Monday 11 March 2024

Portfolio

     Ramón Guimerá Lorente, Moncho de Beceite, Beseit


kweichow moutai (licor chino)










Dante Alighieri (varios idiomas)
















Friday 20 August 2021

10-10, marquis of Saluzzo, Griselda

NOVEL X. 

The marquis of Saluzzo, having been prevailed upon by his subjects to marry, in order to please himself in the affair, made choice of a countryman's daughter, oy whom he had two children, which he pretended to put to death. Afterwards, seeming as though he was weary of her, and had taken another, he had his own daughter brought home, as if he had espoused her, whilst his wife was sent away in a most distressed condition. At length, being convinced of her patience, he brought her home again, presented her children to her, who were now of considerable years, and ever afterwards loved and honoured her as his lady.


The marquis of Saluzzo, having been prevailed upon by his subjects to marry, in order to please himself in the affair, made choice of a countryman's daughter, oy whom he had two children, which he pretended to put to death. Afterwards, seeming as though he was weary of her, and had taken another, he had his own daughter brought home, as if he had espoused her, whilst his wife was sent away in a most distressed condition. At length, being convinced of her patience, he brought her home again, presented her children to her, who were now of considerable years, and ever afterwards loved and honoured her as his lady. 

The marquis of Saluzzo, having been prevailed upon by his subjects to marry, in order to please himself in the affair, made choice of a countryman's daughter, oy whom he had two children, which he pretended to put to death. Afterwards, seeming as though he was weary of her, and had taken another, he had his own daughter brought home, as if he had espoused her, whilst his wife was sent away in a most distressed condition. At length, being convinced of her patience, he brought her home again, presented her children to her, who were now of considerable years, and ever afterwards loved and honoured her as his lady.


The king's long novel being concluded, which had all the appearance of pleasing, Dioneo, as the only person left to speak, began in this manner: - We seem today, most gracious ladies, to have had only to do with kings, soldans, and such-like people; therefore, that I may not be left too far behind, I intend to speak of a marquis, not with regard to anything noble and great, but rather monstrously vile and brutish, although it ended well at last: which, notwithstanding the event, I would yet advise nobody to imitate. 

It is a long time ago, that, among the marquises of Saluzzo, the principal or head of the family was a youth, called Gualtieri, who, as he was a bachelor, spent his whole time in hawking and hunting, without any thought of ever being encumbered with a wife and children; in which respect, no doubt, he was very wise. But this being disagreeable to his subjects, they often pressed him to marry, to the end that he might neither die without an heir, nor they be left without a lord; offering themselves to provide such a lady for him, and of such a family, that they should have great hopes from her, and he reason enough to be satisfied. "Worthy friends," he replied, "you urge me to do a thing which I was fully resolved against, considering what a difficult matter it is to find a person of a suitable temper, with the great abundance everywhere of such as are otherwise, and how miserable also the man's life must be who is tied to a disagreeable woman. As to your getting at a woman's temper from her family, and so choosing one to please me, that seems quite a ridiculous fancy; for, besides the uncertainty with regard to their true fathers, how many daughters do we see resembling neither father nor mother? Nevertheless, as you are so fond of having me noosed, I will to be so. Therefore, that I may have nobody to blame but myself, should it happen amiss, I will make my own choice; and I protest, let me marry whom I will, that, unless you show her the respect that is due to her as my lady, you shall know, to your cost, how grievous it is to me to have taken a wife at your request, contrary to my own inclination.” The honest men replied, that they were well satisfied, provided he would but make the trial.

