Part 13

I began by telling her that she was very pretty, and that she would make happy the husband for whom God had destined her. This compliment, I felt assured, would cause her to blush. ‘Tis cruel, but thus it is that the language of seduction ever beginneth. A girl of her years who doth not blush at the mention of marriage is either a fool or already expert in profligacy. Despite this, however, the blush which mounteth to a young girl’s cheek at the onset of a startling idea is indeed a problem. Whence doth it come? Perchance from pure simplicity; perchance from shame; often from a mixture of both feelings. Cometh, then, the combat ‘twixt vice and virtue, and usually ‘tis virtue which hath to succumb. The desires--true servants of vice--easily attain their ends. As I knew the young boarder from M--M--’s description, I could not be unaware of the source of those blushes which did but enhance her youthful charms.

Pretending not to notice aught, I conversed for a while with M--M--, then returned to the assault. She had regained her calm.

“What is thine age, pretty one?” said I.

“I am thirteen.”

“Thou art wrong, my heart,” said her friend. “Thou hast not yet completed thy twelfth year.”

“The time will come,” quoth I, “when thou wilt diminish the tale of thy years instead of increasing it.”

“I shall never tell a lie, sir; of that I am sure.”

“So thou wouldst become a nun, my fair friend?”

“I have not yet that vocation; but naught shall force me to lie, even though I should live in the world.”

“Thou art wrong, for thou wilt begin to lie from the moment thou hast a lover.”

“Will my lover also tell lies?”

“Assuredly he will.”

“Were the matter truly so, I should entertain a bad opinion of love; but I do not believe it, for I love my dear friend here, and I never conceal the truth from her.”

“But thou dost not love a man as thou lovest a woman.”

“Indeed one doth.”

“Not so, for thou dost not go to bed with a woman, but thou wilt with thy husband.”

“No matter--my love would be the same.”

“What? Thou wouldst not rather sleep with me than with M--M--?”

“Nay, in sooth, for thou art a man and would see me.”

“Thou dost not desire a man to see thee, then?”

“Nay.”

“Thou knowest that thou art ugly, then?”

At this she turned to her friend with a highly vexed air.

“Am I truly ugly?” she asked.

“Nay, my heart,” said M--M--, bursting with laughter; “‘tis quite the other way. Thou art very pretty.” With these words, she took her on her knee and embraced her tenderly.

“Thy corset is too tight, mademoiselle; ‘tis not possible to have so small a waist as thine.”

“Monsieur is mistaken. Thou canst put thy hand there and see for thyself.”

“I do not believe it.”

M--M--then held her close to the grille and bade me assure myself on the point. At the same moment she turned up her dress.

“Thou wast right,” said I, “and I owe thee an apology.” But in my heart I cursed the chemise and the grille.

“‘Tis my opinion,” quoth I to M--M--, “that here we have a little lad.”

Without awaiting a reply, I laboured so well that I satisfied myself, by touch, as to her sex, and I could see that the little one and her governess were pleased that my mind was at rest on the subject.

When I had withdrawn my hand, the little one gave a kiss to M--M--, whose smiling air reassured her, and begged leave to absent herself for a moment. It seems I had reduced her to a state in which a brief space of solitude was necessary, and I myself was in a highly excited condition.

When she had gone, I said to M--M--:--

“Dost realise that what thou hast shown me hath made me unhappy?”

“And why?”

“Because thy boarder is charming and I am dying to possess her.”

“I grieve for that, since thou canst not go further; moreover, I know thee, my friend, and e’en though thou couldst satisfy thy passion without danger to her, I would not yield her to thee; thou wouldst spoil her.”

“How?”

“Dost think that after enjoying thee she would care to enjoy me? I should lose too heavily by comparison.”

“Give me thy hand.”

“Nay.”

“Stay--one moment.”

“I do not wish to see aught.”

“Not even a little?”

“Naught at all.”

“Art angered with me, then?”

“Far from it. If thou hast been pleased, I am glad; and if thou hast filled her with desires, she will love me all the more.”

“What happiness, my angel, could we, all three, be alone together and at liberty!”

“I feel it, but ‘tis impossible.”

“Art sure that we are sheltered from all curious eyes?”

“I am certain.”

“The height of that wretched grille hath deprived me of the sight of many charms.”

“Why didst not go to the other parlour? ‘Tis much lower there.”

“Let us go there.”

“Not to-day. I could give no reason for the change.”

“I will return to-morrow, and in the evening I start for Lyons.”

The little boarder came back, and I stood up facing her. I had a number of beautiful seals and trinkets hanging from my watch-chain, and I had not had time to put myself in a state of perfect decency again. This she noticed, and my seals serving as a pretext for her curiosity, she asked if she might look at them.

“As long as you like, my jewel; look at them and touch them as well.”

