The Decameron of Giovanni Boccaccio
fair as Ricciardo's wife, thou villain? Am I not as good a
gentlewoman? Why dost thou not answer, thou sorry dog? What hath she
more than I? Keep thy distance; touch me not; thou hast done enough
feats of arms for to-day. Now thou knowest who I am, I am well assured
that all thou couldst do would be perforce; but, so God grant me
grace, I will yet cause thee suffer want thereof, and I know not what
hindereth me from sending for Ricciardo, who hath loved me more than
himself and could never boast that I once even looked at him; nor know
I what harm it were to do it. Thou thoughtest to have his wife here
and it is as if thou hadst had her, inasmuch as it is none of thy
fault that the thing hath miscarried; wherefore, were I to have
himself, thou couldst not with reason blame me.'
Brief, many were the lady's words and sore her complaining. However,
at last, Ricciardo, bethinking himself that, an he let her go in that
belief, much ill might ensue thereof, determined to discover himself
and undeceive her; wherefore, catching her in his arms and holding her
fast, so she might not get away, he said, 'Sweet my soul, be not
angered; that which I could not have of you by simply loving you, Love
hath taught me to obtain by practice; and I am your Ricciardo.'
Catella, hearing this and knowing him by the voice, would have thrown
herself incontinent out of bed, but could not; whereupon she offered
to cry out; but Ricciardo stopped her mouth with one hand and said,
'Madam, this that hath been may henceforth on nowise be undone, though
you should cry all the days of your life; and if you cry out or cause
this ever anywise to be known of any one, two things will come
thereof; the one (which should no little concern you) will be that
your honour and fair fame will be marred, for that, albeit you may
avouch that I brought you hither by practice, I shall say that it is
not true, nay, that I caused you come hither for monies and gifts that
I promised you, whereof for that I gave you not so largely as you
hoped, you waxed angry and made all this talk and this outcry; and you
know that folk are more apt to credit ill than good, wherefore I shall
more readily be believed than you. Secondly, there will ensue thereof
a mortal enmity between your husband and myself, and it may as well
happen that I shall kill him as he me, in which case you are never
after like to be happy or content. Wherefore, heart of my body, go not
about at once to dishonour yourself and to cast your husband and
myself into strife and peril. You are not the first woman, nor will
you be the last, who hath been deceived, nor have I in this practised
upon you to bereave you of your own, but for the exceeding love that
I bear you and am minded ever to bear you and to be your most humble
servant. And although it is long since I and all that I possess or can
or am worth have been yours and at your service, henceforward I
purpose that they shall be more than ever so. Now, you are well
advised in other things and so I am certain you will be in this.'
Catella, what while Ricciardo spoke thus, wept sore, but, albeit she
was sore provoked and complained grievously, nevertheless, her reason
allowed so much force to his true words that she knew it to be
possible that it should happen as he said; wherefore quoth she,
'Ricciardo, I know not how God will vouchsafe me strength to suffer
the affront and the cheat thou hast put upon me; I will well to make
no outcry here whither my simplicity and overmuch jealousy have
brought me; but of this be assured that I shall never be content till
one way or another I see myself avenged of this thou hast done to me.
Wherefore, leave me, hold me no longer; thou hast had that which thou
desiredst and hast tumbled me to thy heart's content; it is time to
leave me; let me go, I prithee.'
Ricciardo, seeing her mind yet overmuch disordered, had laid it to
heart never to leave her till he had gotten his pardon of her;
wherefore, studying with the softest words to appease her, he so
bespoke and so entreated and so conjured her that she was prevailed
upon to make peace with him, and of like accord they abode together a
great while thereafter in the utmost delight. Moreover, Catella,
having thus learned how much more savoury were the lover's kisses than
those of the husband and her former rigour being changed into kind
love-liking for Ricciardo, from that day forth she loved him very
tenderly and thereafter, ordering themselves with the utmost
discretion, they many a time had joyance of their loves. God grant us
to enjoy ours!"
THE SEVENTH STORY
[Day the Third]
TEDALDO ELISEI, HAVING FALLEN OUT WITH HIS MISTRESS,
DEPARTETH FLORENCE AND RETURNING THITHER, AFTER AWHILE, IN A
PILGRIM'S FAVOUR, SPEAKETH WITH THE LADY AND MAKETH HER
COGNISANT OF HER ERROR; AFTER WHICH HE DELIVERETH HER
HUSBAND, WHO HAD BEEN CONVICTED OF MURDERING HIM, FROM DEATH
AND RECONCILING HIM WITH HIS BRETHREN, THENCEFORWARD
DISCREETLY ENJOYETH HIMSELF WITH HIS MISTRESS
Fiammetta being now silent, commended of all, the queen, to lose no
time, forthright committed the burden of discourse to Emilia, who
began thus: "It pleaseth me to return to our city, whence it pleased
the last two speakers to depart, and to show you how a townsman of
ours regained his lost mistress.
