The Devil’s Heir story

The Devil’s Heir

The Devil’s Heir story 

There once was a good old canon of Notre Dame de Paris, who lived in a 

fine house of his own, near St. Pierre-aux-Boeufs, in the Parvis. This 

canon had come a simple priest to Paris, naked as a dagger without its 

sheath. But since he was found to be a handsome man, well furnished 

with everything, and so well constituted, that if necessary he was able to 

do the work of many, without doing himself much harm, he gave himself 

up earnestly to the confessing of ladies, giving to the melancholy a gentle 

absolution, to the sick a drachm of his balm, to all some little dainty. He 

was so well known for his discretion, his benevolence, and other 

ecclesiastical qualities, that he had customers at Court. Then in order not 

to awaken the jealousy of the officials, that of the husbands and others, 

in short, to endow with sanctity these good and profitable practices, the 

Lady Desquerdes gave him a bone of St. Victor, by virtue of which all the 

miracles were performed. And to the curious it was said, "He has a bone 

which will cure everything;" and to this, no one found anything to reply, 

because it was not seemly to suspect relics. Beneath the shade of his 

cassock, the good priest had the best of reputations, that of a man valiant 

under arms. So he lived like a king. He made money with holy water; 

sprinkled it and transmitted the holy water into good wine. More than 

that, his name lay snugly in all the et ceteras of the notaries, in wills or in 

caudicils, which certain people have falsely written CODICIL, seeing that 

the word is derived from cauda, as if to say the tail of the legacy. In fact, 

the good old Long Skirts would have been made an archbishop if he had 

only said in joke, "I should like to put on a mitre for a handkerchief in 

order to have my head warmer." Of all the benefices offered to him, he 

chose only a simple canon's stall to keep the good profits of the 

confessional. But one day the courageous canon found himself weak in 

the back, seeing that he was all sixty- eight years old, and had held many 

confessionals. Then thinking over all his good works, he thought it about 

time to cease his apostolic labours, the more so, as he possessed about 

one hundred thousand crowns earned by the sweat of his body. From that 

day he only confessed ladies of high lineage, and did it very well. So that 

it was said at Court that in spite of the efforts of the best young clerks there was still no one but the Canon of St. Pierre-aux-Boeufs to properly 

bleach the soul of a lady of condition. Then at length the canon became 

by force of nature a fine nonagenarian, snowy about the head, with 

trembling hands, but square as a tower, having spat so much without 

coughing, that he coughed now without being able to spit; no longer 

rising from his chair, he who had so often risen for humanity; but drinking 

dry, eating heartily, saying nothing, but having all the appearance of a 

living Canon of Notre Dame. Seeing the immobility of the aforesaid 

canon; seeing the stories of his evil life which for some time had 

circulated among the common people, always ignorant; seeing his dumb 

seclusion, his flourishing health, his young old age, and other things too 

numerous to mention--there were certain people who to do the 

marvellous and injure our holy religion, went about saying that the true 

canon was long since dead, and that for more than fifty years the devil 

had taken possession of the old priest's body. In fact, it seemed to his 

former customers that the devil could only by his great heat have 

furnished these hermetic distillations, that they remembered to have 

obtained on demand from this good confessor, who always had le diable 

au corps. But as this devil had been undoubtedly cooked and ruined by 

them, and that for a queen of twenty years he would not have moved, 

well-disposed people and those not wanting in sense, or the citizens who 

argued about everything, people who found lice in bald heads, demanded 

why the devil rested under the form of a canon, went to the Church of 

Notre Dame at the hours when the canons usually go, and ventured so far 

as to sniff the perfume of the incense, taste the holy water, and a 

thousand other things. To these heretical propositions some said that 

doubtless the devil wished to convert himself, and others that he 

remained in the shape of the canon to mock at the three nephews and 

heirs of this said brave confessor and make them wait until the day of 

their own death for the ample succession of this uncle, to whom they paid 

great attention every day, going to look if the good man had his eyes 

open, and in fact found him always with his eye clear, bright, and piercing 

as the eye of a basilisk, which pleased them greatly, since they loved 

their uncle very much--in words. On this subject an old woman related 

that for certain the canon was the devil, because his two nephews, the 

procureur and the captain, conducting their uncle at night, without a 

lamp, or lantern, returning from a supper at the penitentiary's, had 

caused him by accident to tumble over a heap of stones gathered together to raise the statue of St. Christopher. At first the old man had 

