Margaret, Queen Of Navarre - The Tales Of The Heptameron, Vol. II. (of V.)

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"What!" said Geburon; "are all things lawful to those who love, provided
no one knows anything about them?"

"By my word," said Saffredent, "the only misdeed that I have ever seen
punished is foolishness. There is never a murderer, robber, or adulterer
condemned by the courts or blamed by his fellows, if only he be as
cunning as he is wicked. Oft-time, however, a bad man's wickedness so
blinds him that he becomes a fool; and thus, as I have just said, it is
the foolish only that are punished, not the vicious."

"You may say what you please," said Oisille, "only God can judge the
lady's heart; but for my part, I think that her action was a very
honourable and virtuous one. (7) However, to put an end to the debate, I
pray you, Parlamente, to give some one your vote."

7 In our opinion this sentence disposes of Miss Mary
Robinson's supposition (_The Fortunate Lovers_, London,
1887, p. 159) that Oisille (i.e., Louise of Savoy) is the
real heroine of this tale. Queen Margaret would hardly have
represented her commending her own action. If any one of the
narrators of the _Heptameron_ be the heroine of the story,
the presumptions are in favour of Longarine (La Dame de
Lonray), Margaret's bosom friend, whose silence during the
after-converse is significant.--Ed.

"I give it willingly," she said, "to Simontault, for after two such
mournful tales we must have one that will not make us weep."

"I thank you," said Simontault. "In giving me your vote you have all but
told me that I am a jester. It is a name that is extremely distasteful
to me, and in revenge I will show you that there are women who with
certain persons, or for a certain time, make a great pretence of being
chaste, but the end shows them in their real colours, as you will see by
this true story."

[Illustration: 140.jpg Tailpiece]

[Illustration: 141a.jpg Bonnivet and the Lady of Milan]

[Bonnivet and the Lady of Milan]

[Illustration: 141.jpg Page Image]

_TALE XIV_.

_The Lord of Bonnivet, desiring to revenge himself upon a
Milanese lady for her cruelty, made the acquaintance of an
Italian gentleman whom she loved, but to whom she had never
granted anything save fair words and assurances of
affection. To accomplish his purpose he gave this gentleman
such good advice that the lady granted him what he had so
long sought, and this the gentleman made known to Bonnivet,
who, having cut both hair and beard, and dressed himself in
clothes like those of the other, went at midnight and put
his vengeance into execution. Then the lady, having learnt
from him the plan that he had devised to win her, promised
to desist from loving those of her own nation, and to hold
fast to him_.

At the time when the Grand-Master of Chaumont was Governor of the Duchy
of Milan, (1) there lived there a gentleman called the Lord of Bonnivet,
who by reason of his merits was afterwards made Admiral of France. Being
greatly liked by the Grand-Master and every one else on account of the
qualities he possessed, he was a welcome guest at the banquets where
the ladies of Milan assembled, and was regarded by them with more favour
than ever fell to a Frenchman's lot, either before or since; and this
as much on account of his handsome countenance, grace of manner, and
pleasant converse, as by reason of the renown which he had gained among
all as being one of the most skilful and valorous soldiers of his time.
(2)

1 M. de Lincy is of opinion that the incidents recorded in
this story took place between 1501 and 1503; but according
to M. Lacroix, the Grand-Master of Chaumont did not become
Governor of the Milanese till 1506. This personage, to whom
Queen Margaret frequently alludes in her tales, was Charles
d'Amboise, nephew of the famous Cardinal d'Amboise, minister
to Louis XII. In turn admiral and marshal, Governor of
Paris, and Grand-Master, in France, of the Order of St. John
of Jerusalem, he figured prominently in the Italian wars of
the time, and notably at the battle of Aignadel. In 1510 he
commanded the troops which fought on behalf of the Duke of
Ferrara against the Emperor and Pope Julius II., and the
latter having excommunicated him for bearing arms against
the Holy See, his mind is said to have become unhinged. He
died at Correggio in February 1511, when only thirty-eight
years of age, some biographers asserting that he was
poisoned, whilst others contend that he fell from a bridge
during a military expedition. Whilst on his death-bed, he
sent messengers to the Pope, begging that the decree of
excommunication against him might be annulled, but before
the Papal absolution arrived he had expired. The name of
Chaumont, by which he is generally known, is that of an
estate he possessed, between Blois and Amboise, on the
Loire. The reputation he enjoyed of being one of the
handsomest men of his time was well deserved, if one may
judge by a painting at the Louvre which is said to be his
portrait. This picture, long ascribed to Leonardo da Vinci,
and supposed to represent Charles VIII. of France, has been
identified as the work of Andreas Solario, who executed
numerous paintings for Cardinal d'Amboise at the famous
chateau of Gaillon.--L. M. and Eu.

