and eat at the tavern.
She did as he ordered, and prepared a nice chicken and a piece of mutton, and when all these preparations were complete, she told her husband that everything was now ready, and that she was going to get some holy water, and then leave.
She went to church, and the first man she met was the one she sought, that is to say the clerk, to whom she told the news, that is to say how she had been permitted to go on a pilgrimage for the whole day.
“And this is what will occur,” she said. “I am sure that as soon as I am out of the house that he will go to the tavern, and not return until late in the evening, for I know him of old; and so I should prefer to remain in the house, whilst he is away, rather than go somewhere else. Therefore you had better come to our house in half an hour, and I will let you in by the back door, if my husband is not at home, and if he should be, we will set out on our pilgrimage.”
She went home, and there she found her husband, at which she was not best pleased.
“What! are you still here?” he asked.
“I am going to put on my shoes,” she said, “and then I shall not be long before I start.”
She went to the shoemaker, and whilst she was having her shoes put on, her husband passed in front of the cobbler’s house, with another man, a neighbour, with whom he often went to the tavern.
She supposed that because he was accompanied by this neighbour that they were going to the tavern; whereas he had no intention of the kind, but was going to the market to find a comrade or two and bring them back to dine with him, since he had a good dinner to offer them—that is to say the chicken and the mutton.
Let us leave the husband to find his comrades, and return to the woman who was having her shoes put on. As soon as that was completed, she returned home as quickly as she could, where she found the scholar wandering round the house, and said to him;
“My dear, we are the happiest people in the world, for I have seen my husband go to the tavern, I am sure, for one of his neighbours was leading him by the arm, and I know is not likely to let my man come back, and therefore let us be joyful. We have the whole day, till night, to ourselves. I have prepared a chicken, and a good piece of mutton, and we will enjoy ourselves;” and without another word they entered the house, but left the door ajar in order that the neighbours should suspect nothing.
Let us now return to the husband, who had found a couple of boon companions besides the one I have mentioned, and now brought them to his house to devour the chicken, and drink some good Beaune wine—or better, if they could get it.
When he came to the house, he entered first, and immediately saw our two lovers, who were taking a sample of the good work they had to do. And when he saw his wife with her legs in the air, he told her that she need not have troubled to bother the cobbler about her shoes, since she was going to make the pilgrimage in that way.
He called his companions, and said;
“Good sirs, just see how my wife looks after my interests. For fear that she should wear out her new shoes, she is making the journey on her back:—no other woman would have done that.”
He picked up the remainder of the fowl, and told her that she might finish her pilgrimage; then closed the door and left her with her clerk, without saying another word, and went off to the tavern. He was not scolded when he came back, nor on the other occasions either that he went there, because he had said little or nothing concerning the pilgrimage which his wife had made at home with her lover, the parish clerk.
