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StoriesThe Woman At The BathBy Philippe De Laon. _Of an inn-keeper at Saint Omer who p... The Bagpipe By Monseigneur De Thalemas. _Of a hare-brained half-mad fe... The Child With Two Fathers By Caron. _Of a gentleman who seduced a young girl, and th... The Muddled Marriages By The Archivist Of Brussels. _Of two men and two women wh... Bids And Biddings By Monseigneur De Launoy. _Of a number of boon companions ... The Reverse Of The Medal By Monseigneur Le Duc _The first story tells of how one fo... The Devil's Horn By Monseigneur. _Of a noble knight of Germany, a great tra... The Sore Finger Cured By Philippe De Laon. _Of a monk who feigned to be very ill... The Sleeveless Robe By Alardin. _Of a gentleman of Flanders, who went to resid... The Over-cunning Cure By Michault De Changy. _Of a priest who would have played ... Necessity Is The Mother Of Invention By Monseigneur De Commensuram. _Of a gentleman of Picardy ... The Lawyer And The Bolting-mill By Monseigneur Le Duc. _Of a President of Parliament, who ... The Lost Ring By Monseigneur De Commesuram. _Of two friends, one of whom... The Eel Pasties By Monseigneur de la Roche _Of a knight of England, who, a... The Obedient Wife By The Editor. _ Of a man who was married to a woman so la... Three Very Minor Brothers By Poncelet. _Of three women of Malines, who were acquaint... The Sick Lover By Poncelet. _Of a lord who pretended to be sick in order ... The Bird In The Cage By Jehan Lambin. _Of a cure who was in love with the wife ... Beyond The Mark By Monseigneur De Lannoy. _Of a shepherd who made an agree... A Cure For The Plague By Monseigneur De Villiers. _Of a girl who was ill of the ... |
The Sleeveless RobeBy Alardin. _Of a gentleman of Flanders, who went to reside in France, but whilst he was there his mother was very ill in Flanders; and how he often went to visit her believing that she would die, and what he said and how he behaved, as you will hear later._ A gentleman of Flanders had a mother who was very old and much weakened by disease, and more sick and infirm than any woman of her age. Hoping that she would get better, and be cured, he often came to see her, although he resided in France, and each time that he came he found her suffering so much that he thought her soul was about to leave her body. On one occasion that he came to see her, she said to him at his departure. "Adieu, my son; I am sure that you will never see me again for I am about to die." "Devil take it, mother, you have said that so often that I am sick of it. For three years past you have been repeating that, but you have done nothing of the kind. Choose a day, I beg, and keep to it." The good woman, when she heard her son's reply, smiled, though she was so sick and old, and said farewell. One year, then two years, passed, and still she lingered on. She was again visited by her son, and one night when he was in bed in her house, and she was so ill that all believed she was about to go to Mortaigne, (*) those who watched her called her son, and told him to come to his mother quickly, for that certainly she was about to die. (*) Mild puns on the names of places were very common in the Middle Ages. "Do you say that she is about to die?" he replied. "By my soul, I will not believe it; she always says that, but she never does it." "No, no," said the nurses; "this time it is certain. Come quickly for it is sure that she is dying." "Very well, you go first and I will follow you; and tell my mother that if she must go, not to go by Douai, for the road is so bad that I and my horses were nearly swallowed up yesterday." Nevertheless he rose, and put on his dressing-gown, and went off to see his mother give her last grin. When he came he found her very ill, for she had been in a swoon which all thought would carry her off, but, thank God, she was now a little better. "Did I not tell you so?" said this good son. "Every body in this house declares, and she does herself, that she is dying--but nothing comes of it. For God's sake choose a day--as I have often told you--and see that you keep to it! I am going to return whence I came, and I recommend you not to call me again. If she does die she must die alone, for I will not keep her company." Now I must tell you the end of this history. The lady, ill as she was, recovered from this extreme sickness, and lived and languished as before for the space of three years, during which time her good son visited her once, and that was just as she was about to give up the ghost. But when they came to seek him to come to her deathbed, he was trying on a new habit and would not come. Message after message was sent to him, for his good mother, who was nearing her end, wished to recommend her soul to her son's care,--but to all the messages he replied; "I am sure there is no hurry: she will wait till my habit is finished." At last so many remonstrances were made to him that he went to his mother, wearing a doublet with no sleeves to it, which, when she saw, she asked him where were the sleeves. "They are within there,--waiting to be finished as soon as you clear out of the place." "Then they will be soon finished," she replied; "for I go to God, to whom I humbly recommend my soul; and to you also, my son." Without another word she rendered her soul to God, with the Cross between her arms; on seeing which her good son began to weep so loudly that no one had ever heard the like; he could not be comforted, and at the end of a fortnight he died of grief. ***** Next: The Husband Turned Confessor Previous: Caught In The Act
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