struck fire in falling, but was, amid the cries of his dear nephews and by 

the light of the torches they came to seek at her house found standing up 

as straight as a skittle and as gay as a weaving whirl, exclaiming that the 

good wine of the penitentiary had given him the courage to sustain this 

shock and that his bones were exceedingly hard and had sustained rude 

assaults. The good nephews believing him dead, were much astonished, 

and perceived that the day that was to dispatch their uncle was a long 

way off, seeing that at the business stones were of no use. So that they 

did not falsely call him their good uncle, seeing that he was of good 

quality. Certain scandalmongers said that the canon found so many 

stones in his path that he stayed at home not to be ill with the stone, and 

the fear of worse was the cause of his seclusion.

Of all these sayings and rumours, it remains that the old canon, devil or 

not, kept his house, and refused to die, and had three heirs with whom he 

lived as with his sciaticas, lumbagos, and other appendage of human life. 

Of the said three heirs, one was the wickedest soldier ever born of a 

woman, and he must have considerably hurt her in breaking his egg, 

since he was born with teeth and bristles. So that he ate, two-fold, for the 

present and the future, keeping wenches whose cost he paid; inheriting 

from his uncle the continuance, strength, and good use of that which is 

often of service. In great battles, he endeavoured always to give blows 

without receiving them, which is, and always will be, the only problem to 

solve in war, but he never spared himself there, and, in fact, as he had no 

other virtue except his bravery, he was captain of a company of lancers, 

and much esteemed by the Duke of Burgoyne, who never troubled what 

his soldiers did elsewhere. This nephew of the devil was named Captain 

Cochegrue; and his creditors, the blockheads, citizens, and others, whose 

pockets he slit, called him the Mau-cinge, since he was as mischievous as 

strong; but he had moreover his back spoilt by the natural infirmity of a 

hump, and it would have been unwise to attempt to mount thereon to get 

a good view, for he would incontestably have run you through.

The second had studied the laws, and through the favour of his uncle had 

become a procureur, and practised at the palace, where he did the 

business of the ladies, whom formerly the canon had the best confessed. 

This one was called Pille-grue, to banter him upon his real name, which was Cochegrue, like that of his brother the captain. Pille-grue had a lean 

body, seemed to throw off very cold water, was pale of face, and 

possessed a physiognomy like a polecat.

