the good man's house without the cure being present. By this means he
could come to the house as often as he pleased, and whatever time he
liked.

But the neighbours of this foolish labourer, seeing what he could not
see, his eyes being bandaged by weakness and confidence,--told him that
it was not right and proper to have the cure at his house every day,
and that, if it continued, his wife's reputation would suffer, these
frequent visits having been noticed and spoken about by his neighbours
and friends.

When the good man found himself thus sharply reproved by his neighbours
for the frequent visits of the cure to his house, he was obliged to
tell the cure that he must cease his constant calls, and forbade him
by strict orders and menaces ever to come again until he was invited;
affirming by a great oath that if ever he found the cure in his house
there would be an account to settle between them, and it would not be
pleasant for the visitor.

This prohibition displeased the cure more than I can tell you, but
though vexed, he would not break off his love affair, for it was so
deeply rooted in the hearts of both parties that it could not be easily
eradicated. But hear how the cure managed after this prohibition. By an
agreement with his mistress, he used to be informed of the times when
her husband was absent, and then visit her. But he managed clumsily, for
he could not pay his visits without the knowledge of the neighbours, who
had been the cause of the interdict, and who were as much displeased at
the cure's acts as though they had been personally concerned.

The good man was again informed that the cure used to come and put out
the fire at his house every night, (*) as he did before he was
forbidden. The foolish husband, hearing that, was much astonished and
also angry, and to remedy this state of affairs, thought of the means
which I will relate.

(*) That is to say came at curfew time.

He told his wife that he was going, on a certain day which he named, to
take to St. Orner a waggon-load of corn, and that the work might be well
done, was going himself. When the day named for his departure arrived,
he did, as is usual in Picardy, especially round St. Omer, that is
loaded his waggon of corn at midnight, and at that hour took leave of
his wife and departed with his waggon.

As soon as he was gone, his wife closed all the doors of the house. Now
you must know that the St. Omer to which our merchant was