“Ah, the wicked woman!  Who could have thought that so foul and abominable a deed could be hidden under cloak of the holy sacraments of the Church.”

“If Judas,” replied the servant, “feared not to betray his Master when he was receiving the like, a woman’s treachery is but small matter for wonder.”

At this point the husband passed on, and his wife remained among the rushes, in greater gladness at having deceived and escaped him than she had ever felt at home in a good bed but in subjection.

The poor husband sought her through all the town of Autun, but learning for certain that she had not entered it, he retraced his steps, complaining unceasingly of her and of his loss, and threatening her with nothing short of death if he should find her.  Of this she had as little fear in her mind as she had of cold in her body, although the place and season might well have caused her to repent of her evil journey.  And any one who did not know how the fire of hell inflames those that are filled with it, must needs wonder how it was that this unhappy woman could so leave a warm bed and continue for a whole day in the piercing cold.

Yet she neither lost courage nor gave up the journey, but, as soon as night was come, went forward once more.  Just as the gate at Autun was being closed, this pilgrim arrived thither and repaired straight to the shrine of her saint, who was in great wonder at her coming, and could scarcely believe that it was indeed she.  But when he had carefully looked at her and examined her at all points, he found that, unlike a spirit, she was really possessed of bone and flesh, and so became convinced that she was no ghost.

And thenceforward they agreed so well together that she dwelt with the Canon for fourteen or fifteen years.

Although for a time she lived in concealment, in the end she lost all fear, and (what is worse) became so exceedingly proud of her lover that at church she would set herself before most of the honourable women of the town, wives of officials and others.  Moreover, she had children by the Canon, and among others a daughter who was married to a rich merchant, and who had so magnificent a wedding that all the women of the town murmured exceedingly, yet were powerless to set the affair to rights.

Now it happened that at this time Queen Claude, wife of King Francis, passed through the town of Autun, having with her my Lady the Regent, mother of the King aforesaid, and the Duchess of Alencon, her daughter. (1) One of the Queen’s waiting-women, named Perrette, came to the Duchess and said—­

“Madam, I pray you listen to me, and you will do a better deed than if you went to hear the whole day’s service at the church.”

     1 This would have occurred in the late autumn of 1515, when
     the Court journeyed southward to meet Francis I. on his
     return from the Marignano campaign.—­Ed.

The Duchess gave ready heed, knowing that nought but good counsel could come from her.  Then Perrette forthwith told her how she had taken a young girl to help her in washing the Queen’s linen, and how, on asking the news of the town, she had heard from her the vexation which all the honourable women endured at seeing the Canon’s mistress go before them, together with some of the history of the wicked woman’s life.