Droll Stories – Complete. Honore de Balzac
still kept up. He refreshed himself with a drink of the marriage beverage, which according to custom, had been blessed and placed near them in a golden cup. The spices warned his stomach well enough, but not the heart of his dead ardour. Blanche was not at all astonished at the demeanour of her spouse, because she was a virgin in mind, and in marriage she saw only that which is visible to the eyes of young girls – namely dresses, banquets, horses, to be a lady and mistress, to have a country seat, to amuse oneself and give orders; so, like the child that she was, she played with the gold tassels on the bed, and marvelled at the richness of the shrine in which her innocence should be interred. Feeling, a little later in the day, his culpability, and relying on the future, which, however, would spoil a little every day that with which he pretended to regale his wife, the seneschal tried to substitute the word for the deed. So he entertained his wife in various ways, promised her the keys of his sideboards, his granaries and chests, the perfect government of his houses and domains without any control, hanging round her neck “the other half of the loaf,” which is the popular saying in Touraine. She became like a young charger full of hay, found her good man the most gallant fellow in the world, and raising herself upon her pillow began to smile, and beheld with greater joy this beautiful green brocaded bed, where henceforward she would be permitted, without any sin, to sleep every night. Seeing she was getting playful, the cunning lord, who had not been used to maidens, but knew from experience the little tricks that women will practice, seeing that he had much associated with ladies of the town, feared those handy tricks, little kisses, and minor amusements of love which formerly he did not object to, but which at the present time would have found him cold as the obit of a pope. Then he drew back towards the end of the bed, afraid of his happiness, and said to his too delectable spouse, “Well, darling, you are a seneschal’s wife now, and very well seneschaled as well.”
“Oh no!” said she.
“How no!” replied he in great fear; “are you not a wife?”
“No!” said she. “Nor shall I be till I have had a child.”
“Did you while coming here see the meadows?” began again the old fellow.
“Yes,” said she.
“Well, they are yours.”
“Oh! Oh!” replied she laughing, “I shall amuse myself much there catching butterflies.”
“That’s a good girl,” says her lord. “And the woods?”
“Ah! I should not like to be there alone, you will take me there. But,” said she, “give me a little of that liquor which La Ponneuse has taken such pains to prepare for us.”
“And why, my darling? It would put fire in your body.”
“Oh! That’s what I should like,” said she, biting her lip with vexation, “because I desire to give you a child as soon as possible; and I’m sure that liquor is good for the purpose.”
“Ah! my little one,” said the seneschal, knowing by this that Blanche was a virgin from head to foot, “the goodwill of God is necessary for this business, and women must be in a state of harvest.”
“And when should I be in a state of harvest?” asked she, smiling.
“When nature so wills it,” said he, trying to laugh.
“What is it necessary to do for this?” replied she.
“Ah! A cabalistical and alchemical operation which is very dangerous.”
“Ah!” said she, with a dreamy look, “that’s the reason why my mother cried when thinking of the said metamorphosis; but Bertha de Breuilly, who is so thankful for being made a wife, told me it was the easiest thing in the world.”
“That’s according to the age,” replied the old lord. “But did you see at the stable the beautiful white mare so much spoken of in Touraine?”
“Yes, she is very gentle and nice.”
“Well, I give her to you, and you can ride her as often as the fancy takes you.”
“Oh, you are very kind, and they did not lie when they told me so.”
“Here,” continued he, “sweetheart; the butler, the chaplain, the treasurer, the equerry, the farrier, the bailiff, even the Sire de Montsoreau, the young varlet whose name is Gauttier and bears my banner, with his men at arms, captains, followers, and beasts – all are yours, and will instantly obey your orders under pain of being incommoded with a hempen collar.”
“But,” replied she, “this mysterious operation – cannot it be performed immediately?”
“Oh no!” replied the seneschal. “Because it is necessary above all things that both the one and the other of us should be in a state of grace before God; otherwise we should have a bad child, full of sin; which is forbidden by the canons of the church. This is the reason that there are so many incorrigible scapegraces in the world. Their parents have not wisely waited to have their souls pure, and have given wicked souls to their children. The beautiful and the virtuous come of immaculate fathers; that is why we cause our beds to be blessed, as the Abbot of Marmoustiers has done this one. Have you not transgressed the ordinances of the Church?”
“Oh no,” said she, quickly, “I received before Mass absolution for all my faults and have remained since without committing the slightest sin.”
“You are very perfect,” said the cunning lord, “and I am delighted to have you for a wife; but I have sworn like an infidel.”
“Oh! and why?”
“Because the dancing did not finish, and I could not have you to myself to bring you here and kiss you.”
Thereupon he gallantly took her hands and covered them with kisses, whispering to her little endearments and superficial words of affection which made her quite pleased and contented.
Then, fatigued with the dance and all the ceremonies, she settled down to her slumbers, saying to the seneschal —
“I will take care tomorrow that you shall not sin,” and she left the old man quite smitten with her white beauty, amorous of her delicate nature, and as embarrassed to know how he should be able to keep her in her innocence as to explain why oxen chew their food twice over. Although he did not augur to himself any good therefrom, it inflamed him so much to see the exquisite perfections of Blanche during her innocent and gentle sleep, that he resolved to preserve and defend this pretty jewel of love. With tears in his eyes he kissed her sweet golden tresses, the beautiful eyelids, and her ripe red mouth, and he did it softly for fear of waking her. There was all his fruition, the dumb delight which still inflamed his heart without in the least affecting Blanche. Then he deplored the snows of his leafless old age, the poor old man, that he saw clearly that God had amused himself by giving him nuts when his teeth were gone.
HOW THE SENESCHAL STRUGGLED WITH HIS WIFE’S MODESTY
During the first days of his marriage the seneschal imprinted many fibs to tell his wife, whose so estimable innocence he abused. Firstly, he found in his judicial functions good excuses for leaving her at times alone; then he occupied himself with the peasants of the neighbourhood, and took them to dress the vines on his lands at Vouvray, and at length pampered her up with a thousand absurd tales.
At one time he would say that lords did not behave like common people, that the children were only planted at certain celestial conjunctions ascertained by learned astrologers; at another that one should abstain from begetting children on feast days, because it was a great undertaking; and he observed the feasts like a man who wished to enter into Paradise without consent. Sometimes he would pretend that if by chance the parents were not in a state of grace, the children commenced on the date of St. Claire would be blind, of St. Gatien had the gout, of St. Agnes were scaldheaded, of St. Roch had the plague; sometimes that those begotten in February were chilly; in March, too turbulent; in April, were worth nothing at all; and that handsome boys were conceived in May. In short, he wished his child to be perfect, to have his hair of two colours; and for this it was necessary that all the required conditions should be observed. At other times he would say to Blanche that the right of a man was to bestow a child upon