There was, then, in Florence a noble youth, whose name was Tedaldo
Elisei and who, being beyond measure enamoured of a lady called Madam
Ermellina, the wife of one Aldobrandino Palermini, deserved for his
praiseworthy fashions, to enjoy his desire. However, Fortune, the
enemy of the happy, denied him this solace, for that, whatever might
have been the cause, the lady, after complying awhile with Tedaldo's
wishes, suddenly altogether withdrew her good graces from him and not
only refused to hearken to any message of his, but would on no wise
see him; wherefore he fell into a dire and cruel melancholy; but his
love for her had been so hidden that none guessed it to be the cause
of his chagrin. After he had in divers ways studied amain to recover
the love himseemed he had lost without his fault and finding all his
labour vain, he resolved to withdraw from the world, that he might not
afford her who was the cause of his ill the pleasure of seeing him
pine away; wherefore, without saying aught to friend or kinsman, save
to a comrade of his, who knew all, he took such monies as he might
avail to have and departing secretly, came to Ancona, where, under the
name of Filippo di Sanlodeccio, he made acquaintance with a rich
merchant and taking service with him, accompanied him to Cyprus on
board a ship of his.
His manners and behaviour so pleased the merchant that he not only
assigned him a good wage, but made him in part his associate and put
into his hands a great part of his affairs, which he ordered so well
and so diligently that in a few years he himself became a rich and
famous and considerable merchant; and albeit, in the midst of these
his dealings, he oft remembered him of his cruel mistress and was
grievously tormented of love and yearned sore to look on her again,
such was his constancy that seven years long he got the better of the
battle. But, chancing one day to hear sing in Cyprus a song that
himself had made aforetime and wherein was recounted the love he bore
his mistress and she him and the pleasure he had of her, and thinking
it could not be she had forgotten him, he flamed up into such a
passion of desire to see her again that, unable to endure longer, he
resolved to return to Florence.
Accordingly, having set all his affairs in order, he betook himself
with one only servant to Ancona and transporting all his good thither,
despatched it to Florence to a friend of the Anconese his partner,
whilst he himself, in the disguise of a pilgrim returning from the
Holy Sepulchre, followed secretly after with his servant and coming to
Florence, put up at a little hostelry kept by two brothers, in the
neighbourhood of his mistress's house, whereto he repaired first of
all, to see her, an he might. However, he found the windows and doors
and all else closed, wherefore his heart misgave him she was dead or
had removed thence and he betook himself, in great concern, to the
house of his brethren, before which he saw four of the latter clad all
in black. At this he marvelled exceedingly and knowing himself so
changed both in habit and person from that which he was used to be,
whenas he departed thence, that he might not lightly be recognized, he
boldly accosted a cordwainer hard by and asked him why they were clad
in black; whereto he answered, 'Yonder men are clad in black for that
it is not yet a fortnight since a brother of theirs, who had not been
here this great while, was murdered, and I understand they have
proved to the court that one Aldobrandino Palermini, who is in prison,
slew him, for that he was a well-wisher of his wife and had returned
hither unknown to be with her.'
Tedaldo marvelled exceedingly that any one should so resemble him as
to be taken for him and was grieved for Aldobrandino's ill fortune.
Then, having learned that the lady was alive and well and it being now
night, he returned, full of various thoughts, to the inn and having
supped with his servant, was put to sleep well nigh at the top of the
house. There, what with the many thoughts that stirred him and the
badness of the bed and peradventure also by reason of the supper,
which had been meagre, half the night passed whilst he had not yet
been able to fall asleep; wherefore, being awake, himseemed about
midnight he heard folk come down into the house from the roof, and
after through the chinks of the chamber-door he saw a light come up
thither. Thereupon he stole softly to the door and putting his eye to
the chink, fell a-spying what this might mean and saw a comely enough
lass who held the light, whilst three men, who had come down from the
roof, made towards her; and after some greetings had passed between
them, one of them said to the girl, 'Henceforth, praised be God, we
may abide secure, since we know now for certain that the death of
Tedaldo Elisei hath been proved by his brethren against Aldobrandino
Palermini, who hath confessed thereto, and judgment is now recorded;
nevertheless, it behoveth to keep strict silence, for that, should it
ever become known that it was we [who slew him], we shall be in the
same danger as is Aldobrandino.' Having thus bespoken the woman, who
showed herself much rejoiced thereat, they left her and going below,
betook themselves to bed.
Tedaldo, hearing this, fell a-considering how many and how great are
the errors which may befall the minds of men, bethinking him first of
his brothers who had bewept and buried a stranger in his stead and
after of the innocent man accused on false suspicion and brought by
untrue witness to the point of death, no less than of the blind
severity of laws and rulers, who ofttimes, under cover of diligent
investigation of the truth, cause, by their cruelties, prove that
which is false and style themselves ministers of justice and of God,
whereas indeed they are executors of iniquity and of the devil; after
which he turned his thought to the deliverance of Aldobrandino and
determined in himself what he should do. Accordingly, arising in the
morning, he left his servant at the inn and betook himself alone,
whenas it seemed to him time, to the house of his mistress, where,
chancing to find the door open, he entered in and saw the lady seated,
all full of tears and bitterness of soul, in a little ground floor
room that was there.
At this sight he was like to weep for compassion of her and drawing
near to her, said, 'Madam, afflict not yourself; your peace is at