The Tales of the Heptameron, Vol. III | Page 3

on either side; and
they forbade him ever again to speak with the maiden, to the end that

absence and lack of opportunity might quell his passion.
Finding himself compelled to obey, the gentleman begged of the
Marchioness that he might have leave to bid Pauline farewell,
promising that he would afterwards speak to her no more, and upon his
request being granted, as soon as they were together he spoke to her as
follows:--
"Heaven and earth are both against us, Pauline, and hinder us not only
from marriage but even from having sight and speech of one another.
And by laying on us this cruel command, our master and mistress may
well boast of having with one word broken two hearts, whose bodies,
perforce, must henceforth languish; and by this they show that they
have never known love or pity, and although I know that they desire to
marry each of us honourably and to worldly advantage,--ignorant as
they are that contentment is the only true wealth,--yet have they so
afflicted and angered me that never more can I do them loyal service. I
feel sure that had I never spoken of marriage they would not have
shown themselves so scrupulous as to forbid me from speaking to you;
but I would have you know that, having loved you with a pure and
honourable love, and wooed you for what I would fain defend against
all others, I would rather die than change my purpose now to your
dishonour. And since, if I continued to see you, I could not accomplish
so harsh a penance as to restrain myself from speech, whilst, if being
here I saw you not, my heart, unable to remain void, would fill with
such despair as must end in woe, I have resolved, and that long since,
to become a monk. I know, indeed, full well that men of all conditions
may be saved, but would gladly have more leisure for contemplating
the Divine goodness, which will, I trust, forgive me the errors of my
youth, and so change my heart that it may love spiritual things as truly
as hitherto it has loved temporal things. And if God grant me grace to
win His grace, my sole care shall be to pray to Him without ceasing for
you; and I entreat you, by the true and loyal love that has been betwixt
us both, that you will remember me in your prayers, and beseech Our
Lord to grant me as full a measure of steadfastness when I see you no
more, as he has given me of joy in beholding you. Finally, I have all
my life hoped to have of you in wedlock that which honour and

conscience allow, and with this hope have been content; but now that I
have lost it and can never have you to wife, I pray you at least, in
bidding me farewell, treat me as a brother, and suffer me to kiss you."
When the hapless Pauline, who had always treated him somewhat
rigorously, beheld the extremity of his grief and his uprightness, which,
amidst all his despair, would suffer him to prefer but this moderate
request, her sole answer was to throw her arms around his neck,
weeping so bitterly that speech and strength alike failed her, and she
swooned away in his embrace. Thereupon, overcome by pity, love and
sorrow, he must needs swoon also, and one of Pauline's companions,
seeing them fall one on one side and one on the other, called aloud for
aid, whereupon remedies were fetched and applied, and brought them
to themselves.
Then Pauline, who had desired to conceal her love, was ashamed at
having shown such transports; yet were her pity for the unhappy
gentleman a just excuse. He, unable to utter the "Farewell for ever!"
hastened away with heavy heart and set teeth, and, on entering his
apartment, fell like a lifeless corpse upon his bed. There he passed the
night in such piteous lamentations that his servants thought he must
have lost all his relations and friends, and whatsoever he possessed on
earth.
In the morning he commended himself to Our Lord, and having divided
among his servants what little worldly goods he had, save a small sum
of money which he took, he charged his people not to follow him, and
departed all alone to the monastery of the Observance, (4) resolved to
take the cloth there and never more to quit it his whole life long.
4 The monastery of the Observance here referred to would appear to be
that at Ferrara, founded by Duke Hercules I., father of the Marchioness
of Mantua. The name of "Observance" was given to those conventual
establishments where the rules of monastic life were scrupulously
observed, however rigorous