Droll Stories from the Abbeys of Touraine | Page 6

writings and copying--hoping
one day to have enough just to see a cardinal's lady-love, and trusting to
God for the rest. He was hairless from top to toe and resembled a man
about as much as a goat with a night-dress on resembles a young lady,
but prompted by his desires he wandered in the evenings through the
streets of Constance, careless of his life, and, at the risk of having his
body halberded by the soldiers, he peeped at the cardinals entering the
houses of their sweethearts. Then he saw the wax-candles lighted in the
houses and suddenly the doors and the windows closed. Then he heard
the blessed abbots or others jumping about, drinking, enjoying
themselves, love-making, singing Alleluia and applauding the music
with which they were being regaled. The kitchen performed miracles,
the Offices said were fine rich pots-full, the Matins sweet little hams,
the Vespers luscious mouthful, and the Lauhes delicate sweetmeats,
and after their little carouses, these brave priests were silent, their pages
diced upon the stairs, their mules stamped restively in the streets;
everything went well--but faith and religion was there. That is how it
came to pass the good man Huss was burned. And the reason? He put
his finger in the pie without being asked. Then why was he a huguenot
before the others?

To return, however to our sweet little Philippe, not unfrequently did he
receive many a thump and hard blow, but the devil sustained him,
inciting him to believe that sooner or later it would come to his turn to
play the cardinal to some lovely dame. This ardent desire gave him the
boldness of a stag in autumn, so much so that one evening he quietly
tripped up the steps and into one of the first houses in Constance where
often he had seen officers, seneschals, valets, and pages waiting with
torches for their masters, dukes, kings, cardinals and archbishops.
"Ah!" said he, "she must be very beautiful and amiable, this one."
A soldier well armed allowed him to pass, believing him to belong to
the suite of the Elector of Bavaria, who had just left, and that he was
going to deliver a message on behalf of the above-mentioned nobleman.
Philippe de Mala mounted the stairs as lightly as a greyhound in love,
and was guided by delectable odour of perfume to certain chamber
where, surrounded by her handmaidens, the lady of the house was
divesting herself of her attire. He stood quite dumbfounded like a thief
surprised by sergeants. The lady was without petticoat or head-dress.
The chambermaid and the servants, busy taking off her stockings and
undressing her, so quickly and dextrously had her stripped, that the
priest, overcome, gave vent to a long Ah! which had the flavour of love
about it.
"What want you, little one?" said the lady to him.
"To yield my soul to you," said he, flashing his eyes upon her.
"You can come again to-morrow," said she, in order to be rid of him.
To which Philippe replied, blushing, "I will not fail."
Then she burst out laughing. Philippe, struck motionless, stood quite at
his ease, letting wander over her his eyes that glowed and sparkled with
the flame of love. What lovely thick hair hung upon her ivory white
back, showing sweet white places, fair and shining between the many
tresses! She had upon her snow-white brow a ruby circlet, less fertile in
rays of fire than her black eyes, still moist with tears from her hearty
laugh. She even threw her slipper at a statue gilded like a shrine,
twisting herself about from very ribaldry and allowed her bare foot,
smaller than a swan's bill, to be seen. This evening she was in a good
humour, otherwise she would have had the little shaven-crop put out by
the window without more ado than her first bishop.
"He has fine eyes, Madame," said one of her handmaids.

"Where does he comes from?" asked another.
"Poor child!" cried Madame, "his mother must be looking for him.
Show him his way home."
The Touranian, still sensible, gave a movement of delight at the sight of
the brocaded bed where the sweet form was about to repose. This
glance, full of amorous intelligence, awoke the lady's fantasy, who, half
laughing and half smitten, repeated "To-morrow," and dismissed him
with a gesture which the Pope Jehan himself would have obeyed,
especially as he was like a snail without a shell, since the Council had
just deprived him of the holy keys.
"Ah! Madame, there is another vow of chastity changed into an
amorous desire," said one of her women; and the chuckles commenced
again thick as hail.
Philippe went his way, bumping his head against a wall like a hooded
rook as he was.