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

M >> Margaret, Queen Of Navarre >> The Tales Of The Heptameron, Vol. III. (of V.)

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The Bastard was overjoyed at this, and, guiding himself wholly by the
governess's advice, had speech with his sweetheart whensoever he would.
However, this contentment lasted no great while, for the Queen, who had
but little love for Rolandine, inquired what she did so constantly
in her room. Some one replied that it was on account of sickness, but
another, who possessed too good a memory for the absent, declared that
the pleasure she took in speaking with the Bastard must needs cause her
headache to pass away.

The Queen, who deemed the venial sins of others to be mortal ones in
Rolandine, sent for her and forbade her ever to speak to the Bastard
except it were in the royal chamber or hall. The maiden gave no sign,
but replied--

"Had I known, madam, that he or any one beside were displeasing to you,
I should never have spoken to him."

Nevertheless she secretly cast about to find some other plan of which
the Queen should know nothing, and in this she was successful. On
Wednesdays, Fridays and Saturdays she was wont to fast, and would then
stay with her governess in her own room, where, while the others were
at supper, she was free to speak with the man whom she was beginning to
love so dearly.

The more they were compelled to shorten their discourse, the more
lovingly did they talk; for they stole the time even as a robber steals
something that is of great worth. But, in spite of all their secrecy, a
serving-man saw the Bastard go into the room one fast day, and reported
the matter in a quarter where it was not concealed from the Queen. The
latter was so wroth that the Bastard durst enter the ladies' room no
more. Yet, that he might not lose the delight of converse with his love,
he often made a pretence of going on a journey, and returned in the
evening to the church or chapel of the castle (5) dressed as a Grey
Friar or a Jacobin, or disguised so well in some other way that none
could know him; and thither, attended by her governess, Rolandine would
go to have speech with him.

5 This would be either the chateau of Amboise or that of
Blois, we are inclined to think the latter, as Louis XII.
more frequently resided there.--Ed.

Then, seeing how great was the love she bore him, he feared not to say--

"You see, fair lady, what risk I run in your service, and how the Queen
has forbidden you to speak with me. You see, further, what manner of
man is your father, who has no thought whatsoever of bestowing you in
marriage. He has rejected so many excellent suitors, that I know of
none, whether near or far, that can win you. I know that I am poor, and
that you could not wed a gentleman that were not richer than I; yet,
if love and good-will were counted wealth, I should hold myself for the
richest man on earth. God has given you great wealth, and you are like
to have even more. Were I so fortunate as to be chosen for your husband,
I would be your husband, lover and servant all my life long; whereas,
if you take one of equal consideration with yourself--and such a one
it were hard to find--he will seek to be the master, and will have
more regard for your wealth than for your person, and for the beauty
of others than for your virtue; and, whilst enjoying the use of your
wealth, he will fail to treat you, yourself, as you deserve. And now my
longing to have this delight, and my fear that you will have none such
with another, impel me to pray that you will make me a happy man, and
yourself the most contented and best treated wife that ever lived."

When Rolandine heard the very words that she herself had purposed
speaking to him, she replied with a glad countenance--

"I am well pleased that you have been the first to speak such words as
I had a long while past resolved to say to you. For the two years that
I have known you I have never ceased to turn over in my mind all the
arguments for you and against you that I was able to devise; but now
that I am at last resolved to enter into the married state, it is time
that 1 should make a beginning and choose some one with whom I may look
to dwell with tranquil mind. And I have been able to find none, whether
handsome, rich, or nobly born, with whom my heart and soul could agree
excepting yourself alone. I know that in marrying you I shall not offend
God, but rather do what He enjoins, while as to his lordship my father,
he has regarded my welfare so little, and has rejected so many offers,
that the law suffers me to marry without fear of being disinherited;
though, even if I had only that which is now mine, I should, in marrying
such a husband as you, account myself the richest woman in the world. As
to the Queen, my mistress, I need have no qualms in displeasing her
in order to obey God, for never had she any in hindering me from any
blessing that I might have had in my youth. But, to show you that the
love I bear you is founded upon virtue and honour, you must promise that
if I agree to this marriage, you will not seek its consummation until my
father be dead, or until I have found a means to win his consent."

To this the Bastard readily agreed, whereupon they exchanged rings in
token of marriage, and kissed each other in the church in the presence
of God, calling upon Him to witness their promise; and never afterwards
was there any other familiarity between them save kissing only.

