‘Alas, Mother, you know that I cannot find a husband to match my family and lineage, and that I have always shunned men who are young and good-looking, for fear of the troubles I have seen suffered by others. I [have found] this gentleman here, who is virtuous and good, as you know well, and who never speaks to me of anything that is other than virtuous and good. What harm, then, can I be doing either to you or to the others who are complaining, in seeking consolation with him for my sorrows?’
The old lady, who loved her mistress Rolandine more than she loved herself, said: ‘Mademoiselle, I can see that you are telling the truth, and I know that you are not treated as you deserve either by your father or by your mistress. Even so, since people are talking about you in a way that concerns your honour, you must give up speaking to him. Even if it were your own brother, you ought to do so!’
‘Since such is your advice, Mother, I will do as you say,’ answered Rolandine, weeping as she spoke. ‘But what a harsh thing it is not to have just one consolation in this world!’
The bastard wanted to come and talk with her as usual, but she told him everything that her gouvernante had said, begging him with tears in her eyes that he should not speak to her for a while, until all the rumours had died down. He complied with her request. Both of them had now lost their consolation, and during their separation from one another each began to feel a kind of torment neither had ever before experienced. She spent her time in constant prayer, on pilgrimages, in fasting and in acts of abstinence. For her love, of which she was as yet unaware, caused her an anxiety that gave her not even an hour’s repose. The bastard of high birth was no less afflicted by the assaults of Love, but he had already resolved in his heart to love Rolandine and to endeavour to marry her. He considered too the honour that would redound to him if he could but win her, and concluded that he must find a way of declaring his desire to her, and above all of winning over the gouvernante. So he took the old lady to task, pointing out the misery that her mistress was being subjected to by those who wanted to deprive her of all consolation. The good woman wept, and thanked him for the worthy feelings he bore her mistress. And together they worked out a way for him to talk to her. Rolandine was to pretend to be suffering from a migraine that made her terrified of any noise; and when her companions went into the Queen’s chamber, she and the bastard would remain alone together; in this way he would be able to talk with her. The bastard was extremely pleased at this prospect, and was happy to let himself be ruled entirely by the advice of Rolandine’s gouvernante. Thus it was that he was able to talk to his beloved whenever he wished. But he did not enjoy this happy arrangement for very long, for the Queen, who had no affection for Rolandine, inquired of her why she spent so much time in her room. And although somebody told her that it was because of her illness, there was somebody else, with an over-ready memory for missing faces, who said pointedly that relaxing in conversation with the well-born bastard would be sure to cure Rolandine’s migraine. The Queen, who regarded the venial sins of others as mortal in Rolandine, sent for her and forbade her ever to speak to the bastard again, unless it was in the Queen’s own chamber or in the great hall. Rolandine did not demur, but simply said: ‘If I had thought, Madame, that [he] or anyone else was displeasing to you, then I would never have spoken to him.’
However, she thought to herself that she would look for some other way, some way of which the Queen should know nothing. And so she did, for every Wednesday, Friday and Saturday, the days when she kept a fast, she would stay in her chamber with her gouvernante, and while the other girls were at supper, she would talk at leisure with the man whom she was now coming to love so deeply. And the less time they had to talk, the more ardent were the words they spoke. For time was precious, and they stole their comments as a thief steals a precious object. However, they were unable to keep the affair completely secret, and some servant or other who saw the bastard going in on Rolandine’s fast days passed on what he had seen until it reached quarters where it was not concealed from the Queen. So angry was the Queen that the bastard no longer dared go near the ladies’ chamber. But, in order not to lose completely the joy of talking with Rolandine, he would often pretend to go away on some journey, coming back in the evening dressed as a Franciscan or Dominican friar, or disguised in some other way so that no one would recognize him. He would then go to the church or to the castle chapel, where Rolandine would come to talk to him accompanied by her gouvernante. And seeing that Rolandine was now greatly in love with him, he did not shrink from saying to her:
‘Mademoiselle, you see how I set myself at risk in order to serve you. You know, too, how the Queen has repeatedly forbidden you to speak with me. What is more, you know what your father is like, and that nothing could be further from his thoughts than arranging for you to marry. He has turned down so many good matches that I can think of no one, however far and wide he looked, whom he would accept as your husband. I know only too well that I am poor and that you could not marry any gentleman unless he were richer than myself. But if love and an honest heart were considered treasure, then I should regard myself the richest man in the world. God has endowed you with great wealth and you are likely to receive yet more. If I were so fortunate as to be chosen by you for your husband, then I would be your husband, your lover and your servant for the rest of my days. If you take a man who is your equal, and such a man will be difficult to find, he will want to be your master and will pay more attention to your wealth than to yourself, more attention to your beauty than to your virtue. He will have full right to enjoy your wealth, yet will treat your body other than it deserves. My desire to enjoy such happiness, and my fear that you will have none with anyone else, brings me to humbly beg of you that you will make me happy and at the same time make yourself the most satisfied and best treated wife there ever was.’
