“Well, well!” returned the lady, “when that day and festive hour shall arrive, we will not be idle, but will do a right good day’s work. So God guard from ill him I love not as well as you.”
After this keen and heart pricking interchange of wit, the lady did mount her horse, after kissing the gentleman with much good-will, adding as she rode away, “Goodbye, till we meet again, and enjoy our little treat!”
But alas! as ill fate would have it, the fair lady did die within six weeks whereat her lover did well nigh die of chagrin. For these enticing words, with others she had said afore, had so heartened him with good hope that he was assured of her conquest, as indeed she was ready enough to be his. A malison on her untimely end, for verily she was one of the best and fairest dames you could see anywhere, and well worth a venial fault to possess,—or even a mortal sin!
Another fair young widow was asked by an honourable gentleman if she did keep Lent, and abstain from eating meat, as folks do then. “No!” she said, “I do not.”—“So I have observed,” returned the gentleman; “I have noted you made no scruple, but did eat meat at that season just as at any other, both raw and cooked.”—“That was at the time mine husband was alive; now I am a widow, I have reformed and regulated my living more seemly.”—“Nay! beware,” then said the other, “of fasting so strictly, for it doth readily happen to such as go fasting and anhungered, that anon, when the desire of meat cometh on them, they do find their vessels so narrow and contracted, as that they do thereby suffer much incommodity.”—“Nay! that vessel of my body,” said the lady, “that you mean, is by no means so narrow or hunger-pinched, but that, when mine appetite shall revive, I may not afford it good and sufficient refreshment.”
I knew another great lady, which all through her unmarried and married life was in all men’s mouths by reason of her exceeding stoutness. Afterward she came to lose her husband, and did mourn him with so extreme a sorrow that she grew as dry as wood.[128] Yet did she never cease to indulge her in the joys of former days, even going so far as to borrow the aid of a certain Secretary she had, and of other such to boot, and even of her cook, so ’twas reported. For all that, she did not win back her flesh, albeit the said cook, who was all fat and greasy, ought surely, I ween, to have made her fat. So she went on, taking now one, now another of her serving-men, all the while playing the part of the most prudish and virtuous dame in all the Court, with pious phrases ever on her lips, and naught but scandal against all other women, and never a word of good for any of them. Of like sort was that noble woman of Dauphiné, in the Cent Nouvelles of the Queen of Navarre, which was found lying flat on the grass with her groom or muleteer by a certain gentleman, that was ready to die of love for her but this sight did quick cure his love sickness for him.
I have heard speak of a very beautiful woman at Naples, which had the repute of going in like manner with a Moor, the ugliest fellow in the world, who was her slave and groom, but something made her love him.
12.
I have read in an old Romance, Jehan de Saintré, printed in black letter, how the late King John of France did rear the hero Jehan as his page. Now by custom of former days, great folk were used to send their pages to carry messages, as is done likewise to-day. But then they were wont to go everywhere, and up and down the countryside, a-horseback; I have even heard our fathers say they were not seldom sent on minor embassies, for by despatching a page and horse and a broad piece, the thing was done and so much expense well spared. This same little Jehan de Saintré (for so he did long continue to be called)[129*] was very much loved of his master the King, for that he was full of wit and intelligence, and was often sent to carry trifling messages to his sister, who was at the time a widow,—though the book saith not whose widow. This great lady did fall enamoured of the lad, after he had been several times on errands to her; so one day, finding a good opportunity and no one nigh, she did question him, asking him an if he did not love some lady or other at Court, and which of them all liked him best. This is a way a great many ladies have, whenas they be fain to score the first point and deliver their first attack on one they fancy, as myself have seen done. Well! little Jehan de Saintré, who had never so much as dreamed of love, told her, “No! not yet,” going on to describe several Court ladies, and what he thought of them. Then did she hold forth to him on the beauties and delights of love, but he only answered, “Nay! I care less than ever for’t.” For in those old days, even as to-day, some of our greatest ladies were slaves to love and much subject to detraction; for indeed folk so adroit as they have grown since, and ’twas only the cleverest that had the good fortune to impose on their husbands and pass as good women by virtue of their hypocrisies and little wiles. The lady then, seeing the lad to be well-favoured, goes on to tell him how she would give him a mistress that would love him well, provided he was a true lover to her, making him promise under pain of instant shame and disgrace, that above all he should be sure and secret. Eventually she did make her avowal to him, and tell him herself would fain be his lady and darling,—for in those days the word mistress was not as yet in vogue. At this the young page was sore astonished, thinking she did but make a mock of him, or wished to trap him and get him a whipping.
However she did very soon show so many unequivocal signs of fire and heat of love and such tender familiarities, as that he perceived ’twas no mockery; while she kept on telling him she would train and form him and make him a great man. The end was their loves and mutual joys did last a long while, during his pagehood and after he was no more a page, till at the last he had to depart on a distant journey,—when she did change him for a great, fat Abbé. This is the tale we find in the Nouvelles du monde advantureux, writ by a gentleman of the chamber to the Queen of Navarre, wherein we see the Abbé put an affront on the said Jehan de Saintré, that was so brave and valiant; yet did he in no long while pay the worthy Abbé back in good coin and three times over. ’Tis an excellent Tale, and cometh from the book I have named.[130*]
Here we see how ’tis not only of to-day that fair ladies do love pages, above all when they be gay and speckled like partridges. And verily, what creatures women be!—that be ready enough to have lovers galore, but husbands not! This they do for the love of freedom, which is indeed a noble thing. For they think, when once they be out of their husband’s rule, they are in Paradise, having their fine dower and spending it themselves, managing all the household, and handling the coin. All goeth through their hands; and instead of being servants, they be now mistresses, and do make free choice of their pleasures, and such as do best minister to the same.