Now the marquis had taken a fancy, some time before, to the behaviour of a poor country girl, who lived in a village not far from his palace, and thinking that she might live comfortably enough with her, he determined, without seeking any farther, to marry her. Accordingly, he sent for her father, who was a very poor man, and acquainted him with it. Afterwards, he summoned all his subjects together, and said to them, “Gentlemen, it was and is your desire that I take a wife: I do it rather to please you, than out of any liking I have to matrimony. You know that you promised me to be satisfied, and to pay her due honour, whoever she is that I shall make choice of. The time is now come when I shall fulfil my promise to you, and I expect you to do the like to me: I have found a young woman in the neighbourhood after my own heart, whom I intend to espouse, and bring home in a very few days. Let it be your care, then, to do honour to my nuptials, and to respect her as your sovereign lady; so that I may be satisfied with the performance of your promise, even as you are with that of mine.” The people all declared themselves pleased, and promised to regard her in all things as their mistress. Afterwards they made preparations for a most noble feast, and the like did the prince, inviting all his relations, and the great lords in all parts and provinces about him: he had also most rich and costly robes made, shaped by a person that seemed to be of the same size with his intended spouse; and provided a girdle, ring, and fine coronet, with everything requisite for a bride. And when the day appointed was come, about the third hour he mounted his horse, attended by all his friends and vassals; and having everything in readiness, he said, “My lords and gentlemen, it is now time to go for my new spouse.”

So on they rode to the village, and when he was come near the father's house, he saw her carrying some water from the well, in great  haste, to go afterwards with some of her acquaintance to see the new marchioness; when he called her by her name, which was Griselda, and inquired where her father was. She modestly replied, “My gracious lord, he is in the house.” He then alighted from his horse, commanding them all to wait for him, and went alone into the cottage, where he found the father, who was called Giannucolo, and said to him, “Honest man, I am come to espouse thy daughter, but would first ask her some questions before thee.” He then inquired whether she would make it her study to please him, and not be uneasy at any time, whatever he should do or say; and whether she would always be obedient; with more to that purpose. To which she answered, “Yes.” He then led her out by the hand, and made her strip before them all; and ordering the rich apparel to be brought which he had provided, he had her clothed completely, and a coronet set upon her head, all disordered as her hair was; after which, every one being in amaze, he said, “Behold, this is the person whom I intend for my wife, provided she will accept of me for her husband.” Then, turning towards her, who stood quite abashed, “Will you,” said he, “have me for your husband?” She replied, “Yes, if it so please your lordship.” - “Well,” he replied, “and I take you for my wife.” So he espoused her in that public manner, and mounting her on a palfrey, conducted her honourably to his palace, celebrating the nuptials with as much pomp and grandeur as though he had been married to the daughter of the king of France; and the young bride showed apparently, that with her garments she had changed both her mind and behaviour. She had a most agreeable person, and was so amiable, and so good-natured withal, that she seemed rather a lord's daughter than a poor shepherd's; at which every one that knew her before was greatly surprised. She was so obedient also to her husband, and so obliging in all respects, that he thought himself the happiest man in the world; and to her subjects likewise so gracious and condescending, that they all honoured and loved her as their own lives, praying for her health and prosperity, and declaring contrary to their former opinion, that Gualtieri was the most prudent and sharp-sighted prince in the whole world; for that no one could have discerned such virtues under a mean habit, and a country disguise, but himself. In a very short time, her discreet behaviour and good works were the common subject of discourse, not in that country only, but everywhere else; and what had been objected to the prince with regard to his marrying her, now took a contrary turn. They had not lived long together, before she proved with child, and at length brought forth a daughter, for which he made great rejoicings.

But soon afterwards a new fancy came into his head, and that was to make trial of her patience by long and intolerable sufferings: so he began with harsh words, and an appearance of great uneasiness; telling her that his subjects were greatly displeased with her for her mean parentage, especially as they saw she bore children; and that they did nothing but murmur at the daughter already born. Which, when she heard, without changing countenance, or her resolution, in any respect, she replied, “My lord, pray dispose of me as you think most for your honour and happiness: I shall entirely acquiesce, knowing myself to be meaner than the meanest of the people, and that I was altogether unworthy of that dignity to which your favour was pleased to advance me.” This was very agreeable to the prince, seeing that she was no way elevated with the honour he had conferred upon her. Afterwards, having often told her, in general terms, that his subjects could not bear with the daughter that was born of her, he sent one of his servants, whom he had instructed what to do, who, with a very sorrowful countenance, said to her, “Madam, I must either lose my own life, or obey my lord's commands: now he has ordered me to take your daughter, and -“ without saying anything more. She, hearing these words, and noting the fellow's looks, remembering also what she had heard before from her lord, concluded that he had orders to destroy the child. So she took it out of the cradle, kissed it, and gave it her blessing; when, without changing countenance, though her heart throbbed with maternal affection, she tenderly laid it in the servant's arms, and said, “Take it, and do what thy lord and mine has commanded; but, prithee, leave it not to be devoured by the fowls or wild beasts, unless that be his will.” Taking the child, he acquainted the prince with what she said, who was greatly surprised at her constancy; and he sent the same person with it to a relation at Bologna, desiring her, without revealing whose child it was, to see it carefully brought up and educated. Afterwards the lady became with child a second time, and was delivered of a son, at which he was extremely pleased.