2 Some particulars concerning William Gouffier, Lord of
Bonnivet, have been given in vol. i. (Tale IV. n. 3). It
may here be mentioned that the domain whence he derived the
name by which he is generally known was in the neighbourhood
of Poitiers, around the village of Vendeuvre, where he built
himself a vast chateau, destroyed at the close of the
eighteenth century. Some fragments of the sculptured work
adorning it, remarkable for their elegance of design and
delicacy of workmanship, are in the Poitiers Museum. It is
not unlikely that the incidents related in Tale IV. occurred
at this chateau; or else at that of Oiron, another domain of
the Gouffiers, between Loudun and Bressuire. In the chapel
of Oiron were buried Bonnivet, his mother, his brother
Artus, and his nephew Claud. Their tombs, large marble
mausoleums of Italian workmanship, surmounted by recumbent
statues, were opened and mutilated by the Huguenots in 1568,
when the bones they contained were scattered to the winds.
Bon-nivet's statue is probably the most damaged of the four.
The chateau of Oiron, with its marble staircases, quaint
frescoes, sculptured medallions, &c, testifies to the great
wealth possessed by the Gouffier family, and justifies the
cynical motto assumed by Bonnivet's nephew: "Others have
beaten the bushes, but we have the birds."--Ed.

One day during the carnival, when he was among the maskers, he danced
with one of the most beautiful and bravely attired ladies to be found
in the whole city; and whenever a pause occurred in the music of the
hautboys, he did not fail to address her with love speeches, in which he
excelled all others. But she (3) having no favourable reply to give him,
suddenly checked his discourse by assuring him that she neither loved
nor ever would love any man but her husband, and that he must by no
means expect that she would listen to him.

3 This lady may perhaps be the "Sennora Clerice" (Clarissa)
of whom Brantome writes as follows in his _Capitaines
Francois_:--"It was Bonnivet alone who advised King Francis
to cross the mountains and follow M. de Bourbon, and in this
he had less his master's advantage and service at heart than
his desire to return and see a great and most beautiful lady
of Milan, whom he had made his mistress some years
previously.... It is said that this was the 'Sennora
Clerice,' then accounted one of the most beautiful ladies of
Italy.... A great lady of the time, from whom I heard this
story, told me that he, Bonnivet, had commended this lady
Clerice to the King so highly as to make him desirous of
seeing and winning her; and this was the principal cause of
this expedition of the King's."--Lalanne's _OEuvres de
Brantome_, vol. ii. p. 167-8.--L.

The gentleman, however, would not take this answer for a refusal, and
continued to press his suit with great energy until mid-Lent. But he
found her still firm in her declaration that she would love neither
himself nor another, which he could not believe, however, seeing how
ill-favoured was her husband, and how great her own beauty. Convinced
that she was practising dissimulation, he resolved, on his own side, to
have recourse to deception, and accordingly he ceased to urge his suit,
and inquired so closely concerning her manner of life that he discovered
she was in love with a most discreet and honourable Italian gentleman.

Little by little the Lord of Bonnivet insinuated himself into the
friendship of this gentleman, and did so with so much discretion and
skill, that the other remained ignorant of his motive, and became so
much attached to him that, after the lady of his heart, there was no one
in the world whom he loved more. In order that he might pluck his secret
from his breast, the Lord of Bonnivet pretended to tell him his own,
declaring that he loved a certain lady to whom he had in truth never
given a thought, and begging that he would keep the matter secret, and
that they might have but one heart and one mind together. Wishing to
show in return a like affection, the poor Italian gentleman thereupon
proceeded to disclose at length the love that he bore the lady on whom
Bonnivet wished to be revenged; and after this they would meet somewhere
once every day in order to recount the favours that had befallen them
during the past four and twenty hours; with this difference, however,
that one lied, and the other spoke the truth. And the Italian confessed
that he had loved this lady for three years, but had never obtained
anything of her save fair words and the assurance of her love.

