Heptameron: The Woman and the Chanter

This story is part of the Heptameron unit. Story source: The Heptameron of Margaret, Queen of Navarre, translated by Walter K. Kelly (1855).

The Woman and the Chanter
(Day 6, Story 10)

"It is in my opinion," said Nomerfide, "a great folly in women to pry so curiously into what their husbands do, but it is no less a one in husbands to want to know every step taken by their wives. Sufficient for the day is the evil thereof, without taking so much thought for the morrow."

"Nevertheless it is sometimes necessary," said Oisille, "to inquire into matters in which the honor of a house is concerned; that is to say, for the purpose of setting things right, and not from a wish to judge ill of persons, for every one is liable to error."

"Many have come to mischief for want of inquiring into their wives' freaks," said Geburon.

"If you know any instance of the kind, pray tell it us," said Longarine.

"I will do so with pleasure," he replied, "since you desire it."

THERE was in Paris a man so good-natured that he would have scrupled to believe that a man had lain with his wife though he had seen it with his own eyes. This poor man married the most profligate woman in the world but never noticed her licentiousness and treated her as though she were the best of wives.

But one day, when King Louis XII was in Paris, this woman went and gave herself up to one of that prince's chanters, and when she found that the king was quitting Paris and that she was about to lose her lover, she resolved to go with him and quit her husband. The chanter had no objection to this and took her to a house he had near Blois, where they lived long together.

The poor husband, not finding his wife, searched for her in all directions and learned at last that she had gone off with the chanter. Wishing to recover his lost sheep which he had badly guarded, he wrote her several letters, begging her to return and promising to receive her, provided she would lead a good life for the future, but she took such pleasure in the chanter's singing that she had forgotten her husband's voice, made no account of his fair words, and snapped her fingers at him.

The incensed husband then gave her notice that he would claim her legally through the Church, since she would not return to him of her own accord, whereupon, fearing that if justice meddled with the matter she and her chanter would come badly off, she devised a scheme worthy of such a woman.

She pretended to be sick, sent for some worthy women of the city to visit her, and they came the more willingly as they hoped to make her illness instrumental towards bringing her back from her vicious ways. To this end each of them addressed the best remonstrances she could to her, and the seemingly dying woman listened to them with tears, confessed her sin, and played the part so well, that the whole company had pity on her, believing her tears and her repentance to be sincere. They tried to console the poor penitent, told her that God was not so terrible by a great deal as some indiscreet preachers represented him to be, and assured her He would never withhold his mercy from her, and then they sent for a good man to hear her confession.

Next day, the priest of the parish came and administered to her the holy sacrament, which she received with so much devotion that all the good women of the town who were present were moved with tears and praised the divine goodness for having had pity on the poor creature. Afterwards, upon her feigning that she could no longer swallow food, the priest brought her extreme unction, which she received with many fine signs of devotion, for she could hardly speak, at least so it was believed. She lay a long while in the same state, but at last the spectators imagined that she gradually lost her sight, her hearing, and her other senses, whereupon everybody began to cry, "Jesus! Lord! have mercy!" Night being now at hand, and the ladies having some way to go, they all retired. As they were leaving the house, word was brought them that she had just expired. They said a De profundis for her and went away.

The priest asked the chanter where he would have her buried. He replied that she had expressed a wish to be buried in the cemetery, and that it would be advisable under the circumstances that the interment should take place by night. The unfortunate woman was laid out for burial by a servant, who took good care not to hurt her, and then she was carried by torchlight to the grave which the chanter had caused to be dug. When the body was carried past the houses of those who had seen the deceased receive extreme unction, they all came out and accompanied her to the grave, where the priests and the women left her, but the chanter remained after them. The moment he saw that the company were far enough off, he and his servant woman lifted the pretended dead woman out of the grave more alive than ever and took her back to his house, in which he kept her long concealed.

The husband, who was bent on recovering his wife, went to Blois to demand justice and found that she was dead and buried. The fact was certified to him by all the ladies of Blois, who related to him what a fine end she had made, and greatly did the good man rejoice, believing that the soul of his wife was in Paradise and himself disencumbered of her wicked body. He returned to Paris with a glad heart and entered into a second marriage with a respectable young woman, a good housewife, by whom he had several children and with whom he lived fourteen or fifteen years.

But at last, rumor, which keeps no secrets, informed him that his first wife was not dead and that she was still with her chanter.



(900 words)



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