“’Ah!  Perrine; do not go.  You want to be made of iron, and even if you were it would soon be worn away,’ was the answer.

“Now, big-belly of Burgundy,” said he, giving his neighbour a hearty slap, “spit out your story or pay!”

“By the queen of Antlers!” replied the Burgundian, “by my faith, by the saints, by God! and by the devil, I know only stories of the Court of Burgundy, which are only current coin in our own land.”

“Eh, ventre Dieu! are we not in the land of Beauffremont?” cried the other, pointing to the empty goblets.

“I will tell you, then, an adventure well known at Dijon, which happened at the time I was in command there, and was worth being written down.  There was a sergeant of justice named Franc-Taupin, who was an old lump of mischief, always grumbling, always fighting; stiff and starchy, and never comforting those he was leading to the hulks, with little jokes by the way; and in short, he was just the man to find lice in bald heads, and bad behaviour in the Almighty.  This said Taupin, spurned by every one, took unto himself a wife, and by chance he was blessed with one as mild as the peel of an onion, who, noticing the peculiar humour of her husband, took more pains to bring joy to his house than would another to bestow horns upon him.  But although she was careful to obey him in all things, and to live at peace would have tried to excrete gold for him, had God permitted it, this man was always surly and crabbed, and no more spared his wife blows, than does a debtor promises to the bailiff’s man.  This unpleasant treatment continuing in spite of the carefulness and angelic behaviour of the poor woman, she being unable to accustom herself to it, was compelled to inform her relations, who thereupon came to the house.  When they arrived, the husband declared to them that his wife was an idiot, that she displeased him in every possible way, and made his life almost unbearable; that she would wake him out of his first sleep, never came to the door when he knocked, but would leave him out in the rain and the cold, and that the house was always untidy.  His garments were buttonless, his laces wanted tags.  The linen was spoiling, the wine turning sour, the wood damp, and the bed was always creaking at unreasonable moments.  In short, everything was going wrong.  To this tissue of falsehoods, the wife replied by pointing to the clothes and things, all in a state of thorough repair.  Then the sergeant said that he was very badly treated, that his dinner was never ready for him, or if it was, the broth was thin or the soup cold, either the wine or the glasses were forgotten, the meat was without gravy or parsley, the mustard had turned, he either found hairs in the dish or the cloth was dirty and took away his appetite, indeed nothing did she ever get for him that was to his liking.  The wife, astonished, contented herself with stoutly denying the fault imputed to her.  ‘Ah,’ said he, ’you dirty hussy!  You deny it, do you!  Very well then, my friends, you come and dine here to-day, you shall be witnesses of her misconduct.  And if she can for once serve me properly, I will confess myself wrong in all I have stated, and will never lift my hand against her again, but will resign to her my halberd and my breeches, and give her full authority here.’