The Talion

A good burghers of Picardy, perhaps the descendant of one of these illustrious troubadours banks of the Oise and the Somme, and whose existence has been removed numb darkness for ten or twelve years by a large writer of the century, a brave and honest citizen, I say, lived in the town of Saint-Quentin, so celebrated by the great men it has given to literature, and lived with honor him, his wife and a third cousin, a nun in a convent in this city. The third cousin was a petite brunette with bright eyes, pretty face to Rogue, snub-nosed and slender, she was distressed twenty-two years and for four religious, Sister Petronilla was his name, had more a nice voice, and much more temperamental than religion. As for Mr. d'Esclaponville and was named our citizens, it was a good big welcomed about twenty-eight years, his cousin and top magnet not quite as much of Ms. Esclaponville, since there was already ten years that he slept with her, and a habit of ten years is fatal fire of the hymen. Ms. d'Esclaponville - because he should paint, for whom it happen if we do not paint in a century when he only takes pictures, even when a tragedy would not be received if the dealers were there to screen least six subjects - Ms. d'Esclaponville, "I was a blonde a little bland, but very white, fairly pretty eyes, plump, and those big chubby commonly known in the world of good enjoyment .

Until now Ms. Esclaponville of ignored that there was a way to avenge an unfaithful husband, wise like her mother who had lived eighty-three years with the same man without him of infidelity She was still quite naive, full of candid enough to not even suspect that this dreadful crime casuists named adultery, and that pleasant to soften everything, simply called gallantry, but a woman cheated soon received his resentment advice for revenge, and since no one likes to be outdone, there is nothing she does whenever she can, so we have nothing to reproach him. Ms. d'Esclaponville finally realized that her beloved husband Mr. visiting a cousin too often in the third degree: the demon of jealousy takes hold of her soul, she watches, she inquired and eventually discover that there is also little recognized in San Quentin that the plot of her husband and sister Petronilla. Sure of her, she finally said Esclaponville of her husband that the conduct he observed it pierces the soul, that she did not deserve such processes and that she implored her to return through .

- In my wrong, the husband calmly replied, ignore you then I'm off, my dear friend, sleeping with my cousin the nun? It cleanses the soul in so holy a plot is identified with the Supreme Being is to incorporate the Holy Spirit in itself no sin, my dear, with people dedicated to God, they purify everything who is with them and go, in a word, is open the road to the heavenly bliss.

Ms. d'Esclaponville quite happy with the little success of his remonstrance, said nothing but swear at the bottom of herself she will find a way to more persuasive eloquence ... The devil is it that women always have a ready: for they're pretty, they have to say, the avengers rained from all sides.

There were some in the town parish priest who was called the Abbe du Bosquet, a sprightly great thirties chasing all the women and making a forest of all fronts of the husband of St. Quentin. Ms. d'Esclaponville became acquainted with the vicar, the vicar gradually also became acquainted with Madame d'Esclaponville, and they both knew so well that they finally might have to paint from head to foot without it being possible to s 'y mistake. After a month each came to congratulate the unfortunate Esclaponville who boasted of being alone escaped to the deadly intrigues of the curate, and he was in San Quentin as the only front that rogue had not yet defiled.

- That can not, "said Esclaponville of those who spoke to him, my wife is wise as a Lucretia, you would tell me a hundred times that I would not believe.

- Come then, "said one of his friends, so I just convince yourself with your own eyes, and we'll see after if you doubt.

On Esclaponville gets trapped, and his friend took him to a half-mile from the city in a lonely place where the Somme, confined between two rows and covered with fresh flowers, delicious as a bath to the inhabitants of the town, but as the appointment was given at a time when we commonly do not bathe again our poor husband's grief to see happen one after another and his honest wife and his rival, without anyone's interrupt.

- Well, the friend said to Esclaponville, forehead he begins to itch you?

- Not yet, says the citizen, is the rub, however unintentionally, it is perhaps to confess.

- Let us, therefore, to the end, the friend said ...

It was not long: just arrived in the delicious shade of fragrant hedge, the Abbe du Bosquet detaches itself all that harms voluptuous touches he meditates, and proceeds to work holy storage for the thirtieth time can be a good and honest Esclaponville among the other spouses of the city.

- Well, do you think now? said the friend.

- Returning us, "said sourly of Esclaponville, because strength to believe I might kill this cursed priest and it would pay me better than he is, back-in, my friend, and keep me secret, I beg you.

On Esclaponville returns home in confusion, and soon after his wife has mild to report for dinner at her chaste flanks.

- One moment, dear, "said the angry citizens, since my childhood I vowed to my father never to have dinner with whores.

- With whores responds graciously to Ms. Esclaponville, my friend, wonder about, what do you reproach me?

- How carogne, I have to blame you, what you been doing this afternoon at the baths with our vicar.

- Oh, my God, meets the gentle woman, this is it, my son, it's just that you have to say.

- How ventrebleu, that is all ...

- But, my friend, I followed your advice, do not you tell me we should lose nothing by sleeping with people from church, we purify his soul in so holy a plot that c 'was identified with the Supreme Being, the Holy Spirit to come in and open itself in a word the way to the heavenly bliss ... Well, my son, I did what you told me, I'm not a saint and a whore

Ah! I promise you that if any of those good souls God has the means to open, as you say, the road the blessedness of heaven, it certainly is the vicar, because I've never seen such a big key.