"It's certainly a most attractive idea," her mistress admitted, "but it seems to me that it's out of the question. My husband sleeps with me every night. If he were to wake and find me gone… Now that you mention it, I suppose it might be possible to administer some sort of mild and harmless medication that would assure him of a good night's sleep. Do you happen to know of a dealer in such preparations?"
Her maid shook her head sadly. "Most of them are ineffective, my lady, and even the worst cost a great deal. But I know a trick worth a dozen of them, if you can tell me where to find the last resting place of an amorous woman."
"Really?" said her mistress. "Magic? How fascinating! You know, my cousin Phyllis's grave is only a short walk from here. Would that do, do you think?"
"I don't know," said the maid. "Was she fond of men?"
"Extremely," said her mistress. "And when she died, one of my uncle's he-goats wouldn't eat for a month."
"Then she'd be perfect," said the maid. "Here's all we have to do. At dinner tonight, you must slip something into your husband's food that will make him ill-"
"Night soil, you mean?" her mistress suggested.
The maid shook her head. "Too obvious… I have it! He's accustomed to rancid oil-it's the only sort he'll let us buy for the kitchen. Give me that old pin to take to the market, and I'll trade it for the freshest, purest oil I can find. That should make him sick, and he'll sleep overnight in the temple of the Healing God in the hope of a cure. When he's gone, you and I will dig some earth from the garden and take it to your cousin's grave. There you'll moisten it with a certain fluid I'll indicate to you-you have a plentiful supply-and we'll make a doll of clay, kneading a lock of your hair into it."
Her mistress clapped her hands with delight. "Why, this is much better than crying!"
"Then," her maid continued, "we'll lay the doll on her grave and engage in a recitation in which I shall prompt you. After that, whenever you want to leave at night, all you'll have to do is put the clay doll in your bed in your place. If your husband wakes, he'll see you beside him. And if he embraces the doll, he'll meet with such a reception as will endear you to him forever."
"Wonderful!" exclaimed her mistress, and that very night they carried out their plan with complete success.
The next night the lady waited until her husband was asleep, put the doll in their bed beside him, and enjoyed a succession of fascinating adventures in the city that left her a great deal wealthier than she had been before.
All went well for some time, she adventuring almost every night and her husband never complaining, though she noticed the clay doll was losing its proper shape. Early each morning when she returned, she would pat it until it looked as it had when she and the maid had formed it. But every night when she took it out again, she found that the clay had shifted downward in a most alarming fashion; and at last she told her maid the problem.
"Alas, my lady," said the maid. "I feared this might occur. In Babylon, we fire these figures in a potter's furnace-then there's no further trouble. But since you had no money and I didn't know of a potter here who'd be likely to cooperate without it, I neglected that step."
"What are you talking about?" said her mistress. "What's the matter with the doll?"
Her maid sighed. "It's a condition in which you would not, I think, wish to find yourself, my lady. If nature is allowed to take its course, there will soon be two clay dolls instead of one."
"How horrible!" said her mistress. "What can we do? Can't we bribe a potter to fire it now?"
"My lady," said her maid, "it would only crack later. I believe the best thing would be for us to bury the doll again in the place where we dug it up. You'll have to sleep with your husband-at least for a time-but that can't be helped. Do you by any chance remember the spot?"
"Why, yes," said her mistress. "It was under the apple tree."
"Then that would be the best place to put it," said the maid.
And so they did, and the woman began sleeping with her husband once more.
One day one of his rivals in business, a man as penurious as himself, found him moping about the market. "What's the matter?" he said. "Has someone cheated you?" For he would have been sorry indeed to hear that the husband had been cheated by anyone other than himself.
"No," said the husband. "It's my wife."
"Ah," said his rival. "There's a great deal of that going around these days, you know."
"Not long ago," said the husband, "she was as passionate as any man could wish. But now… "
"I can well imagine," said his rival. "Not that I've ever experienced the same thing myself."
"It's like embracing a woman of clay," said the poor husband. "And all I can think of is how I used to go to dinner parties and have a fine woman every night. I thought that when I married it would be better-because I used to have to give a party myself now and then, and it was so costly-but honestly I think the old days were better, and in fact I know it."
"Then all you have to do is return to them," said his rival. "Send her back to her father."
"And refund her dowry?" asked the husband. "You must be mad!"
"Then I can teach you a spell that will serve your turn," said his rival, who had no faith in such spells himself. "At least, my grandfather swore by it. You must find a blossoming tree in green and ardent health."
"Why, the apple tree in our garden has been blooming for days," said the husband. "I declare, you've never seen a tree doing better."
"Exactly the thing, then," said his rival. "You must lop off a limb and hide it under your bed. Whenever you want to go out and amuse yourself, take out the limb and put it in the bed in your place, saying,
"Stick I cut, so brave and bright, Stick be straight and strong tonight!"
"Believe me, as long as your wife doesn't light the lamp, she'll never know the difference." Then the rival went away, chuckling as he wondered whether his grandfather's spell would work.
But the husband ran home, and noting that the apple tree in his garden was still in flower, he immediately ordered his gardener to saw off its largest limb.
"It'll be the death of it," said the gardener, shaking his head.
"I don't care," said the husband. "It quite spoils the symmetry all natural objects should possess; so cut it off."
And thus it was done, and the husband carried the limb to the bedroom he shared with his wife and put it beneath the bed.
That night, the woman noticed that her husband's hair smelled of apple blossoms, which it certainly never had before. "Why, he's trying to make himself attractive for me," she said to herself. "And who knows what may come of that… I should encourage him."
She gave him a kiss on the cheek, one thing led to another, and she was embraced ardently all night, until at last she fell into an exhausted sleep.
At dawn her husband returned, put the limb under the bed once more, and lay down congratulating himself.
This went on for several nights, until at last, in the very heat of love, the woman said, "Although you're stout and strong all night, dear, I notice you're always exhausted in the morning. You'd better get some rest when we're finished."
To this, the limb replied, "I wilt not, stepmother." Which so surprised the woman that she lit the lamp.
You may imagine her delight then, for she saw in her bed not the withered old husband she had expected, but a blooming youth with fair red cheeks. She blew out the lamp at once, and for some time they came together each night as happily as any pair could.