Bonnivet then gave him all the advice that he could to enable him to
attain his end, and to such good purpose that in a few days the lady
consented to grant all that was sought of her. It only remained to
devise a plan for their meeting, and through the counsels of Bonnivet
this was soon accomplished. And so one day before supper the Italian
said to him--

"I am more beholden to you, sir, than to any other man living, for,
thanks to your good advice, I expect to obtain to-night that which I
have coveted so many years."

"I pray you, my friend," thereupon said Bonnivet, "tell me the manner of
your undertaking, so that if there be any risk in it, or craft required,
I may serve you in all friendship."

The Italian gentleman then began to tell him that the lady had devised
a means of having the principal door of the house left open that night,
availing herself as a pretext of the illness of one of her brothers for
whose requirements it was necessary to send into the town at all hours.
He might enter the courtyard, but he was to be careful not to go up by
the principal staircase. Instead of this he was to take a small flight
on his right hand, and enter the first gallery he came to, into which
the rooms of the lady's father-in-law and brothers-in-law opened; and
he was to choose the third door from the head of the stairs, and if on
trying it gently he found that it was locked, he was to go away again,
for in that case he might be sure that her husband had returned, though
not expected back for two days. If, however, he found that the door was
open, he was to enter softly, and boldly bolt it behind him, for in that
case there would be none but herself in the room. And above all, he was
to get himself felt shoes, in order that he might make no noise, and he
was to be careful not to come earlier than two hours after midnight,
for her brothers-in-law, who were fond of play, never went to bed until
after one of the clock.

"Go, my friend," replied Bonnivet, "and may God be with you and preserve
you from mischief. If my company can be of any service to you, I am
wholly at your disposal."

The Italian gentleman thanked him warmly, but said that in an affair of
this nature he could not be too much alone; and thereupon he went away
to set about his preparations.

Bonnivet, on his part, did not go to sleep, for he saw that the time had
come for revenging himself upon his cruel love. Going home betimes, he
had his beard trimmed to the same length and breadth as the Italian's,
and also had his hair cut, so that, on touching him, no difference
between himself and his rival might be perceived. Nor did he forget the
felt shoes, nor garments such as the Italian was wont to wear. Being
greatly liked by the lady's father-in-law, he was not afraid to go to
the house at an early hour, for he made up his mind that if he were
perceived, he would go straight to the chamber of the old gentleman,
with whom he had some business on hand.

About midnight he entered the lady's house, and although there were a
good many persons going to and fro, he passed them unnoticed and thus
reached the gallery. Trying the first two doors, he found them shut; the
third, however, was not, and he softly pushed it open. And having thus
entered the lady's room, he immediately bolted the door behind him. He
found that the whole chamber was hung with white linen, the floor and
ceiling also being covered with the same; and there was a bed draped
with cloth so fine and soft and so handsomely embroidered in white, that
nothing better were possible. And in the bed lay the lady alone, wearing
her cap and night-gown, and covered with pearls and gems. This, before
he was himself perceived by her, he was able to see by peeping round the
curtain; for there was a large wax candle burning, which made the room
as bright as day. And fearful lest he should be recognised by her, he
first of all put out the light. Then he undressed himself and got into
bed beside her.

The lady, taking him to be the Italian who had so long loved her, gave
him the best possible reception; but he, not forgetting that he was
there in another's stead, was careful not to say a single word. His
only thought was to execute his vengeance at the cost of her honour and
chastity without being beholden to her for any boon. And although this
was contrary to her intention, the lady was so well pleased with this
vengeance that she deemed him rewarded for all she thought he had
endured. At last it struck one of the clock, and it was time to say
good-bye. Then, in the lowest tones he could employ, he asked her if she
were as well pleased with him as he was with her. She, believing him
to be her lover, said that she was not merely pleased but amazed at the
greatness of his love, which had kept him an hour without answering her.

