life, since this shows how gentlemen
should be courteous with the dearly beloveds of their wives. Further,
it teaches us that all children are blessings sent by God Himself, and
over them fathers, whether true or false, have no right of murder, as
was formerly the case at Rome, owing to a heathen and abominable law,
which ill became that Christianity which makes us all sons of God.

HOW THE PRETTY MAID OF PORTILLON CONVINCED HER JUDGE

The Maid of Portillon, who became as everyone knows, La Tascherette,
was, before she became a dyer, a laundress at the said place of
Portillon, from which she took her name. If any there be who do not
know Tours, it may be as well to state that Portillon is down the
Loire, on the same side as St. Cyr, about as far from the bridge which
leads to the cathedral of Tours as said bridge is distant from
Marmoustier, since the bridge is in the centre of the embankment
between Portillon and Marmoustier. Do you thoroughly understand?

Yes? Good! Now the maid had there her washhouse, from which she ran to
the Loire with her washing in a second and took the ferry-boat to get
to St. Martin, which was on the other side of the river, for she had
to deliver the greater part of her work in Chateauneuf and other
places.

About Midsummer day, seven years before marrying old Taschereau, she
had just reached the right age to be loved, without making a choice
from any of the lads who pursued her with their intentions. Although
there used to come to the bench under her window the son of Rabelais,
who had seven boats on the Loire, Jehan's eldest, Marchandeau the
tailor, and Peccard the ecclesiastical goldsmith, she made fun of them
all, because she wished to be taken to church before burthening
herself with a man, which proves that she was an honest woman until
she was wheedled out of her virtue. She was one of those girls who
take great care not to be contaminated, but who, if by chance they get
deceived, let things take their course, thinking that for one stain or
for fifty a good polishing up is necessary. These characters demand
our indulgence.

A young noble of the court perceived her one day when she was crossing
the water in the glare of the noonday sun, which lit up her ample
charms, and seeing her, asked who she was. An old man, who was working
on the banks, told him she was called the Pretty Maid of Portillon, a
laundress, celebrated for her merry ways and her virtue. This young
lord