The Decameron of Giovanni Boccaccio
Lewis Carroll Dodgson, Waywode of Wonderland, calls a "portmanteau-word,"
a species that abounds in mediæval Italian, for the confusion of
translators.]
Bertrand, who had seen and recognized Gillette, knowing her (albeit
she seemed to him very fair) to be of no such lineage as sorted with
his quality, said all disdainfully, 'My lord, will you then marry me
to a she-leach? Now God forbid I should ever take such an one to
wife!' 'Then,' said the king, 'will you have us fail of our faith, the
which, to have our health again, we pledged to the damsel, who in
guerdon thereof demanded you to husband?' 'My lord,' answered
Bertrand, 'you may, an you will, take from me whatsoever I possess or,
as your liegeman, bestow me upon whoso pleaseth you; but of this I
certify you, that I will never be a consenting party unto such a
marriage.' 'Nay,' rejoined the king, 'but you shall, for that the
damsel is fair and wise and loveth you dear; wherefore we doubt not
but you will have a far happier life with her than with a lady of
higher lineage.' Bertrand held his peace and the king let make great
preparations for the celebration of the marriage.
The appointed day being come, Bertrand, sore against his will, in the
presence of the king, espoused the damsel, who loved him more than
herself. This done, having already determined in himself what he
should do, he sought leave of the king to depart, saying he would fain
return to his county and there consummate the marriage; then, taking
horse, he repaired not thither, but betook himself into Tuscany,
where, hearing that the Florentines were at war with those of Sienna,
he determined to join himself to the former, by whom he was joyfully
received and made captain over a certain number of men-at-arms; and
there, being well provided[201] of them, he abode a pretty while in
their service.
[Footnote 201: _i.e._ getting good pay and allowances (_avendo buona
provisione_).]
The newly-made wife, ill content with such a lot, but hoping by her
fair dealing to recall him to his county, betook herself to
Roussillon, where she was received of all as their liege lady. There,
finding everything waste and disordered for the long time that the
land had been without a lord, with great diligence and solicitude,
like a discreet lady as she was, she set all in order again, whereof
the count's vassals were mightily content and held her exceeding dear,
vowing her a great love and blaming the count sore for that he
accepted not of her. The lady, having thoroughly ordered the county,
notified the count thereof by two knights, whom she despatched to him,
praying him that, an it were on her account he forbore to come to his
county, he should signify it to her and she, to pleasure him, would
depart thence; but he answered them very harshly, saying, 'For that,
let her do her pleasure; I, for my part, will return thither to abide
with her, whenas she shall have this my ring on her finger and in her
arms a son by me begotten.' Now the ring in question he held very dear
and never parted with it, by reason of a certain virtue which it had
been given him to understand that it had.
The knights understood the hardship of the condition implied in these
two well nigh impossible requirements, but, seeing that they might not
by their words avail to move him from his purpose, they returned to
the lady and reported to her his reply; whereat she was sore afflicted
and determined, after long consideration, to seek to learn if and
where the two things aforesaid might be compassed, to the intent that
she might, in consequence, have her husband again. Accordingly, having
bethought herself what she should do, she assembled certain of the
best and chiefest men of the county and with plaintive speech very
orderly recounted to them that which she had already done for love of
the count and showed them what had ensued thereof, adding that it was
not her intent that, through her sojourn there, the count should abide
in perpetual exile; nay, rather she purposed to spend the rest of her
life in pilgrimages and works of mercy and charity for her soul's
health; wherefore she prayed them take the ward and governance of the
county and notify the count that she had left him free and vacant
possession and had departed the country, intending nevermore to return
to Roussillon. Many were the tears shed by the good folk, whilst she
spoke, and many the prayers addressed to her that it would please her
change counsel and abide there; but they availed nought. Then,
commending them to God, she set out upon her way, without telling any
whither she was bound, well furnished with monies and jewels of price
and accompanied by a cousin of hers and a chamberwoman, all in
pilgrims' habits, and stayed not till she came to Florence, where,
chancing upon a little inn, kept by a decent widow woman, she there
took up her abode and lived quietly, after the fashion of a poor
pilgrim, impatient to hear news of her lord.
It befell, then, that on the morrow of her arrival she saw Bertrand
pass before her lodging, a-horseback with his company, and albeit she
knew him full well, natheless she asked the good woman of the inn who
he was. The hostess answered, 'That is a stranger gentleman, who
calleth himself Count Bertrand, a pleasant man and a courteous and
much loved in this city; and he is the most enamoured man in the world
of a she-neighbour of ours, who is a gentlewoman, but poor. Sooth to
say, she is a very virtuous damsel and abideth, being yet unmarried
for poverty, with her mother, a very good and discreet lady, but for
whom, maybe, she had already done the count's pleasure.' The countess
took good note of what she heard and having more closely enquired into
every particular and apprehended all aright, determined in herself how
she should do.
