Thereupon he left her, but he did not forget to say that if ever he found a favourable opportunity she would have to comply with his wishes, or it would be the worse for her.
The wench was not much frightened, thought no more of it, and went about her duties as usual.
Some time afterwards, one Monday morning, the pretty servant, having some pies to make, was sifting meal. Now you must know that the room where she was thus engaged, was not far from her master’s bedroom, and he heard the noise of the sieve, and knew very well that it was made by the servant-girl at her work.
He thought that perhaps she was not alone, but, if she should be, he would never find a better chance.
He said to himself, “Though she has often refused me by word of mouth, I shall succeed at last if I only keep to my purpose.”
It was early dawn, and his wife was not awake, at which he was glad. He stole quietly out of bed; put on his dressing-gown and his slippers, and crept to the damsel’s room so quietly that she never knew he was there until she saw him.
The poor girl was much astonished, and trembled; suspecting that her master had come to take that which she would never give him.
Seeing she was frightened, he said nothing but attacked her with such violence that he would soon have taken the place by storm if she had not sued for peace. She said to him;
“Alas, sir, I beg for mercy! My life and honour are in your hands;—have pity on me!”
“I care nothing about honour,” said her master, who was very hot and excited. “You are in my hands and cannot escape me,” and with that he attacked her more violently than before.