cardinals, abbots, councillors, legates, bishops, princes and
margraves just as if they have been penniless clerks. And in the
evening, after prayers, he would practice speaking to them, teaching
himself the breviary of love. He taught himself to answer all possible
questions, but on the morrow if by chance he met one of the aforesaid
princesses dressed out, seated in a litter and escorted by her proud
and well-armed pages, he remained open-mouthed, like a dog in the act
of catching flies, at the sight of sweet countenance that so much
inflamed him. The secretary of a Monseigneur, a gentleman of Perigord,
having clearly explained to him that the Fathers, procureurs, and
auditors of the Rota bought by certain presents, not relics or
indulgences, but jewels and gold, the favour of being familiar with
the best of these pampered cats who lived under the protection of the
lords of the Council; the poor Touranian, all simpleton and innocent
as he was, treasured up under his mattress the money given him by the
good archbishop for writings and copying--hoping one day to have
enough just to see a cardinal's lady-love, and trusting to God for the
rest. He was hairless from top to toe and resembled a man about as
much as a goat with a night-dress on resembles a young lady, but
prompted by his desires he wandered in the evenings through the
streets of Constance, careless of his life, and, at the risk of having
his body halberded by the soldiers, he peeped at the cardinals
entering the houses of their sweethearts. Then he saw the wax-candles
lighted in the houses and suddenly the doors and the windows closed.
Then he heard the blessed abbots or others jumping about, drinking,
enjoying themselves, love-making, singing Alleluia and applauding the
music with which they were being regaled. The kitchen performed
miracles, the Offices said were fine rich pots-full, the Matins sweet
little hams, the Vespers luscious mouthful, and the Lauhes delicate
sweetmeats, and after their little carouses, these brave priests were
silent, their pages diced upon the stairs, their mules stamped
restively in the streets; everything went well--but faith and religion
was there. That is how it came to pass the good man Huss was burned.
And the reason? He put his finger in the pie without being asked. Then
why was he a huguenot before the others?

To return, however to our sweet little Philippe, not unfrequently did
he receive many a thump and hard blow, but the devil sustained him,
inciting him to believe that sooner or later it would come to his turn
to play the cardinal to some lovely dame. This ardent desire gave him
the boldness of a stag in autumn, so much so that one evening he
quietly tripped up the steps and into one of the first houses in
Constance where often he had seen officers, seneschals, valets, and
pages waiting with torches for their masters, dukes, kings, cardinals
and archbishops.

"Ah!" said he, "she must be very beautiful and amiable, this one."

A soldier well armed allowed him to pass, believing him to belong to
the suite of the Elector of Bavaria, who had just left, and that he
was going to deliver a message on behalf of the above-mentioned
nobleman. Philippe de Mala mounted the stairs as lightly as a
greyhound in love, and was guided by delectable odour of perfume to
certain chamber where, surrounded by her handmaidens, the lady of the
house was divesting herself of her attire. He stood quite dumbfounded
like a thief surprised by sergeants. The lady was without petticoat or
head-dress. The chambermaid and the servants, busy taking off her
stockings and undressing her, so quickly and dextrously had her
stripped, that the priest, overcome, gave vent to a long Ah! which had
the flavour of love about it.

"What want you, little one?" said the lady to him.

"To yield my soul to you," said he, flashing his eyes upon her.

"You can come again to-morrow," said she, in order to be rid of him.

To which Philippe replied, blushing, "I will not fail."

Then she burst out laughing. Philippe, struck motionless, stood quite
at his ease, letting wander over her his eyes that glowed and sparkled
with the flame of love. What lovely thick hair hung upon her ivory
white back, showing sweet white places, fair and shining between the
many tresses! She had upon her snow-white brow a ruby circlet, less
fertile in rays of fire than her black eyes, still moist with tears
from her hearty laugh. She even threw her slipper at a statue gilded
like a shrine, twisting herself about from very ribaldry and allowed
her bare foot, smaller than a swan's bill, to be seen. This evening
she was in a good humour, otherwise she would have had the little
shaven-crop put out by the window without more ado than her first
bishop.

"He has fine eyes, Madame," said one of her handmaids.

"Where does he comes from?" asked another.

"Poor child!" cried Madame, "his mother must be looking for him. Show
him his way home."

The Touranian, still sensible, gave a movement of delight at the sight
of the brocaded bed where the sweet form was about to repose. This
glance, full of amorous intelligence, awoke the lady's fantasy, who,
half laughing and half smitten, repeated "To-morrow," and dismissed
him with a gesture which the Pope Jehan himself would have obeyed,
especially as he was like a snail without a shell, since the Council
had just deprived him of the holy keys.