This slender delight gave great content to the hearts of these two
perfect lovers; and, secure in their mutual affection, they lived for
some time without seeing each other. There was scarcely any place where
honour might be won to which the Bastard did not go, rejoicing that he
could not now continue a poor man, seeing that God had bestowed on him
a rich wife; and she during his absence steadfastly cherished their
perfect love, and made no account of any other living man. And although
there were some who asked her in marriage, the only answer they had of
her was that, since she had remained unwedded for so long a time, she
desired to continue so for ever. (6)

6 The speeches of Rolandine and the Bastard should be
compared with some of Clement Marot's elegies, notably with
one in which he complains of having been surprised while
conversing with his mistress in a church.--B. J.

This reply came to the ears of so many people, that the Queen heard of
it and asked her why she spoke in that way. Rolandine replied that it
was done in obedience to herself, who had never been pleased to marry
her to any man who would have well and comfortably provided for her;
accordingly, being taught by years and patience to be content with her
present condition, she would always return a like answer whensoever any
one spoke to her of marriage.

When the wars were over, (7) and the Bastard had returned to Court, she
never spoke to him in presence of others, but always repaired to
some church and there had speech with him under pretence of going to
confession; for the Queen had forbidden them both, under penalty of
death, to speak together except in public. But virtuous love, which
recks naught of such a ban, was more ready to find them means of speech
than were their enemies to spy them out; the Bastard disguised himself
in the habit of every monkish order he could think of, and thus their
virtuous intercourse continued, until the King repaired to a pleasure
house he had near Tours. (8)

7 The wars here referred to would be one or another of Louis
XII.'s Italian expeditions, probably that of 1507, when the
battle of Aignadel was fought.--Ed.

8 This would no doubt be the famous chateau of Plessis-lez-
Tours, within a mile of Tours, and long the favourite
residence of Louis XI. Louis XII. is known to have sojourned
at Plessis in 1507, at the time when the States-general
conferred upon him the title of "Father of the People."
English tourists often visit Plessis now adays in memory of
Scott's "Quentin Durward," but only a few shapeless ruins of
the old structure are left.--M. and Ed.

This, however, was not near enough for the ladies to go on foot to any
other church but that of the castle, which was built in such a fashion
that it contained no place of concealment in which the confessor would
not have been plainly recognised.

But if one opportunity failed them, love found them another and an
easier one, for there came to the Court a lady to whom the Bastard
was near akin. This lady was lodged, together with her son, (9) in the
King's abode; and the young Prince's room projected from the rest of the
King's apartments in such a way that from his window it was possible to
see and to speak to Rolandine, for his window and hers were just at the
angle made by the two wings of the house.

9 This lady would be Louise of Savoy. She first came to the
Court at Amboise in 1499, a circumstance which has led some
commentators to place the incidents of this story at that
date. But she was at Blois on various occasions between 1507
and 1509, to negotiate and attend the marriage of her
daughter Margaret with the Duke of Alencon. Louis XII.
having gone from Blois to Plessis in 1507, Louise of Savoy
may well have followed him thither. Her son was, of course,
the young Duke de Valois, afterwards Francis I.--Ed.

In this room of hers, which was over the King's presence-chamber, all
the noble damsels that were Rolandine's companions were lodged with her.
She, having many times observed the young Prince at his window, made
this known to the Bastard through her governess; and he, having made
careful observation of the place, feigned to take great pleasure in
reading a book about the Knights of the Round Table (10) which was in
the Prince's room.

10 Romances of chivalry were much sought after at this time.
Not merely were there MS. copies of these adorned with
miniatures, but we find that _L'Histoire du Saint Greai, La
Vie et les Propheties de Merlin, and Les Merveilleux Faits
et Gestes du Noble Chevalier Lancelot du Lac_ were printed
in France in the early years of the sixteenth century.--B.J.

And when every one was going to dinner, he would beg a valet to let him
finish his reading, shut up in the room, over which he promised to keep
good guard. The servants knew him to be a kinsman of his master and one
to be trusted, let him read as much as he would. Rolandine, on her part,
would then come to her window; and, so that she might be able to make
a long stay at it, she pretended to have an infirmity in the leg, and
accordingly dined and supped so early that she no longer frequented the
ladies' table. She likewise set herself to work a coverlet of crimson
silk, (11) and fastened it at the window, where she desired to be alone;
and, when she saw that none was by, she would converse with her husband,
who contrived to speak in such a voice as could not be overheard; and
whenever any one was coming, she would cough and make a sign, so that
the Bastard might withdraw in good time.

