Tales and Novels of J. de La Fontaine — Complete. Jean de la Fontaine

wondered what the fault our fair could see.

      Down hew it, cried the lady, that's your task;

      More concerns you not; folly 'tis to ask.

      Original

      OUR second gossip thus obtained success;

      But now the third: we'll see if she had less:

      To female friends she often visits paid,

      And various pastimes there had daily play'd;

      A leering lover who was weary grown,

      Desired ONE night she'd meet him quite alone.

      TWO, if you will, replied the smiling fair;

      A trifle 'tis you ask, and I'll repair

      Where'er you wish, and we'll recline at ease;

      My husband I can manage, if I please,

      While thus engag'd.—The parties soon agreed;

      But still the lady for her wits had need,

      Since her dear man from home but rarely went,

      No pardons sought at Rome, but was content

      With what he nearer got, while his sweet wife

      More fondness mark'd for gratifying life,

      And ever anxious, warmest zeal to show,

      Was always wishing distant scenes to know;

      As pilgrim oft she'd trod a foreign road,

      But now desir'd those ancient ways t'explode;

      A plan more rare and difficult she sought,

      And round her toe our wily dame bethought,

      To tie a pack-thread, fasten'd to the door,

      Which open'd to the street: then feign'd to snore

      Beside her husband, Harry Berlinguier,

      (So, usually, they nam'd her wedded dear.)

      HOWE'ER, so cunningly with him she dealt,

      That Harry turn'd, and soon the pack-thread felt,

      Which rais'd distrust, and led him to suspect

      Some bad design the thread was meant t'effect.

      A LITTLE time, as if asleep, he lay

      Considering how to act, or what to say;

      Then rose, (his spouse believing not awake,)

      And softly treading, lest the room should shake;

      The pack-thread follow'd to the outer door,

      And thence concluded (what he might deplore,)

      That his dear partner from her faith would stray,

      And some gallant that night design'd to play

      The lover's part and draw the secret clue,

      When she would rise, and with him freaks pursue,

      While he (good husband!) quietly in bed

      Might sleep, not dreaming that his wife had fled.

      FOR otherwise, what use such pains to take?

      A visit cuckoldom, perhaps, might make;

      An honour that he'd willingly decline;

      On which he studied how to countermine;

      And like a sentinel mov'd to and fro',

      To watch if any one would thither go

      To pull the string, that he could see with ease,

      And then he'd instantly the culprit seize.

      THE reader will perceive, we may suppose,

      Besides the entrance which the husband chose,

      On t'other side a door, where our gallant

      Could enter readily, as he might want,

      And there the spark a chambermaid let in:—

      Oft servants prone are found a bribe to win.

      WHILE Berlinguier thus watch'd around and round;

      The friends with one another pleasures found;

      But heav'n alone knows how nor what they were:—

      No fact transpir'd save all was free from care;

      So well the servant kept the careful watch,

      That not a chance was given the pair to catch:

      THE spark at dawn the lady left alone,

      And ere the husband came the bird was flown;

      Then Harry, weary, took his place again,

      Complaining, that he'd felt such racking pain,

      And dreading, lest alarms her breast should seize,

      Within another room he'd sought for ease.

      Two days had pass'd, when madam thought once more,

      To set the thread, as she had done before;

      He left the bed, pretending he was sick,

      Resumed his post; again the lover came,

      And, with my lady, play'd the former game.

      THE scheme so well succeeded, that the pair

      Thrice wish'd to try the wily pack-thread snare;

      The husband with the cholic mov'd away,

      His place the bold gallant resum'd till day.

      AT length their ardour 'gan, it seems, to cool,

      And Harry, they no longer tried to fool;

      'Twas time to seek the myst'ry of the plot,

      Since, to three acts, the comedy was got.

      AT midnight, when the spark had left the bed;

      A servant, by his orders, drew the thread;

      On whom the husband, without fear, laid hold,

      And with him enter'd like a soldier bold,

      Not then supposing he'd a valet seiz'd;

      Well tim'd it prov'd, howe'er;—the lady pleas'd

      Her voice to raise, on hearing what was said,

      And through the house confusion quickly spread.

      THE valet now before them bent the knee,

      And openly declar'd, he came to see

      The chambermaid, whom he was wont to greet,

      And by the thread to rouse when time to meet:

      ARE these your knavish tricks, replied the dame,

      With eyes upon her maid that darted flame;

      When I by chance observ'd about your toe,

      A thread one