The Decameron of Giovanni Boccaccio
frailty, this is not always possible as fully as should be, I affirm
that she who consenteth to her own dishonour for a price is worthy of
the fire, whereas she who yieldeth for Love's sake, knowing his
exceeding great puissance, meriteth forgiveness from a judge not too
severe, even as, a few days agone, Filostrato showed it to have been
observed towards Madam Filippa at Prato.
There was, then, aforetime at Milan a German, by name Gulfardo, in the
pay of the state, a stout fellow of his person and very loyal to those
in whose service he engaged himself, which is seldom the case with
Germans; and for that he was a very punctual repayer of such loans as
were made him, he might always find many merchants ready to lend him
any quantity of money at little usance. During his sojourn in Milan,
he set his heart upon a very fair lady called Madam Ambruogia, the
wife of a rich merchant, by name Guasparruolo Cagastraccio, who was
much his acquaintance and friend, and loving her very discreetly, so
that neither her husband nor any other suspected it, he sent one day
to speak with her, praying her that it would please her vouchsafe him
her favours and protesting that he, on his part, was ready to do
whatsoever she should command him. The lady, after many parleys, came
to this conclusion, that she was ready to do that which Gulfardo
wished, provided two things should ensue thereof; one, that this
should never be by him discovered to any and the other, that, as she
had need of two hundred gold florins for some occasion of hers, he,
who was a rich man, should give them to her; after which she would
still be at his service.
Gulfardo, hearing this and indignant at the sordidness of her whom he
had accounted a lady of worth, was like to exchange his fervent love
for hatred and thinking to cheat her, sent back to her, saying that he
would very willingly do this and all else in his power that might
please her and that therefore she should e'en send him word when she
would have him go to her, for that he would carry her the money, nor
should any ever hear aught of the matter, save a comrade of his in
whom he trusted greatly and who still bore him company in whatsoever
he did. The lady, or rather, I should say, the vile woman, hearing
this, was well pleased and sent to him, saying that Guasparruolo her
husband was to go to Genoa for his occasions a few days hence and that
she would presently let him know of this and send for him. Meanwhile,
Gulfardo, taking his opportunity, repaired to Guasparruolo and said to
him, 'I have present occasion for two hundred gold florins, the which
I would have thee lend me at that same usance whereat thou art wont to
lend me other monies.' The other replied that he would well and
straightway counted out to him the money.
A few days thereafterward Guasparruolo went to Genoa, even as the
lady had said, whereupon she sent to Gulfardo to come to her and
bring the two hundred gold florins. Accordingly, he took his comrade
and repaired to the lady's house, where finding her expecting him, the
first thing he did was to put into her hands the two hundred gold
florins, in his friend's presence, saying to her, 'Madam, take these
monies and give them to your husband, whenas he shall be returned.'
The lady took them, never guessing why he said thus, but supposing
that he did it so his comrade should not perceive that he gave them to
her by way of price, and answered, 'With all my heart; but I would
fain see how many they are.' Accordingly, she turned them out upon the
table and finding them full two hundred, laid them up, mighty content
in herself; then, returning to Gulfardo and carrying him into her
chamber, she satisfied him of her person not that night only, but many
others before her husband returned from Genoa.
As soon as the latter came back, Gulfardo, having spied out a time
when he was in company with his wife, betook himself to him, together
with his comrade aforesaid, and said to him, in the lady's presence,
'Guasparruolo, I had no occasion for the monies, to wit, the two
hundred gold florins, thou lentest me the other day, for that I could
not compass the business for which I borrowed them. Accordingly, I
brought them presently back to thy lady here and gave them to her;
wherefore look thou cancel my account.' Guasparruolo, turning to his
wife, asked her if she had the monies, and she, seeing the witness
present, knew not how to deny, but said, 'Ay, I had them and had not
yet remembered me to tell thee.' Whereupon quoth Guasparruolo,
'Gulfardo, I am satisfied; get you gone and God go with you: I will
settle your account aright.' Gulfardo gone, the lady, finding herself
cozened, gave her husband the dishonourable price of her baseness; and
on this wise the crafty lover enjoyed his sordid mistress without
cost."
THE SECOND STORY
[Day the Eighth]
THE PARISH PRIEST OF VARLUNGO LIETH WITH MISTRESS BELCOLORE
AND LEAVETH HER A CLOAK OF HIS IN PLEDGE; THEN, BORROWING A
MORTAR OF HER, HE SENDETH IT BACK TO HER, DEMANDING IN
RETURN THE CLOAK LEFT BY WAY OF TOKEN, WHICH THE GOOD WOMAN
GRUDGINGLY GIVETH HIM BACK
Men and ladies alike commended that which Gulfardo had done to the
sordid Milanese lady, and the queen, turning to Pamfilo, smilingly
charged him follow on; whereupon quoth he, "Fair ladies, it occurreth
to me to tell you a little story against those who continually offend
against us, without being open to retaliation on our part, to wit, the
clergy, who have proclaimed a crusade against our wives and who,
whenas they avail to get one of the latter under them, conceive
themselves to have gained forgiveness of fault and pardon of penalty
no otherwise than as they had brought the Soldan bound from
Alexandria to Avignon.[365] Whereof the wretched laymen cannot return
them the like, albeit they wreak their ire upon the priests' mothers
and sisters, doxies and daughters, assailing them with no less ardour
than the former do their wives. Wherefore I purpose to recount to you
a village love-affair, more laughable for its conclusion than long in
words, wherefrom you may yet gather, by way of fruit, that priests are
not always to be believed in everything.
