the monk would sing to them.  At every movement of poor Amador, who would find short horse-hair in the sheets, he would bring down cold water on to the bed, and a thousand other tricks were arranged, such are usually practised in castles.  Everyone went to bed in expectation of the nocturnal revels of the monk, certain that they would not be disappointed, since he had been lodged under the tiles at the top of a little tower, the guard of the door of which was committed to dogs who howled for a bit of him.  In order to ascertain what language the conversations with the cats and pigs would be carried on, the Sire came to stay with his dear Perrotte, who slept in the next room.

As soon as he found himself thus treated, Amador drew from his bag a knife, and dexterously extricated himself.  Then he began to listen in order to find out the ways of the place, and heard the master of the house laughing with his maid-servant.  Suspecting their manoeuvres, he waited till the moment when the lady of the house should be alone in bed, and made his way into her room with bare feet, in order that his sandals should not be in his secrets.  He appeared to her by the light of the lamp in the manner in which monks generally appear during the night—­that is, in a marvellous state, which the laity find it difficult long to sustain; and the thing is an effect of the frock, which magnifies everything.  Then having let her see that he was all a monk, he made the following little speech—­

“Know, madame, that I am sent by Jesus and the Virgin Mary to warn you to put an end to the improper perversities which are taking place—­to the injury of your virtue, which is treacherously deprived of your husband’s best attention, which he lavishes upon your maid.  What is the use of being a lady if the seigneurial dues are received elsewhere.  According to this, your servant is the lady and you are the servant.  Are not all the joys bestowed upon her due to you?  You will find them all amassed in our Holy Church, which is the consolation of the afflicted.  Behold in me the messenger, ready to pay these debts if you do not renounce them.”

Saying this, the good monk gently loosened his girdle in which he was incommoded, so much did he appear affected by the sight of those beauties which the Sieur de Cande disdained.

“If you speak truly, my father, I will submit to your guidance,” said she, springing lightly out of bed.  “You are for sure, a messenger of God, because you have been in a single day that which I had not noticed here for a long time.”

Then she went, accompanied by Amador, whose holy robe she did not fail to run her hand over, and was so struck when she found it real, that she hoped to find her husband guilty; and indeed she heard him talking about the monk in her servant’s bed.  Perceiving this felony, she went into a furious rage and opened her mouth to resolve it into words—­ which is the usual method of women—­and wished to kick up the devil’s delight before handing the girl over to justice.  But Amador told her that it would be more sensible to avenge herself first, and cry out afterwards.