Accordingly, having learned the house and name of the lady whose
daughter the count loved, she one day repaired privily thither in her
pilgrim's habit and finding the mother and daughter in very poor case,
saluted them and told the former that, an it pleased her, she would
fain speak with her alone. The gentlewoman, rising, replied that she
was ready to hearken to her and accordingly carried her into a chamber
of hers, where they seated themselves and the countess began thus,
'Madam, meseemeth you are of the enemies of Fortune, even as I am;
but, an you will, belike you may be able to relieve both yourself and
me.' The lady answered that she desired nothing better than to relieve
herself by any honest means; and the countess went on, 'Needs must you
pledge me your faith, whereto an I commit myself and you deceive me,
you will mar your own affairs and mine.' 'Tell me anything you will in
all assurance,' replied the gentlewoman; 'for never shall you find
yourself deceived of me.'
Thereupon the countess, beginning with her first enamourment,
recounted to her who she was and all that had betided her to that day
after such a fashion that the gentlewoman, putting faith in her words
and having, indeed, already in part heard her story from others, began
to have compassion of her. The countess, having related her
adventures, went on to say, 'You have now, amongst my other troubles,
heard what are the two things which it behoveth me have, an I would
have my husband, and to which I know none who can help me, save only
yourself, if that be true which I hear, to wit, that the count my
husband is passionately enamoured of your daughter.' 'Madam,' answered
the gentlewoman, 'if the count love my daughter I know not; indeed he
maketh a great show thereof. But, an it be so, what can I do in this
that you desire?' 'Madam,' rejoined the countess, 'I will tell you;
but first I will e'en show you what I purpose shall ensue thereof to
you, an you serve me. I see your daughter fair and of age for a
husband and according to what I have heard, meseemeth I understand the
lack of good to marry her withal it is that causeth you keep her at
home. Now I purpose, in requital of the service you shall do me, to
give her forthright of mine own monies such a dowry as you yourself
shall deem necessary to marry her honorably.'
The mother, being needy, was pleased with the offer; algates, having
the spirit of a gentlewoman, she said, 'Madam, tell me what I can do
for you; if it consist with my honour, I will willingly do it, and you
shall after do that which shall please you.' Then said the countess,
'It behoveth me that you let tell the count my husband by some one in
whom you trust, that your daughter is ready to do his every pleasure,
so she may but be certified that he loveth her as he pretendeth, the
which she will never believe, except he send her the ring which he
carrieth on his finger and by which she hath heard he setteth such
store. An he send you the ring, you must give it to me and after send
to him to say that your daughter is ready do his pleasure; then bring
him hither in secret and privily put me to bed to him in the stead of
your daughter. It may be God will vouchsafe me to conceive and on this
wise, having his ring on my finger and a child in mine arms of him
begotten, I shall presently regain him and abide with him, as a wife
should abide with her husband, and you will have been the cause
thereof.'
This seemed a grave matter to the gentlewoman, who feared lest blame
should haply ensue thereof to her daughter; nevertheless, bethinking
her it were honourably done to help the poor lady recover her husband
and that she went about to do this to a worthy end and trusting in the
good and honest intention of the countess, she not only promised her
to do it, but, before many days, dealing with prudence and secrecy, in
accordance with the latter's instructions, she both got the ring
(albeit this seemed somewhat grievous to the count) and adroitly put
her to bed with her husband, in the place of her own daughter. In
these first embracements, most ardently sought of the count, the lady,
by God's pleasure, became with child of two sons, as her delivery in
due time made manifest. Nor once only, but many times, did the
gentlewoman gratify the countess with her husband's embraces,
contriving so secretly that never was a word known of the matter,
whilst the count still believed himself to have been, not with his
wife, but with her whom he loved; and whenas he came to take leave of
a morning, he gave her, at one time and another, divers goodly and
precious jewels, which the countess laid up with all diligence.
Then, feeling herself with child and unwilling to burden the
gentlewoman farther with such an office, she said to her, 'Madam,
thanks to God and you, I have gotten that which I desired, wherefore
it is time that I do that which shall content you and after get me
gone hence.' The gentlewoman answered that, if she had gotten that
which contented her, she was well pleased, but that she had not done
this of any hope of reward, nay, for that herseemed it behoved her to
do it, an she would do well. 'Madam,' rejoined the countess, 'that
which you say liketh me well and so on my part I purpose not to give
you that which you shall ask of me by way of reward, but to do well,
for that meseemeth behoveful so to do.' The gentlewoman, then,
constrained by necessity, with the utmost shamefastness, asked her an
hundred pounds to marry her daughter withal; but the countess, seeing
her confusion and hearing her modest demand, gave her five hundred and
so many rare and precious jewels as were worth maybe as much more.
With this the gentlewoman was far more than satisfied and rendered the
countess the best thanks in her power; whereupon the latter, taking
leave of her, returned to the inn, whilst the other, to deprive
Bertrand of all farther occasion of coming or sending to her house,