A Suit for Damages

The Judge of Portillon, though wise and learned, was a man of merry disposition. He kept, for example, a buxom servant girl named Jacqueline, and all the district knew the nature of the tasks she performed. But the people of Portillon were broad of mind: they were aware that the solemnity of official life weighed heavily upon the good man, and they did not begrudge him this pleasant relaxation.

Being, as we have said, a merry man, the judge was delighted to find in his judicial chambers one morning a young but exceedingly pretty and full-formed girl. Though Jacqueline had served him well the previous night, this did not hinder the judge's blood from running faster. "Good morning, my dear," he smiled, and, true to his merry nature, he took her in his arms.

"My lord!" cried the girl, leaping from his embrace. "I am here on official business--to complain, in very fact, of just such treatment."

"Such treatment?" bellowed the judge. "Such treatment is the stuff of life, a joy unto the heavens, a thing to cherish and encourage and be thankful for. And you wish to complain of it? You are, my girl, unworldly and unwise. Nevertheless, speak on. Who are you and who is the man and what was there in his action to complain of? Eh?"

"I am a laundress, sir; the man is the Sire du Fou; and his action--"

"The Sire du Fou? The king's chamberlain? Ungrateful girl! To complain of an action by the noble Sire du Fou!"

"My lord, he forced me," murmured the little laundress.

"Forced you! A likely story." But he added: "Tell me more."

The pretty laundress told the judge how the Sire du Fou had given her some linens to wash; how she had delivered them to his quarters; and how, when she had asked for her fee, the Sire du Fou had said he would give her the largest and most satisfactory fee she ever had received. It was a facetious statement, for the fee he spoke of was neither gold nor silver, and took at least thirty minutes in the paying.

The laundress related all this in lively language not permitted this chronicler, and the judge, who was ever willing to hear a tale of bawdry, listened with great interest. "Well," he said when she had finished, "this is a very pretty story and it has warmed my heart. But do you mean to say you derived no pleasure from the large and handsome fee that you were paid withal?"

"No pleasure, sir. And no profit. I therefore ask a thousand crowns in damages from the Sire."

"No pleasure!" mused the judge. "The Sire du Fou is a vigorous and experienced man, a man of merry disposition like myself, a man who knows more tricks and turns of love than Ovid. Full many a maid of Portillon would think herself well used to be paid in such a fashion by him. No pleasure, indeed! Incredible!"

"My lord," said the laundress, "ask your own little Jacqueline if a woman always feels pleasure by such payments."

"I will!" He tinkled the bell upon his desk and Jacqueline appeared. The judge repeated the laundress' question, and Jacqueline replied:

"Sir, although I dearly love such sports and am ill-put to remember a time when they gave ought but pleasure to me, yet to be truthful I must admit that in my younger days there were occasions when they afforded me only sorrow. This girl, if she received no pleasure from the noble Sire, should have received payment--that is, if she were forced, as she maintains."

"Thank you, my dear," said the judge. "The question of force is one I shall now investigate. Bring me, I pray, a needle and a piece of thread."

When these were brought, the judge presented the thread to the pretty laundress and kept the needle himself. "Now then, my girl," he said, "you will please oblige me by threading this needle."

"But why, my lord?"

"I have my reasons. Do what I say: slip that thread into the eye of this needle I hold before you."

The laundress shrugged and carefully approached the needle with the thread. But just when the thread drew close to the needle's eye, the judge moved his hand slightly. She tried again. And again the judge moved his hand. She tried a third time with the same result, and grew so vexed she cried out, "In faith, sir, if you keep not still, I will never get it in!"

The judge laughed in triumph. "True, girl! And had you done the same, the Sire du Fou would have been likewise unsuccessful. Forced, you say? Rubbish! I have no patience with talk of force in these matters. Your complaint is dismissed."

"Wait, my lord, you judge not wisely," said the girl. "Pray give me another chance. Even the best seamstress has trouble threading a needle when the thread is limp. I have heard them say so."

"Have you, indeed? And what else have you heard them say?"

"That by strengthening the thread with a bit of candlewax, thus, the task is made much simpler. Another chance, I pray, my lord."

The girl's quick wit amused the judge, so he presented the needle again. This time, she did not attempt to thread it at once, but began to talk to the needle in soft and melting tones: "Ah, what a sweet little needle. What a darling little needle. How slim, how straight. And such a lovely eye it has, so fresh, so impudent, so inviting! Come hither, pretty needle, I beseech you." The judge, who found her words enjoyable, brought the needle close. At once, the laundress seized his wrist, cried "Now I have you, my pretty one!" and thrust the stiffened thread through the needle's eye.

It may be seen, to this day, in the judicial records of Portillon, that damages in the amount of one hundred crowns were paid to a laundress by the Sire du Fou. This, it will be observed, was not the thousand crowns she asked for, but the remainder (though this is not stated in official record and we must here rely on rumor) was paid her by nine other lords, one hundred crowns at a time, for services rendered.

"My lord," said the girl, "I am here on official business!"