he provost, interrupting her, to tell her what
had happened to him.

"And you saw without my permission a lady of the court! Ha! ha! heu!
heu! hein!"

Then she began to moan, to weep, and to cry in such a deplorable
manner and so loudly, that her lord was quite aghast.

"What's the matter, my darling? What is it? What do you want?"

"Ah! You won't love me any more are after seeing how beautiful court
ladies are!"

"Nonsense, my child! They are great ladies. I don't mind telling you
in confidence; they are great ladies in every respect."

"Well," said she, "am I nicer?"

"Ah," said he, "in a great measure. Yes!"

"They have, then, great happiness," said she, sighing, "when I have so
much with so little beauty."

Thereupon the provost tried a better argument to argue with his good
wife, and argued so well that she finished by allowing herself to be
convinced that Heaven has ordained that much pleasure may be obtained
from small things.

This shows us that nothing here below can prevail against the Church
of Cuckolds.

ABOUT THE MONK AMADOR, WHO WAS A GLORIOUS ABBOT OF TURPENAY

One day that it was drizzling with rain--a time when the ladies remain
gleefully at home, because they love the damp, and can have at their
apron strings the men who are not disagreeable to them--the queen was
in her chamber, at the castle of Amboise, against the window curtains.
There, seated in her chair, she was working at a piece of tapestry to
amuse herself, but was using her needle heedlessly, watching the rain
fall into the Loire, and was lost in thought, where her ladies were
following her example. The king was arguing with those of his court
who had accompanied him from the chapel--for it was a question of
returning to dominical vespers. His arguments, statements, and
reasonings finished, he looked at the queen, saw that she was
melancholy, saw that the ladies were melancholy also, and noted the
fact that they were all acquainted with the mysteries of matrimony.

"Did I not see the Abbot of Turpenay here just now?" said he.

Hearing these words, there advanced towards the king the monk, who, by
his constant petitions, rendered himself so obnoxious to Louis the
Eleventh, that that monarch seriously commanded his provost-royal to
remove him from his sight; and it has been related in the first volume
of these Tales, how the monk was saved through the mistake of Sieur
Tristan. The monk was at this time a man whose qua