[017]Not long afterwards the gallant paid one of his wonted visits to
the holy friar. They conversed for a while of divers topics, and
then the friar took him aside, and very courteously reproved him for
so haunting and pursuing the lady with his gaze, as from what
she had given him to understand, he supposed was his wont.
[018]
The
gallant, who had never regarded her with any attention, and very
rarely passed her house, was amazed, and was about to clear himself,
when the friar closed his mouth, saying: "Now away with this
pretence of amazement, and waste not words in denial, for 'twill not
avail thee. I have it not from the neighbours; she herself, bitterly
complaining of thy conduct, told it me.
[019]
I say not how ill this
levity beseems thee; but of her I tell thee so much as this, that, if
I ever knew woman averse to such idle philandering, she is so;
and therefore for thy honour's sake, and that she be no more vexed,
I pray thee refrain therefrom, and let her be in peace."
[020]
The gallant,
having rather more insight than the holy friar, was not slow to
penetrate the lady's finesse; he therefore made as if he were rather
shame-stricken, promised to go no further with the matter, and hied
him straight from the friar to the lady's house, where she was always
posted at a little casement to see if he were passing by.
[021]
As she saw
him come, she shewed him so gay and gracious a mien that he could
no longer harbour any doubt that he had put the true construction
upon what he had heard from the friar; and thenceforth, to his own
satisfaction and the immense delight and solace of the lady, he
omitted not daily to pass that way, being careful to make it appear
as if he came upon other business.
[022]
'Twas thus not long before the
lady understood that she met with no less favour in his eyes than he
in hers; and being desirous to add fuel to his flame, and to assure him
of the love she bore him, as soon as time and occasion served, she
returned to the holy friar, and having sat herself down at his feet in
the church, fell a weeping. The friar asked her in a soothing tone
what her new trouble might be.
[023]
Whereto the lady answered:
"My father, 'tis still that accursed friend of thine, of whom I made
complaint to you some days ago, and who would now seem to have
been born for my most grievous torment, and to cause me to do that
by reason whereof I shall never be glad again, nor venture to place
myself at your feet."
[024]
"How?" said the friar; "has he not forborne
to annoy thee?"
[025]
"Not he, indeed," said the lady; "on the
contrary, 'tis my belief that, since I complained to you of him, he
has, as if in despite, being offended, belike, that I did so, passed my
house seven times for once that he did so before.
[026]
Nay, would to
God he were content to pass and fix me with his eyes; but he is
waxed so bold and unabashed that only yesterday he sent a woman
to me at home with his compliments and cajoleries, and, as if I had
not purses and girdles enough, he sent me a purse and a girdle;
whereat I was, as I still am, so wroth, that, had not conscience first,
and then regard for you, weighed with me, I had flown into a frenzy
of rage. However, I restrained myself, and resolved neither to do
nor to say aught without first letting you know it.
[027]
Nor only so;
but, lest the woman who brought the purse and girdle, and to whom
I at first returned them, shortly bidding her begone and take them
back to the sender, should keep them and tell him that I had accepted
them, as I believe they sometimes do, I recalled her and had them
back, albeit 'twas in no friendly spirit that I received them from her
hand; and I have brought them to you, that you may return them
to him and tell him that I stand in no need of such gifts from him,
because, thanks be to God and my husband, I have purses and girdles
enough to smother him in.
[028]
And if after this he leave me not alone,
I pray you as my father to hold me excused if, come what may, I
tell it to my husband and brothers; for much liefer had I that he
suffer indignity, if so it must be, than that my fair fame should be
sullied on his account: that holds good, friar."
[029]
Weeping bitterly
as she thus ended, she drew from under her robe a purse of very fine
and ornate workmanship and a dainty and costly little girdle, and
threw them into the lap of the friar, who, fully believing what she
said, manifested the utmost indignation as he took them, and said:
"Daughter, that by these advances thou shouldst be moved to anger, I
deem neither strange nor censurable; but I am instant with thee to
follow my advice in the matter.
[030]
I chid him some days ago, and ill
has he kept the promise that he made me; for which cause and this
last feat of his I will surely make his ears so tingle that he will give
thee no more trouble; wherefore, for God's sake, let not thyself be
so overcome by wrath as to tell it to any of thy kinsfolk; which
might bring upon him a retribution greater than he deserves. Nor
fear lest thereby thy fair fame should suffer; for I shall ever be thy
most sure witness before God and men that thou art innocent."
[031]
The lady made a shew of being somewhat comforted: then, after a
pause--for well she knew the greed of him and his likes--she said:
"Of late, Sir, by night, the spirits of divers of my kinsfolk have
appeared to me in my sleep, and methinks they are in most grievous
torment; alms, alms, they crave, nought else, especially my mother,
who seems to be in so woful and abject a plight that 'tis pitiful
to see.
[032]
Methinks 'tis a most grievous torment to her to see the
tribulation which this enemy of God has brought upon me. I would
therefore have you say for their souls the forty masses of St. Gregory
and some of your prayers, that God may deliver them from this
purging fire." So saying she slipped a florin into the hand of the
holy friar,
[033]
who took it gleefully, and having with edifying words and
many examples fortified her in her devotion, gave her his benediction,
and suffered her to depart.
