a child so roughly that he had proof of the result two months
after marriage, which rendered the Sire Imbert joyful to a degree. In
order that we may here finish with this portion of the story, let us
at once state that from this legitimate grain was born the Sire de
Bastarnay, who was Duke by the grace of Louis the Eleventh, his
chamberlain, and more than that, his ambassador in the countries of
Europe, and well-beloved of this most redoubtable lord, to whom he
was never faithless. His loyalty was an heritage from his father, who
from his early youth was much attached to the Dauphin, whose fortunes
he followed, even in the rebellions, since he was a man to put Christ
on the cross again if it had been required by him to do so, which is
the flower of friendship rarely to be found encompassing princes and
great people. At first, the fair lady of Bastarnay comported herself
so loyally that her society caused those thick vapours and black
clouds to vanish, which obscured the mind of this great man, the
brightness of the feminine glory. Now, according to the custom of
unbelievers, he passed from suspicion to confidence so thoroughly,
that he yielded up the government of his house to the said Bertha,
made her mistress of his deeds and actions, queen of his honour,
guardian of his grey hairs, and would have slaughtered without a
contest any one who had said an evil word concerning this mirror of
virtue, on whom no breath had fallen save the breath issued from his
conjugal and marital lips, cold and withered as they were. To speak
truly on all points, it should be explained, that to this virtuous
behaviour considerably aided the little boy, who during six years
occupied day and night the attention of his pretty mother, who first
nourished him with her milk, and made of him a lover's lieutenant,
yielding to him her sweet breasts, which he gnawed at, hungry, as
often as he would, and was, like a lover, always there. This good
mother knew no other pleasures than those of his rosy lips, had no
other caresses that those of his tiny little hands, which ran about
her like the feet of playful mice, read no other book than that in his
clear baby eyes, in which the blue sky was reflected, and listened to
no other music than his cries, which sounded in her ears as angels'
whispers. You may be sure that she was always fondling him, had a
desire to kiss him at dawn of day, kissed him in the evening, would
rise in the night to eat him up wit