[Footnote 365: Where the papal court then was. See p. 257, note.]
You must know, then, that there was once at Varlungo,--a village very
near here, as each of you ladies either knoweth or may have heard,--a
worthy priest and a lusty of his person in the service of the ladies,
who, albeit he knew not overwell how to read, natheless regaled his
parishioners with store of good and pious saws at the elmfoot on
Sundays and visited their women, whenas they went abroad anywhither,
more diligently than any priest who had been there aforetime, carrying
them fairings and holy water and a stray candle-end or so, whiles even
to their houses. Now it chanced that, among other his she-parishioners
who were most to his liking, one pleased him over all, by name
Mistress Belcolore, the wife of a husbandman who styled himself
Bentivegna del Mazzo, a jolly, buxom country wench, brown-favoured and
tight-made, as apt at turning the mill[366] as any woman alive.
Moreover, it was she who knew how to play the tabret and sing 'The
water runneth to the ravine' and lead up the haye and the round, when
need was, with a fine muckender in her hand and a quaint, better than
any woman of her neighbourhood; by reason of which things my lord
priest became so sore enamoured of her that he was like to lose his
wits therefor and would prowl about all day long to get a sight of
her. Whenas he espied her in church of a Sunday morning, he would say
a Kyrie and a Sanctus, studying to show himself a past master in
descant, that it seemed as it were an ass a-braying; whereas, when he
saw her not there, he passed that part of the service over lightly
enough. But yet he made shift to do on such wise that neither
Bentivegna nor any of his neighbours suspected aught; and the better
to gain Mistress Belcolore's goodwill, he made her presents from time
to time, sending her whiles a clove of garlic, which he had the finest
of all the countryside in a garden he tilled with his own hands, and
otherwhiles a punnet of peascods or a bunch of chives or scallions,
and whenas he saw his opportunity, he would ogle her askance and cast
a friendly gibe at her; but she, putting on the prude, made a show of
not observing it and passed on with a demure air; wherefore my lord
priest could not come by his will of her.
[Footnote 366: Or, as La Fontaine would say, "aussi bien faite pour
armer un lit."]
It chanced one day that as he sauntered about the quarter on the
stroke of noon, he encountered Bentivegna del Mazzo, driving an ass
laden with gear, and accosting him, asked whither he went. 'Faith,
sir,' answered the husbandman, 'to tell you the truth, I am going to
town about a business of mine and am carrying these things to Squire
Bonaccorri da Ginestreto, so he may help me in I know not what whereof
the police-court judge hath summoned me by his proctor for a
peremptory attendance.' The priest was rejoiced to hear this and
said, 'Thou dost well, my son; go now with my benison and return
speedily; and shouldst thou chance to see Lapuccio or Naldino, forget
not to bid them bring me those straps they wot of for my flails.'
Bentivegna answered that it should be done and went his way towards
Florence, whereupon the priest bethought himself that now was his time
to go try his luck with Belcolore. Accordingly, he let not the grass
grow under his feet, but set off forthright and stayed not till he
came to her house and entering in, said, 'God send us all well! Who is
within there?' Belcolore, who was gone up into the hay-loft, hearing
him, said, 'Marry, sir, you are welcome; but what do you gadding it
abroad in this heat?' 'So God give me good luck,' answered he, 'I came
to abide with thee awhile, for that I met thy man going to town.'
Belcolore came down and taking a seat, fell to picking over
cabbage-seed which her husband had threshed out a while before;
whereupon quoth the priest to her, 'Well, Belcolore, wilt thou still
cause me die for thee on this wise?' She laughed and answered, 'What
is it I do to you?' Quoth he, 'Thou dost nought to me, but thou
sufferest me not do to thee that which I would fain do and which God
commandeth.' 'Alack!' cried Belcolore, 'Go to, go to. Do priests do
such things?' 'Ay do we,' replied he, 'as well as other men; and why
not? And I tell thee more, we do far and away better work and knowest
thou why? Because we grind with a full head of water. But in good
sooth it shall be shrewdly to thy profit, an thou wilt but abide quiet
and let me do.' 'And what might this "shrewdly to my profit" be?'
asked she. 'For all you priests are stingier than the devil.' Quoth
he, 'I know not; ask thou. Wilt have a pair of shoes or a head-lace or
a fine stammel waistband or what thou wilt?' 'Pshaw!' cried Belcolore.
'I have enough and to spare of such things; but an you wish me so
well, why do you not render me a service, and I will do what you
will?' Quoth the priest, 'Say what thou wilt have of me, and I will do
it willingly.' Then said she, 'Needs must I go to Florence, come
Saturday, to carry back the wool I have spun and get my spinning-wheel
mended; and an you will lend me five crowns, which I know you have by
you, I can take my watchet gown out of pawn and my Sunday girdle[367]
that I brought my husband, for you see I cannot go to church nor to
any decent place, because I have them not; and after I will still do
what you would have me.' 'So God give me a good year,' replied the
priest, 'I have them not about me; but believe me, ere Saturday come,
I will contrive that thou shalt have them, and that very willingly.'