he is accustomed to perform his
devotions. Wherefore, I pray you, give me my horse and open the door
without letting any one be the wiser; for the mission is both pressing
and secret."

The porter knew that obedience to the Friar was service acceptable to
his master, and so he opened the door secretly and let him out.

Just at that time the gentleman awoke. Finding that it was close on the
hour which the good father had appointed him for visiting his wife, he
got up in his bedgown and repaired swiftly to that bed whither by God's
ordinance, and without need of the license of man, it was lawful for him
to go.

When his wife heard him speaking beside her, she was greatly astonished,
and, not knowing what had occurred, said to him--

"Nay, sir, is it possible that, after your promise to the good father to
be heedful of your own health and of mine, you not only come before the
hour appointed, but even return a second time? Think on it, sir, I pray
you."

On hearing this, the gentleman was so much disconcerted that he could
not conceal it, and said to her--

"What do these words mean? I know of a truth that I have not lain with
you for three weeks, and yet you rebuke me for coming too often. If you
continue to talk in this way, you will make me think that my company is
irksome to you, and will drive me, contrary to my wont and will, to seek
elsewhere that pleasure which, by the law of God, I should have with
you."

The lady thought that he was jesting, and replied--

"I pray you, sir, deceive not yourself in seeking to deceive me; for
although you said nothing when you came, I knew very well that you were
here."

Then the gentleman saw that they had both been deceived, and solemnly
vowed to her that he had not been with her before; whereat the lady,
weeping in dire distress, besought him to find out with all despatch
who it could have been, seeing that besides themselves only his
brother-in-law and the Friar slept in the house.

Impelled by suspicion of the Friar, the gentleman forthwith went in
all haste to the room where he had been lodged, and found it empty;
whereupon, to make yet more certain whether he had fled, he sent for the
man who kept the door, and asked him whether he knew what had become of
the Friar. And the man told him the whole truth.

The gentleman, being now convinced of the Friar's wickedness, returned
to his wife's room, and said to her--

"Of a certainty, sweetheart, the man who lay wit