But, not satisfied with that he had already done, he began to grieve and persecute her still more; saying one day to her, seemingly much out of temper, “Since thou hast brought me this son, I am able to live no longer with my people; for they mutiny to that degree, that a poor shepherd's grandson is to succeed, and be their lord after me, that, unless I would run the risk of being driven out of my dominions, I must needs dispose of this child as I did the other; and then send thee away, in order to take a wife more suitable to me.” She heard this with a great deal of resignation, making only this reply: “My lord, study only your own ease and happiness, without the least care for me; for nothing is agreeable to me, but what is pleasing to yourself.” Not many days after, he sent for the son in the same manner as he had done for the daughter; and seeming also as if he had procured him to be destroyed, had him conveyed to Bologna, to be taken care of with the daughter. This she bore with the same resolution as before, at which the prince wondered greatly, declaring to himself, that no other woman was capable of doing the like. And, were it not that he had observed her extremely fond of her children, whilst that was agreeable to him, he should have thought it want of affection in her; but he saw it was only her entire obedience and condescension. The people, imagining that the children were both put to death, blamed him to the last degree, thinking him the most cruel and worst of men, and showing great compassion for the lady; who, whenever she was in company with the ladies of her acquaintance, and they condoled with her for her loss, would only say, “It was not my will, but his who begot them.”

But more years being now passed, and he resolving to make the last trial of her patience, declared, before many people, that he could no longer bear to keep Griselda as his wife, owning that he had done very foolishly, and like a young man, in marrying her, and that he meant to solicit the pope for a dispensation to take another, and send her away: for which he was much blamed by many worthy persons; but he said nothing in return, only that it should be so. She, hearing this, and expecting to go home to her father's, and possibly tend the cattle as she had done before; whilst she saw some other lady possessed of him, whom she dearly loved and honoured, was perhaps secretly grieved; but as she had withstood other strokes of fortune, so she determined resolutely to do now. Soon afterwards, Gualtieri had counterfeit letters come to him, as from Rome, acquainting all his people that his holiness thereby dispensed with this marrying another and turning away Griselda. He then had her brought before them, and said, “Woman, by the pope's leave I may dispose of thee, and take another wife. As my ancestors, then, have been all sovereign princes of this country, and thine only peasants, I intend to keep thee no longer, but to send thee back to thy father's cottage, with the same portion which thou broughtest me, and afterwards to make choice of one more suitable in quality to myself.” It was with the utmost difficulty she could now refrain from tears; and she replied, “My lord, I was always sensible that my servile condition would in no way accord with your high rank and descent. For what I have been, I own myself indebted to Providence and you; I consider it as a favour lent me: you are now pleased to demand it back; I therefore willingly restore it. Behold the ring with which you espoused me; I deliver it to you. You bid me take the dowry back which I brought you; you will have no need for a teller to count it, nor I for a purse to put it in, much less a sumpter-horse to carry it away; for I have not forgotten that you took me naked; and if you think it decent to expose that body, which has borne you two children, in that manner, I am contented; but I would entreat you, as a recompense for my virginity, which I brought you, and do not carry away, that you would please to let me have one shift over and above my dowry.” He, though ready to weep, yet put on a sterr countenance, and said, “Thou shalt have one only then.” And, notwithstanding the people all desired that she might have an old gown, to keep her body from shame, who had been his wife thirteen years and upwards, yet it was all in vain; so she left his palace in that manner, and returned weeping to her father's to the great grief of all who saw her. The poor man, never supposing that the prince would keep her long as his wife, and expecting this thing to happen every day, had safely laid up the garments of which she had been despoiled the day he espoused her. He now brought them to her, and she put them on, and went as usual about her father's little household affairs, bearing this fierce trial of adverse fortune with the greatest courage imaginable. The prince then gave it out that he was to espouse a daughter of one of the counts of Panago; and, seeming as if he made great preparations for his nuptials, he sent for Griselda to come to hom, and said to her, “I am going to bring this lady home whom I have just married, and intend to show her all possible respect at her first coming: thou knowest that I have no women with me able to set out the rooms, and do many other things which are requisite on so solemn an occasion. As, therefore, thou art best acquainted with the state of the house, I would have thee make such provisions as thou shalt judge proper, and invite what ladies thou wilt, even as though thou wert mistress of the house, and when the marriage is ended, get thee home to thy father's again. Though these words pierced like daggers to the heart of Griselda, who was unable to part with her love for the prince so easily as she had done her great fortune; yet she replied, “My lord, I am ready to fulfil all your commands.” She then went in her coarse attire into the palace, whence she had but just before departed in her shift, and with her own hands did she begin to sweep, and set all the rooms to rights, cleaning the stools and benches in the hall like the meanest servant, and directing what was to be done in the kitchen, never giving over till everything was in order, and as it ought to be. After this was done, she invited, in the prince's name, all the ladies in the country to come to the feast. And on the day appointed for the marriage, meanly clad as she was, she received them in the most genteel and cheerful manner imaginable.

