As soon as he had dismissed all his attendants he rose to fasten the door after them; and for a long time he listened to hear whether there were any sound in the room of the Princess, which was above his own. When he had made sure that all was quiet, he wished to begin his pleasant task, and little by little let down the trap-door, which was so excellently wrought, and so well covered with cloth, that it made not the least noise. Then he ascended into the room and came to the bedside of his lady, who was just falling asleep.
Forthwith, having no regard for the duty that he owed his mistress or for the house to which she belonged, he got into bed with her, without entreating her permission or making any kind of ceremony. She felt him in her arms before she knew that he had entered the room; but being strong, she freed herself from his grasp, and fell to striking, biting, and scratching him, demanding the while to know who he was, so that for fear lest she should call out he sought to stop her mouth with the bedclothes. But this he found it impossible to do, for when she saw that he was using all his strength to work her shame she did as much to baffle him. She further called as loudly as she could to her lady of honour,(7) who slept in her room; and this old and virtuous woman ran to her mistress in her nightdress.
7 The lady in question was Blanche de Tournon, daughter of
James de Tournon, by Jane de Polignac, and sister of
Cardinal de Tournon, Minister of Francis I. She first
married Raymond d’Agout, Baron of Sault in Provence, who
died in 1503; and secondly James de Chastillon, Chamberlain
to Charles VIII. and Louis XII., killed at the siege of
Ravenna in 1512. Brantôme states, moreover, that she
subsequently married Cardinal John du Bellay. (See Appendix
to the’present volume, C.) In this story, Margaret describes
the Princess of Flanders as having lost two husbands, with
the view of disguising the identity of her heroine. Her own
husband (the Duke of Alençon) was still alive; but Madame de
Chastillon had twice become a widow, and the Queen, who was
well aware of this, designedly ascribed to the Princess the
situation of the lady of honour. This story should be
compared with the poem “Quatre Dames et Quatre
Gentilhommes” in the Marguerites de la Marguerite.—F.
When the gentleman saw that he was discovered, he was so fearful of being recognised by the lady, that he descended in all haste through his trap-door; his despair at returning in such an evil plight being no less than his desire and assurance of a gracious reception had previously been. He found his mirror and candle on his table,(8) and looking at his face, all bleeding from the lady’s scratches and bites, whence the blood was trickling over his fine shirt, which had now more blood than gold (9) about it, he said—
8 It is not surprising that the mirror should have been
lying on the table. Mirrors were for a long time no larger
than our modern hand-glasses. That of Mary de’ Medici,
offered to her by the Republic of Venice, and now in the
Galerie d’Apollon at the Louvre, is extremely small, though
it has an elaborate frame enriched with precious cameos.
Even the mirrors placed by Louis XIV. in the celebrated
Galerie des Glaces at Versailles were no larger than
ordinary window-panes.—M.
9 Shirts were then adorned at the collar and in front with
gold-thread embroidery, such as is shown in some of Clouet’s
portraits. In M. de Laborde’s Comptes des Bâtiments du Roi
au XVIème Siècle (vol. ii.) mention is made of “a shirt
with gold work,” “a shirt with white work,” &c.; and also of
two beautiful women’s chemises in Holland linen “richly
worked with gold thread and silk, at the price of six crowns
apiece.”—M.
“Beauty! now hast thou been rewarded according to thy deserts. By reason of thy vain promises I attempted an impossible undertaking, and one that, instead of increasing my happiness, will perchance double my misfortune. I feel sure that if she knows I made this foolish attempt contrary to the promise I gave her, I shall lose the honourable and accustomed companionship which more than any other I have had with her. And my folly has well deserved this, for if I was to turn my good looks and grace to any account, I ought not to have hidden them in the darkness. I should not have sought to take that chaste body by force, but should have waited in long service and humble patience till love had conquered her. Without love, all man’s merits and might are of no avail.”
Thus he passed the night in tears, regrets, and sorrowings such as I cannot describe; and in the morning, finding his face greatly torn, he feigned grievous sickness and to be unable to endure the light, until the company had left his house.
The lady, who had come off victorious, knew that there was no man at her brother’s Court that durst attempt such an enterprise save him who had had the boldness to declare his love to her. She therefore concluded that it was indeed her host, and made search through the room with her lady of honour to discover how he could have entered it. But in this she failed, whereupon she said to her companion in great anger—
“You may be sure that it can have been none other than the lord of this house, and I will make such report of him to my brother in the morning that his head shall bear witness to my chastity.”
Seeing her in such wrath, the lady of honour said to her—