This notwithstanding, he was worth many a penny more than the captain, 

and had for his uncle a little affection, but since about two years his heart 

had cracked a little, and drop by drop his gratitude had run out, in such a 

way that from time to time, when the air was damp, he liked to put his 

feet into his uncle's hose, and press in advance the juice of this good 

inheritance. He and his brother, the soldier found their share very small, 

since loyally, in law, in fact, in justice, in nature, and in reality, it was 

necessary to give the third part of everything to a poor cousin, son of 

another sister of the canon, the which heir, but little loved by the good 

man, remained in the country, where he was a shepherd, near 

Nanterre.__

The guardian of beasts, an ordinary peasant, came to town by the advice 

of his two cousins, who placed him in their uncle's house, in the hope 

that, as much by his silly tricks and his clumsiness, his want of brain, and 

his ignorance, he would be displeasing to the canon, who would kick him 

out of his will. Now this poor Chiquon, as the shepherd was named, had 

lived about a month alone with his old uncle, and finding more profit or 

more amusement in minding an abbot than looking after sheep, made 

himself the canon's dog, his servant, the staff of his old age, saying, "God 

keep you," when he passed wind, "God save you," when he sneezed, and 

"God guard you," when he belched; going to see if it rained, where the 

cat was, remaining silent, listening, speaking, receiving the coughs of the 

old man in his face, admiring him as the finest canon there ever was in 

the world, all heartily and in good faith, knowing that he was licking him 

after the manner of animals who clean their young ones; and the uncle, 

who stood in no need of learning which side the bread was buttered, 

repulsed poor Chiquon, making him turn about like a die, always calling 

him Chiquon, and always saying to his other nephews that this Chiquon 

was helping to kill him, such a numskull was he. Thereupon, hearing this, 

Chiquon determined to do well by his uncle, and puzzled his 

understanding to appear better; but as he had a behind shaped like a pair 

of pumpkins, was broad shouldered, large limbed, and far from sharp, he 

more resembled old Silenus than a gentle Zephyr. In fact, the poor shepherd, a simple man, could not reform himself, so he remained big 

and fat, awaiting his inheritance to make himself thin.

One evening the canon began discoursing concerning the the devil and 

the grave agonies, penances, tortures, etc., which God will get warm for 

the accursed, and the good Chiquon hearing it, began to open his eyes as 

wide as the door of an oven, at the statement, without believing a word of 

it.

"What," said the canon, "are you not a Christian?"

"In that, yes," answered Chiquon.

"Well, there is a paradise for the good; is it not necessary to have a hell 

for the wicked?"

"Yes, Mr. Canon; but the devil's of no use. If you had here a wicked man 

who turned everything upside down; would you not kick him out of 

doors?"

"Yes, Chiquon."

"Oh, well, mine uncle; God would be very stupid to leave in the this 

world, which he has so curiously constructed, an abominable devil whose 

special business it is to spoil everything for him. Pish! I recognise no devil 

if there be a good God; you may depend upon that. I should very much 

like to see the devil. Ha, ha! I am not afraid of his claws!"

"And if I were of your opinion I should have no care of my very youthful 

years in which I held confessions at least ten times a day."

"Confess again, Mr. Canon. I assure you that will be a precious merit on 

high."

"There, there! Do you mean it?"

"Yes, Mr. Canon." 

"Thou dost not tremble, Chiquon, to deny the devil?"

"I trouble no more about it than a sheaf of corn."

"The doctrine will bring misfortune upon you."

"By no means. God will defend me from the devil because I believe him 

more learned and less stupid than the savans make him out."

Thereupon the two other nephews entered, and perceiving from the voice 

of the canon that he did not dislike Chiquon very much, and that the 

jeremiads which he had made concerning him were simple tricks to 

disguise the affection which he bore him, looked at each other in great 

astonishment.

Then, seeing their uncle laughing, they said to him--

"If you will make a will, to whom will you leave the house?

"To Chiquon."

"And the quit rent of the Rue St. Denys?"

"To Chiquon."

"And the fief of Ville Parisis?"

"To Chiquon."

"But," said the captain, with his big voice, "everything then will be 

Chiquon's."

"No," replied the canon, smiling, "because I shall have made my will in 

proper form, the inheritance will be to the sharpest of you three; I am so 

near to the future, that I can therein see clearly your destinies."

And the wily canon cast upon Chiquon a glance full of malice, like a decoy 

bird would have thrown upon a little one to draw him into her net. The fire of his flaming eye enlightened the shepherd, who from that moment 

had his understanding and his ears all unfogged, and his brain open, like 

that of a maiden the day after her marriage. The procureur and the 

captain, taking these sayings for gospel prophecies, made their bow and 

went out from the house, quite perplexed at the absurd designs of the 

canon.

"What do you think of Chiquon?" said Pille-grue to Mau-cinge.

"I think, I think," said the soldier, growling, "that I think of hiding myself 

in the Rue d'Hierusalem, to put his head below his feet; he can pick it up 

again if he likes."

