The Decameron of Giovanni Boccaccio
uncle of his, been left rich beyond all estimation and who, as it
happeneth often with young men, being without a wife, fell in love
with a daughter of Messer Paolo Traversari, a young lady of much
greater family than his own, hoping by his fashions to bring her to
love him in return. But these, though great and goodly and
commendable, not only profited him nothing; nay, it seemed they did
him harm, so cruel and obdurate and intractable did the beloved damsel
show herself to him, being grown belike, whether for her singular
beauty or the nobility of her birth, so proud and disdainful that
neither he nor aught that pleased him pleased her. This was so
grievous to Nastagio to bear that many a time, for chagrin, being
weary of complaining, he had it in his thought to kill himself, but
held his hand therefrom; and again and again he took it to heart to
let her be altogether or have her, an he might, in hatred, even as she
had him. But in vain did he take such a resolve, for that, the more
hope failed him, the more it seemed his love redoubled. Accordingly,
he persisted both in loving and in spending without stint or measure,
till it seemed to certain of his friends and kinsfolk that he was like
to consume both himself and his substance; wherefore they besought him
again and again and counselled him depart Ravenna and go sojourn
awhile in some other place, for that, so doing, he would abate both
his passion and his expenditure. Nastagio long made light of this
counsel, but, at last, being importuned of them and able no longer to
say no, he promised to do as they would have him and let make great
preparations, as he would go into France or Spain or some other far
place. Then, taking horse in company with many of his friends, he rode
out of Ravenna and betook himself to a place called Chiassi, some
three miles from the city, where, sending for tents and pavilions, he
told those who had accompanied him thither that he meant to abide and
that they might return to Ravenna. Accordingly, having encamped there,
he proceeded to lead the goodliest and most magnificent life that was
aye, inviting now these, now those others, to supper and to dinner, as
he was used.
It chanced one day, he being come thus well nigh to the beginning of
May and the weather being very fair, that, having entered into thought
of his cruel mistress, he bade all his servants leave him to himself,
so he might muse more at his leisure, and wandered on, step by step,
lost in melancholy thought, till he came [unwillingly] into the
pine-wood. The fifth hour of the day was well nigh past and he had
gone a good half mile into the wood, remembering him neither of eating
nor of aught else, when himseemed of a sudden he heard a terrible
great wailing and loud cries uttered by a woman; whereupon, his dulcet
meditation being broken, he raised his head to see what was to do and
marvelled to find himself among the pines; then, looking before him,
he saw a very fair damsel come running, naked through a thicket all
thronged with underwood and briers, towards the place where he was,
weeping and crying sore for mercy and all dishevelled and torn by the
bushes and the brambles. At her heels ran two huge and fierce
mastiffs, which followed hard upon her and ofttimes bit her cruelly,
whenas they overtook her; and after them he saw come riding upon a
black courser a knight arrayed in sad-coloured armour, with a very
wrathful aspect and a tuck in his hand, threatening her with death in
foul and fearsome words.
This sight filled Nastagio's mind at once with terror and amazement
and after stirred him to compassion of the ill-fortuned lady,
wherefrom arose a desire to deliver her, an but he might, from such
anguish and death. Finding himself without arms, he ran to take the
branch of a tree for a club, armed wherewith, he advanced to meet the
dogs and the knight. When the latter saw this, he cried out to him
from afar off, saying, 'Nastagio, meddle not; suffer the dogs and
myself to do that which this wicked woman hath merited.' As he spoke,
the dogs, laying fast hold of the damsel by the flanks, brought her to
a stand and the knight, coming up, lighted down from his horse;
whereupon Nastagio drew near unto him and said, 'I know not who thou
mayst be, that knowest me so well; but this much I say to see that it
is a great felony for an armed knight to seek to slay a naked woman
and to set the dogs on her, as she were a wild beast; certes, I will
defend her as most I may.'
'Nastagio,' answered the knight, 'I was of one same city with thyself
and thou wast yet a little child when I, who hight Messer Guido degli
Anastagi, was yet more passionately enamoured of this woman than thou
art presently of yonder one of the Traversari and my ill fortune for
her hard-heartedness and barbarity came to such a pass that one day I
slew myself in despair with this tuck thou seest in my hand and was
doomed to eternal punishment. Nor was it long ere she, who was beyond
measure rejoiced at my death, died also and for the sin of her cruelty
and of the delight had of her in my torments (whereof she repented her
not, as one who thought not to have sinned therein, but rather to have
merited reward,) was and is on like wise condemned to the pains of
hell. Wherein no sooner was she descended than it was decreed unto her
and to me, for penance thereof,[284] that she should flee before me
and that I, who once loved her so dear, should pursue her, not as a
beloved mistress, but as a mortal enemy, and that, as often as I
overtook her, I should slay her with this tuck, wherewith I slew
myself, and ripping open her loins, tear from her body, as thou shalt
presently see, that hard and cold heart, wherein nor love nor pity
might ever avail to enter, together with the other entrails, and give
them to the dogs to eat. Nor is it a great while after ere, as God's
justice and puissance will it, she riseth up again, as she had not
been dead, and beginneth anew her woeful flight, whilst the dogs and I
again pursue her. And every Friday it betideth that I come up with her
here at this hour and wreak on her the slaughter that thou shalt see;
and think not that we rest the other days; nay, I overtake her in
other places, wherein she thought and wrought cruelly against me.
