“Shake!” quoth the dovehouse.
'Twas no need, I trow,
To bid me trudge.
And since that time it is eleven years,
For then she could stand alone. Nay, by the rood,
She could have run and waddled all about,
40
For even the day before, she broke her brow.
And then my husband—God be with his soul!
He was a merry man—took up the child.
“Yea,” quoth he, “Dost thou
fall upon thy face?
Thou wilt fall backward when thou hast more wit,
45
Wilt thou not, Jule?” and, by my holy dame,
The pretty wretch left crying and said
“ay.”
To see now, how a jest shall come about!
I warrant, an I should live a thousand years,
I never should forget it. “Wilt thou not,
Jule?” quoth he.
50
And, pretty fool, it stinted and said
“ay.”
NURSE
Whether it's even or odd, of all the days in the year, on
the night of Lammas Eve, she'll be fourteen. She and
Susan—God rest her and all Christian
souls—were born on the same day. Well, Susan died and is
with God. She was too good for me. But like I said, on the night of
Lammas Eve, she will be fourteen. Yes, she will. Indeed, I remember
it well. It's been eleven years since the earthquake. She
stopped nursing from my breast on that very day. I'll never
forget it. I had put bitter wormwood on my breast as I was sitting
in the sun, under the wall of the dovehouse. You and your husband
were in Mantua. Boy, do I have some memory! But like I said, when
she tasted the bitter wormwood on my nipple, the pretty little babe
got irritated and started to quarrel with my breast. Then the
dovehouse shook with the earthquake. There was no need to tell me to
get out of there. That was eleven years ago. By then she could stand
up all by herself. No, I swear, by that time she could run and
waddle all around. I remember because she had cut her forehead just
the day before. My husband—God rest his soul, he was a
happy man—picked up the child.
“Oh,” he said, “Did you fall on
your face? You'll fall backward
when you grow smarter. Won't you,
Jule.” And I swear, the poor pretty thing stopped crying
and said, “Yes.” Oh, to watch a joke come
true! I bet if I live a thousand years, I'll never forget
it. “Won't you, Jule,” he said. And
the pretty fool stopped crying and said,
“Yes.”