11 In the French, "_Ung lut de reseul:" reticella--i.e._, a
kind of open work embroidery very fashionable in those days,
and the most famous designers of which were Frederic
Vinciolo, Dominic de Sara, and John Cousin the painter.
Various sixteenth and seventeenth century books on
needlework, still extant, give some curious information
concerning this form of embroidery.--M.

Those who kept watch upon them felt sure that their love was past, for
she never stirred from the room in which, as they thought, he could
assuredly never see her, since it was forbidden him to enter it.

One day, however, the young Prince's mother, (12) being in her son's
room, placed herself at the window where this big book lay, and had
not long been there when one of Rolandine's companions, who was at the
window in the opposite room, greeted her and spoke to her. The lady
asked her how Rolandine did; whereon the other replied that she might
see her if she would, and brought her to the window in her nightcap.
Then, when they had spoken together about her sickness, they withdrew
from the window on either side.

12 Louise of Savoy.

The lady, observing the big book about the Round Table, said to the
servant who had it in his keeping--

"I am surprised that young folk can waste their time in reading such
foolishness."

The servant replied that he marvelled even more that people accounted
sensible and of mature age should have a still greater liking for it
than the young; and he told her, as matter for wonderment, how her
cousin the Bastard would spend four or five hours each day in reading
this fine book. Straightway there came into the lady's mind the
reason why he acted thus, and she charged the servant to hide himself
somewhere, and take account of what the Bastard might do. This the man
did, and found that the Bastard's book was the window to which Rolandine
came to speak with him, and he, moreover, heard many a love-speech which
they had thought to keep wholly secret.

On the morrow he related this to his mistress, who sent for the Bastard,
and after chiding him forbade him to return to that place again; and in
the evening she spoke of the matter to Rolandine, and threatened, if she
persisted in this foolish love, to make all these practices known to the
Queen.

Rolandine, whom nothing could dismay, vowed that in spite of all that
folks might say she had never spoken to him since her mistress had
forbidden her to do so, as might be learned both from her companions and
from her servants and attendants. And as for the window, she declared
that she had never spoken at it to the Bastard. He, however, fearing
that the matter had been discovered, withdrew out of harm's way, and was
a long time without returning to Court, though not without writing to
Rolandine, and this in so cunning a manner that, in spite of the Queen's
vigilance, never a week went by but she twice heard from him.

When he no longer found it possible to employ monks as messengers, as
he had done at first, he would send a little page, dressed now in one
colour and now in another; and the page used to stand at the doorways
through which the ladies were wont to pass, and deliver his letters
secretly in the throng. But one day, when the Queen was going out into
the country, it chanced that one who was charged to look after this
matter recognised the page, and hastened after him; but he, being
keen-witted and suspecting that he was being pursued, entered the house
of a poor woman who was boiling her pot on the fire, and there forthwith
burned his letters. The gentleman who followed him stripped him naked
and searched through all his clothes; but he could find nothing, and so
let him go. And the boy being gone, the old woman asked the gentleman
why he had so searched him.

"To find some letters," he replied, "which I thought he had upon him."

"You could by no means have found them," said the old woman, "they were
too well hidden for that."

"I pray you," said the gentleman, in the hope of getting them before
long, "tell me where they were."

However, when he heard that they had been thrown into the fire, he
perceived that the page had proved more crafty than himself, and
forthwith made report of the matter to the Queen.

From that time, however, the Bastard no longer employed the page or any
other child, but sent an old servant of his, who, laying aside all fear
of the death which, as he well knew, was threatened by the Queen against
all such as should interfere in this matter, undertook to carry his
master's letters to Rolandine. And having come to the castle where she
was, he posted himself on the watch at the foot of a broad staircase,
beside a doorway through which all the ladies were wont to pass. But a
serving-man, who had aforetime seen him, knew him again immediately and
reported the matter to the Queen's Master of the Household, who quickly
came to arrest him. However, the discreet and wary servant, seeing that
he was being watched from a distance, turned towards the wall as
though he desired to make water, and tearing the letter he had into
the smallest possible pieces, threw them behind a door. Immediately
afterwards he was taken and thoroughly searched, and nothing being found
on him, they asked him on his oath whether he had not brought letters,
using all manner of threats and persuasions to make him confess the
truth; but neither by promises nor threats could they draw anything from
him.

