The Heptameron

by Marguerite de Navarre

‘I believe,’ said [Dagoucin], ‘that more men are deceived by women than [women] by men. They show us so little love that they are prevented from believing us, truthful as we are. On the other hand, the love we bear them inclines us to place complete trust in the lies which they tell, with the result that we allow them to deceive us, rather than admit the possibility that they could do such a thing.’

  ‘It seems to me,’ said Parlamente, ‘that you have heard some stupid man complaining about being duped by some frivolous woman. What you say carries so little weight that it requires reinforcing by means of an example. So if you have one in mind, I invite you to take my place and to tell it to us. That doesn’t mean that we’re obliged to believe you on the strength of just one story. Even if you do speak ill of us, our ears will suffer no pain, for we know the truth of the matter.’

  ‘Well, since I am asked to speak,’ said Dagoucin, ‘I shall do so.’

  STORY FIFTY-EIGHT

  At the court of King Francis I there was a certain lady of lively wit, whose grace, refinement and pleasant tongue had won the hearts of several devoted gentlemen. She was capable of amusing herself with them while keeping her honour intact, and conversing with them so agreeably that none of them knew quite what to expect from her. The most self-assured despaired and the most despairing took heart. However, although most of them she did not take seriously, she could not help feeling great affection for one particular gentleman, whom she referred to as her cousin to give her an excuse [to see more of him.] But nothing in this world remains stable. Often their love would turn to resentment, but only to be [renewed] and grow stronger than before, so that the court could scarcely fail to notice it. One day the lady decided to play a trick on the gentleman, partly to make it plain that she was not to be moved by anyone or anything, and partly to punish him [a little] for what she had had to put up with through her love for him. So the next time she saw him she put on a more encouraging front than she ever had before. Now the man in question was no coward, either in war or love, and he set about pursuing [the favours] that he had so often before sought from her. She, pretending that she felt so sorry for him that she could resist no longer, told him that she would grant his request and that to this end she would go up to her room, which was at the top of the building, where she knew nobody else would be. As soon as she went out, he was to follow her immediately, for he would find her alone, [with no other company than her tender thoughts for him.] The man, who believed every word, was so pleased that he went off to amuse himself with the other ladies, while he waited for the moment when she would leave the room and he would follow her. The lady, who was certainly not short of female cunning, went over to Madame Marguerite, the King’s daughter, and to the Duchess of Mont pensier.

  ‘If you wish,’ she said, ‘I will show you the most amusing thing you have ever seen.’

  The Princess and the Duchess, who were certainly not looking for something to be melancholy about, eagerly asked her what she had in mind.

  ‘There is a certain gentleman,’ she said, ‘who is known to you as the most honourable man there ever was, and who is no less daring and brave. You know how many unkind things he has done to me, and how at the time when I loved him most he left me for the love of other women. His behaviour caused me more unhappiness than I allowed myself to show. Well, God has given me the chance to take my revenge. What I am going to do, is go up to my room, which is just overhead, and if you would keep your eyes open, you will see him immediately follow me. As soon as he is through the galleries and about to go up the stairs, may I ask you both to go over to the window and shout “Help! Thief!” along with me? You’ll see how angry he’ll be. I think he’ll provide us with no mean performance! And if he doesn’t openly shout curses at me, I fully expect that he’ll think them to himself!’

  These words caused not inconsiderable amusement, for no other gentleman at court was so relentless in laying siege to the ladies. He was also highly regarded, much sought after by everyone, and not the sort of man one risked being mocked by. So the two ladies felt they would be sharing in any triumph their companion might have over him. As soon as the instigator of the plot had left the room, they kept a close watch on her pursuer’s movements. It was not long before he left his place, and as he went out of the room, the ladies followed him into the gallery, so as not to lose sight of him. Suspecting nothing, he pulled his cloak up around his neck to hide his face and went down into the courtyard. Then he started to come back up the stairs. However, he met someone by whom he did not wish to be seen, so he went down again and came back in by another entrance. All this the ladies saw without his noticing a thing. The moment he arrived at the foot of the staircase which gave him the safest way of reaching his lady’s room, her two accomplices went straight across to the window. They could see the lady in the upstairs room and heard her start to shout ‘Help! Thief!’ at the top of her voice. They joined in, and made such a noise between them that their shouting could be heard all over the castle. I leave you to imagine the man’s anger and frustration as he fled back to his quarters. But his rage was not so well hidden that it was not apparent to the two ladies who were party to the plot, and they have often since taunted him with it. The lady who perpetrated the unkind trick often taunted him with it too, and told him how she had enjoyed her revenge. But he was quick with his answers and his defence, and tried to convince them that he had accepted the lady’s invitation to go to her room simply to give them a little amusement! After all, he claimed, he would not have gone to such lengths out of love, because for a long time there had been no question of his being in love with her. But the ladies did not accept the truth of that, and there is still some doubt about the whole business. However, if it were the case that he had believed the lady (as is likely, for he was so brave and good that there were [few, if any,] of his generation who surpassed him, as was shown by his most brave and chivalrous death), then it seems to me that you must admit that the love of valiant men is such that through believing too much in the truth of ladies they are often deceived.’