M--M--, foreseeing what would happen, left the room, saying that she would return anon. I hastened to deprive the curious-minded young boarder of all interest in my seals by placing in her hands a curiosity of another kind. She did not conceal her transports nor the pleasure she felt in satisfying her inquisitiveness about an object which was quite new to her, and which she was able to examine minutely for the first time in her life. But soon an effusion of the natural moisture changed her curiosity into surprise, and I did not interrupt her in her delighted contemplation of it.

Perceiving M--M--returning slowly, I lowered my shirt and sat down. My watch and chains were still on the ledge of the grating, and M--M--asked her young friend if the trinkets had pleased her.

“Yea,” replied the little one, in a dreamy and melancholy voice. She had travelled so far in less than two hours that she had plenty to think on.

I passed the rest of the day in relating to M--M--the adventures I had encountered since I quitted her; but as I had not time to finish my tale, I promised to return on the following day at the same hour.

The young girl, who had been listening to me all the while, although I seemed to be addressing only her friend, said she was dying to know the end of my adventure with the mistress of the Duke of Matelone.[102] ...

[102] Referring to a salacious incident shortly before related. Further details would be out of place in this volume.

... On the following day, after dining, I returned to the convent, and having sent up my name to M--M--, I entered the room where the grating was more convenient. Before long M--M--arrived alone, but divining my desires, she added that her pretty young friend would soon join us.

“Thou hast fired her imagination,” she said. “She hath told me all about it, playing a thousand wanton tricks and calling me her dear husband. Thou hast seduced her, and I am very glad thou art going, for I believe she might lose her reason. Thou wilt see how she hath attired herself.”

“Art sure of her discretion?”

“Perfectly, but I beg of thee to do naught in my presence. When I see the moment approaching, I will leave the room.”

“Thou art an angel, beloved, but thou mightest be something better an thou wouldst----”

“I want naught for myself, because that may not be.”

“Thou couldst----”

“Nay--I will have naught to do with a pastime which would re-kindle fires hardly yet quenched. I have spoken. I suffer; but let us say no more on the matter.”

At this moment the young adept entered smiling, her eyes full of fire. She was attired in a short pelisse, open in front, and an embroidered muslin skirt which did not go beyond her knees. She looked like a sylph.

We were scarcely seated ere she reminded me of the place where my tale had stopped. I continued my recital, and when I was relating how Donna Lucrezia showed me Leonilda naked, M--M--went out, and the sly little puss asked me how I assured myself that my daughter was a virgin.

Taking hold of her through the wretched grating, against which she placed her pretty body, I showed her how I assured myself of the fact, and the little one found such pleasure in the game that, so far from feeling any suffering, she twice swooned away in ecstacy, all the while pressing my hand to the spot. Then she gave me her hand that she might afford me the pleasure I had given her, and when M--M--appeared during this enjoyable occupation, she said hastily:--

“It doth not matter. I have told her everything. My friend is kind, and she will not be vexed.”

M--M--, in sooth, affected to see naught of all this, and the precocious young girl wiped her hand in a kind of voluptuous delight, which showed how well she was pleased.

I proceeded with my history, but when I came to the episode of the poor girl who was _tied_,[103] describing all the trouble I had vainly taken with her, the little boarder grew so curious that she placed herself in the most seducing attitude so that I might be able to show her what I did. Seeing this, M--M--made her escape.

[103] Somewhat obscure. This rendering, that of the English translation, is not in accord with the French text, nor does it seem to us to represent what happened as described in the English translation.

“Kneel down on the ledge,” said the little wanton, “and let me do it.”

The reader can guess her intention, and she would have succeeded in her purpose had not the fire which consumed me distilled itself away at the orifice.

The charming novice felt herself besprinkled, but after ascertaining that naught more could be done, she withdrew in some vexation. My fingers, however, consoled her for the disappointment, and I had the pleasure of seeing her look happy once more.

I quitted these charming creatures in the evening, promising to visit them again in a year, but as I walked home I could not but reflect how often these asylums, supposed to be devoted to chastity and prayer, do contain in themselves the hidden germs of corruption. How many a timorous and trustful mother is persuaded that the child of her affection will escape the dangers of the world by taking refuge in the cloister. But behind these bolts and bars desires grow to a frenzied extreme; they crave in vain to be satisfied....

_JOHN and JOAN._[104]

[104] J. S. Farmer: _Merry Songs and Ballads_: _Privately Printed_, 1897: vol. 3: from _Pills to Purge Melancholy_ (1719). A similar ballad, _John and Jone_, from _Merry Drollerie_ (1661) is given by Farmer in the second volume of his work.

There was a Maid the other Day, Which in her Master’s Chamber lay; As Maidens they must not refuse, In Yeomens Houses thus they use In a Truckle-bed to lye, Or another standing by: Her Master and her Dame, Said she shou’d do the same.

