“Ah God!  I am losing my poor wife!  What shall I do, unhappy man that I am?”

After uttering many such complaints, he perceived that there was no one in the room but a young servant-maid, passably fair and buxom, and he called to her in a whisper.

“Sweetheart,” he said, “I am dying.  I am more than dead to see your mistress dying in this manner.  I know not what to do or say, except that I commend myself to you, and beg you to care for my house and my children.  Take therefore the keys from my side, and order the household, for I myself can attend to nothing more.”

The poor girl had pity on him and comforted him, begging him not to despair, so that, if she must lose her mistress, she might not also lose her good master.

“Sweetheart,” he replied, “’tis all of no avail, for I am indeed dying.  See yourself how cold my face is; bring your cheeks close to mine and warm them.”

With this he laid his hand upon her breast.  She tried to make some difficulty, but he begged her to have no fear, since they must indeed see each other more closely.  And speaking in this wise, he took her in his arms and threw her upon the bed.

Then his wife, whose only company was the cross and the holy water, and who had not spoken for two days, began to cry out as loudly as her feeble voice enabled her—­

“Ah! ah! ah!  I am not dead yet!” And threatening them with her hand, she repeated—­“Villain! monster!  I am not dead yet!”

On hearing her voice, the husband and maid rose up, but she was in such a rage against them that her anger consumed the catarrhal humour that had prevented her from speaking, and she poured upon them all the abuse that she could think of.  And from that hour she began to mend, though not without often reproaching her husband for the little love he bore her. (3)

3 This story was imitated by Noel du Fail de La Herissaye in his Contes d’Eutrapel (ch. v._ De la Goutte_), where the hero of the incident is called Glaume Esnaut de Tremeril.  “It is said,” writes Du Fail, “that the wife of that rascal Glaume of Tremeril when at the point of death, on seeing Glaume too familiar with her serving-woman, recovered her senses, saying, ’Ah! wicked man, I am not yet so low as you thought.  By God’s grace, mistress baggage, you shall go forth at once.’” Curiously enough, the 1585 edition of the Contes d’Eutrapel was printed at Rennes for Noel Glame, virtually the same name as Glaume.—­M.

“By this you see, ladies, the hypocrisy of men, and how a little consolation will make them forget their sorrow for their wives.”

“How do you know,” said Hircan, “that he had not heard that such was the best remedy his wife could have?  Since his kindly treatment availed not to cure her, he wished to try whether the opposite would prove any better, and the trial was a very fortunate one.  But I marvel that you who are a woman should have shown how the constitution of your sex is brought to amendment rather by foul means than by fair.”