Then he began to laugh aloud, and said to her--

"Now, madam, will you refuse me another time, as you have hitherto been
wont to do?"

The lady, recognising him by his speech and laughter, was in such
despair with grief and shame, that she called him villain, traitor, and
deceiver a thousand times over, and tried to throw herself out of bed
to search for a knife in order to kill herself, since she was so
unfortunate as to have lost her honour through a man whom she did not
love, and who to be revenged on her might publish the matter to the
whole world.

But he held her fast in his arms, and in fair soft words declared that
he would _love_ her more than her lover, and would so carefully conceal
all that affected her honour that she should never be brought to
reproach. This the poor foolish thing believed, and on hearing from him
the plan that he had devised and the pains that he had taken to win her,
she swore to him that she would love him better than the other, who had
not been able to keep her secret. She now knew, said she, how false
was the repute in which the French were held; they were more sensible,
persevering, and discreet than the Italians; wherefore she would
henceforward lay aside the erroneous opinions of her nation and hold
fast to him. But she earnestly entreated him not to show himself for
some time at any entertainment or in any place where she might be unless
he were masked; for she was sure she should feel so much ashamed that
her countenance would betray her to every one.

This he promised to do, and he then begged that she would give her
lover a good welcome when he came at two o'clock, getting rid of him
afterwards by degrees. This she was very loth to do, and but for the
love she bore to Bonnivet would on no account have consented. However,
when bidding her farewell, he gave her so much cause for satisfaction
that she would fain have had him stay with her some time longer.

Having risen and donned his garments again, he departed, leaving the
door of the room slightly open, as he had found it. And as it was now
nearly two o'clock, and he was afraid of meeting the Italian gentleman,
he withdrew to the top of the staircase, whence he not long afterwards
saw the other pass by and enter the lady's room.

For his own part, he then betook himself home to rest, in such wise that
at nine of the clock on the following morning he was still in bed. While
he was rising, there arrived the Italian gentleman, who did not fail to
recount his fortune, which had not been so great as he had hoped; for
on entering the lady's chamber, said he, he had found her out of bed,
wearing her dressing-gown, and in a high fever, with her pulse beating
quick and her countenance aflame, and a perspiration beginning to break
out upon her. She had therefore begged him to go away forthwith, for
fearing a mishap, she had not ventured to summon her women, and was
in consequence so ill that she had more need to think of death than
of love, and to be told of God than of Cupid. She was distressed, she
added, that he should have run such risk for her sake, since she was
wholly unable to grant what he sought in a world she was so soon to
leave. He had felt so astonished and unhappy on hearing this that
all his fire and joy had been changed to ice and sadness, and he had
immediately gone away. However, he had sent at daybreak to inquire about
her, and had heard that she was indeed very ill. While recounting his
griefs he wept so piteously that it seemed as though his soul must melt
away in his tears.

Bonnivet, who was as much inclined to laugh as the other was to weep,
comforted him as well as he could, telling him that affections of long
duration always had a difficult beginning, and that Love was causing him
this delay only that he might afterwards have the greater joy. And so
the two gentlemen parted. The lady remained in bed for some days, and on
regaining her health dismissed her first suitor, alleging as her
reason the fear of death that had beset her and the prickings of her
conscience. But she held fast to my lord Bonnivet, whose love, as is
usual, lasted no longer than the field flowers bloom.

"I think, ladies, that the gentleman's craftiness was a match for the
hypocrisy of the lady, who, after playing the prude so long, showed
herself such a wanton in the end."

"You may say what you please about women," said Ennasuite, "but the
gentleman played an evil trick. Is it allowable that if a lady loves one
man, another may obtain her by craft?"

"You may be sure," said Geburon, "that when such mares are for sale
they are of necessity carried off by the last and highest bidder. Do not
imagine that wooers take such great pains for the ladies' sakes. It is
for their own sakes and their own pleasure."

