When the good man heard this news, he was much inclined to laugh, but he
agreed to go to his chamber along with his assistant--who first made
him promise that he would not kill the cure, or otherwise he would not
accompany him, but consented that the cure should be well punished.

They went up to the chamber, and the door was soon opened. The husband
entered first, and saw his wife in the arms of the cure who was forging
as hard as he could.

The goldsmith cried;

"Die, die, scoundrel! What brings you here?"

The cure was surprised and alarmed, and begged for mercy.

"Silence, rascally priest, or I will kill you on the spot!"

"Oh, neighbour have mercy, for God's sake," said the cure; "do with me
whatever you like."

"By my father's soul! before I let you go I will make you so that you
will never want to hammer on any feminine anvil again. Get up, and let
yourself be bound, unless you wish to die!"

The poor wretch allowed himself to be fastened by his two enemies to a
bench, face upwards, and with his legs hanging down on each side of the
bench. When he was well fastened, so that he could move nothing but
his head, he was carried thus trussed (*) into a little shed behind the
house, which the goldsmith used as a melting-room.

(*) The word in the original is _marescaucie_, which
presumably means,--treated as the soldiers of the
_marechaussee_ treated their prisoners. Bibliophile Jacob
avoided philological pitfalls of this sort by omitting the
phrase altogether.

When the cure was safely placed in this shed, the goldsmith sent for two
long nails with large heads, and with these he fastened to the bench
the two hammers which had in his absence forged on his wife's anvil,
and after that undid all the ropes which fastened the poor wretch. Then
taking a handful of straw, he set fire to the shed, and leaving the cure
to his fate, rushed into the street, crying "Fire!"

The priest, finding himself surrounded by flames, saw that he must
either lose his genitals or be burned alive, so he jumped up and ran
away, leaving his purse nailed there.

An alarm was soon raised in the street, and the neighbours ran to put
out the fire. But the cure sent them back, saying that he had just come
from the spot, and all the harm that could occur had already been done,
so that they could give no assistance--but he did not say that it was he
who had suffered all the harm.

Thus was the poor cure rewa