"Oh, oh!" said the procureur, "you have a way of wounding that is easily 

recognised, and people would say 'It's Cochegrue.' As for me, I thought to 

invite him to dinner, after which, we would play at putting ourselves in a 

sack in order to see, as they do at Court, who could walk best thus 

attired. Then having sewn him up, we could throw him into the Seine, at 

the same time begging him to swim."

"This must be well matured," replied the soldier.

"Oh! it's quite ripe," said the advocate. "The cousin gone to the devil, the 

heritage would then be between us two."

"I'm quite agreeable," said the fighter, "but we must stick as close 

together as the two legs of the same body, for if you are fine as silk, I as 

strong as steel, and daggers are always as good as traps-- you hear that, 

my good brother."

"Yes," said the advocate, "the cause is heard--now shall it be the thread 

or the iron?"

"Eh? ventre de Dieu! is it then a king that we are going to settle? For a 

simple numskull of a shepherd are so many words necessary? Come! 

20,000 francs out of the Heritage to the one of us who shall first cut him 

off: I'll say to him in good faith, 'Pick up your head.'" "And I, 'Swim my friend,'" cried the advocate, laughing like the gap of a 

pourpoint.

And then they went to supper, the captain to his wench, and the advocate 

to the house of a jeweller's wife, of whom he was the lover.

Who was astonished? Chiquon! The poor shepherd heard the planning of 

his death, although the two cousins had walked in the parvis, and talked 

to each other as every one speaks at church when praying to God. So 

that Chiquon was much coupled to know if the words had come up or if 

his ears had gone down.

"Do you hear, Mister Canon?"

"Yes," said he, "I hear the wood crackling in the fire."

"Ho, ho!" replied Chiquon, "if I don't believe in the devil, I believe in St. 

Michael, my guardian angel; I go there where he calls me."

"Go, my child," said the canon, "and take care not to wet yourself, nor to 

get your head knocked off, for I think I hear more rain, and the beggars 

in the street are not always the most dangerous beggars."

At these words Chiquon was much astonished, and stared at the canon; 

found his manner gay, his eye sharp, and his feet crooked; but as he had 

to arrange matters concerning the death which menaced him, he thought 

to himself that he would always have leisure to admire the canon, or to 

cut his nails, and he trotted off quickly through the town, as a little 

woman trots towards her pleasure.

His two cousins having no presumption of the divinatory science, of which 

shepherds have had many passing attacks, had often talked before him of 

their secret goings on, counting him as nothing.

Now one evening, to amuse the canon, Pille-grue had recounted to him 

how had fallen in love with him a wife of a jeweller on whose head he had 

adjusted certain carved, burnished, sculptured, historical horns, fit for the 

brow of a prince. The good lady was to hear him, a right merry wench, quick at opportunities, giving an embrace while her husband was 

mounting the stairs, devouring the commodity as if she was swallowing a 

a strawberry, only thinking of love-making, always trifling and frisky, gay 

as an honest woman who lacks nothing, contenting her husband, who 

cherished her so much as he loved his own gullet; subtle as a perfume, so 

much so, that for five years she managed so well with his household 

affairs, and her own love affairs, that she had the reputation of a prudent 

woman, the confidence of her husband, the keys of the house, the purse, 

and all.

"And when do you play upon this gentle flute?" said the canon.

"Every evening and sometimes I stay all the night."

"But how?" said the canon, astonished.

