underrating these qualities in others. Be that as it may, during the early days of that autumn I began to cast about me for some way of getting Blondel out of the bower—with his own consent—and away from Berengaria. And it is odd to think that Maria’s wedding dress put what I thought was a tool into my hand.
VI
Somewhere, somebody of inventive mind had introduced a new “laced” dress to the feminine world. This did not mean that the dress was trimmed with lace but that the bodice was cut so narrow that the front had to be opened to get it over the wearer’s head and then the aperture was laced up with a cord or a ribbon pushed through a number of little pierced holes. This made the gown so close-fitting that it clung to the breasts.
Some high dignitary of the Church—I think in Paris—had been shocked by this fashion and had complained to the Pope who had promptly ordered that sermons be preached against it in all churches. So one Sunday morning we in Pamplona who had never seen or heard of a laced gown until that moment sat and listened meekly to a homily against this “immodest, iniquitous, and most unchristian device which provoketh vanity in women and lust in men.”
Maria was making preparations for her wedding at that time. She had been betrothed as a child and had seen her bridegroom only once and had then been somewhat shocked to find that his mouth would not close over his teeth. So her attitude towards her nuptials was practical rather than romantic and she craved for a spectacular wedding. The idea of wearing one of the new laced gowns appealed to her but none of us had the remotest idea how such a gown was made or what it looked like.
On the Monday, Maria very cunningly sought out the preacher of the sermon and begged him to tell what a laced gown was, as she was very anxious to avoid the sin of wearing one unwittingly. The poor man was seventy years old and had probably never looked comprehendingly at any woman’s gown but he was anxious, naturally, that Maria should avoid falling into sin through ignorance, so he showed her a little woodcut which had come with his instructions to preach the sermon. And the woodcut showed Satan, the father of all lies, wearing a laced gown and exposing a pair of breasts of which any nursing mother would have been proud. Maria brought it home with her to show to the rest of us so that we also might be kept from sin.
If you put your thumb over the leering, grinning face of Satan, the effect was extremely seductive; and though I didn’t say anything about it, I did wonder to myself, Is this wise? Or kind? So many celibate priests, some of them young. But perhaps they wouldn’t think of blotting out Satan with their thumbs!
Having studied the woodcut thoroughly, we wrapped and sealed it and sent it back by Blanco.
Maria then tackled her sempstresses, none of whom, of course, had seen a laced gown or even the picture. And when she was tired of explaining she appealed to Blondel.
‘You can draw, can’t you? Could you draw just the dress, with the shape and the holes and the cord, to explain how it should look? You needn’t bother,’ she added kindly, ‘to draw the old devil.’
Blondel shot me a glance as he so often did. And oh, how dear those little private jokes were to me.
He set to work and eventually handed to Maria a sketch which was, she said, exactly what was needed. Two other sheets of paper he screwed into balls and flung into the fire. They missed the flames and fell into the ashes and later, watching my moment, I retrieved them.
One sheet did show the old devil wearing a laced gown but not a leering, grinning devil; something far worse, a more dreadful, brooding, tormented devil, consumed by his own fire, gnawed by his own worm. A very nasty little picture indeed. The other sheet bore a lot of straight lines and angles which bore no resemblance to anything I had ever seen.
The picture of the devil I smoothed out and laid flat in a book.
VI
Somewhere, somebody of inventive mind had introduced a new “laced” dress to the feminine world. This did not mean that the dress was trimmed with lace but that the bodice was cut so narrow that the front had to be opened to get it over the wearer’s head and then the aperture was laced up with a cord or a ribbon pushed through a number of little pierced holes. This made the gown so close-fitting that it clung to the breasts.
Some high dignitary of the Church—I think in Paris—had been shocked by this fashion and had complained to the Pope who had promptly ordered that sermons be preached against it in all churches. So one Sunday morning we in Pamplona who had never seen or heard of a laced gown until that moment sat and listened meekly to a homily against this “immodest, iniquitous, and most unchristian device which provoketh vanity in women and lust in men.”
Maria was making preparations for her wedding at that time. She had been betrothed as a child and had seen her bridegroom only once and had then been somewhat shocked to find that his mouth would not close over his teeth. So her attitude towards her nuptials was practical rather than romantic and she craved for a spectacular wedding. The idea of wearing one of the new laced gowns appealed to her but none of us had the remotest idea how such a gown was made or what it looked like.
On the Monday, Maria very cunningly sought out the preacher of the sermon and begged him to tell what a laced gown was, as she was very anxious to avoid the sin of wearing one unwittingly. The poor man was seventy years old and had probably never looked comprehendingly at any woman’s gown but he was anxious, naturally, that Maria should avoid falling into sin through ignorance, so he showed her a little woodcut which had come with his instructions to preach the sermon. And the woodcut showed Satan, the father of all lies, wearing a laced gown and exposing a pair of breasts of which any nursing mother would have been proud. Maria brought it home with her to show to the rest of us so that we also might be kept from sin.
If you put your thumb over the leering, grinning face of Satan, the effect was extremely seductive; and though I didn’t say anything about it, I did wonder to myself, Is this wise? Or kind? So many celibate priests, some of them young. But perhaps they wouldn’t think of blotting out Satan with their thumbs!
Having studied the woodcut thoroughly, we wrapped and sealed it and sent it back by Blanco.
Maria then tackled her sempstresses, none of whom, of course, had seen a laced gown or even the picture. And when she was tired of explaining she appealed to Blondel.
‘You can draw, can’t you? Could you draw just the dress, with the shape and the holes and the cord, to explain how it should look? You needn’t bother,’ she added kindly, ‘to draw the old devil.’
Blondel shot me a glance as he so often did. And oh, how dear those little private jokes were to me.
He set to work and eventually handed to Maria a sketch which was, she said, exactly what was needed. Two other sheets of paper he screwed into balls and flung into the fire. They missed the flames and fell into the ashes and later, watching my moment, I retrieved them.
One sheet did show the old devil wearing a laced gown but not a leering, grinning devil; something far worse, a more dreadful, brooding, tormented devil, consumed by his own fire, gnawed by his own worm. A very nasty little picture indeed. The other sheet bore a lot of straight lines and angles which bore no resemblance to anything I had ever seen.
The picture of the devil I smoothed out and laid flat in a book.
Similar Books
