all, that is the end we must come at. But what can a poor Capuchin
hope to get of a woman whom _nothing_ terrifies?"

A GOOD LESSON WELL LEARNT

[Illustration: 098]

IN the days of King Louis XI there lived at Paris, in a matted chamber,
a citizen dame called Violante, who was comely and well-liking in all
her person. She had so bright a face that Master Jacques Tribouillard,
doctor in law and a renowned cosmographer, who was often a visitor at
her house, was used to tell her:

"Seeing you, madame, I deem credible and even hold it proven, what
Cucurbitus Piger lays down in one of his scholia on Strabo, to wit, that
the famous city and university of Paris was of old known by the name of
Lutetia or Leucecia, or some such like word coming from _Leuke_, that
is to say, 'the white,' forasmuch as the ladies of the same had bosoms
white as snow,--yet not so clear and bright and white as is your own,
madame."

To which Violante would say in answer:

"'T is enough for me if my bosom is not fit to fright folks, like some
I wot of. And, if I show it, why,'tis to follow the fashion. I have not
the hardihood to do otherwise than the rest of the world."

Now Madame Violante had been wedded, in the flower of her youth, to an
Advocate of the Parlement, a man of a harsh temper and sorely set on the
arraignment and punishing of unfortunate prisoners. For the rest, he
was of sickly habit and a weakling, of such a sort he seemed more fit to
give pain to folks outside his doors than pleasure to his wife within.
The old fellow thought more of his blue bags than of his better
half, though these were far otherwise shapen, being bulgy and fat and
formless. But the lawyer spent his nights over them.

Madame Violante was too reasonable a woman to love a husband that was
so unlovable. Master Jacques Tribouillard upheld she was a good wife,
as steadfastly and surely confirmed and stablished in conjugal virtue
as Lucretia the Roman. And for proof he alleged that he had altogether
failed to turn her aside from the path of honour. The judicious observed
a prudent silence on the point, holding that what is hid will only be
made manifest at the last Judgment Day. They noted how the lady was over
fond of gewgaws and laces and wore in company and at church gowns of
velvet and silk and cloth of gold, purfled with miniver; but they were
too fair-minded folk to decide whether, damning as she did Christian
men who saw her so comely and so fine