  *

  ‘In all honesty, I applaud this lady for playing the [trick] she did,’ said Ennasuite. ‘For when a man is loved by a lady and abandons her for someone else, she can never avenge herself too much.’

  ‘Yes, if she is loved by him to begin with,’ said Parlamente. ‘But there are women who love men without being sure that their feelings are returned, and when they discover that the man is in love with someone else, they say that he is fickle. So wise women are never deceived by [words.] They pay attention to, and believe, only men who tell the truth, in order to avoid falling prey to liars, for truth and falsehood speak the same language.’

  ‘If all women were of your opinion,’ said Simontaut, ‘we men might as well pack away our fine speeches and humble supplications. But whatever you and those who are like you say, we shall never believe that women are as unbelieving as they are beautiful. And convinced of this, we shall live content, however much you try to disconcert us with your reasonings.’

  ‘I know who the lady in this story is,’ said Longarine, ‘and really, she’s so shrewd there’s nothing I could not believe her capable of. After all, she made no exception for her husband, so why should she make an exception for her devoted servant?’

  ‘What, her husband?’ said [Dagoucin.] ‘So you know more than I. I give you my place so that you may tell us.’

  ‘If you wish, then I obey,’ replied Longarine.

  STORY FIFTY-NINE

  The lady in the story you have just told was married to a rich man from a fine old family. They had married out of deep affection for one another. She was a lady who spoke as agreeably as any woman in the world, and did not hide from her husband the fact that she had gentlemen devoted to her service – servants whom she teased for her own amusement. He found this amusing enough himself for a while, but eventually it began to irritate him. For one thing he did not like the way she conversed at great length with people he did not consider to
be either relatives or friends. For another, he was worried by the expense he was obliged to incur in order that she could follow the court and maintain her elegant style of life. So whenever he could he withdrew to his own house. But so many people went to visit her there that his expenditure was hardly reduced at all. Wherever his wife went she always found some way of putting on dances, games and all the other kinds of entertainment that young women may, quite respectably, indulge in. When her husband said to her jocularly that they were spending too much, she would reply that she might give him beggars’ rags, but never a cuckold’s horns. For she was so fond of finery that she insisted on having the most beautiful and most extravagant attire at the court, and did her utmost to attend as often as possible – while he, of course, did his utmost to avoid taking her at all. In order to have her own way, the lady would humour her husband, with the result that he generally found it easiest to comply.

  One day, however, when none of her wiles were succeeding in persuading him to take her to court, she happened to notice that he was being extremely attentive to one of her chambermaids. It occurred to her that here was an opportunity she could turn to her advantage. She took the girl on one side, and questioned her so cunningly, that eventually, by dint of threats and [promises,] she confessed that not a day had gone by since she had been in the house without her master making amorous overtures. But, she would sooner die, she declared, than do anything to offend God and her honour, especially as Madame had been so gracious as to take her into service – that would make it doubly bad. The lady was at once angry and pleased to learn of her husband’s disloyalty. She was angry to see him professing to love her, yet secretly doing his best to insult her under her very nose by pursuing this girl, who in her view was without question her inferior in beauty and refinement. But she was pleased, because she now hoped to catch her husband out, and place him so much in the wrong that he would never again criticize her for her devoted servants or the time she spent at court. To this end she asked the girl to come round little by little to her husband’s demands, on certain conditions which she laid down. At first the girl was reluctant, but once assured that her life and honour were safe, she agreed to do anything her mistress desired.

  The husband, who continued to pursue the girl as before, suddenly found that her manner had completely changed. So he pressed her more passionately than ever. She, however, had learnt her part off by heart, and pointed out to him that she was very poor, and that if she obeyed him, she would be dismissed by her mistress, with whose help she had expected to acquire a good husband. To this came the reply that she was not to worry her head about such things – he would find her a better husband, and a better-off one, than her mistress ever could. In any case, he would manage their love-affair with such secrecy that no one would ever be able to talk about it. And so they came to an agreement. As for the most suitable place for doing this fine deed, the girl declared that the best place, and the place least likely to be suspected, was a little house in the park, where there was, conveniently enough, a room with a bed in it. The husband, for whom anywhere would have been acceptable, was perfectly happy with this proposal. He could not wait for the day to come.

  The girl, for her part, kept her promise to her mistress. She told her all about the arrangement she had made with her husband – how she was to meet him the following day after dinner, and how she would go as planned, but would first give her mistress a warning. She was most anxious that Madame should be on the alert, and that she should not fail to go along to the house at the right time to protect her from the danger to which, out of obedience, she was exposing herself. The lady told her not to be afraid. She would never let her down, and would protect her from her husband’s fury.

