One Hundred Merrie And Delightsome Stories Part 65

STORY THE EIGHTY-SECOND -- BEYOND THE MARK. [82]

By Monseigneur De Lannoy.

_Of a shepherd who made an agreement with a shepherdess that he should mount upon her "in order that he might see farther," but was not to penetrate beyond a mark which she herself made with her hand upon the instrument of the said shepherd--as will more plainly appear hereafter._

Listen, if you please, to what happened, near Lille, to a shepherd and young shepherdess who tended their flocks together, or near each other.

Nature had already stirred in them, and they were of an age to know "the way of the world", so one day an agreement was made between them that the shepherd should mount on the shepherdess "in order to see farther",--provided, however, that he should not penetrate beyond a mark which she made with her hand upon the natural instrument of the shepherd, and which was about two fingers' breadth below the head; and the mark was made with a blackberry taken from the hedge.

That being done, they began G.o.d's work, and the shepherd pushed in as though it had cost him no trouble, and without thinking about any mark or sign, or the promise he had made to the shepherdess, for all that he had he buried up to the hilt, and if he had had more he would have found a place to put it.

The pretty shepherdess, who had never had such a wedding, enjoyed herself so much that she would willingly have done nothing else all her life. The battle being ended, both went to look after their sheep, which had meanwhile strayed some distance. They being brought together again, the shepherd, who was called Hacquin, to pa.s.s the time, sat in a swing set up between two hedges, and there he swung, as happy as a king.

The shepherdess sat by the side of a ditch, and made a wreath of flowers. She sang a little song, hoping that it would attract the shepherd, and he would begin the game over again--but that was very far from his thoughts. When she found he did not come, she began to call, "Hacquin! Hacquin!"

And he replied, "What do you want?"

"Come here! come here! will you?" she said.

But Hacquin had had a surfeit of pleasure and he replied;

"In G.o.d's name leave me alone. I am doing nothing; and enjoying myself."

Then the shepherdess cried;

"Come here, Hacquin; I will let you go in further, without making any mark."

"By St. John," said Hacquin, "I went far beyond the mark, and I do not want any more."

He would not go to the shepherdess, who was much vexed to have to remain idle.

[Ill.u.s.tration: 83.jpg The gluttonous Monk.]

STORY THE EIGHTY-THIRD -- THE GLUTTONOUS MONK.

By Monseigneur De Vaurin.

_Of a Carmelite monk who came to preach at a village and after his sermon, he went to dine with a lady, and how he stuffed out his gown, as you will hear._

It is the custom of all countries for religious mendicants--Jacobins, Cordeliers, Carmelites, and Augustinians--to go through all the towns and villages, preaching against vice, and exalting and praising virtue.

It happened once that a Carmelite, from the convent of Arras, arrived one Sunday morning, at Libers, a pretty, little town of Artois, to preach--which he could do piously and eloquently, for he was a learned man and a good orator.

Whilst the cure was chanting high Ma.s.s, our Carmelite wandered about, hoping to find some one who wanted a Ma.s.s said, whereby the monk could earn a few pence, but no one came forward.

Seeing this, an old widow lady took compa.s.sion on him, allowed him to say a Ma.s.s, and then sent her servant to give him two _patars_, and to beg him to come to dinner with her that day.

Master monk snapped up the money, and accepted the invitation, and as soon as he had preached his sermon, and high Ma.s.s was finished, he came.

The lady for whom he had said Ma.s.s, and who had invited him, left the church with her maid, and went home to make all ready for the preacher, who was conducted to the house by one of her servants, and most courteously received. After he had washed his hands, the lady a.s.signed him a place by her side, and the varlet and the maid-servant prepared to serve the repast, and first they brought in leek soup, with a good piece of bacon, a dish of pig's chitterlings, and an ox tongue, roasted.

G.o.d knows that as soon as the monk saw the viands he drew forth from his girdle a fine, long, large, and very sharp knife, and, as he said _Benedicite_, he set to work in the leek soup.

Very soon he had finished that and the bacon as well, and drew towards him the fine, fat chitterlings, and rioted amongst them like a wolf amongst a flock of sheep; and before his hostess had half finished her soup there was not the ghost of a chitterling left in the dish. Then he took the ox tongue, and with his sharp knife cut off so many slices that not a morsel remained.

The lady, who watched all this without saying a word, often glanced at the varlet and the servant-maid, and they smiled quietly and glanced at her. Then they brought a piece of good salt beef, and a capital piece of mutton, and put them on the table. And the good monk, who had an appet.i.te like a hungry dog, attacked the beef, and if he had had little pity for the chitterlings and the ox tongue, still less had he for this fine piece of larded beef.

His hostess who took great pleasure in seeing him eat--which was more than the varlet and the maid, did for they cursed him beneath their breath--always filled his cup as soon as it was empty; and you may guess that if he did not spare the meat neither did he spare the drink.

He was in such a hurry to line his gown that he would hardly say a word.

When the beef was all finished, and great part of the mutton--of which his hostess had scarcely eaten a mouthful--she, seeing that her guest was not yet satisfied, made a sign to the servant-maid to bring a huge ham which had been cooked the day before for the household.

The maid--cursing the priest for gorging so--obeyed the order of her mistress, and put the ham on the table. The good monk, without staying to ask "who goes there", fell upon it tooth and nail, and at the very first attack he carried off the knuckle, then the thick end, and so dismembered it that soon there was nothing left but the bone.

The serving man and woman did not laugh much at this, for he had entirely cleared the larder, and they were half afraid that he would eat them as well.

To shorten the story--after all these before mentioned dishes, the lady caused to be placed on the table a fine fat cheese, and a dish well furnished with tarts, apples, and cheeses, with a good piece of fresh b.u.t.ter--of all which there was not a sc.r.a.p left to take away.

The dinner which has been described being thus finished, our preacher, who was now as round as a tick, p.r.o.nounced grace, and then said to his hostess;

"Damsel, I thank you for your good gifts; you have given me a hearty welcome, for which I am much obliged to you. I will pray to Him who fed five thousand men with a few loaves of barley bread and two small fishes, and after they were all filled there remained over twelve basketfuls--I will pray to Him to reward you."

"By St. John!" said the maid-servant coming forward, "you may well talk about that. I believe that if you had been one of that mult.i.tude there would not have been anything left over; for you would have eaten up everything, and me into the bargain, if I had happened to have been there."

"No, truly, my dear," replied the monk, who was a jovial fellow with a ready wit, "I should not have eaten you, but I should have spitted you, and put you down to roast--that is what I should have done to you."

The lady began to laugh, and so did the varlet and the maid-servant, in spite of themselves. And our monk, who had his belly well stuffed, again thanked his hostess for having so well filled him, and went off to another village to earn his supper--but whether that was as good as his dinner I cannot say.

[Ill.u.s.tration: 84.jpg The Devil's Share.]