"This is how. There is a room close to, a chest into which I get. When the 

good husband returns from his friend the draper's, where he goes to 

supper every evening, because often he helps the draper's wife in her 

work, my mistress pleads a slight illness, lets him go to bed alone, and 

comes to doctor her malady in the room where the chest is. On the 

morrow, when my jeweller is at his forge, I depart, and as the house has 

one exit on to the bridge, and another into the street, I always come to 

the door when the husband is not, on the pretext of speaking to him of 

his suits, which commence joyfully and heartily, and I never let them 

come to an end. It is an income from cuckoldom, seeing that in the minor 

expenses and loyal costs of the proceedings, he spends as much as on 

the horses in his stable. He loves me well, as all good cuckolds should 

love the man who aids them, to plant, cultivate, water and dig the natural 

garden of Venus, and he does nothing without me."__

Now these practices came back again to the memory of the shepherd, 

who was illuminated by the light issuing from his danger, and counselled 

by the intelligence of those measures of self-preservation, of which every 

animal possesses a sufficient dose to go to the end of his ball of life. So 

Chiquon gained with hasty feet the Rue de la Calandre, where the jeweller 

should be supping with his companion, and after having knocked at the 

door, replied to question put to him through the little grill, that he was a messenger on state secrets, and was admitted to the draper's house. Now 

coming straight to the fact, he made the happy jeweller get up from his 

table, led him to a corner, and said to him: "If one of your neighbours had 

planted a horn on your forehead and he was delivered to you, bound hand 

and foot, would you throw him into the river?"

"Rather," said the jeweller, "but if you are mocking me I'll give you a 

good drubbing."

"There, there!" replied Chiquon, "I am one of your friends and come to 

warn you that as many times as you have conversed with the draper's 

wife here, as often has your own wife been served the same way by the 

advocate Pille-grue, and if you will come back to your forge, you will find 

a good fire there. On your arrival, he who looks after your you- know-

what, to keep it in good order, gets into the big clothes chest. Now make 

a pretence that I have bought the said chest of you, and I will be upon 

the bridge with a cart, waiting your orders."

The said jeweller took his cloak and his hat, and parted company with his 

crony without saying a word, and ran to his hole like a poisoned rat. He 

arrives and knocks, the door is opened, he runs hastily up the stairs, finds 

two covers laid, sees his wife coming out of the chamber of love, and then 

says to her, "My dear, here are two covers laid."

"Well, my darling are we not two?"

"No," said he, "we are three."

"Is your friend coming?" said she, looking towards the stairs with perfect 

innocence.

"No, I speak of the friend who is in the chest."

"What chest?" said she. "Are you in your sound senses? Where do you see 

a chest? Is the usual to put friends in chests? Am I a woman to keep 

chests full of friends? How long have friends been kept in chests? Are you 

come home mad to mix up your friends with your chests? I know no other friend then Master Cornille the draper, and no other chest than the one 

with our clothes in."

"Oh!," said the jeweller, "my good woman, there is a bad young man, 

who has come to warn me that you allow yourself to be embraced by our 

advocate, and that he is in the chest."

"I!" said she, "I would not put up with his knavery, he does everything 

the wrong way."

"There, there, my dear," replied the jeweller, "I know you to be a good 

woman, and won't have a squabble with you about this paltry chest. The 

giver of the warning is a box-maker, to whom I am about to sell this 

cursed chest that I wish never again to see in my house, and for this one 

he will sell me two pretty little ones, in which there will not be space 

enough even for a child; thus the scandal and the babble of those envious 

of your virtue will be extinguished for want of nourishment."

"You give me great pleasure," said she; "I don't attach any value to my 

chest, and by chance there is nothing in it. Our linen is at the wash. It will 

be easy to have the mischievous chest taken away tomorrow morning. 

Will you sup?"

"Not at all," said he, "I shall sup with a better appetite without the chest."

"I see," said she, "that you won't easily get the chest out of your head."

"Halloa, there!" said the jeweller to his smiths and apprentices; "come 

down!"

In the twinkling of an eye his people were before him. Then he, their 

master, having briefly ordered the handling of the said chest, this piece of 

furniture dedicated to love was tumbled across the room, but in passing 

the advocate, finding his feet in the air to the which he was not 

accustomed, tumbled over a little.

"Go on," said the wife, "go on, it's the lid shaking." "No, my dear, it's the bolt."

And without any other opposition the chest slid gently down the stairs.

"Ho there, carrier!" said the jeweller, and Chiquon came whistling his 

mules, and the good apprentices lifted the litigious chest into the cart.

"Hi, hi!" said the advocate.

