He knew her meaning, and refused to take any, though he wanted it so much that he was forced to borrow some to buy the thread to sew the shirts and drawers.  When he left the miller, he came to me to borrow money to purchase provisions, and told me they did not pay him.  I gave him some copper money I had in my purse, and upon that he subsisted for some days.  It is true, indeed, he lived upon nothing but broth, nor had he his fill of that.

One day he went to the miller, who was busy at his work, and thinking my brother came for money, offered him some; but the young slave being present, made him another sign not to take it, which he complied with, and told the miller he did not come for his money, but only to know how he did.  The miller thanked him, and gave him an upper garment to make.  Bacbouc carried it to him the next day.  When the miller drew out his purse, the young slave gave my brother the usual sign, on which he said to the miller, “Neighbour, there is no haste, we will reckon another time;” so that the poor ninny went to his shop again, with three terrible distempers, love, hunger, and an empty purse.  The miller’s wife was not only avaricious, but ill-natured; for, not content with cheating my brother of his due, she provoked her husband to revenge himself upon him for making love to her, which they accomplished thus.  The miller invited Bacbouc one night to supper, and after giving him a very sorry treat, said to him, “Brother, it is too late for you to return home, you had better stay here all night,” and then took him to a place in the mill, where there was a bed; there he left him, and went to bed with his wife.  About the middle of the night, the miller came to my brother, and said, “Neighbour, are you asleep?  My mule is ill, and I have a quantity of corn to grind; you will do me a great kindness if you will turn the mill in her stead.”  Bacbouc, to shew his good nature, told him, he was ready to do him that service, if he would shew him how.  The miller tied him by the middle in the mule’s place, and whipping him soundly over the back, said to him, “Go on, neighbour.”  “Ho!” exclaimed my brother, “why do you beat me?” “It is to make you brisk,” replied the miller, “for without a whip my mule will not go.”  Bacbouc was amazed at this treatment, but durst not complain.  When he had gone five or six rounds, he would fain have rested; but the miller gave him a dozen sound lashes, saying, “Courage, neighbour! do not stop, pray; you must go on without taking breath, otherwise you will spoil my meal.”

The miller obliged my brother to turn the mill thus all night.  About break of day he left him without untying him, and went to his wife’s chamber.  Bacbouc continued there for some time, and at last the young slave came and untied him.  “Ah!” said the treacherous wretch, “how my mistress and I pitied you!  We had no hand in this wicked trick which her husband has played you.”  The wretched Bacbouc answered not a word, he was so much fatigued with work and blows; but crept home to his house, resolving never to think more of the miller’s wife.