in a closet all alone, the merchant
came in to her, and finding himself in a place convenient for the
purpose, fell to conversing with her as privily as was possible. But
a maid-servant, who had seen him go in, ran and told the mother, who
betook herself thither in great wrath. When the girl heard her coming,
she said, weeping, to the merchant--"Alas! sweetheart, the love that I
bear you will now cost me dear. Here comes my mother, who will know for
certain what she has always feared and suspected."

The merchant, who was not a bit confused by this accident, straightway
left the girl and went to meet the mother. Stretching out his arms, he
hugged her with all his might, and, with the same ardour with which he
had begun to entertain the daughter, threw the poor old woman on to a
small bed. She was so taken aback at being thus treated that she could
find nothing to say but--"What do you want? Are you dreaming?"

For all that he ceased not to press her as closely as if she had been
the fairest maiden in the world, and had she not cried out so loudly
that her serving-men and women came to her aid, she would have gone by
the same road as she feared her daughter was treading.

However, the servants dragged the poor old woman by main force out of
the merchant's arms, and she never knew for what reason he had thus
used her. Meanwhile, her daughter took refuge in a house hard by where
a wedding was going on. Since then she and the merchant have ofttimes
laughed together at the expense of the old woman, who was never any the
wiser.

"By this story, ladies, you may see how, by the subtlety of a man, an
old woman was deceived and the honour of a young one saved. Any one
who would give the names, or had seen the merchant's face and the
consternation of the old woman, would have a very tender conscience
to hold from laughing. It is sufficient for me to prove to you by this
story that a man's wit is as prompt and as helpful at a pinch as a
woman's, and thus to show you, ladies, that you need not fear to fall
into men's hands. If your own wit should fail you, you will find theirs
prepared to shield your honour."

"In truth, Hircan," said Longarine, "I grant that the tale is a very
pleasant one and the wit great, but the example is not such as maids
should follow. I readily believe there are some whom you would fain have
approve it, but you are not so foolish as to wish that your wife, or
her whose honour you set higher than her p