This Maid cou’d neither rest nor Sleep, When that she heard the Bed to crack; Her Master Captive busie was, Her Dame cry’d out, you hurt my Back: Oh Husband you do me wrong, You’ve lain so hard my Breast upon; You are such another Man, You’d have me do more than I can: Tush Master, then says _Joan_, Pray let my Dame alone; What a devilish Squalling you keep, That I can neither rest nor Sleep.

This was enough to make a Maiden sick And full of Pain; She begins to Fling and Kick, And swore she’d rent her Smock in twain: But you shall hear anon, There was a Man his name was _John_, To whom this Maid she went alone, And in this manner made her moan; I prithee _John_ tell me no Lie, What ails my Dame to Squeak and Cry? I prithee _John_ tell me the same, What is’t my Master gives my Dame?

It is a Steel, quoth _John_, My Master gives my Dame at Night: Altho’ some fault she find, I’m sure it is her Heart’s Delight: And you _Joan_ for your part, You love one withal your Heart: Yes, marry then quoth _John_, Therefore to you I make my moan; If that I may be so bold, Where are these things to be sold? At _London_ then said _John_, Next Market day I’ll bring thee one.

What will a good one cost, If I shou’d chance to stand in need? Twenty Shillings, says _John_, And for Twenty Shillings you may speed: Then _Joan_ she ran unto her Chest, And fetch’d him Twenty Shillings just; _John_, said she, here is your Coin, And I pray you have me in your Mind: And out of my Love therefore, There is for you two Shillings more; And I pray thee honest _John Long_, Buy me one that’s Stiff and Strong.

To Market then he went, When he had the Money in his Purse; He domineer’d and vapour’d, He was as stout as any Horse: Some he spent in Ale and Beer, And some he spent upon good Cheer; The rest he brought home again, To serve his turn another time: Welcome home honest _John_, God a mercy gentle _Joan_; Prithee _John_ let me feel, Hast thou brought me home a Steel?

Yes, marry then quoth _John_, And then he took her by the Hand; He led her into a Room, Where they cou’d see neither Sun nor Moon: Together _John_ the Door did clap, He laid the Steel into her Lap: With that _Joan_ began to feel, Cuts Foot, quoth she, ‘tis a dainty Steel: I prithee tell me, and do not lye, What are the two Things hang thereby? They be the two odd Shillings, quoth _John_, That you put last into my Hand: If I had known so much before, I wou’d have giv’n thee two Shillings more.[105]

[105] _John and Joan_, strictly speaking, is a _variant_ of three stories quoted earlier on in this volume, (The Instrument, The Timorous Fiancée and The Enchanted Ring), inasmuch as all contain the same idea--the possibility of purchasing a _membrum virile_. At the same time, our ballad has a totally different setting, the maid in this case obtaining her first knowledge from the actions of others.

THE HUSBAND AS DOCTOR.[106]

[106] _Les Cent Nouvelles Nouvelles_: Translated for the first time into English by Robert B. Douglas (_One Hundred Merrie and Delightsome Stories_), Paris: Charles Carrington. Also French Text, Paris: Gamier Frères, n.d.

_Of a young squire of Champagne who, when he married, had never mounted a Christian creature--much to his wife’s regret. And of the method her mother found to instruct him, and how the said squire suddenly wept at a great feast that was made shortly after he had learned how to perform the carnal act--as you will hear more plainly hereafter._

‘Tis well known that in the province of Champagne one is sure to encounter heavy and dull-witted persons--which hath seemed strange to many, seeing that the district is so near to the country of Mischief.[107] Many stories could be told of the stupidity of the Champenois, but this present will suffice.

[107] Probably Picardy or Lorraine.--Note by R. B. Douglas.

There dwelt in this province a young man, an orphan, who at the death of his father and mother had become rich and powerful. He was stupid, ignorant, and disagreeable, but hard-working, and knew well how to take care of himself and his affairs, and for this reason many persons--even people of condition--were willing to give him their daughter in marriage.

One of these damsels, above all others, pleased the friends and relations of our Champenois because of her beauty, goodness, riches and so forth. They told him ‘twas time he married.

“Thou art now three-and-twenty years of age,” said they, “and there could not be a better time. An thou wilt listen to us, we have sought out for thee a fair and good damsel who seemeth to us well fitted to thee. It is such an one--thou knowest her full well.” And they told him her name.

The young man, who cared little whether he was married or not, so as he did not lose money by it, answered that he would do whatsoe’er they wished.

“Since ye think ‘twill be to my advantage,” said he, “manage the business to the best of your ability, for I would follow your advice and instructions.”

“Thou sayest well,” said these good folk. “We will look and consider as carefully as though the matter concerned us or one of our children.”

