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April's 2002 Book Review Continued
 April's Monthly Vintage Book Review Continues With: "Part Two" of The High Constable's Wife
If You Missed Last Month's (March's 2002)
Review Click Here For Part One!
Droll Stories
The Droll Stories of Honore De Balzac
The Book League of America
New York
Title of One Section Located in The First Ten Tales:
The High Constable's Wife
"Part Two"
Thinking that his lady was arranging with her servant certain trifling
provisions and secret things in order not to be disturbed in the
interview she had promised him, the unknown lover kept at a
discreet distance, looking at the flies. Nevertheless he thought
that the countess was very bold, but also, as even a hunchback
would have done, he found a thousand reasons to justify her, and
thought himself quite worthy to inspire such recklessness. He
was lost in these good thoughts when the constable's wife
opened the door of her chamber, and invited the chevalier to
follow her in. There his noble lady cast aside all the apparel of
her lofty fortune, and falling at the feet of this gentleman,
became a simple woman.
"Alas, sweet sir!" said she, "I have acted vilely towards you.
Listen. On your departure from this house, you will meet your
death. The love which I feel for another has bewildered me, and
without being able to hold his place here, you will have to take it
before his murderers. This is the joy to which I have bidden you."
"Ah!" replied Boys-Bourredon, interring in the depths of his heart
a dark despair, "I am grateful to you for having made use of me as
of something which belonged to you...Yes, I love you so much that
every day I have dreamed of offering you in imitation of the ladies,
a thing that can be given but once. Take, then, my life!"
And the poor chevalier, in saying this, gave her one glance to
suffice for all the time he would have been able to look at her
through the long days. Hearing these brave and loving words,
Bonne rose suddenly.
"Ah! were it not for Savoisy, how I would love thee!" said she.
"Alas! my fate is then accomplished," replied Boys-Bourredon.
"My horoscope predicted that I should die by the love of a great
lady. Ah, God!" said he, clutching his good sword, "I will sell my
life dearly, but I shall die content in thinking that my decease
assures the happiness of her I love. I shall live better in her
memory than in reality." At the sight of the gesture and the
beaming face of this courageous man, the constable's wife
was pierced to the heart. But soon she was wounded to the
quick because he seemed to wish to leave her without even
asking of her the smallest favour.
"Come, that I may arm you," said she to him, making an attempt
to kiss him.
"Ha! my lady-love," replied he, moistening with a gentle tear the fire
of her eyes, "would you render my death impossible by attaching
too great a value to my life?"
"Come," cried she, overcome by this intense love, "I do not know
what the end of all this will be, but come-afterwards we will go and
perish together at the postern."
The same flame leaped in their hearts, the same harmony had struck
for both, they embraced each other with rapture in the delicious
access of that mad fever which you know well I hope; they fell into
a profound forgetfulness of the dangers of Savoisy, of themselves,
of the constabe, of death, of life, of everything.
Meanwhile the watchmen at the porch had gone to inform the constable
of the arrival of the gallant, and to tell him how the infatuated gentleman
had taken no notice of the winks which, during Mass and on the road,
the countess had given him in order to prevent his destruction. They met
their master arriving in great haste at the postern, because on their side
the archers of the quay had whistled to him afar off, saying to him--
"The Sire de Savoisy has passed in."
And indeed Savoisy had come at the appointed hour, and like all the
lovers, thinking only of his lady, he had not seen the count's spies and
had slipped in at the postern. This collision of lovers was the cause of
the constable's cutting short the words of those who came from the
Rue St. Antoine, saying to them with a gesture of authority, that they did
not think wise to disregard--
"I know that the animal is taken."
Thereupon all rushed with a great noise through the said postern, crying
"Death to him! death to him!" and men-at-arms, archers, the constable,
and the captains, all rushed full tilt upon Charles Savoisy, the king's
nephew, whom they attacked just under the countess's window, where
by a strange chance, the groans of the poor young man were dolorously
exhaled, mingled with the yells of the soldiers, at the same time as
passionate sighs and cries were given forth by the two lovers, who
hastened up in great fear.
"Ah!" said the countess, turning pale from terror,
"Savoisy is dying for me!"
"But I will live for you," replied Boys-Bourredon, "and shall esteem it a joy
to pay the same price for my happiness as he has done."
"Hide yourself in the clothes chest," cried the countess; "I hear the
constable's footsteps."
And indeed M. d'Armagnac appeared very soon with a head in his hand,
and putting it all bloody on the mantleshelf, "Behold, Madame," said he,
"a picture which will enlighten you concerning the duties of a wife
towards her husband."
"You have killed an innocent man," replied the countess, without
changing colour. "Savoisy was not my lover."
And with this speech she looked proudly at the constable with a face
marked by so much dissimulation and feminine audacity, that the
husband stood looking as foolish as a girl who has allowed a note to
escape her below, before a numerous company, and he was afraid of
having made a mistake.
"Of whom were you thinking this morning?" asked he.
"I was dreaming of the king," said she.
"Then, my dear, why not have told me so?"
"Would you have believed me in the bestial passion you were in?"
The constable scratched his ear and replied--
"But how came Savoisy with the key of the postern?"
"I don't know," said she, curtly,
"if you will have the goodness to believe what I have said to you."
And his wife turned lightly on her heel like a weathercock turned by
the wind, pretending to go and look after the household affairs. You
can imagine that D'Armagnac was greatly embarrassed with the head
of poor Savoisy, and that for his part Boys-Bourredon had no desire to
cough while listening to the count, who was growling to himself all
sorts of words. At length the constable struck two heavy blows over
the table, and said, " I'll go and attack the inhabitants of Poissy." Then
he departed, and when the night was come Boys-Bourredon escaped
from the house in some disguise or other.
Poor Savoisy was sorely lamented by his lady, who had done all that a
woman could do to save her lover, and later he was more than wept,
he was regretted; for the countess having related this adventure to
Queen Isabella, her majesty seduced Boys-Bourredon from the
service of her cousin and put him to her own, so much was she touched
with the qualities and firm courage of this gentleman.
Boys-Bourredon was a man whom danger had well recommended to the
ladies. In fact he comported himself so proudly in everything in the lofty
fortune, which the queen had made for him, that having badly treated
King Charles one day when the poor man was in his proper senses, the
courtiers, jealous of favour, informed the king of his cuckoldom. Then
Boys-Bourredon was in a moment sewn in a sack and thrown into the
Seine, near the ferry at Charenton, as every one knows. I have no need
to add, that since the day when the constable took into his head to play
thoughtlessly with knives, his good wife utilized so well the two deaths
he had caused and threw them so often in his face, that she made him
as soft as a cat's paw and put him in the straight road of marriage; and
he proclaimed her a modest and virtuous constable's lady, as indeed
she was.
As this book should, according to the maxims of great ancient authors,
join certain useful things to the good laughs which you will find therein
and contains precepts of high taste, I beg to inform you that the
quintessence of this story is this:
That women need never lose their heads in serious cases, because the
God of Love never abandons them, especially when they are beautiful,
young, and of good family: and that gallants when going to keep an
amorours assignation should never go there like giddy young men,
but carefully, and keep a sharp look-out near the burrow, to avoid falling
into certain traps and to preserve themselves; for after a good woman
the most precious thing is, certes, a pretty gentleman.
**Be sure and come again next month to see what our
Vintage Book Review Unfolds!
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