Thus, being as thou seest, from her lover grown her foe, it behoveth
me pursue her on this wise as many years as she was cruel to me
months. Wherefore leave me to carry the justice of God into effect and
seek not to oppose that which thou mayst not avail to hinder.'
[Footnote 284: _i.e._ of her sin.]
Nastagio, hearing these words, drew back, grown all adread, with not
an hair on his body but stood on end, and looking upon the wretched
damsel, began fearfully to await that which the knight should do. The
latter, having made an end of his discourse, ran, tuck in hand, as he
were a ravening dog, at the damsel, who, fallen on her knees and held
fast by the two mastiffs, cried him mercy, and smiting her with all
his might amiddleward the breast, pierced her through and through. No
sooner had she received this stroke than she fell grovelling on the
ground, still weeping and crying out; whereupon the knight, clapping
his hand to his hunting-knife, ripped open her loins and tearing forth
her heart and all that was thereabout, cast them to the two mastiffs,
who devoured them incontinent, as being sore anhungred. Nor was it
long ere, as if none of these things had been, the damsel of a sudden
rose to her feet and began to flee towards the sea, with the dogs
after her, still rending her; and in a little while they had gone so
far that Nastagio could see them no more. The latter, seeing these
things, abode a great while between pity and fear, and presently it
occurred to his mind that this might much avail him, seeing that it
befell every Friday; wherefore, marking the place, he returned to his
servants and after, whenas it seemed to him fit, he sent for sundry
of his kinsmen and friends and said to them, 'You have long urged me
leave loving this mine enemy and put an end to my expenditure, and I
am ready to do it, provided you will obtain me a favour; the which is
this, that on the coming Friday you make shift to have Messer Paolo
Traversari and his wife and daughter and all their kinswomen and what
other ladies soever it shall please you here to dinner with me. That
for which I wish this, you shall see then.' This seemed to them a
little thing enough to do, wherefore, returning to Ravenna, they in
due time invited those whom Nastagio would have to dine with him, and
albeit it was no easy matter to bring thither the young lady whom he
loved, natheless she went with the other ladies. Meanwhile, Nastagio
let make ready a magnificent banquet and caused set the tables under
the pines round about the place where he had witnessed the slaughter
of the cruel lady.
The time come, he seated the gentlemen and the ladies at table and so
ordered it that his mistress should be placed right over against the
spot where the thing should befall. Accordingly, hardly was the last
dish come when the despairful outcry of the hunted damsel began to be
heard of all, whereat each of the company marvelled and enquired what
was to do, but none could say; whereupon all started to their feet and
looking what this might be, they saw the woeful damsel and the knight
and the dogs; nor was it long ere they were all there among them.
Great was the clamor against both dogs and knight, and many rushed
forward to succour the damsel; but the knight, bespeaking them as he
had bespoken Nastagio, not only made them draw back, but filled them
all with terror and amazement. Then did he as he had done before,
whereat all the ladies that were there (and there were many present
who had been kinswomen both to the woeful damsel and to the knight and
who remembered them both of his love and of his death) wept as
piteously as if they had seen this done to themselves.
The thing carried to its end and the damsel and the knight gone, the
adventure set those who had seen it upon many and various discourses;
but of those who were the most affrighted was the cruel damsel beloved
of Nastagio, who had distinctly seen and heard the whole matter and
understood that these things concerned her more than any other who was
there, remembering her of the cruelty she had still used towards
Nastagio; wherefore herseemed she fled already before her enraged
lover and had the mastiffs at her heels. Such was the terror awakened
in her thereby that,--so this might not betide her,--no sooner did she
find an opportunity (which was afforded her that same evening) than,
turning her hatred into love, she despatched to Nastagio a trusty
chamberwoman of hers, who besought him that it should please him to go
to her, for that she was ready to do all that should be his pleasure.
He answered that this was exceeding agreeable to him, but that, so it
pleased her, he desired to have his pleasure of her with honour, to
wit, by taking her to wife. The damsel, who knew that it rested with
none other than herself that she had not been his wife, made answer to
him that it liked her well; then, playing the messenger herself, she
told her father and mother that she was content to be Nastagio's
wife, whereat they were mightily rejoiced, and he, espousing her on
the ensuing Sunday and celebrating his nuptials, lived with her long
and happily. Nor was this affright the cause of that good only; nay,
all the ladies of Ravenna became so fearful by reason thereof, that
ever after they were much more amenable than they had before been to
the desires of the men."
THE NINTH STORY
[Day the Fifth]
FEDERIGO DEGLI ALBERIGHI LOVETH AND IS NOT LOVED. HE WASTETH
HIS SUBSTANCE IN PRODIGAL HOSPITALITY TILL THERE IS LEFT HIM