In the town of Amboise there lived one Brimbaudier, (1) saddler to the Queen of Navarre, and a man whose colour of feature showed him to be by nature rather a servant of Bacchus than a priest of Diana. He had married a virtuous woman who controlled his household very discreetly, and with whom he was well content. 1 Boaistuau gives the name as Bruribandier, and Gruget transforms it into Borribaudier. M, Pifteau, after examining the MSS., is doubtful whether Brimbaudier is the correct reading. Bromardier, which in old French meant a tippler (Ducange, _Briemardum_), would have been an appropriate name for the individual referred to.--Ed. One day it was told him that his good wife was sick and in great danger, at which tidings he was in the greatest trouble imaginable. He went with all speed to her aid, and found her so low, poor woman, that she had more need of a confessor than a doctor. Thereupon he made the most pitiful lamentation that could be, but to represent it well ‘twere needful to speak thickly as he did, (2) and better still to paint one’s face like his. 2 Curiously enough, the transcriber of MS. No. 1520 attempts to give some idea of the husband’s pronunciation by transforming all his r’s into l’s. Here is an example: “Je pelz ma povle femme, que fesai-ze, moi malhureux?... M’amie je me meuls, je suis pis que tlepassé... je ne sçai que faize,” &c.--L. When he had done all that he could for her, she asked for the cross, and it was brought. On seeing this, the good man flung himself upon a bed in despair, crying and saying in his thick speech-- “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--