The Decameron of Giovanni Boccaccio
himself the goodliest time in the world with her. At last, as ill-luck
would have it, the lady found herself with child and straightway
acquainted the abbot therewith, wherefore it seemed well to them both
that Ferondo should without delay be recalled from purgatory to life
and return to her, so she might avouch herself with child by him.
Accordingly, the abbot that same night caused call to Ferondo in
prison with a counterfeit voice, saying, 'Ferondo, take comfort, for
it is God's pleasure that thou return to the world, where thou shalt
have a son by thy wife, whom look thou name Benedict, for that by the
prayers of thy holy abbot and of thy wife and for the love of St.
Benedict He doth thee this favour.' Ferondo, hearing this, was
exceedingly rejoiced and said, 'It liketh me well, Lord grant a good
year to Seignior God Almighty and to the abbot and St. Benedict and my
cheesy[196] sweet honey wife.' The abbot let give him, in the wine
that he sent him, so much of the powder aforesaid as should cause him
sleep maybe four hours and with the aid of his monk, having put his
own clothes on him, restored him privily to the tomb wherein he had
been buried.
[Footnote 196: _Sic_ (_casciata_); meaning that he loves her as well
as he loves cheese, for which it is well known that the lower-class
Italian has a romantic passion. According to Alexandre Dumas, the
Italian loves cheese so well that he has succeeded in introducing it
into everything he eats or drinks, with the one exception of coffee.]
Next morning, at break of day, Ferondo came to himself and espying
light,--a thing which he had not seen for good ten months,--through
some crevice of the tomb, doubted not but he was alive again.
Accordingly, he fell to bawling out, 'Open to me! Open to me!' and
heaving so lustily at the lid of the tomb with his head that he
stirred it, for that it was eath to move, and had begun to move it
away, when the monks, having now made an end of saying matins, ran
thither and knew Ferondo's voice and saw him in act to come forth of
the sepulchre; whereupon, all aghast for the strangeness of the case,
they took to their heels and ran to the abbot, who made a show of
rising from prayer and said, 'My sons, have no fear; take the cross
and the holy water and follow after me, so we may see that which God
willeth to show forth to us of His might'; and as he said, so he did.
Now Ferondo was come forth of the sepulchre all pale, as well might he
be who had so long abidden without seeing the sky. As soon as he saw
the abbot, he ran to cast himself at his feet and said, 'Father mine,
according to that which hath been revealed to me, your prayers and
those of St. Benedict and my wife have delivered me from the pains of
purgatory and restored me to life, wherefore I pray God to give you a
good year and good calends now and always.' Quoth the abbot, 'Praised
be God His might! Go, my son, since He hath sent thee back hither;
comfort thy wife, who hath been still in tears, since thou departedst
this life, and henceforth be a friend and servant of God.' 'Sir,'
replied Ferondo, 'so hath it indeed been said to me; only leave me do;
for, as soon as I find her, I shall buss her, such goodwill do I bear
her.'
The abbot, left alone with his monks, made a great show of wonderment
at this miracle and caused devoutly sing Miserere therefor. As for
Ferondo, he returned to his village, where all who saw him fled, as
men use to do from things frightful; but he called them back and
avouched himself to be raised up again. His wife on like wise feigned
to be adread of him; but, after the folk were somewhat reassured anent
him and saw that he was indeed alive, they questioned him of many
things, and he, as it were he had returned wise, made answer to all
and gave them news of the souls of their kinsfolk, making up, of his
own motion, the finest fables in the world of the affairs of purgatory
and recounting in full assembly the revelation made him by the mouth
of the Rangel Bragiel[197] ere he was raised up again. Then, returning
to his house and entering again into possession of his goods, he got
his wife, as he thought, with child, and by chance it befell that, in
due time,--to the thinking of the fools who believe that women go just
nine months with child,--the lady gave birth to a boy, who was called
Benedict Ferondi.[198]
[Footnote 197: _i.e._ the Angel Gabriel.]
[Footnote 198: The plural of a surname is, in strictness, always used
by the Italians in speaking of a man by his full name, _dei_ being
understood between the Christian and surname, as _Benedetto_ (_dei_)
_Ferondi_, Benedict of the Ferondos or Ferondo family, whilst, when he
is denominated by the surname alone, it is used in the singular, _il_
(the) being understood, _e.g._ (Il) Boccaccio, (Il) Ferondo, _i.e._
the particular Boccaccio or Ferondo in question for the nonce.]
Ferondo's return and his talk, well nigh every one believing him to
have risen from the dead, added infinitely to the renown of the
abbot's sanctity, and he himself, as if cured of his jealousy by the
many beatings he had received therefor, thenceforward, according to
the promise made by the abbot to the lady, was no more jealous;
whereat she was well pleased and lived honestly with him, as of her
wont, save indeed that, whenas she conveniently might, she willingly
foregathered with the holy abbot, who had so well and diligently
served her in her greatest needs."
