IN the time of the last Duke Charles there was at Alençon [French town] an advocate [lawyer] named Antoine Bacheret, a merry companion, and fond of breakfasting o’ mornings. One day, as he was sitting before his door, he saw a gentleman pass whose name was Monsieur de la Tireliere. He had come on foot upon business he had in town, and the day being cold, he had not forgotten to take with him his great robe, lined with foxskin. Seeing the advocate, who was much such a man as himself, he asked him how he was getting on, and observed that a good breakfast would not be amiss. The advocate replied that a breakfast would be found soon enough, provided some one could be found to pay for it. Thereupon La Tireliere took him by the arm, saying, “Come along, gaffer, perhaps we shall fall in with some fool who will pay for us both.”
There happened to be behind them an apothecary’s [pharmacist] man, a cunning and inventive young fellow, whom the advocate was perpetually making game of. That moment the thought of having his revenge came into his head, and without going more than ten steps out of his way, he found behind a house a fine big sir reverence, well and duly frozen, which he wrapped up so neatly in paper that it might be taken for a small sugar-loaf. He then looked out for his men, and passing them like a person in great haste, entered a house, and let fall the sugar-loaf from his sleeve, as if inadvertently. The advocate picked it up with great glee, and said to La Tireliere, “This clever fellow shall pay our scot; but let us be off quickly for fear he comes back.”
The pair having entered a cabaret [restaurant], the advocate said to the servant girl, “Make us a good fire, and give us good bread and good wine, and something nice with it;” for he fancied he had wherewithal to pay [at the time, sugar was rare and expensive]. They were served to their liking; but as they grew warm with eating and drinking, the sugar-loaf, which the advocate carried in his bosom, began to thaw, and gave out such a stench that, thinking it came from elsewhere, he said to the servant, “You have the most fetid and stinking house I ever was in.” La Tireliere, who had his share of this fine perfume, said the same thing. The servant, incensed at thus being accused of sluttishness [slovenliness, not promiscuity], replied, “By St. Peter, my masters, the house is so neat and clean that there is no nastiness in it but what you have brought in with you.” The two friends rose from table, spitting and holding their noses, and stood near the fire; and presently, while warming himself, the advocate took his handkerchief out of his bosom, disgustingly smeared with the syrup of the melted sugar-loaf, which he produced with it. You may well believe that the servant made fine fun of them after the insult they had offered her, and that the advocate was sorely confounded at finding himself the dupe of an apothecary’s man, whom he had always made the butt of his wit. The servant, instead of taking pity on them, made them pay as handsomely as they had been served; and said that no doubt they must be greatly intoxicated, since they had drunk both by nose and mouth. The poor wights slunk away with their shame and their cost.
They were no sooner in the street than they saw the apothecary’s man going about and asking every one if they had seen a loaf of sugar wrapped up in paper. They tried to avoid him, but he shouted to the advocate, “Monsieur, if you have my loaf of sugar I beg you will give it back to me; for it is a double sin to rob a poor servant.” His shouts brought many people to the spot out of curiosity to witness the dispute; and the real state of the case was so well verified, that the apothecary’s man was as glad to have been robbed as the others were vexed at having committed such a nasty theft. They comforted themselves, however, with the hope of one day giving him tit for tat.
The like often happens, ladies, to those who take pleasure in such tricks. If the gentleman had not wanted to eat at another’s expense, he would not have had such a nasty draught at his own. It is true that my story is not very decorous, but you gave me permission to speak the truth. I have done so, to show that when a deceiver is deceived no one is sorry for it.