The Renaissance | Page 7

my goods, and thou
feignest that an angel hath spoken to thee that I should slay my two
children. And immediately Amis began to weep, and said, I know that I
have spoken to thee a terrible thing, but constrained thereto; I pray thee
cast me not away [13] from the shelter of thy house. And Amile
answered that what he had covenanted with him, that he would perform,
unto the hour of his death: But I conjure thee, said he, by the faith
which there is between me and thee, and by our comradeship, and by
the baptism we received together at Rome, that thou tell me whether it
was man or angel said that to thee. And Amis answered again, So truly
as an angel hath spoken to me this night, so may God deliver me from
my infirmity!
"Then Amile began to weep in secret, and thought within himself: If
this man was ready to die before the king for me, shall I not for him
slay my children? Shall I not keep faith with him who was faithful to

me even unto death? And Amile tarried no longer, but departed to the
chamber of his wife, and bade her go hear the Sacred Office. And he
took a sword, and went to the bed where the children were lying, and
found them asleep. And he lay down over them and began to weep
bitterly and said, Hath any man yet heard of a father who of his own
will slew his children? Alas, my children! I am no longer your father,
but your cruel murderer.
"And the children awoke at the tears of their father, which fell upon
them; and they looked up into his face and began to laugh. And as they
were of the age of about three years, he said, Your laughing will be
turned into tears, for your innocent blood must now be shed, [14] and
therewith he cut off their heads. Then he laid them back in the bed, and
put the heads upon the bodies, and covered them as though they slept:
and with the blood which he had taken he washed his comrade, and
said, Lord Jesus Christ! who hast commanded men to keep faith on
earth, and didst heal the leper by Thy word! cleanse now my comrade,
for whose love I have shed the blood of my children.
"Then Amis was cleansed of his leprosy. And Amile clothed his
companion in his best robes; and as they went to the church to give
thanks, the bells, by the will of God, rang of their own accord. And
when the people of the city heard that, they ran together to see the
marvel. And the wife of Amile, when she saw Amis and Amile coming,
asked which of the twain was her husband, and said, I know well the
vesture of them both, but I know not which of them is Amile. And
Amile said to her, I am Amile, and my companion is Amis, who is
healed of his sickness. And she was full of wonder, and desired to
know in what manner he was healed. Give thanks to our Lord,
answered Amile, but trouble not thyself as to the manner of the healing.
"Now neither the father nor the mother had yet entered where the
children were; but the father sighed heavily, because they were dead,
and the mother asked for them, that they might rejoice together; but
Amile said, Dame! let [15] the children sleep. And it was already the
hour of Tierce. And going in alone to the children to weep over them,
he found them at play in the bed; only, in the place of the sword-cuts

about their throats was as it were a thread of crimson. And he took
them in his arms and carried them to his wife and said, Rejoice greatly,
for thy children whom I had slain by the commandment of the angel are
alive, and by their blood is Amis healed."
There, as I said, is the strength of the old French story. For the
Renaissance has not only the sweetness which it derives from the
classical world, but also that curious strength of which there are great
resources in the true middle age. And as I have illustrated the early
strength of the Renaissance by the story of Amis and Amile, a story
which comes from the North, in which a certain racy Teutonic flavour
is perceptible, so I shall illustrate that other element, its early sweetness,
a languid excess of sweetness even, by another story printed in the
same volume of the Bibliothèque Elzevirienne, and of about the same
date, a story which comes, characteristically, from the South, and
connects itself with the literature of Provence.
The