The Tales of the Heptameron, Vol. 1 (of 5)Marguerite, Queen, consort of Henry II, King of Navarre
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The Tales of the Heptameron, Vol. 1 (of 5)
Marguerite, Queen, consort of Henry II, King of Navarre
Love stories, French -- Translations into English; Tales -- France -- Translations into English
The Queen began to perceive, both from these words and from the
gentleman’s countenance, that what he said came from the depth of his
heart. She remembered also that for a long time he had so zealously
sought to do her service that he had fallen into sadness. She had
hitherto deemed this to be on account of his wife, but now she was
firmly of belief that it was for love of herself. Moreover, the very
quality of love, which compels itself to be recognised when it is
unfeigned, made her feel certain of what had been hidden from every one.
As she looked at the gentleman, who was far more worthy of being loved
than her husband, she reflected that he was forsaken by his wife, as
she herself was by the King; and then, beset by vexation and jealousy
against her husband, as well as moved by the love of the gentleman, she
began with sighs and tearful eyes to say--
“Ah me! shall revenge prevail with me where love has been of no avail?”
The gentleman, who understood what these words meant, replied--
“Vengeance, madam, is sweet when in place of slaying an enemy it gives
life to a true lover.(6) Methinks it is time that truth should cause you
to abandon the foolish love you bear to one who loves you not, and that
a just and reasonable love should banish fear, which cannot dwell in a
noble and virtuous heart. Come, madam, let us set aside the greatness
of your station and consider that, of all men and women in the world, we
are the most deceived, betrayed, and bemocked by those whom we have most
truly loved. Let us avenge ourselves, madam, not so much to requite them
in the way they deserve as to satisfy that love which, for my own part,
I cannot continue to endure and live. And I think that, unless your
heart be harder than flint or diamond, you cannot but feel some spark
from the fires which only increase the more I seek to conceal them. If
pity for me, who am dying of love for you, does not move you to love
me, at least pity for yourself should do so. You are so perfect that you
deserve to win the heart of every honourable man in the world, yet you
are contemned and forsaken by him for whose sake you have scorned all
others.”
6 The above sentence being omitted in the MS. followed in
this edition, it has been supplied from MS. No. 1520 in the
Bibliothèque Nationale.--L.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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