"Master, the chest is speaking," said an apprentice.

"In what language?" said the jeweller, giving him a good kick between 

two features that luckily were not made of glass. The apprentice tumbled 

over on to a stair in a way that induced him to discontinue his studies in 

the language of chests. The shepherd, accompanied by the good jeweller, 

carried all the baggage to the water-side without listening to the high 

eloquence of the speaking wood, and having tied several stones to it, the 

jeweller threw it into the Seine.

"Swim, my friend," cried the shepherd, in a voice sufficiently jeering at 

the moment when the chest turned over, giving a pretty little plunge like 

a duck.

Then Chiqoun continued to proceed along the quay, as far as the Rue- du-

port, St Laudry, near the cloisters of Notre Dame. There he noticed a 

house, recognised the door, and knocked loudly.

"Open," said he, "open by order of the king."

Hearing this an old man who was no other than the famous Lombard, 

Versoris, ran to the door.

"What is it?" said he.

"I am sent by the provost to warn you to keep good watch tonight," 

replied Chiquon, "as for his own part he will keep his archers ready. The 

hunchback who has robbed you has come back again. Keep under arms, 

for he is quite capable of easing you of the rest." Having said this, the good shepherd took to his heels and ran to the Rue 

des Marmouzets, to the house where Captain Cochegrue was feasting 

with La Pasquerette, the prettiest of town-girls, and the most charming in 

perversity that ever was; according to all the gay ladies, her glance was 

sharp and piercing as the stab of a dagger. Her appearance was so 

tickling to the sight, that it would have put all Paradise to rout. Besides 

which she was as bold as a woman who has no other virtue than her 

insolence. Poor Chiquon was greatly embarrassed while going to the 

quarter of the Marmouzets. He was greatly afraid that he would be unable 

to find the house of La Pasquerette, or find the two pigeons gone to roost, 

but a good angel arranged there speedily to his satisfaction. This is how. 

On entering the Rue des Marmouzets he saw several lights at the 

windows and night-capped heads thrust out, and good wenches, gay girls, 

housewives, husbands, and young ladies, all of them are just out of bed, 

looking at each other as if a robber were being led to execution by 

torchlight.

"What's the matter?" said the shepherd to a citizen who in great haste 

had rushed to the door with a chamber utensil in his hand.

"Oh! it's nothing," replied the good man. "We thought it was the 

Armagnacs descending upon the town, but it's only Mau-cinge beating La 

Pasquerette."

"Where?" asked the shepherd.

"Below there, at that fine house where the pillars have the mouths of 

flying frogs delicately carved upon them. Do you hear the varlets and the 

serving maids?"

And in fact there was nothing but cries of "Murder! Help! Come some 

one!" and in the house blows raining down and the Mau-cinge said with 

his gruff voice:

"Death to the wench! Ah, you sing out now, do you? Ah, you want your 

money now, do you? Take that--" And La Pasquerette was groaning, "Oh! oh! I die! Help! Help! Oh! oh!" 

Then came the blow of a sword and the heavy fall of a light body of the 

fair girl sounded, and was followed by a great silence, after which the 

lights were put out, servants, waiting women, roysterers, and others went 

in again, and the shepherd who had come opportunely mounted the stairs 

in company with them, but on beholding in the room above broken 

glasses, slit carpets, and the cloth on the floor with the dishes, everyone 

remained at a distance.

The shepherd, bold as a man with but one end in view, opened the door 

of the handsome chamber where slept La Pasquerette, and found her 

quite exhausted, her hair dishevelled, and her neck twisted, lying upon a 

bloody carpet, and Mau-cinge frightened, with his tone considerably 

lower, and not knowing upon what note to sing the remainder of his 

anthem.

