_TALE XLVII_.
_Two gentlemen lined in such perfect friendship that for a great while they had everything excepting a wife in common, until one was married, when without cause he began to suspect his companion, who, in vexation at being wrongfully suspected, withdrew his friendship, and did not rest till he had made the other a cuckold_.
Not far from the province of Le Perche (1) there dwelt two gentlemen whofrom the days of their childhood had lived in such perfect friendshipthat they had but one heart, one house, one bed, one table, and onepurse. They continued living in this perfect friendship for a long time,without there ever being between them any wish or word such as mightbetray that they were different persons; so truly did they live notmerely like two brothers but like one individual man.
1 Between Normandy and Maine. Its chief town was Mortagne.
Of the two one married, yet did not on that account abate his friendshipfor his fellow or cease to live with him as had been his wont. Andwhenever they chanced to lodge where room was scanty, he failed not tomake him sleep with himself and his wife; (2) though he did, in truth,himself lie in the middle. Their goods were all in common, so thatneither the marriage nor aught else that might betide could impair theirperfect friendship.
2 To do honour to a guest it was then a common practice to invite him to share the same bed as one's self and one's wife. In this wise, long after Queen Margaret s time, we find Louis XIII. sharing the bed of the Duke and Duchess of Luynes. Tale vii. of the _Cent Nouvelles Nouvelles_ (imitated in Malespini's _Ducento Novelle_ and the _Joyeuses Adventures et nouvelles recreations_) relates what befell a Paris goldsmith who took a carter to bed with him and his spouse, and neglected to follow the usual custom of sleeping in the middle. In Queen Margaret's time, it may be added, the so-called "beds of honour" in the abodes of noblemen and gentlemen were large enough to accommodate four or five persons.--B. J. and Ed.
But after some time, worldly happiness, which is ever changeful in itsnature, could no longer abide in this too happy household. The husband,without cause, lost the confidence that he had in his friend and in hiswife, and, being unable to conceal the truth from the latter, spoke toher with angry words. At this she was greatly amazed, for he had chargedher in all things save one to treat his friend as she did himself, andnow he forbade her to speak with him except it were before others. Shemade the matter known to her husband's friend, who did not believe her,knowing as he well did that he had never purposed doing aught to grievehis comrade. And as he was wont to hide nothing from him, he told himwhat he had heard, begging him not to conceal the truth, for neither inthis nor in any other matter had he any desire to occasion the severanceof the friendship which had so long subsisted between them.
The married gentleman assured him that he had never thought of such athing, and that those who had spread such a rumour had foully lied.
Thereupon his comrade replied--
"I well know that jealousy is a passion as insupportable as love, andwere you inclined to jealousy even with regard to myself, I should notblame you, for you could not help it. But there is a thing that is inyour power of which I should have reason to complain, and that is theconcealment of your distemper from me, seeing that never before wasthought, feeling or opinion concealed between us. If I were in love withyour wife, you should not impute it to me as a crime, for love is nota fire that I can hold in my hand to do with it what I will; but if itwere so and I concealed it from you, and sought by demonstration tomake it known to your wife, I should be the wickedest comrade that everlived.
"As far as I myself am concerned, I can truly assure you that, althoughshe is an honourable and virtuous woman, she is the last of all thewomen I have ever seen upon whom, even though she were not yours, myfancy would light. But even though there be no occasion to do so, I askyou, if you have the smallest possible feeling of suspicion, to tell meof it, that I may so act as to prevent a friendship that has lasted solong from being severed for the sake of a woman. For, even if I lovedher more dearly than aught in the world beside, I would never speak toher of it, seeing that I set your honour before aught else."
His comrade swore to him the strongest oaths he could muster, that hehad never thought of such a thing, and begged him to act in his house ashe had been used to do.
"That will I," the other replied, "but if after this should you harbouran evil opinion of me and conceal it or bear me ill-will, I willcontinue no more in fellowship with you."
Some time afterwards, whilst they were living together as had been theirwont, the married gentleman again fell into stronger suspicion thanever, and commanded his wife to no longer show the same countenanceto his friend as before. This she at once made known to her husband'scomrade, and begged that he would of his own motion abstain from holdingspeech with her, since she had been charged to do the like towards him.
