The Decameron of Giovanni Boccaccio
demurred, but, it behoving her ensue her husband's pleasure, she
promised to do his bidding and followed him to the saloon, to hear
what Il Zima should say. The latter, having renewed his covenant with
the gentleman, seated himself with the lady in a part of the saloon at
a great distance from every one and began to say thus, 'Noble lady,
meseemeth certain that you have too much wit not to have long since
perceived how great a love I have been brought to bear you by your
beauty, which far transcendeth that of any woman whom methinketh I
ever beheld, to say nothing of the engaging manners and the peerless
virtues which be in you and which might well avail to take the
loftiest spirits of mankind; wherefore it were needless to declare to
you in words that this [my love] is the greatest and most fervent that
ever man bore woman; and thus, without fail, will I do[170] so long as
my wretched life shall sustain these limbs, nay, longer; for that, if
in the other world folk love as they do here below, I shall love you
to all eternity. Wherefore you may rest assured that you have nothing,
be it much or little worth, that you may hold so wholly yours and
whereon you may in every wise so surely reckon as myself, such as I
am, and that likewise which is mine. And that of this you may take
assurance by very certain argument, I tell you that I should count
myself more graced, did you command me somewhat that I might do and
that would pleasure you, than if, I commanding, all the world should
promptliest obey me. Since, then, I am yours, even as you have heard,
it is not without reason that I dare to offer up my prayers to your
nobility, wherefrom alone can all peace, all health and all well-being
derive for me, and no otherwhence; yea, as the humblest of your
servants, I beseech you, dear my good and only hope of my soul, which,
midmost the fire of love, feedeth upon its hope in you,--that your
benignity may be so great and your past rigour shown unto me, who am
yours, on such wise be mollified that I, recomforted by your kindness,
may say that, like as by your beauty I was stricken with love, even so
by your pity have I life, which latter, an your haughty soul incline
not to my prayers, will without fail come to nought and I shall perish
and you may be said to be my murderer. Letting be that my death will
do you no honour, I doubt not eke but that, conscience bytimes
pricking you therefor, you will regret having wrought it[171] and
whiles, better disposed, will say in yourself, "Alack, how ill I did
not to have compassion upon my poor Zima!" and this repentance, being
of no avail, will cause you the great annoy. Wherefore, so this may
not betide, now that you have it in your power to succour me, bethink
yourself and ere I die, be moved to pity on me, for that with you
alone it resteth to make me the happiest or the most miserable man
alive. I trust your courtesy will be such that you will not suffer me
to receive death in guerdon of such and so great a love, but will with
a glad response and full of favour quicken my fainting spirits, which
flutter, all dismayed, in your presence.' Therewith he held his peace
and heaving the deepest of sighs, followed up with sundry tears,
proceeded to await the lady's answer. The latter,--whom the long court
he had paid her, the joustings held and the serenades given in her
honour and other like things done of him for the love of her had not
availed to move,--was moved by the passionate speech of this most
ardent lover and began to be sensible of that which she had never yet
felt, to wit, what manner of thing love was; and albeit, in ensuance
of the commandment laid upon her by her husband, she kept silence, she
could not withal hinder sundry gentle sighs from discovering that
which, in answer to Il Zima, she would gladly have made manifest. Il
Zima, having waited awhile and seeing that no response ensued, was
wondered and presently began to divine the husband's device; but yet,
looking her in the face and observing certain flashes of her eyes
towards him now and again and noting, moreover, the sighs which she
suffered not to escape her bosom with all her strength, conceived
fresh hope and heartened thereby, took new counsel[172] and proceeded
to answer himself after the following fashion, she hearkening the
while: 'Zima mine, this long time, in good sooth, have I perceived thy
love for me to be most great and perfect, and now by thy words I know
it yet better and am well pleased therewith, as indeed I should be.