"Come, my little Pasquerette, don't pretend to be dead. Come, let me put 

you tidy. Ah! little minx, dead or alive, you look so pretty in your blood 

I'm going to kiss you." Having said which the cunning soldier took her and 

threw her upon the bed, but she fell there all of a heap, and stiff as the 

body of a man that had been hanged. Seeing which her companion found 

it was time for his hump to retire from the game; however, the artful 

fellow before slinking away said, "Poor Pasquerette, how could I murder 

so good of girl, and one I loved so much? But, yes, I have killed her, the 

thing is clear, for in her life never did her sweet breast hang down like 

that. Good God, one would say it was a crown at the bottom of a wallet. 

Thereupon Pasquerette opened her eyes and then bent her head slightly 

to look at her flesh, which was white and firm, and she brought herself to 

life by a box on the ears, administered to the captain.

"That will teach you to beware of the dead," said she, smiling.

"And why did he kill you, my cousin?" asked the shepherd.

"Why? Tomorrow the bailiffs seize everything that's here, and he who has 

no more money than virtue, reproached me because I wished to be 

agreeable to a handsome gentlemen, who would save me from the hands 

of justice. "Pasquerette, I'll break every bone in your skin."

"There, there!" said Chiquon, whom the Mau-cinge had just recognised, 

"is that all? Oh, well, my good friend, I bring you a large sum."

"Where from?" asked the captain, astonished.

"Come here, and let me whisper in your ear--if 30,000 crowns were 

walking about at night under the shadow of a pear-tree, would you not 

stoop down to pluck them, to prevent them spoiling?"

"Chiquon, I'll kill you like a dog if you are making game of me, or I will 

kiss you there where you like it, if you will put me opposite 30,000 

crowns, even when it shall be necessary to kill three citizens at the corner 

of the Quay."

"You will not even kill one. This is how the matter stands. I have for a 

sweetheart in all loyalty, the servant of the Lombard who is in the city 

near the house of our good uncle. Now I have just learned on sound 

information that this dear man has departed this morning into the country 

after having hidden under a pear-tree in his garden a good bushel of gold, 

believing himself to be seen only by the angels. But the girl who had by 

chance a bad toothache, and was taking the air at her garret window, 

spied the old crookshanks, without wishing to do so, and chattered of it to 

me in fondness. If you will swear to give me a good share I will lend you 

my shoulders in order that you may climb on to the top of the wall and 

from there throw yourself into the pear-tree, which is against the wall. 

There, now do you say that I am a blockhead, an animal?"

"No, you are a right loyal cousin, an honest man, and if you have ever to 

put an enemy out off the way, I am there, ready to kill even one of my 

own friends for you. I am no longer your cousin, but your brother. Ho 

there! sweetheart," cried Mau-cinge to La Pasquerette, "put the tables 

straight, wipe up your blood, it belongs to me, and I'll pay you for it by 

giving you a hundred times as much of mine as I have taken of thine. 

Make the best of it, shake the black dog, off your back, adjust your 

petticoats, laugh, I wish it, look to the stew, and let us recommence our evening prayer where we left it off. Tomorrow I'll make thee braver than 

a queen. This is my cousin whom I wish to entertain, even when to do so 

it were necessary to turn the house out of windows. We shall get back 

everything tomorrow in the cellars. Come, fall to!"

Thus, and in less time than it takes a priest to say his Dominus vobiscum, 

the whole rookery passed from tears to laughter as it had previously from 

laughter to tears. It is only in these houses of ill- fame that love is made 

with the blow of a dagger, and where tempests of joy rage between four 

walls. But these are things ladies of the high-neck dress do not 

understand.

The said captain Cochegrue was gay as a hundred schoolboys at the 

breaking up of class, and made his good cousin drink deeply, who spilled 

everything country fashion, and pretended to be drunk, spluttering out a 

hundred stupidities, as, that "tomorrow he would buy Paris, would lend a 

hundred thousand crowns to the king, that he would be able to roll in 

gold;" in fact, talked so much nonsense that the captain, fearing some 

compromising avowal and thinking his brain quite muddled enough, led 

him outside with the good intention, instead of sharing with him, of 

ripping Chiquon open to see if he had not a sponge in his stomach, 

because he had just soaked in a big quart of the good wine of Suresne. 

