“See, master parson,” quoth my colonel, “the fair sight to which I must perforce invite you, to be a witness of my shame”—and hardly had he said the word in his accustomed tone when he began again to yell hundred devils and thousand curses, till I could understand nothing of what he said save of breaking of necks and washing of hands in blood; for he foamed at the mouth like a wild boar and demeaned himself as if in truth he would take leave of his senses: I thinking every moment, “Now will he send a ball through thy head.” Yet the good parson did his best to hinder him from any rash deed whereof he might repent him afterwards: for “How now; Master Colonel,” says he, “how now! Give your own sound reason room to act, and bethink you of the old saying that to what is done and cannot be undone it behoves to give the handsomest name: for this fine young couple (which can hardly be matched in the land) be not the first, nor will be the last, to be overcome by the invincible power of love. The fault which they have committed (for a fault we must needs call it) may by themselves be easily repaired. I cannot indeed approve this way of matching: yet have these young folks deserved neither gallows nor wheel, nor hath the Herr Colonel any shame to expect if he will but keep secret and forgive this fault, which otherwise no man hath knowledge of, and so give his consent to their marriage and allow such marriage to be confirmed by public ceremony in church.”
“What?” says the colonel, “am I, instead of punishing them, to come to them cap in hand and make them my compliments? Sooner would I when the day comes have them trussed up together and drowned in the Lippe; nay, ye shall wed them here and that at once, for to this end I had ye fetcht: else will I wring the necks of both like hens.”
But as to me, my thought was, “What wilt thou do? Wilt thou eat thy leek or die? At least ’tis such a maid as thou needest not to be shamed of: and when thou thinkest of thine own lowly descent, say, art thou worthy to sit where she puts off her shoes?” Yet loud and long I swore and asseverated we had wrought no dishonour with one another, but got only for answer, we should have so behaved that none could suspect evil of us, whereas by our way of dealing we could quiet no man’s doubts. So were we married by the said clergyman, sitting up in bed, and the ceremony over, were forced to rise and to leave the house. But I, who had now recovered myself and felt a sword by my side, must crack my joke: and “Papa-in-law,” says I, “I know not why ye should carry yourself thus scurvily: when other young folk be wedded their next of kin do bring them to their bedchamber, but your worship after my wedding doth cast me forth, not only from my bed but from the house: and in place of such congratulation as he should give me on my marriage, doth grudge me even the sight of my good brother-in-law’s face and my service to him. Verily if this fashion hold, there will be few friendships bred by weddings in this world.”
XXII
How Simplicissimus Held His Wedding-Feast and How He Purposed to Begin His New Life
The people at my lodging were all astonished when I brought the young maid home with me, and yet more when they saw how unconcernedly she went to bed with me. For though this trick which had been played me stirred up great perplexity in my mind, yet was I not so foolish as to put my bride to shame. And so even while I had my dear in mine arms I had a thousand conceits in my head, how I should begin and end my behaviour in this matter. Now thought I, “Thou art rightly served”: and yet again I considered that I had met with the greatest disgrace in the world, which I could not in honour pass over without due revenge. But when I remembered me that such revenge must harm my father-in-law and also my gentle and innocent bride, then all my plans were naught. At one time I was so sore ashamed that I planned to shut myself up and let no man see me again, and again I reflected that that would be to commit the chief and greatest folly. At the last I concluded that I would before all things win my father-in-law’s friendship again, and would so carry myself to all others as if nothing had happened untoward, and as if I had made all things ready for my wedding. For, said I to myself, “Seeing that this business hath had a strange beginning, thou must give it a like end: for should folk know thou wast trapped in thy marriage and wedded like a poor maiden to a rich old cripple, mockery only will be thy portion.”
Being full of such thoughts, I rose betimes, though I had rather have lain longer. And first of all I sent to my brother-in-law who had married my wife’s sister, and told him in a