Algates, an I have seemed to thee harsh and cruel, I will not have
thee believe that I have at heart been that which I have shown myself
in countenance; nay, I have ever loved thee and held thee dear above
all other men; but thus hath it behoved me do, both for fear of others
and for the preserving of my fair fame. But now is the time at hand
when I may show thee clearly that I love thee and guerdon thee of the
love that thou hast borne and bearest me. Take comfort, therefore, and
be of good hope, for that a few days hence Messer Francesco is to go
to Milan for provost, as indeed thou knowest, who hast for the love of
me given him thy goodly palfrey; and whenas he shall be gone, I
promise thee by my troth and of the true love I bear thee, that,
before many days, thou shalt without fail foregather with me and we
will give gladsome and entire accomplishment to our love. And that I
may not have to bespeak thee otherwhiles of the matter, I tell thee
presently that, whenas thou shalt see two napkins displayed at the
window of my chamber, which giveth upon our garden, do thou that same
evening at nightfall make shift to come to me by the garden door,
taking good care that thou be not seen. Thou wilt find me awaiting
thee and we will all night long have delight and pleasance one of
another, to our hearts' content.' Having thus spoken for the lady, he
began again to speak in his own person and rejoined on this wise,
'Dearest lady, my every sense is so transported with excessive joy for
your gracious reply that I can scarce avail to make response, much
less to render you due thanks; nay, could I e'en speak as I desire,
there is no term so long that it might suffice me fully to thank you
as I would fain do and as it behoveth me; wherefore I leave it to your
discreet consideration to imagine that which, for all my will, I am
unable to express in words. This much only I tell you that I will
without fail bethink myself to do as you have charged me, and being
then, peradventure, better certified of so great a grace as that which
you have vouchsafed me, I will, as best I may, study to render you the
utmost thanks in my power. For the nonce there abideth no more to say;
wherefore, dearest lady mine, God give you that gladness and that weal
which you most desire, and so to Him I commend you.' For all this the
lady said not a word; whereupon Il Zima arose and turned towards the
husband, who, seeing him risen, came up to him and said, laughing 'How
deemest thou? Have I well performed my promise to thee?' 'Nay, sir'
answered Il Zima; 'for you promised to let me speak with your lady and
you have caused me speak with a marble statue.' These words were
mighty pleasing to the husband, who, for all he had a good opinion of
the lady, conceived of her a yet better and said, 'Now is thy palfrey
fairly mine.' 'Ay is it, sir,' replied Il Zima, 'but, had I thought to
reap of this favour received of you such fruit as I have gotten, I had
given you the palfrey, without asking it[173] of you; and would God I
had done it, for that now you have bought the palfrey and I have not
sold it.' The other laughed at this and being now provided with a
palfrey, set out upon his way a few days after and betook himself to
Milan, to enter upon the Provostship. The lady, left free in her
house, called to mind Il Zima's words and the love he bore her and the
palfrey given for her sake and seeing him pass often by the house,
said in herself, 'What do I? Why waste I my youth? Yonder man is gone
to Milan and will not return these six months. When will he ever
render me them[174] again? When I am old? Moreover, when shall I ever
find such a lover as Il Zima? I am alone and have no one to fear. I
know not why I should not take this good opportunity what while I may;
I shall not always have such leisure as I presently have. None will
know the thing, and even were it to be known, it is better to do and
repent, than to abstain and repent.' Having thus taken counsel with
herself, she one day set two napkins in the garden window, even as Il
Zima had said, which when he saw, he was greatly rejoiced and no
sooner was the night come than he betook himself, secretly and alone,
to the gate of the lady's garden and finding it open, passed on to
another door that opened into the house, where he found his mistress
awaiting him. She, seeing him come, started up to meet him and
received him with the utmost joy, whilst he clipped and kissed her an
hundred thousand times and followed her up the stair to her chamber,
where, getting them to bed without a moment's delay, they knew the
utmost term of amorous delight. Nor was this first time the last, for
that, what while the gentleman abode at Milan and even after his
coming back, Il Zima returned thither many another time, to the
exceeding satisfaction of both parties."
[Footnote 169: Lit. "The summit," or in modern slang "The tiptop,"
_i.e._ the pink of fashion.]
[Footnote 170: _i.e._ this love shall I bear you. This is a flagrant
instance of the misuse of ellipsis, which so frequently disfigures
Boccaccio's dialogue.]
[Footnote 171: _i.e._ my death.]
[Footnote 172: Syn. a rare or strange means (_nuovo consiglio_). The
word _nuovo_ is constantly used by Boccaccio in the latter sense, as
is _consiglio_ in its remoter signification of means, remedy, etc.]
[Footnote 173: _i.e._ the favour.]
[Footnote 174: _i.e._ the lost six months.]
THE SIXTH STORY
[Day the Third]
RICCIARDO MINUTOLO, BEING ENAMOURED OF THE WIFE OF
FILIPPELLO FIGHINOLFI AND KNOWING HER JEALOUSY OF HER
HUSBAND, CONTRIVETH, BY REPRESENTING THAT FILIPPELLO WAS ON
THE ENSUING DAY TO BE WITH HIS OWN WIFE IN A BAGNIO, TO
BRING HER TO THE LATTER PLACE, WHERE, THINKING TO BE WITH
HER HUSBAND, SHE FINDETH THAT SHE HATH ABIDDEN WITH
RICCIARDO
Elisa having no more to say, the queen, after commending the sagacity
of Il Zima, bade Fiammetta proceed with a story, who answered, all
smilingly, "Willingly, Madam," and began thus: "It behoveth somedele
to depart our city (which, like as it aboundeth in all things else, is
fruitful in instances of every subject) and as Elisa hath done, to
recount somewhat of the things that have befallen in other parts of
the world; wherefore, passing over to Naples, I shall tell how one of
those she-saints, who feign themselves so shy of love, was by the
ingenuity of a lover of hers brought to taste the fruits of love, ere
she had known its flowers; the which will at once teach you
circumspection in the things that may hap and afford you diversion of
those already befallen.
In Naples, a very ancient city and as delightful as any in Italy or
maybe more so, there was once a young man, illustrious for nobility of
blood and noted for his much wealth, whose name was Ricciardo
Minutolo. Albeit he had to wife a very fair and lovesome young lady,
he fell in love with one who, according to general opinion, far
overpassed in beauty all the other ladies of Naples. Her name was
Catella and she was the wife of another young gentleman of like
condition, hight Filippello Fighinolfi, whom, like a very virtuous
woman as she was, she loved and cherished over all. Ricciardo, then,
loving this Catella and doing all those things whereby the love and