The Lawyer's Wife Who Passed The Line

By Monseigneur De Commesuram.

_Of a clerk of whom his mistress was enamoured, and what he promised to
do and did to her if she crossed a line which the said clerk had made.
Seeing which, her little son told his father when he returned that he
must not cross the line; or said he, "the clerk will serve you as he did
mother."_

Formerly there lived in the town of Mons, in Hainault, a lawyer of a
ripe old age, who had, amongst his other clerks, a good-looking and
amiable youth, with whom the lawyer's wife fell deeply in love, for it
appeared to her that he was much better fitted to do her business than
her husband was.

She decided that she would behave in such a way that, unless he were
more stupid than an ass, he would know what she wanted of him; and, to
carry out her design, this lusty wench, who was young, fresh, and buxom,
often brought her sewing to where the clerk was, and talked to him of a
hundred thousand matters, most of them about love.

And during all this talk she did not forget to practise little tricks:
sometimes she would knock his elbow when he was writing; another time
she threw gravel and spoiled his work, so that he was forced to write it
all over again. Another time also she recommenced these tricks, and took
away his paper and parchment, so that he could not work,--at which he
was not best pleased, fearing that his master would be angry.

For a long time his mistress practised these tricks, but he being young,
and his eyes not opened, he did not at first see what she intended;
nevertheless at last he concluded he was in her good books.

Not long after he arrived at this conclusion, it chanced that the lawyer
being out of the house, his wife came to the clerk to teaze him as was
her custom, and worried him more than usual, nudging him, talking to
him, preventing him from working, and hiding his paper, ink &c.

Our clerk more knowing than formerly, and seeing what all this meant,
sprang to his feet, attacked his mistress and drove her back, and begged
of her to allow him to write--but she who asked for nothing better than
a tussle, was not inclined to discontinue.

"Do you know, madam," said he, "that I must finish this writing which I
have begun? I therefore ask of you to let me alone or, morbleu, I will
pay you out."

"What would you do, my good lad?" said she. "Make ugly faces?"

"No, by God!*

"What then?"

"What?"

"Yes, tell me what!"

"Why," said he, "since you have upset my inkstand, and crumpled my
writing, I will well crumple your parchment, and that I may not be
prevented from writing by want of ink, I will dip into your inkstand."

"By my soul," quoth she, "you are not the man to do it. Do you think I
am afraid of you?"

"It does not matter what sort of man I am," said the clerk, "but if you
worry me any more, I am man enough to make you pay for it. Look here!
I will draw a line on the floor, and by God, if you overstep it, be it
ever so little, I wish I may die if I do not make you pay dearly for
it."

"By my word," said she, "I am not afraid of you, and I will pass the
line and see what you will do," and so saying the merry hussy made a
little jump which took her well over the line.

The clerk grappled with her, and threw her down on a bench, and punished
her well, for if she had rumpled him outside and openly, he rumpled her
inside and secretly.

Now you must know that there was present at the time a young child,
about two years old, the son of the lawyer. It need not be said
either, that after this first passage of arms between the clerk and his
mistress, there were many more secret encounters between them, with less
talk and more action than on the first occasion.

You must know too that, a few days after this adventure, the little
child was in the office where the clerk was writing, when there came in
the lawyer, the master of the house, who walked across the room to
his clerk, to see what he wrote, or for some other matter, and as he
approached the line which the clerk had drawn for his wife, and which
still remained on the floor, his little son cried,

"Father, take care you do not cross the line, or the clerk will lay you
down and tumble you as he did mother a few days ago."

The lawyer heard the remark, and saw the line, but knew not what to
think; but if he remembered that fools, drunkards, and children always
tell the truth, at all events he made no sign, and it has never come to
my knowledge that he ever did so, either through want of confirmation of
his suspicions, or because he feared to make a scandal.

*****

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The Lawyer's Wife Who Passed The Line