To cut matters short, a little while afterwards our Champenois was married; but on the first night, when he was sleeping with his wife, he, never having mounted on any Christian beast, soon turned his back to her, and a few poor kisses was aught she had of him, but naught on her back. At which one may guess his wife was not well pleased, albeit she concealed her discontent.

This unsatisfactory State of affairs endured some ten days, and would have endured yet longer had not the girl’s mother put a stop to it.

It should be known that the young man was unversed in the mysteries of wedlock, for during the lifetime of his parents a tight rein had been kept upon him, and, above all things, he had been forbidden to play at the beast with two backs,[108] lest he should take too much delight therein, and waste all his patrimony. Which was prudent on the part of his parents, for he was not a young man likely to be loved for his appearance.

[108] _Faire la bête à deux dos._ A recognised slang term for the venereal act, used by Rabelais and Shakespeare. _C.f._ Farmer: _Slang and its Analogues_ (_op. cit. supra_), and Landes: _Glossaire érotique de la langue française_: Brussels, 1861.

And since he would do naught to anger his father and mother, and was not, moreover, of an amorous disposition, he had ever preserved his chastity, albeit his wife had deprived him of it right gladly had she known but how.

On a certain day the mother of the bride came to her daughter, and questioned her as to her husband’s state and condition and the countless other things which women like to know. To all of which questions the bride replied that her husband was a good man, and that she did not doubt but that she would be happy with him.

Which answer made the old woman joyous, but, since she knew by her own experience that there are more things in wedlock than eating and drinking, she said to her daughter:

“Come hither, and tell me, on thy word of honour, how he doth acquit himself at night?”

When the girl heard this question she was so vexed and shamed that she might not answer, and her eyes were filled with tears. But her mother, understanding what meant these tears, said:

“Weep not, my child. Speak me boldly. I am thy mother, and it behoveth thee to conceal naught from me. Hath he done naught to thee as yet?”

The poor girl, having partly recovered, and being reassured by her mother’s words, ceased her tears, but could not yet make reply. Whereupon her mother asked again:

“Speak me boldly and put aside thy grief. Hath he done naught to thee yet?”

In a low voice, mingled with tears, the girl replied:

“On my word, mother, he hath never touched me yet, but, save for that, there is no man more kind or affectionate.”

“Tell me,” quoth the mother, “knowest thou if he be properly furnished with all his members? Speak boldly if thou dost know.”

“By St. John! He is sound in that respect,” replied the bride. “I have often, by chance, felt his luggage[109] as I turned to and fro on our bed when I could not sleep.”

[109] _Denrée d’aventure._ A recognised erotic term for the male genital parts. _C.f._ Farmer and Landes (_op. cit. supra_). _Denrée_, properly, means a “commodity,” which is not far removed from the English slang term “concern.” (Farmer.)

“‘Tis enough,” said the mother. “Leave the rest to me. This is what thou must do. In the morning thou must feign grave illness--e’en as though thy soul were about to depart thy body. Thy husband will, I expect full well, seek me out and bid me come to thee, and I will play my part so that thy business will soon be settled, for I shall carry thy water to a certain doctor, who will give such counsel as I order.”

All was accomplished as arranged, for on the morrow, as soon as it was dawn, the girl, who was sleeping with her husband, fell to complaining and feigning sickness as though a strong fever racked her body.

Her foolish husband was much vexed and astonished, and knew not what to say or do. He sent forthwith for his mother-in-law, who was not long in coming. As soon as he saw her he said:

“Alas! mother! thy daughter is dying!”

“My daughter?” quoth she. “What doth she want?” And while she spoke, she walked to the patient’s chamber.

As soon as the mother perceived her daughter, she inquired of her as to her trouble, and the girl, being well instructed in what she must do, answered not at first, but, after a while, said:

“Mother, I am dying.”

“Please God, thou shalt not die! Take courage! But how cometh it that thou art fallen ill so suddenly?”

“I know not! I know not!” answered the girl. “Thou dost madden me by these questions.”

The mother took the daughter’s hand, and felt her pulse, her body and her head; then she said to her son-in-law:

“In sooth, she is sorely ill. She is on fire. We must find some remedy. Hast aught of her water?”

“That which she made last night is there,” said one of the attendants.

“Give it me,” said the mother.

She took the urine, and put it in a proper vessel, and told her son-in-law that she would show it to a physician, that he might know what he might do to her daughter to cure her.

“For God’s sake! spare naught!” she said. “I have still some money, but I love my daughter better than money.”

“Spare!” said he. “If money can help, I will not fail her.”

“When thou goest,[110] and while she is resting,” said the mother, “I will go home; but I will return an I am needed.”

[110] The text here is somewhat obscure. Mr. Douglas translates “No need to go so fast.”

Now it should be known that the old woman on the previous day, when she quitted her daughter, had instructed the physician, who was well aware of what he must say. So the young man carried his wife’s water to the physician, and, having saluted him, related how sick and suffering was his wife.