They went along, disputing about a thousand theological subjects which 

got very much mixed up, and finished by rolling quietly up against the 

garden where were the crowns of the Lombard. Then Cochegrue, making 

a ladder of Chiquon's broad shoulders, jumped on to the pear-tree like a 

man expert in attacks upon towns, but Versoris, who was watching him, 

made a blow at his neck, and repeated it so vigorously that with three 

blows fell the upper portion of the said Cochegrue, but not until he had 

heard the clear voice of the shepherd, who cried to him, "Pick up your 

head, my friend." Thereupon the generous Chiquon, in whom virtue 

received its recompense, thought it would be wise to return to the house 

of the good canon, whose heritage was by the grace of God considerably 

simplified. Thus he gained the Rue St. Pierre-Aux-Boeufs with all speed, 

and soon slept like a new-born baby, no longer knowing the meaning of 

the word "cousin-german." Now, on the morrow he rose according to the 

habit of shepherds, with the sun, and came into his uncle's room to 

inquire if he spat white, if he coughed, if he had slept well; but the old servant told him that the canon, hearing the bells of St Maurice, the first 

patron of Notre Dame, ring for matins, he had gone out of reverence to 

the cathedral, where all the Chapter were to breakfast with the Bishop of 

Paris; upon which Chiquon replied: "Is his reverence the canon out of his 

senses thus to disport himself, to catch a cold, to get rheumatism? Does 

he wish to die? I'll light a big fire to warm him when he returns;" and the 

good shepherd ran into the room where the canon generally sat, and to 

his great astonishment beheld him seated in his chair.

"Ah, ah! What did she mean, that fool of a Bruyette? I knew you were too 

well advised to be shivering at this hour in your stall."

The canon said not a word. The shepherd who was like all thinkers, a man 

of hidden sense, was quite aware that sometimes old men have strange 

crotchets, converse with the essence of occult things, and mumble to 

themselves discourses concerning matters not under consideration; so 

that, from reverence and great respect for the secret meditations of the 

canon, he went and sat down at a distance, and waited the termination of 

these dreams; noticing, silently the length of the good man's nails, which 

looked like cobbler's awls, and looking attentively at the feet of his uncle, 

he was astonished to see the flesh of his legs so crimson, that it reddened 

his breeches and seemed all on fire through his hose.

He is dead, thought Chiquon. At this moment the door of the room 

opened, and he still saw the canon, who, his nose frozen, came back from 

church.

"Ho, ho!" said Chiquon, "my dear Uncle, are you out of your senses? 

Kindly take notice that you ought not to be at the door, because you are 

already seated in your chair in the chimney corner, and that it is 

impossible for there to be two canons like you in the world."

"Ah! Chiquon, there was a time when I could have wished to be in two 

places at once, but such is not the fate of a man, he would be too happy. 

Are you getting dim-sighted? I am alone here."

Then Chiquon turned his head towards the chair, and found it empty; and 

much astonished, as you will easily believe, he approached it, and found on the seat a little pat of cinders, from which ascended a strong odour of 

sulphur.

"Ah!" said he merrily, "I perceive that the devil has behaved well towards 

me--I will pray God for him."

And thereupon he related naively to the canon how the devil had amused 

himself by playing at providence, and had loyally aided him to get rid of 

his wicked cousins, the which the canon admired much, and thought very 

good, seeing that he had plenty of good sense left, and often had 

observed things which were to the devil's advantage. So the good old 

priest remarked that 'as much good was always met with in evil as evil in 

good, and that therefore one should not trouble too much after the other 

world, the which was a grave heresy, which many councils have put 

right'.

And this was how the Chiquons became rich, and were able in these 

times, by the fortunes of their ancestors, to help to build the bridge of St. 

Michael, where the devil cuts a very good figure under the angel, in 

memory of this adventure now consigned to these veracious histories .

End