“I pray you, sweetheart, be of good cheer.”
Then, as well as he could, the dying man stretched forth his arms, wherein flesh and blood alike were lacking, and with all the strength remaining in his bones embraced her who was the cause of his death. And kissing her with his pale cold lips, he held her thus as long as he was able. Then he said to her—
“The love I have borne you has been so great and honourable, that, excepting in marriage, I have never desired of you any other favour than the one you are granting me now, for lack of which and with which I shall cheerfully yield up my spirit to God. He is perfect love and charity. He knows the greatness of my love and the purity of my desire, and I beseech Him, while I hold my desire within my arms, to receive my spirit into His own.”
With these words he again took her in his arms, and with such exceeding ardour that his enfeebled heart, unable to endure the effort, was deprived of all its faculties and life; for joy caused it so to swell that the soul was severed from its abode and took flight to its Creator.
And even when the poor body had lain a long time without life, and was thus unable to retain its hold, the love which the damsel had always concealed was made manifest in such a fashion that her mother and the dead man’s servants had much ado to separate her from her lover. However, the girl, who, though living, was in a worse condition than if she had been dead, was by force removed at last out of the gentleman’s arms. To him they gave honourable burial; and the crowning point of the ceremony was the weeping and lamentation of the unhappy damsel, who having concealed her love during his lifetime, made it all the more manifest after his death, as though she wished to atone for the wrong that she had done him. And I have heard that although she was given a husband to comfort her, she has never since had joy in her heart. (1)
1 By an expression made use of by Dagoucin (see ante),
Queen Margaret gives us to understand that the incidents
here related occurred three years prior to the writing of
the story. It may be pointed out, however, that there is
considerable analogy between the conclusion of this tale and
the death of Geffroy Rudel de Blaye, one of the earliest
troubadours whose name has been handed down to us. Geffroy,
who lived at the close of the twelfth century, became so
madly enamoured of the charms of the Countess of Tripoli,
after merely hearing an account of her moral and physical
perfections, that, although in failing health, he embarked
for Africa to see her. On reaching the port of Tripoli, he
no longer had sufficient strength to leave the vessel,
whereupon the Countess, touched by his love, visited him on
board, taking his hand and giving him a kindly greeting.
Geffroy could scarcely say a few words of thanks; his
emotion was so acute that he died upon the spot. See J. de
Nostredame’s Vies des plus Célèbres et Anciens Poëtes
Provençaux(Lyons, 1575, p. 25); Raynouard’s Choix des
Poésies des Troubadours (vol. v. p. 165); and also
Raynouard’s Histoire Littéraire de la France (vol. xiv. p.
559).—L.
“What think you of that, gentlemen, you who would not believe what I said? Is not this example sufficient to make you confess that perfect love, when concealed and disregarded, may bring folks to the grave? There is not one among you but knows the kinsfolk on the one and the other side, (2) and so you cannot doubt the story, although nobody would be disposed to believe it unless he had some experience in the matter.”
2 This certainly points to the conclusion that the tale is
founded upon fact, and not, as M. Leroux de Lincy suggests,
borrowed from the story of Geffroy Rudel de Blaye. It will
have been observed (ante) that the Queen of Navarre
curiously enough lays the scene of her narrative between
Provence and Dauphiné. These two provinces bordered upon one
another, excepting upon one point where they were separated
by the so-called Comtat Venaissin or Papal state of Avignon.
Here, therefore, the incidents of the story, if authentic,
would probably have occurred. The story may be compared with
Tale L. (post).—Ed.
When the ladies heard this they all had tears in their eyes, but Hircan said to them—
“He was the greatest fool I ever heard of. By your faith, now, I ask you, is it reasonable that we should die for women who are made only for us, or that we should be afraid to ask them for what God has commanded them to give us? I do not speak for myself nor for any who are married. I myself have all that I want or more; but I say it for such men as are in need. To my thinking, they must be fools to fear those whom they should rather make afraid. Do you not perceive how greatly this poor damsel regretted her folly? Since she embraced the gentleman’s dead body—an action repugnant to human nature—she would not have refused him while he was alive had he then trusted as much to boldness as he trusted to pity when he lay upon his death-bed.”