"Ah! Madame, there is another vow of chastity changed into an amorous
desire," said one of her women; and the chuckles commenced again thick
as hail.

Philippe went his way, bumping his head against a wall like a hooded
rook as he was. So giddy had he become at the sight of this creature,
even more enticing than a siren rising from the water. He noticed the
animals carved over the door and returned to the house of the
archbishop with his head full of diabolical longings and his entrails
sophisticated.

Once in his little room he counted his coins all night long, but could
make no more than four of them; and as that was all his treasure, he
counted upon satisfying the fair one by giving her all he had in the
world.

"What is it ails you?" said the good archbishop, uneasy at the groans
and "oh! oh's!" of his clerk.

"Ah! my Lord," answered the poor priest, "I am wondering how it is
that so light and sweet a woman can weigh so heavily upon my heart."

"Which one?" said the archbishop, putting down his breviary which he
was reading for others--the good man.

"Oh! Mother of God! You will scold me, I know, my good master, my
protector, because I have seen the lady of a cardinal at the least,
and I am weeping because I lack more than one crown to enable me to
convert her."

The archbishop, knitting the circumflex accent that he had above his
nose, said not a word. Then the very humble priest trembled in his
skin to have confessed so much to his superior. But the holy man
directly said to him, "She must be very dear then--"

"Ah!" said he, "she has swallowed many a mitre and stolen many a
cross."

"Well, Philippe, if thou will renounce her, I will present thee with
thirty angels from the poor-box."

"Ah! my lord, I should be losing too much," replied the lad,
emboldened by the treat he promised himself.

"Ah! Philippe," said the good prelate, "thou wilt then go to the devil
and displease God, like all our cardinals," and the master, with
sorrow, began to pray St. Gatien, the patron saint of Innocents, to
save his servant. He made him kneel down beside him, telling him to
recommend himself also to St. Philippe, but the wretched priest
implored the saint beneath his breath to prevent him from failing if
on the morrow that the lady should receive him kindly and mercifully;
and the good archbishop, observing the fervour of his servant, cried
out him, "Courage little one, and Heaven will exorcise thee."

On the morrow, while Monsieur was declaiming at the Council against
the shameless behaviour of the apostles of Christianity, Philippe de
Mala spent his angels--acquired with so much labour--in perfumes,
baths, fomentations, and other fooleries. He played the fop so well,
one would have thought him the fancy cavalier of a gay lady. He
wandered about the town in order to find the residence of his heart's
queen; and when he asked the passers-by to whom belonged the aforesaid
house, they laughed in his face, saying--

"Whence comes this precious fellow that has not heard of La Belle
Imperia?"

He was very much afraid he and his angels were gone to the devil when
he heard the name, and knew into what a nice mess he had voluntarily
fallen.

Imperia was the most precious, the most fantastic girl in the world,
although she passed for the most dazzling and the beautiful, and the
one who best understood the art of bamboozling cardinals and softening
the hardiest soldiers and oppressors of the people. She had brave
captains, archers, and nobles, ready to serve her at every turn. She
had only to breathe a word, and the business of anyone who had
offended her was settled. A free fight only brought a smile to her
lips, and often the Sire de Baudricourt--one of the King's Captains--
would ask her if there were any one he could kill for her that day--a
little joke at the expense of the abbots. With the exception of the
potentates among the high clergy with whom Madame Imperia managed to
accommodate her little tempers, she ruled everyone with a high hand in
virtue of her pretty babble and enchanting ways, which enthralled the
most virtuous and the most unimpressionable. Thus she lived beloved
and respected, quite as much as the real ladies and princesses, and
was called Madame, concerning which the good Emperor Sigismund replied
to a lady who complained of it to him, "That they, the good ladies,
might keep to their own proper way and holy virtues, and Madame
Imperia to the sweet naughtiness of the goddess Venus"--Christian
words which shocked the good ladies, to their credit be it said.

Philippe, then thinking over it in his mind that which on the
preceding evening he had seen with his eyes, doubted if more did not
remain behind. Then was he sad, and without taking bite or sup,
strolled about the town waiting the appointed hour, although he was
well-favoured and gallant enough to find others less difficult to
overcome than was Madame Imperia.

The night came; the little Touranian, exalted with pride caparisoned
with desire, and spurred by his "alacks" and "alases" which nearly
choked him, glided like an eel into the domicile of the veritable
Queen of the Council--for before her bowed humbly all the authority,
science, and wisdom of Christianity. The major domo did not know him,