  The next day came, and after dinner the man was more agreeable with his wife than he had ever been. Although by no means pleased at this, she put on such a good act that he noticed nothing. When she asked him how he would like to spend the evening, he replied that he would like nothing better than to have a game of cent, and he got out the cards. His wife, however, said she preferred not to play, and would enjoy herself just as much watching the others. So he sat down to play, and as he was doing so he whispered to the girl not to forget her promise, and she, once he was immersed in the game, slipped out of the room giving the sign to her mistress as she did so that she was about to embark on her little pilgrimage. The lady duly took note, but the husband noticed nothing.

  An hour later, one of his valets motioned to him across the room, and he turned to his wife to say that he had a slight headache and would have to take a rest and then go out for some fresh air. She knew as well as he did what was the matter with him, and asked if he would like her to play his game. He replied that he would be glad if she would, and that he would be back soon. But she assured him that he should not worry – she would be quite happy to take his place for a couple of hours. So off he went, first to his room, and then down a path screened by trees to the park. His wife knew a quicker route, and waited a little. Then, pretending she had a sudden attack of colic, she gave her hand to one of the other players. Once out of the room, she took off her high pattens and ran as fast as she could. She did not want business to be concluded before she arrived! But she was there in plenty of time, so went into the room by another door. Her husband was only just arriving. Hiding herself behind the door, she was able to overhear the fine, high-flown phrases he started to produce for the benefit of her chambermaid. As she saw him approach the criminal act, she seized him from behind, saying, ‘I’m too close to you for cheating this time!’ Needless to say, he was mad with rage, not only because he had just been frustrated of his pleasure, but also because his wife obviously knew more about him than he cared for. He was terrified lest he lose her love for ever. But ignoring his wife, he flew wildly at the girl, thinking that she was the one who had planned the trap. He would have killed her, if his wife had not pulled her free. He called her the most brazen creature he had ever met, and said that if his wife had only waited, she would have seen that he was merely trying to catch her out! Far from being about to do what she thought he was about to do, he was really intending to give the girl a good beating by way of punishment! But his wife knew what to make of excuses like that, and berated him there and then with such vehemence that he was afraid she was going to desert him. He promised her everything she wanted, said that her angry rebukes were entirely justified and admitted that he had been wrong all along to object to her having devoted gentlemen. For a beautiful and honest woman is none the less virtuous because she is loved by men, [provided] that she does nothing and says nothing to sully her honour. But when a man deliberately pursues a woman who does not even love him, in order to wrong both his wife and his own conscience, then he deserves to be punished. So he would, he said, never stop her from going to court again, nor would he complain about her devoted servants, [for he knew that she spoke to them more to mock them than because she had any affection for them]. The lady was not displeased with the way he spoke, because she realized that she had scored a point. However, she pretended to be the very opposite of pleased, saying that she no longer cared to go to court, since obviously he did not love her any more. She could not bear to go into society if he did not love her. It was only if a woman was truly loved by her husband and loved him in return, as she did, that a woman could feel she had a safe-conduct to speak with everyone without fear of being mocked. The poor man did everything he could to convince her that he still loved her, and eventually they went away good friends. To avoid any further mishaps of this kind, however, he asked her to dismiss the chambermaid who had caused him so much trouble. This she did – but not before she could see the girl respectably married at her husband’s expense. And he, in order to make his wife forget his foolish aberration, lost no time in taking her to court – and in such high style that she had every reason to be satisfied.

  *

  ‘And that, Ladies, is what led me to say that I wasn’t surprised at the trick she pl
ayed on one of her devoted servants considering what she had done to her husband.’

  ‘You’ve depicted a very shrewd woman, and a very stupid husband,’ said Hircan. ‘Seeing he’d got as far as he had with the girl, he shouldn’t have given up following such a promising trail.’

  ‘And what should he have done?’ inquired Longarine.

  ‘What he’d set out to do,’ replied Hircan. ‘When his wife found out what he was intending to do, she was every bit as angry as if he’d actually done it. Perhaps she’d have thought more of him, if she’d seen he was bolder and more of a man!’

  ‘All very well,’ said Ennasuite, ‘but where are you going to find a man who can force two women at once? Because the wife would have defended her rights and the girl her virginity!’

  ‘True enough,’ replied Hircan, ‘but a man who is bold and strong isn’t afraid of attacking two weaker people and achieving his end!’

  ‘I can quite see,’ said Ennasuite, ‘that if he’d drawn his sword, he might have killed them both, but otherwise I don’t see how he could have escaped. So I should like to know what you would have done.’

  ‘I’d have picked my wife up in my arms and carried her outside, then gone back in to do what I pleased with the chambermaid, by love or by force!’

  ‘Hircan,’ said Parlamente, ‘it is sufficient that you know how to do evil deeds!’

  ‘I’m sure I’m not shocking the innocent by what I say, Parlamente. Nor do I mean to defend foul deeds. I would praise neither the deed itself, which was certainly not good, nor the man behind it, who failed in the event to carry it out – because he gave up more through fear of his wife than through love for her. I would praise a man who loves his wife according to God’s law, but if he doesn’t love her, I don’t respect him for being afraid of her.’