Rolandine listened. What she had heard were the very words that she herself had intended to speak, and she said with steadfast face: ‘It gives me happiness to hear you say to me the very things which long ago I had resolved to say to you. During the two years I have known you I have turned over and over in my mind all the arguments I could invent both for you and against you. But, now at last, knowing that I sincerely wish to enter into the state of matrimony, it is time that [I should choose the man] with whom I believe I could best live in tranquillity of conscience. However handsome, however rich, of however high estate my suitors, I have not found one amongst them, save you alone, with whom my heart and mind could accord. I know that in marrying you, I would be doing no offence to God but would be carrying out His commands. As for my father, so little has he sought to further my well-being and so much has he denied me, the law permits me to marry without his being able to disinherit me. Even if I have nothing but what belongs to me personally, I would regard myself as the richest woman in the world to marry a man who is towards me as you are. And as for my mistress the Queen, my conscience need not be troubled if I displease her in order to obey God, since hers was not in the least troubled when she prevented me having the happiness I could have had when I was young. However, in order that you may know that the love I bear you is founded on virtue and on honour, you will promise me that if I agree to this marriage, you will not seek to consummate it until my father is dead or until I have found some way to obtain his consent.’
The bastard gladly gave her his word, and having exchanged promises, each gave the other a ring in token of the marriage. Then they kissed, in the church and in the sight of God, taking Him as witness of their vows. And never afterwards was there anything between them more intimate than kisses. This grain of happiness left the two perfect lovers with great contentment in their hearts and, secure in these feelings, they lived for some time without seeing one another. Wherever in the world honour was to be won the high-born bastard went with joy in his heart, in the knowledge that with the precious wife whom God had bestowed upon him he could never be poor. Rolandine kept intact her perfect love during his absence, paying no heed t
o any other man in the world. Although several asked for her hand, the only reply she would give them was that since she had already remained so long unmarried, she now had no wish ever to be otherwise. It soon became known that she was in the habit of giving this reply, and when the Queen heard about it, she asked Rolandine what was the reason for such language. To this Rolandine replied that it was in order to obey her majesty, and that her majesty knew well enough that she had never wished her to marry at a time when she might have been honourably and comfortably provided for. Moreover, age and long-suffering had taught her to content herself with her lot. And whenever anybody spoke to Rolandine about marriage, that was how she would answer.
When the wars were over and the bastard had returned to court, she never spoke to him in company, but always went to talk with him in a church under the pretence of going to confession. For the Queen had forbidden them on pain of death ever to speak to one another, unless they were in the company of other people. But noble love, which knows no prohibitions, was more prompt in finding a means whereby they could talk to one another than were their enemies in catching them out. Thus, under the cover of all the monastic habits they could think of they continued in their noble love until the King moved to a country seat near Tours. It was not, however, close enough to Tours for the ladies to walk to church there, and they had to use the chapel in the château, which was so inconveniently constructed that there was nowhere to go for confession without the confessor being clearly on view. But if one expedient had failed them, Love soon found them another, easier way. For there arrived at the court a lady to whom the bastard was closely related. This lady and her son were accommodated in the part of the building occupied by the King, and it so happened that the young prince was given a room which projected from the rest of the wing in such a way that it was quite possible for him to see and speak to Rolandine herself, since their windows were situated in the angle formed by the two parts of the building. The room facing that of the young prince was in fact over the King’s hall and was the chamber where all the young noblewomen, including Rolandine, had their quarters. Having noticed the young prince at his window several times, Rolandine sent word to the bastard through the gouvernante. The bastard then spied out the land and pretended to be seized with a sudden passion for reading a book about the Knights of the Round Table which the young prince had in his room. When everyone went to dinner he would ask a valet de chambre to let him in, lock the door and keep a careful watch while he finished his reading. As the servant knew that he was related to his master, and that he was a reliable man, he let him stay in the room to read for as long as he wished. On her side of the building Rolandine would come to the window, having made a pretence of suffering from a pain in the leg so that she could stay longer in her room, and having taken her dinner and supper so early that she did not need to join the other ladies at table. Also she had set about making an open-work bed cover in crimson silk, and this she would hang up in the window where she wanted to be left alone. Thus when the others had gone, she would talk with her husband, keeping her voice low so that no one could possibly hear. If anyone came near, she would cough and give a sign, so that the bastard had time to withdraw. All the people who had been keeping an eye on Rolandine were quite convinced that her attachment had worn off, for Rolandine never moved from this one room, where, so people thought, the bastard could not possibly be seeing her, since he had been expressly forbidden to enter.
