Droll Stories, vol 3 | Page 9

young
maid who would die in her petticoats rather than raise them for her
pleasure. But when he was a bowshot off he bethought him that he was
a man who for ten years had been a master silversmith, had become a
citizen, and was a man of mark, and could look a woman in the face if
his fancy so led him, the more so as his imagination had great power
over him. So he turned suddenly back, as if he had changed the
direction of his stroll, and came upon the girl, who held by an old cord
her poor cow, who was munching grass that had grown on the border of
a ditch at the side of the road.
"Ah, my pretty one," said he, "you are not overburdened with the goods
of this world that you thus work with your hands upon the Lord's Day.
Are you not afraid of being cast into prison?"
"Monseigneur," replied the maid, casting down her eyes, "I have
nothing to fear, because I belong to the abbey. The Lord Abbot has
given me leave to exercise the cow after vespers."
"You love your cow, then, more than the salvation of your soul?"
"Ah, monseigneur, our beast is almost the half of our poor lives."
"I am astonished, my girl, to see you poor and in rags, clothed like a
fagot, running barefoot about the fields on the Sabbath, when you carry
about you more treasures than you could dig up in the grounds of the
abbey. Do not the townspeople pursue, and torment you with love?"
"Oh, never monseigneur. I belong to the abbey", replied she, showing

the jeweller a collar on her left arm like those that the beasts of the field
have, but without the little bell, and at the same time casting such a
deplorable glance at our townsman that he was stricken quite sad, for
by the eyes are communicated contagions of the heart when they are
strong.
"And what does this mean?" he said, wishing to hear all about it.
And he touched the collar, upon which was engraved the arms of the
abbey very distinctly, but which he did not wish to see.
"Monseigneur, I am the daughter of an homme de corps; thus whoever
unites himself to me by marriage, will become a bondsman, even if he
were a citizen of Paris, and would belong body and goods to the abbey.
If he loved me otherwise, his children would still belong to the domain.
For this reason I am neglected by everyone, abandoned like a poor
beast of the field. But what makes me most unhappy is, that according
to the pleasure of monseigneur the abbot, I shall be coupled at some
time with a bondsman. And if I were less ugly than I am, at the sight of
my collar the most amorous would flee from me as from the black
plague."
So saying, she pulled her cow by the cord to make it follow her.
"And how old are you?" asked the silversmith.
"I do not know, monseigneur; but our master, the abbot, has kept
account."
This great misery touched the heart of the good man, who had in his
day eaten the bread of sorrow. He regulated his pace to the girl's, and
they went together towards the water in painful silence. The good man
gazed at the fine forehead, the round red arms, the queen's waist, the
feet dusty, but made like those of a Virgin Mary; and the sweet
physiognomy of this girl, who was the living image of St. Genevieve,
the patroness of Paris, and the maidens who live in the fields. And
make sure that this Joseph suspected the pretty white of this sweet girl's
breasts, which were by a modest grace carefully covered with an old

rag, and looked at them as a schoolboy looks at a rosy apple on a hot
day. Also, may you depend upon it that these little hillocks of nature
denoted a wench fashioned with delicious perfection, like everything
that the monks possess. Now, the more it was forbidden our silversmith
to touch them, the more his mouth watered for these fruits of love. And
his heart leaped almost into his mouth.
"You have a fine cow," said he.
"Would you like a little milk?" replied she. "It is so warm these early
days of May. You are far from the town."
In truth, the sky was a cloudless blue, and glared like a forge.
Everything was radiant with youth, the leaves, the air, the girls, the lads;
everything was burning, was green, and smelt like balm. This naive
offer, made without the hope of recompense, though a byzant would
not have paid for the special grace of this speech; and the