"By my word," said Longarine, "I believe you; for, truth to tell, all
the lovers that I have ever had have always begun their speeches by
talking about me, declaring that they cherished my life, welfare, and
honour; but in the end they only thought of themselves, caring for
nought but their own pleasure and vanity. The best plan, therefore,
is to dismiss them as soon as the first portion of their discourse is
ended; for when they come to the second, there is not so much credit in
refusing them, seeing that vice when recognised must needs be rejected."

"So as soon as a man opens his mouth," said Ennasuite, "we ought to
refuse him, without knowing what he is going to say?"

"Nay," replied Parlamente, "my friend does not mean that. We know that
at first a woman should never appear to understand what the man desires,
or even to believe him when he has declared what it is; but when he
comes to strong protestations, I think it were better for ladies to
leave him on the road rather than continue to the end of the journey
with him."

"That may be," said Nomerfide; "but are we to believe that they love us
for evil? Is it not a sin to judge our neighbours?"

"You may believe what you please," said Oisille; "but there is so
much cause for fearing it to be true, that as soon as you perceive the
faintest spark, you should flee from this fire, lest it should burn up
your heart before you even know it."

"Truly," said Hircan, "the laws you lay down are over harsh. If women,
whom gentleness beseems so well, were minded to prove as rigorous as
you would have them be, we men, on our part, would exchange our gentle
entreaties for craft and force."

"In my opinion," said Simontault, "the best advice is that each should
follow his natural bent. Whether he love or not, let him do so without
dissimulation."

"Would to God," said Saffredent, "that such a rule would bring as much
honour as it would give pleasure."

Dagoucin, however, could not refrain from saying--

"Those who would rather die than make their desire known could not
comply with your law."

"Die!" thereupon said Hircan; "the good knight has yet to be born that
would die for the publishing of such a matter. But let us cease talking
of what is impossible, and see to whom Simontault will give his vote."

"I give it," said Simontault, "to Longarine, for I observed her just
now talking to herself. I imagine that she was recalling some excellent
matter, and she is not wont to conceal the truth, whether it be against
man or woman."

"Since you deem me so truthful," replied Longarine, "I will tell you a
tale which, though it be not so much to the praise of women as I could
wish it to be, will yet show you that there are some possessed of as
much spirit, wit, and craft as men. If my tale be somewhat long, you
will bear with it in patience."

[Illustration: 155.jpg Tailpiece]

[Illustration: 157a.jpg The Lady taking Oath as to her Conduct]

[The Lady taking Oath as to her Conduct]

[Illustration: 157.jpg Page Image]

_TALE XV_.

_Through the favour of King Francis, a simple gentleman of
the Court married a very rich woman, of whom, however, as
much by reason of her extreme youth as of the bestowal of
his own heart elsewhere, he made but little account;
whereat, after trying every plan to please him, she was so
moved with resentment and overcome by despair, that she
resolved to console herself with another for the indignities
which she endured from her husband._ (1)

1 The incidents referred to in this story must have
occurred between 1515 and 1543, during the reign of Francis
I.--L.

At the Court of King Francis the First there was a gentleman whose name
I know right well, but will not mention. He was poor, having less than
five hundred livres a year, but he was so well liked by the King for
his many qualities that he at last married a lady of such wealth that
a great lord would have been pleased to take her. As she was still very
young, he begged one of the greatest ladies of the Court to receive her
into her household, and this the lady very willingly did.

Now this gentleman was so courteous, so handsome, and so full of grace
that he was held in great regard by all the ladies of the Court, and
among the rest by one whom the King loved, and who was neither so young
nor so handsome as his own wife. And by reason of the great love that
the gentleman bore this lady, he made such little account of his wife,
that he slept scarcely one night in the year with her, and, what she
found still harder to endure, he never spoke to her or showed her any
sign of love. And although he enjoyed her fortune, he allowed her so
small a share in it, that she was not dressed as was fitting for one
of her station, or as she herself desired. The lady with whom she abode
would often reproach the gentleman for this, saying to him--

"Your wife is handsome, rich, and of a good family, yet you make no more
account of her than if she were the opposite. In her extreme youth and
childishness she has hitherto submitted to your neglect; but I fear me
that when she finds herself grown-up and handsome, her mirror and some
one that loves you not will so set before her eyes that beauty by which
you set so little store, that resentment will lead her to do what she
durst not think of had you treated her well."

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