One day the young prince’s mother was in her son’s room, and happened to go over to the window where the big book was. She had not been there many seconds when one of Rolandine’s companions appeared at the window opposite, waved to the lady and started a conversation. The lady asked how Rolandine was, and was told that she could see her, if she so desired. Whereupon Rolandine was brought to the window in her nightcap. They talked a little about her illness, and then went inside again. As the lady who was the young prince’s mother turned back into the room, she glanced at the big book about the Round Table, remarking to the valet de chambre: ‘It amazes me that young people waste so much time reading such nonsense!’ To which the valet de chambre replied that it amazed him even more that persons who were supposed to be older and wiser were even more given to it, and went on to tell her how astonished he had been to find her kinsman, the bastard, spending four or five hours every day with her son’s book – a fine thing for him to be reading! Instantly, the explanation bore itself into the lady’s mind. She instructed the valet de chambre to hide in the room and observe what the bastard did. The man did as he was asked and found that what the bastard was really doing was not reading the book, but standing in front of the window where Rolandine came to speak to him, and he also overheard them express to one another the love which they had believed to be secure. The next day he told his mistress, who sent for the bastard and, after severely reprimanding him, forbade him ever to come to the room again. In the evening she spoke to Rolandine, warning her that if she persisted in this foolish and wicked attachment, she would inform the Queen of her deceitfulness. Rolandine, giving not the slightest sign of dismay, swore that since her mistress’s prohibition she had never once spoken to the bastard, whatever people might say, and that if she wanted to know the truth she could ask her companions [and her servants.] As for the window, she denied that she had used it in order to converse with the bastard. The bastard himself, afraid lest the affair be exposed, decided to avoid further risks and left court.
It was a long time before he returned, but he continued to write to Rolandine, sending letters to her by various means. So ingenious was he in this respect that, however careful a watch the Queen kept on Rolandine, never a week went by without her hearing from him twice. He enlisted the aid of monks, but when that method failed, he took to sending a little page, who would sometimes wear one set of colours, sometimes another. This young boy would wait by a door which all the ladies used, and, unnoticed in the crowd, would hand over the letters to Rolandine. One day, when the Queen had gone into the country, somebody recognized this page-boy, and chased him. But the cunning little fellow darted into a house, where an old woman was cooking her stew, and threw the letters straight on to the fire. When the gentleman who had been chasing him eventually caught him, he stripped him naked and searched through all his clothes, but, finding nothing, let him go. When he had disappeared, the old woman asked the man why he had searched the child in the way he had. He replied: ‘To find some letters I thought he was carrying.’
‘You didn’t have much chance of finding them,’ the old woman said. ‘He’d hidden them too well!’
‘Will you kindly tell me where?’ asked the gentleman, hoping that he was about to retrieve them. But when he learnt that they were in the fire, he realized that the page had been cleverer than he, and went straight to tell the Queen about it. From that time on the bastard stopped using page-boys and other young children to carry his letters, and sent an old servant he had instead. Although the old man knew that anyone involved in the affair was under threat of death on the Queen’s authority, he banished all fear from his mind and undertook to convey letters to Rolandine. Once inside the château where she was, he took up his watch by a door at the foot of a flight of steps which all the ladies used. But a servant who had seen him before recognized him and immediately went to tell the Queen’s maître d’hôtel, who came at once with the intention of seizing him. The wise old servant, having noticed that he was being watched, turned to the wall as if to pass water, tore up the letters into the smallest pieces he could and threw them behind a door. Thereupon he was seized and searched all over, and when they found nothing he was interrogated on oath. They demanded to know whether he had any letters on him, using all possible means of persuasion and physical force to make him confess. But for all their threats and promises they were unable to extract anything. A report was duly sent to the Queen, and somebody had the idea of looking behind the door where the bastard’s servant had been when he had been taken. Sure enough they foun
d what they were looking for – the letter. They sent for the King’s confessor, who assembled the pieces on a table and read the letter in its entirety. The truth about the marriage, so long kept secret, stood revealed, for throughout the letter the bastard had addressed Rolandine as ‘my wife’. The Queen, not being minded to conceal a close relative’s misdemeanour, as she should have done, made a great commotion about it. She gave orders that all possible means be used to make the wretched man confess the truth about the letter. He could scarcely deny having seen it, she insisted, if he had it presented to him. But whatever they said to him, and however much they thrust the letter in front of his eyes, the man never wavered from the story he had told at the beginning. Then the people in charge of him dragged him off to the river, put him in a sack, and told him that he had lied before God and before the Queen. But he would rather have lost his life than accuse his own master, and he requested a confessor to be sent to him. Having satisfied his conscience as best he could in the circumstances, he addressed his captors thus:
‘Messieurs, I beg you, tell my master, my lord the bastard, that I commend to him my wife and my children, for my own life I cheerfully lay down in his service. Now do what you like with me, because you’ll never get a word out of me against my master!’
After that, to give him an even bigger fright, they flung him into the river still tied up in the sack. ‘If you’ll tell the truth, your life is saved!’ they shouted. However, seeing that he was not going to reply, they hauled him out again and reported his loyal behaviour to the Queen, who remarked that neither she nor the King had ever been so lucky with servants as the bastard, who did not even have the means to remunerate them. In fact she did her very best to persuade the man to enter her own service, but he refused ever to desert his master. Eventually, however, the bastard gave his consent, and the man entered the service of the Queen, to lead a happy and contented life.
The Heptameron Page 26