Report of this having been made to the Queen, some one in the company
bethought him that it would be well to look behind the door near which
the man had been taken. This was done, and they found what they sought,
namely the pieces of the letter. Then the King's confessor was sent for,
and he, having put the pieces together on a table, read the whole of the
letter, in which the truth of the marriage, that had been so carefully
concealed, was made manifest; for the Bastard called Rolandine nothing
but "wife." The Queen, who was in no mind, as she should have been, to
hide her neighbour's transgressions, made a great ado about the matter,
and commanded that all means should be employed to make the poor man
confess the truth of the letter. And indeed, when they showed it to him,
he could not deny it; but for all they could say or show, he would say
no more than at first. Those who had him in charge thereupon brought him
to the brink of the river, and put him into a sack, declaring that he
had lied to God and to the Queen, contrary to proven truth. But he was
minded to die rather than accuse his master, and asked for a confessor;
and when he had eased his conscience as well as might be, he said to
them--

"Good sirs, I pray you tell the Bastard, my master, that I commend the
lives of my wife and children to him, for right willingly do I yield up
my own in his service. You may do with me what you will, for never shall
you draw from me a word against my master."

Thereupon, all the more to affright him, they threw him in the sack into
the water, calling to him--

"If you will tell the truth, you shall be saved."

Finding, however, that he answered nothing, they drew him out again, and
made report of his constancy to the Queen, who on hearing of it declared
that neither the King nor herself were so fortunate in their followers
as was this gentleman the Bastard, though he lacked even the means to
requite them. She then did all that she could to draw the servant into
her own service, but he would by no means consent to forsake his master.
However, by the latter's leave, he at last entered the Queen's service,
in which he lived in happiness and contentment.

The Queen, having learnt the truth of the marriage from the Bastard's
letter, sent for Rolandine, whom with a wrathful countenance she several
times called "wretch" instead of "cousin," reproaching her with the
shame that she had brought both upon her father's house and her mistress
by thus marrying without her leave or commandment.

Rolandine, who had long known what little love her mistress bore her,
gave her but little in return. Moreover, since there was no love between
them, neither was there fear; and as Rolandine perceived that this
reprimand, given her in presence of several persons, was prompted less
by affection than by a desire to put her to shame, and that the Queen
felt more pleasure in chiding her than grief at finding her in fault,
she replied with a countenance as glad and tranquil as the Queen's was
disturbed and wrathful--

"If, madam, you did not know your own heart, such as it is, I would set
forth to you the ill-will that you have long borne my father (13) and
myself; but you do, indeed, know this, and will not deem it strange that
all the world should have an inkling of it too. For my own part, madam,
I have perceived it to my dear cost, for had you been pleased to favour
me equally as you favour those who are not so near to you as myself, I
were now married to your honour as well as to my own; but you passed
me over as one wholly a stranger to your favour, and so all the good
matches I might have made passed away before my eyes, through my
father's neglect and the slenderness of your regard. By reason of this
treatment I fell into such deep despair, that, had my health been strong
enough in any sort to endure a nun's condition, I would have willingly
entered upon it to escape from the continual griefs your harshness
brought me.

13 Of all those with pretensions to the Duchy of Brittany,
the Viscount de Rohan had doubtless the best claim, though
he met with the least satisfaction. It was, however, this
reason that led the Queen [Anne of Brittany] to treat him
with such little regard. It was with mingled grief and
resentment that this proud princess realised how real were
the Viscount's rights; moreover, she never forgave him for
having taken up arms against her in favour of France; and
seeking an opportunity to avenge herself, she found one in
giving the Viscount but little satisfaction in the matter of
his pretensions."--Dora Morice's _Histoire ecclesiastique et
civile de Bretagne_, Paris, 1756, vol. ii. p. 231.--L.

