“It is my husband’s,” she said. “That is his share; but all the rest is yours.”
“Truly,” he said, “I thank you greatly. I cannot complain, for you have given me all the best parts. On the other hand, be assured that I am yours entirely.”
“I well know it,” she said, and with that the combat of love began again between them, and more vigorously than ever, and that being finished, the lover left the house.
The poor husband, who had seen and heard everything, could stand no more; he was in a terrible rage, nevertheless he suppressed his wrath, and the next day appeared, as though he had just come back from a journey.
At dinner that day, he said that he wished to give a great feast on the following Sunday to her father and mother, and such and such of her relations and cousins, and that she was to lay in great store of provisions that they might enjoy themselves that day. She promised to do this and to invite the guests.
Sunday came, the dinner was prepared, those who were bidden all appeared, and each took the place the host designated, but the merchant remained standing, and so did his wife, until the first course was served.
When the first course was placed on the table, the merchant who had secretly caused to be made for his wife a robe of thick duffle grey with a large patch of scarlet cloth on the backside, said to his wife, “Come with me to the bedroom.”
He walked first, and she followed him. When they were there, he made her take off her gown, and showing her the aforesaid gown of duffle grey, said, “Put on this dress!”
She looked, and saw that it was made of coarse stuff, and was much surprised, and could not imagine why her husband wished her to dress in this manner.
“For what purpose do you wish me to put this on?” she asked. “Never mind,” he replied, “I wish you to wear it.” “Faith!” she replied, “I don’t like it! I won’t put it on! Are you mad? Do you want all your people and mine to laugh at us both?”