After continuing there for a month, the lady returned in sound health to her own house, where she lived more austerely than ever in fasts and disciplines. But when her son was grown up, he sent to beg his mother’s permission to return home, as there was at that time no war in Italy. She, fearing lest she should fall again into the same misfortune, would not at first allow him, but he urged her so earnestly that at last she could find no reason for refusing him. However, she instructed him that he was not to appear before her until he was married to a woman whom he dearly loved; but to whose fortune he need give no heed, for it would suffice if she were of gentle birth.

Meanwhile her bastard brother, finding that the daughter left in his charge had grown to be a tall maiden of perfect beauty, resolved to place her in some distant household where she would not be known, and by the mother’s advice she was given to Catherine, Queen of Navarre. (4) The maiden thus came to the age of twelve or thirteen years, and was so beautiful and virtuous that the Queen of Navarre had great friendship for her, and much desired to marry her to one of wealth and station. Being poor, however, she found no husband, though she had lovers enough and to spare.

4 This is Catherine, daughter of Gaston and sister of
Francis Phoebus de Foix. On her brother’s death, in 1483,
she became Queen of Navarre, Duchess of Nemours and Countess
of Foix and Bigorre, and in the following year espoused
John, eldest son of Alan, Sire d’Albret. Catherine at this
time was fourteen years old, and her husband, who by the
marriage became King of Navarre, was only one year her
senior. Their title to the crown was disputed by a dozen
pretenders, for several years they exercised but a
precarious authority, and eventually, in July 1512,
Ferdinand the Catholic despatched the Duke of Alva to
besiege Pamplona. On the fourth day of the siege John and
Catherine succeeded in escaping from their capital, which,
three days later, surrendered. Ferdinand, having sworn to
maintain the fueros, was thereupon acknowledged as
sovereign. However, it was only in 1516 that the former
rulers were expelled from Navarrese territory. “Had I been
Don Juan and you Donna Catherine,” said the Queen to her
pusillanimous husband, as they crossed the Pyrenees, “we
should not have lost our kingdom.” From this time forward
the d’Albrets, like their successors the Bourbons, were
sovereigns of Navarre in name only, for an attempt made in
1521 to reconquer the kingdom resulted in total failure, and
their dominions were thenceforth confined to Beam, Bigorre,
and Foix on the French side of the Pyrenees. Queen Catherine
died in 1517, aged 47, leaving several children, the eldest
of whom was Henry, Queen Margaret’s second husband.—M., B.
J., D. and Ed.

Now it happened one day that the gentleman who was her unknown father came to the house of the Queen of Navarre on his way back from beyond the mountains, and as soon as he had set eyes on his daughter he fell in love with her, and having license from his mother to marry any woman that might please him, he only inquired whether she was of gentle birth, and, hearing that she was, asked her of the Queen in marriage. The Queen willingly consented, for she knew that the gentleman was not only rich and handsome, but worshipful to boot.

When the marriage had been consummated, the gentleman again wrote to his mother, saying that she could no longer close her doors against him, since he was bringing with him as fair a daughter-in-law as she could desire. The lady inquired to whom he had allied himself, and found that it was to none other than their own daughter. Thereupon she fell into such exceeding sorrow that she nearly came by a sudden death, seeing that the more she had striven to hinder her misfortune, the greater had it thereby become.

Not knowing what else to do, she went to the Legate of Avignon, to whom she confessed the enormity of her sin, at the same time asking his counsel as to how she ought to act. The Legate, to satisfy his conscience, sent for several doctors of theology, and laid the matter before them, without, however, mentioning any names; and their advice was that the lady should say nothing to her children, for they, being in ignorance, had committed no sin, but that she herself should continue doing penance all her life without allowing it to become known.

Accordingly, the unhappy lady returned home, where not long afterwards her son and daughter-in-law arrived. And they loved each other so much that never were there husband and wife more loving, nor yet more resembling each other; for she was his daughter, his sister and his wife, while he was her father, her brother and her husband. And this exceeding love between them continued always; and the unhappy and deeply penitent lady could never see them in dalliance together without going apart to weep.

“You see, ladies, what befalls those who think that by their own strength and virtue they may subdue Love and Nature and all the faculties that God has given them. It were better to recognise their own weakness, and instead of running a-tilt against such an adversary, to betake themselves to Him who is their true Friend, saying to Him in the words of the Psalmist, ‘Lord, I am afflicted very much; answer Thou for me.’” (5)

5 We have failed to find this sentence in the Psalms.
Probably the reference is to Isaiah xxxviii. 14, “O Lord,
I am oppressed; undertake for me.”—Eu.

“It were impossible,” said Oisille “to hear a stranger story than this. Methinks every man and woman should bend low in the fear of God, seeing that in spite of a good intention so much mischief came to pass.”