"Whilst in this despair I was sought by one whose lineage would be as
good as my own if mutual love were rated as high as a marriage ring; for
you know that his father would walk before mine. He has long wooed and
loved me; but you, madam, who have never forgiven me the smallest fault
nor praised me for any good deed, you--although you knew from experience
that I was not wont to speak of love or worldly things, and that I led a
more retired and religious life than any other of your maids--forthwith
deemed it strange that I should speak with a gentleman who is as
unfortunate in this life as I am myself, and one, moreover, in whose
friendship I thought and looked to have nothing save comfort to my soul.
When I found myself wholly baffled in this design, I fell into great
despair, and resolved to seek my peace as earnestly as you longed to rob
me of it; whereupon we exchanged words of marriage, and confirmed them
with promise and ring. Wherefore, madam, methinks you do me a grievous
wrong in calling me wicked, seeing that in this great and perfect love,
wherein opportunity, had I so desired, would not have been lacking, no
greater familiarity has passed between us than a kiss. I have waited in
the hope that, before the consummation of the marriage, I might by the
grace of God win my father's heart to consent to it. I have given no
offence to God or to my conscience, for I have waited till the age of
thirty to see what you and my father would do for me, and have kept my
youth in such chastity and virtue that no living man can bring up aught
against me. But when I found that I was old and without hope of being
wedded suitably to my birth and condition, I used the reason that God
has given me, and resolved to marry a gentleman after my own heart. And
this I did not to gratify the lust of the eye, for you know that he is
not handsome; nor the lust of the flesh, for there has been no carnal
consummation of our marriage; nor the ambition and pride of life, for he
is poor and of small rank; but I took account purely and simply of the
worth that is in him, for which every one is constrained to praise him,
and also of the great love that he bears me, and that gives me hope
of having a life of quietness and kindness with him. Having carefully
weighed all the good and the evil that may come of it, I have done what
seems to me best, and, after considering the matter in my heart for two
years, I am resolved to pass the remainder of my days with him. And so
firm is my resolve that no torment that may be inflicted upon me, nor
even death itself, shall ever cause me to depart from it. Wherefore,
madam, I pray you excuse that which is indeed very excusable, as you
yourself must realise, and suffer me to dwell in that peace which I hope
to find with him."

The Queen, finding her so steadfast of countenance and so true of
speech, could make no reply in reason, but continued wrathfully rebuking
and reviling her, bursting into tears and saying--

"Wretch that you are! instead of humbling yourself before me, and
repenting of so grievous a fault, you speak hardily with never a tear
in your eye, and thus clearly show the obstinacy and hardness of your
heart. But if the King and your father give heed to me, they will put
you into a place where you will be compelled to speak after a different
fashion."

"Madam," replied Rolandine, "since you charge me with speaking too
hardily, I will e'en be silent if you give me not permission to reply to
you."

Then, being commanded to speak, she went on--

"'Tis not for me, madam, to speak to you, my mistress and the greatest
Princess in Christendom, hardily and without the reverence that I owe to
you, nor have I purposed doing so; but I have no defender to speak for
me except the truth, and as this is known to me alone, I am forced to
utter it fearlessly in the hope that, when you know it, you will not
hold me for such as you have been pleased to name me. I fear not that
any living being should learn how I have comported myself in the matter
that is laid to my charge, for I know that I have offended neither
against God nor against my honour. And this it is that enables me to
speak without fear; for I feel sure that He who sees my heart is on my
side, and with such a Judge in my favour, I were wrong to fear such as
are subject to His decision. Why should I weep? My conscience and my
heart do not at all rebuke me, and so far am I from repenting of this
matter, that, were it to be done over again, I should do just the same.
But you, madam, have good cause to weep both for the deep wrong that you
have done me throughout my youth, and for that which you are now doing
me, in rebuking me publicly for a fault that should be laid at your door
rather than at mine. Had I offended God, the King, yourself, my kinsfolk
or my conscience, I were indeed obstinate and perverse if I did
not greatly repent with tears; but I may not weep for that which
is excellent, just and holy, and which would have received only
commendation had you not made it known before the proper time. In
doing this, you have shown that you had a greater desire to compass my
dishonour than to preserve the honour of your house and kin. But, since
such is your pleasure, madam, I have nothing to say against it; command
me what suffering you will, and I, innocent though I am, will be as
glad to endure as you to inflict it. Wherefore, madam, you may charge
my father to inflict whatsoever torment you would have me undergo, for
I well know that he will not fail to obey you. It is pleasant to know
that, to work me ill, he will wholly fall in with your desire, and that
as he has neglected my welfare in submission to your will, so will he
be quick to obey you to my hurt. But I have a Father in Heaven, and He
will, I am sure, give me patience equal to all the evils that I foresee
you preparing for me, and in Him alone do I put my perfect trust."

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