Droll Stories, vol 2 | Page 7

his eternity. You can imagine
they sat on their seats as if they were gridirons, that their feet itched and
their posteriors were rather warm. Already the host had put the pears,
the cheese, and the preserves near their noses, but they, sipping their
liquor, and picking at the dishes, looked at each other to see if either of
them had found a good piece of roguery in his sack, and they all began
to enjoy themselves rather woefully. The most cunning of the three
clerks, who was a Burgundian, smiled and said, seeing the hour of
payment arrived, "This must stand over for a week," as if they had been
at the Palais de Justice. The two others, in spite of the danger, began to
laugh.
"What do we owe?" asked he who had in his belt the heretofore

mentioned twelve sols and he turned them about as though he would
make them breed little ones by this excited movement. He was a native
of Picardy, and very passionate; a man to take offence at anything in
order that he might throw the landlord out the window in all security of
conscience. Now he said these words with the air of a man of immense
wealth.
"Six crowns, gentlemen," replied the host, holding out his hand.
"I cannot permit myself to be entertained by you alone, Viscount," said
the third student, who was from Anjou, and as artful as a woman in
love.
"Neither can I," said the Burgundian.
"Gentlemen! Gentlemen!" replied the Picardian "you are jesting. I am
yours to command."
"Sambreguoy!" cried he of Anjou. "You will not let us pay three times;
our host would not suffer it."
"Well then," said the Burgundian, "whichever of us shall tell the worst
tale shall justify the landlord."
"Who will be the judge?" asked the Picardian, dropping his twelve sols
to the bottom of his pocket.
"Pardieu! our host. He should be capable, seeing that he is a man of
taste," said he of Anjou. "Come along, great chef, sit you down, drink,
and lend us both your ears. The audience is open."
Thereupon the host sat down, but not until he had poured out a
gobletful of wine.
"My turn first," said the Anjou man. "I commence."
"In our Duchy of Anjou, the country people are very faithful servants to
our Holy of Catholic religion, and none of them will lose his portion of
paradise for lack of doing penance or killing a heretic. If a professor of

heresy passed that way, he quickly found himself under the grass,
without knowing whence his death had proceeded. A good man of
Larze, returning one night from his evening prayer to the wine flasks of
Pomme-de-Pin, where he had left his understanding and memory, fell
into a ditch full of water near his house, and found he was up to his
neck. One of the neighbours finding him shortly afterwards nearly
frozen, for it was winter time, said jokingly to him--
"'Hulloa! What are you waiting for there?'
"'A thaw', said the tipsy fellow, finding himself held by the ice.
"Then Godenot, like a good Christian, released him from his dilemma,
and opened the door of the house to him, out of respect to the wine,
which is lord of this country. The good man then went and got into the
bed of the maid-servant, who was a young and pretty wench. The old
bungler, bemuddled with wine, went ploughing in the wrong land,
fancying all the time it was his wife by his side, and thanking her for
the youth and freshness she still retained. On hearing her husband, the
wife began to cry out, and by her terrible shrieks the man was
awakened to the fact that he was not in the road to salvation, which
made the poor labourer sorrowful beyond expression.
"'Ah! said he; 'God has punished me for not going to vespers at
Church.'
"And he began to excuse himself as best he could, saying, that the wine
had muddled his understanding, and getting into his own bed he kept
repeating to his good wife, that for his best cow he would not have had
this sin upon his conscience.
"'My dear', said she, 'go and confess the first thing tomorrow morning,
and let us say no more about it.'
"The good man trotted to confessional, and related his case with all
humility to the rector of the parish, who was a good old priest, capable
of being up above, the slipper of the holy foot.

"'An error is not a sin,' said he to the penitent. 'You will fast tomorrow,
and be absolved.'
"'Fast!--with pleasure,' said the good man. 'That does not mean go
without drink.'
"'Oh!' replied the rector, 'you must drink water, and eat nothing