do in recognition of the virtuous life of a good woman and her great merits, was to overwork himself, to exert, to exterminate himself, to please her in every way, with fondlings and kissings and wrestlings, and all the delicacies and sweet confectionery of love; and that, if she would taste a little of the seraphic joys of these little ways to her unknown, she would believe all the other things of life as not worth a straw; and that, if such were her wish, he would forever be as silent as the grave, and last no scandal would besmear her virtue.  And the lewd fellow, perceiving that the lady did not stop her ears, commenced to describe to her, after the fashion of arabesque pictures, which at that time were much esteemed, the wanton inventions of debauchery.  Then did his eyes shoot flame, his words burn, and his voice ring, and he himself took great pleasure in calling to mind the various ways of his ladies, naming them to Madame d’Hocquetonville, and even revealing to her the tricks, caresses, and amorous ways of Queen Isabella, and he made use of expression so gracious and so ardently inciting, that, fancying it caused the lady to relax her hold upon the stiletto a little, he made as if to approach her.  But she, ashamed to be found buried in thought, gazed proudly at the diabolical leviathan who tempted her, and said to him, “Fine sir, I thank you.  You have caused me to love my husband all the more, for from your discourse I learn how much he esteems me by holding me in such respect that he does not dishonour his couch with the tricks of street-walkers and bad women.  I should think myself forever disgraced, and should be contaminated to all eternity if I put my foot in these sloughs where go these shameless hussies.  A man’s wife is one thing, and his mistress another.”

“I will wager,” said the duke, smiling, “that, nevertheless, for the future you spur the Sire d’Hocquetonville to a little sharper pace.”

At this the good woman trembled, and cried, “You are a wicked man.  Now I both despise and abominate you!  What! unable to rob me of my honour, you attempt to poison my mind!  Ah, my lord, this night’s work will cost you dear—­

    “If I forget it, a yet,
     God will not forget.

“Are not those of verse is yours?”

“Madame,” said the duke, turning pale with anger, “I can have you bound—­”

“Oh no!  I can free myself,” replied she, brandishing the stiletto.

The rapscallion began to laugh.

“Never mind,” said he.  “I have a means of plunging you into the sloughs of three brazen hussies, as you call them.”

“Never, while I live.”

“Head and heels you shall go in—­with your two feet, two hands, two ivory breasts, and two other things, white as snow—­your teeth, your hair, and everything.  You will go of your own accord; you shall enter into it lasciviously, and in a way to crush your cavalier, as a wild horse does its rider—­stamping, leaping, and snorting.  I swear it by Saint Castud!”