Now Gualtieri, who had his children carefully brought up at Bologna (the girl being about twelve years old, and one of the prettiest creatures that ever was seen, and the boy six), had sent to his kinswoman there, to desire she would bring them, with an honourable retinue, to Saluzzo; giving it out all the way she came, that she was bringing the young lady to be married to him, without letting any one know to the contrary. Accordingly they all three set forwards, attended by a goodly train of gentry, and, after some days travelling, reached Saluzzo about dinner-time, when they found the whole country assembled, waiting to see their new lady. The young lady was most graciously received by all the women present, and being come into the hall where the tables were all covered, Griselda, meanly dressed as she was, went cheerfully to meet her, saying, “Your ladyship is most kindly welcome.” The ladies, who had greatly importuned the prince, though to no purpose, to let Griselda be in a room by herself, or else that she might have some of her own clothes, and not appear before strangers in that manner, were now seated, and going to be served round, whilst the young lady was universally admired, and every one said that the prince had made a good change; but Griselda, in particular, highly commended both her and her brother. The marquis now thinking that he had seen enough with regard to his wife's patience, and perceiving that in all her trials she was still the same, being persuaded, likewise, that this proceeded from no want of understanding in her, because he knew her to be singularly prudent, he thought it time to take her from that anguish which he supposed she might conceal under her firm and constant deportment. So, making her come before all the company, he said, with a smile, “What thinkest thou, Griselda, of my bride?” - “My lord,” she replied, “I like her extremely well; and if she be as prudent as she is fair, you may be the happiest man in the world with her: but I most humbly beg that you would not take those heart-breaking measures with this lady as you did with your last wife, because she is young, and has been tenderly educated, whereas the other was inured to hardships from a child.”

