und an opportunity to
go to the privy, and told her lover to take care, for God's sake, and
not cough like that.

"Alas, my dear," he said, "I cannot help it. God knows how I am
punished. And for God's sake think of some way of getting me out of
this."

"I will," she said, and with that she went away, and the good squire
began his song over again, so loud indeed that he was much afraid he
would be heard in the chamber; and might have been had not the lady
talked very loudly in order to drown the noise.

When the squire had this fresh attack of coughing, he knew of nothing
better to do to prevent being heard than to stuff his head down the
hole of the privy, where he was well "incensed", God knows, by the stuff
therein, but he preferred that to being heard. In short, he was there a
long time, with his head down the hole, spitting, sniffing, and coughing
so much that it seemed as though he would never do anything else.

After this fit finished, the cough left him, and then he tried to draw
out his head, but it was not in his power, so far had he pushed his
shoulders through, and you may fancy that he was not very comfortable.
In short he could not find means to get out, try as he would. He scraped
his neck, and nearly pulled his ears off, and in the end, by God's will,
he pulled so hard that he tore away the seat of the privy, which
hung round his neck. It was beyond his power to get out of it, but
troublesome as it was, he preferred that to his previous position:

His mistress came and found him in that state, and was much astonished.
She could not help him, and all the consolation she could give him
was to tell him that she could find no means of getting him out of the
house.

[Illustration: 72.jpg Necessity is the Mother of Invention.]

"Is that so?" he said. "Morbleu! I am well armed to fight any one, but I
must have a sword in my hand."

He was soon provided with a good one, and the lady, seeing his
extraordinary appearance, although her heart was lull of doubt and
uncertainty, could not refrain from laughing, and the squire also.

"Now I commend myself to God," he said. "I am going to try if I can get
out of the house; but first black my face well."

She did so, and recommended him to God, and the poor fellow, with the
seat of the privy round his neck, a drawn sword in his hand, and his
face blacker than charcoal, sallied out into the room, and by luck the
first person he met was the husband, who was