was so inordinately taking his pleasure, lo! the kinsfolk of the poor dangling criminal did steal up, for to cut the body down, an if they should find it unguarded. So finding no guard there, they did cut it down with all speed, and carried the corpse away with them swiftly, to bury it where they might, to the end they might rid them of so great dishonour and a sight so foul and hateful to the dead man’s kindred. The soldier coming up and finding the body a-missing, hied him in despair to his mistress, to tell her his calamity and how he was ruined and undone; for the law of that country was that any soldier which should sleep on guard and suffer the body to be carried off, should he put in its place and hanged instead, which risk he did thus run. The lady, who had but now been consoled of him, and had felt sore need of comfort for herself, did quick find the like for him, and said as follows: “Be not afeared; only come help me to lift mine husband from his tomb, and we will hang him and set him up in place of the other; so they will take him for the other.” No sooner said than done. Moreover ’tis said the first occupant of the gibbet had had an ear cut off; so she did the same to the second, the better to preserve the likeness. Next day the officers of justice did visit the place, but found naught amiss. Thus did she save her gallant by a most abominable deed and wicked act toward her husband,—the very same woman, I would have you note, which had so grievously deplored and lamented his loss, so that no man would ever have expected so shameful an issue. The first time ever I heard this history, ’twas told by M. d’Aurat,[119*] which did relate it to the gallant M. du Gua and sundry that were dining with him. M. du Gua was not one to fail to appreciate such a tale and to profit thereby, no man in all the world loving better a good anecdote or better able to turn the same to account. Accordingly soon after, being come into the Queen’s chamber, he saw there a young, new-made widow, but just bereaved and all disconsolate, her veil drawn half way down her face, sad and pitiful, with scarce a word for any man. Of a sudden M. du Gua said to me: “Dost see yonder widow? well! before a year be out, she will one day be doing as the lady of Ephesus did.” And so she did, though not altogether so shamefully; but she did marry a man of base condition, even as M. du Gua had foretold.