THE NINTH STORY
[Day the Third]
GILLETTE DE NARBONNE RECOVERETH THE KING OF FRANCE OF A
FISTULA AND DEMANDETH FOR HER HUSBAND BERTRAND DE
ROUSSILLON, WHO MARRIETH HER AGAINST HIS WILL AND BETAKETH
HIM FOR DESPITE TO FLORENCE, WHERE, HE PAYING COURT TO A
YOUNG LADY, GILLETTE, IN THE PERSON OF THE LATTER, LIETH
WITH HIM AND HATH BY HIM TWO SONS; WHEREFORE AFTER, HOLDING
HER DEAR, HE ENTERTAINETH HER FOR HIS WIFE
Lauretta's story being now ended, it rested but with the queen to
tell, an she would not infringe upon Dioneo's privilege; wherefore,
without waiting to be solicited by her companions, she began all
blithesomely to speak thus: "Who shall tell a story that may appear
goodly, now we have heard that of Lauretta? Certes, it was well for us
that hers was not the first, for that few of the others would have
pleased after it, as I misdoubt me[199] will betide of those which are
yet to tell this day. Natheless, be that as it may, I will e'en
recount to you that which occurreth to me upon the proposed theme.
[Footnote 199: Lit. and so I hope (_spero_), a curious instance of the
ancient Dantesque use of the word _spero_, I hope, in its contrary
sense of fear.]
There was in the kingdom of France a gentleman called Isnard, Count of
Roussillon, who, for that he was scant of health, still entertained
about his person a physician, by name Master Gerard de Narbonne. The
said count had one little son, and no more, hight Bertrand, who was
exceeding handsome and agreeable, and with him other children of his
own age were brought up. Among these latter was a daughter of the
aforesaid physician, by name Gillette, who vowed to the said Bertrand
an infinite love and fervent more than pertained unto her tender
years. The count dying and leaving his son in the hands of the king,
it behoved him betake himself to Paris, whereof the damsel abode sore
disconsolate, and her own father dying no great while after, she would
fain, an she might have had a seemly occasion, have gone to Paris to
see Bertrand: but, being straitly guarded, for that she was left rich
and alone, she saw no honourable way thereto; and being now of age for
a husband and having never been able to forget Bertrand, she had,
without reason assigned, refused many to whom her kinsfolk would have
married her.
Now it befell that, what while she burned more than ever for love of
Bertrand, for that she heard he was grown a very goodly gentleman,
news came to her how the King of France, by an imposthume which he had
had in his breast and which had been ill tended, had gotten a fistula,
which occasioned him the utmost anguish and annoy, nor had he yet been
able to find a physician who might avail to recover him thereof,
albeit many had essayed it, but all had aggravated the ill; wherefore
the king, despairing of cure, would have no more counsel nor aid of
any. Hereof the young lady was beyond measure content and bethought
herself that not only would this furnish her with a legitimate
occasion of going to Paris, but that, should the king's ailment be
such as she believed, she might lightly avail to have Bertrand to
husband. Accordingly, having aforetime learned many things of her
father, she made a powder of certain simples useful for such an
infirmity as she conceived the king's to be and taking horse, repaired
to Paris.
Before aught else she studied to see Bertrand and next, presenting
herself before the king, she prayed him of his favour to show her his
ailment. The king, seeing her a fair and engaging damsel, knew not how
to deny her and showed her that which ailed him. Whenas she saw it,
she was certified incontinent that she could heal it and accordingly
said, 'My lord, an it please you, I hope in God to make you whole of
this your infirmity in eight days' time, without annoy or fatigue on
your part.' The king scoffed in himself at her words, saying, 'That
which the best physicians in the world have availed not neither known
to do, how shall a young woman know?' Accordingly, he thanked her for
her good will and answered that he was resolved no more to follow the
counsel of physicians. Whereupon quoth the damsel, 'My lord, you make
light of my skill, for that I am young and a woman; but I would have
you bear in mind that I medicine not of mine own science, but with the
aid of God and the science of Master Gerard de Narbonne, who was my
father and a famous physician whilst he lived.'
The king, hearing this, said in himself, 'It may be this woman is sent
me of God; why should I not make proof of her knowledge, since she
saith she will, without annoy of mine, cure me in little time?'
Accordingly, being resolved to essay her, he said, 'Damsel, and if you
cure us not, after causing us break our resolution, what will you have
ensue to you therefor?' 'My lord,' answered she, 'set a guard upon me
and if I cure you not within eight days, let burn me alive; but, if I
cure you, what reward shall I have?' Quoth the king, 'You seem as yet
unhusbanded; if you do this, we will marry you well and worshipfully.'
'My lord,' replied the young lady, 'I am well pleased that you should
marry me, but I will have a husband such as I shall ask of you,
excepting always any one of your sons or of the royal house.' He
readily promised her that which she sought, whereupon she began her
cure and in brief, before the term limited, she brought him back to
health.
The king, feeling himself healed, said, 'Damsel, you have well earned
your husband'; whereto she answered, 'Then, my lord, I have earned
Bertrand de Roussillon, whom I began to love even in the days of my
childhood and have ever since loved over all.' The king deemed it a
grave matter to give him to her; nevertheless, having promised her and
unwilling to fail of his faith, he let call the count to himself and
bespoke him thus: 'Bertrand, you are now of age and accomplished [in
all that behoveth unto man's estate];[200] wherefore it is our
pleasure that you return to govern your county and carry with you a
damsel, whom we have given you to wife.' 'And who is the damsel, my
lord?' asked Bertrand; to which the king answered, 'It is she who hath
with her medicines restored to us our health.'
[Footnote 200: _Fornito_, a notable example of what the illustrious