The gentleman perceived from her words and from divers tokens on thepart of his comrade that the latter had not kept his promise, and sosaid to him in great wrath--
"If, comrade, you are jealous, 'tis a natural thing, but, after theoaths you swore to me, I must needs be angered that you have used suchconcealment towards me. I had always thought that neither obstacle normean intervened between your heart and mine, but to my exceeding sorrow,and with no fault on my part, I see that the reverse is true. Not onlyare you most jealous of your wife and of me, but you seek to hide yourdistemper from me, until at last it must wholly turn to hate, and thedearest love that our time has known become the deadliest enmity.
"I have done all I could to avoid this mishap, but since you suspect meof being so wicked and the opposite of what I have always proved towardsyou, I give you my oath and word that I will indeed be such a one as youdeem me, and that I will never rest until I have had from your wifethat which you believe I seek from her. So I bid you beware of mehenceforward, for, since suspicion has destroyed your friendship for me,resentment will destroy mine for you."
Although his comrade tried to persuade him of the contrary, he would nolonger believe him, but removed his portion of the furniture and goodsthat had been in common between them. And so their hearts were as widelysundered as they had before been closely united, and the unmarriedgentleman never rested until, as he had promised, he had made hiscomrade a cuckold. (3)
3 The idea developed in this tale, that of bringing to pass by one's own actions the thing one fears and seeks to avoid or prevent, has much analogy with that embodied in the "novel of the Curious Impertinent" which Cervantes introduces into _Don Quixote_ (Part I. chaps, xxviii., xxix). In this tale it will be remembered Anselmo and Lothario are represented as being two such close friends as the gentlemen who figured in Queen Margaret's tale. Anselmo marries, however, and seized with an insane desire to test the virtue of his wife, Camilla, by exposing her to temptation, urges Lothario to pay court to her. Lothario at first resists these solicitations, pointing out the folly of such an enterprise, but his friend entreats him so pressingly that he finally consents, and in the sequel the passion which he at first simulates for Camilla becomes a real one and leads to his seducing her and carrying her away, with the result that both the wretched Anselmo and his wife soon die of grief, whilst Lothario betakes himself to the wars and perishes in battle.--M. & Ed.
"Thus, ladies, may it fare with those who wrongfully suspect theirwives of evil. Many men make of them what they suspect them to be, fora virtuous woman is more readily overcome by despair than by all thepleasures on earth. And if any one says that suspicion is love, I givehim nay, for although it results from love as do ashes from fire, itkills it nevertheless in the same way."
"I do not think," said Hircan, "that anything can be more grievous toeither man or woman than to be suspected of that which is contrary tofact. For my own part, nothing could more readily prompt me to severfellowship with my friends than such suspicion."
"Nevertheless," said Oisille, "woman is without rational excuse whorevenges herself for her husband's suspicion by her own shame. It isas though a man should thrust his sword through his own body, becauseunable to slay his foe, or should bite his own fingers because he cannotscratch him. She would have done better had she spoken to the gentlemanno more, and so shown her husband how wrongly he had suspected her; fortime would have softened them both."
"Still 'twas done like a woman of spirit," said Ennasuite. "If manywomen acted in the same way, their husbands would not be so outrageousas they are."
"For all that," said Longarine, "patience gives a woman the victory inthe end, and chastity brings her praise, and more we should not desire."
"Nevertheless," said Ennasuite, "a woman may be unchaste and yet commitno sin."
"How may that be?" said Oisille.
"When she mistakes another man for her husband."
"And who," said Parlamente, "is so foolish that she cannot clearly tellthe difference between her husband and another man, whatever disguisethe latter may wear?"
"There have been and still will be," said Ennasuite, "a few deceived inthis fashion, and therefore still innocent and free from sin."
"If you know of such a one," said Dagoucin, "I give you my vote that youmay tell us about her, for I think it very strange that innocence andsin can go together."
"Listen, then," said Ennasuite. "If, ladies, the foregoing tales havenot sufficiently warned you of the danger of lodging in our houses thosewho call us worldly and consider themselves as something holy and farworthier than we, I will give you yet a further instance of it, that youmay see by the errors into which those fall who trust them too muchthat not only are they human like others, but that there is somethingdevilish in their nature, passing the ordinary wickedness of men. Thisyou will learn from the following story."
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[The Grey Friars Caught and Punished]
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The Tales Of The Heptameron, Vol. IV. (of V.) Page 23