Gualtieri perceiving that though Griselda thought that person was to be his wife, that she nevertheless answered him with great humility and sweetness of temper, he made her sit down by him, and said, “Griselda, it is now time for you to reap the fruit of your long patience, and that they who have reputed me to be cruel, unjust, and a monster in nature, may know that what I have done has been all along with a view to teach you how to behave as a wife; to show them how to choose and keep a wife; and, lastly, to secure my own ease and quiet as long as we live together, which I was apprehensive might have been endangered by my marrying. Therefore, I had a mind to prove you by harsh and injurious treatment; and not being sensible that you have ever transgressed my will, either in word or deed, I now seem to have met with that happiness I desired. I intend, then, to restore in one hour what I had taken away from you in many, and to make you the sweetest recompense for the many bitter pangs I have caused you to suffer. Accept, therefore, this young lady, whom you thought my spouse, and her brother, as your children and mine. They are the same whom you and many others believed that I had been the means of cruelly murdering: and I am your husband, who love and value you above all things; assuring myself, that no person in the world can be happier in a wife that I am.” With this he embraced her most affectionately, when, rising up together (she weeping for joy), they went where their daughter was sitting, quite astonished with these things, and tenderly saluted both her and her brother, undeceiving them and the whole company. At this the women all arose, overjoyed, from the tables, and taking Griselda into the chamber, they clothed her with her own noble apparel, and as a marchioness, resembling such an one even in rags, and brought her into the hall. And being extremely rejoiced with her son and daughter, and every one expressing the utmost satisfaction at what had come to pass, the feasting was prolonged many days. The marquis was judged a very wise man, though abundantly too severe, and the trial of this lady most intolerable; but as for Griselda, she was beyond compare. In a few days the Count da Pagano returned to Bologna, and the marquis took Giannucolo from his drudgery, and maintained him as his father-in-law, and so he lived very comfortably to a good old age. Gualtieri afterwards married his daughter to one of equal nobility, continuing the rest of his life with Griselda, and showing her all the respect and honour that was possible. What can we say then, but that divine spirits may descend from heaven into the meanest cottages; whilst royal palaces shall produce such as seem rather adapted to have the care of hogs, than the government of men? Who but Griselda could, not only without a tear, but even with seeming satisfaction, undergo the most rigid and unheard-of trials by her husband? Many women there are, who, if turned out of doors naked in that manner, would have procured themselves fine clothes, adorning at once their persons and their husband's brows. 

[The original of this tale was at one time believed to have been an old MS. Entitled “Le Parement des Dames”. This was first asserted by Duchat, in his notes on Rabelais. It was afterwards mentioned by Le Grand and Manni, and through them by the Abbé de Sade and Gallaud (“Discours sur quelques anciens Poètes”); but Tyrwhitt informs us, that Oliver de la Marche, the author of the “Parement des Dames,” was not born for many years after the composition of the “Decameron,” so that some other original must be sought. Noguier in his “Histoire de Thoulouse,” asserts that the patient heroine of the tale actually existed in 1103. In the “Annales d'Aquitaine,” she is said to have flourished in 1025. That there was such a person is positively asserted by Foresti de Beigamo, in his “Chronicle,” though he does not fix the period at which she lived. The probability, therefore, is that Boccaccio's novel, as well as the “Parement des Dames,” has been founded on some real or traditional incident; a conjecture which is confirmed by the letter of Petrarch to Boccaccio, written after a perusal of the “Decameron,” in which he says he had heard the story of Griselda related many years before.

From whatever source derived, “Griselda” appears to have been the most popular of all the stories of the “Decameron.” In the fourteenth century, the prose translations of it in French were very numerous; Le Grand mentions that he had seen upwards of twenty, under the different names, “Miroir des Dames,” (NE: L'espill, Jaume Roig, llibre de les dones, XV century, llengua valenciana) “Exemples de bonnes et mauvaises Femmes.” etc. Petrarch, who had not seen the “Decameron” till a short time before his death (which shows that Boccaccio was ashamed of the work), read it with much admiration, as appears from his letter, and translated it into Latin, in 1373. Chaucer, who borrowed the story from Petrarch, assigns it to the Clerk of Oxenforde, in his “Canterbury Tales.” The clerk declares in his prologue that he learned it from Petrarch at Padua; and if we may believe Warton, Chaucer, when in Italy, actually heard the story related by Petrarch, who, before translating it into Latin, had got it by heart, in order to repeat it ti his friends. The tale became so popular in France, that the comedians of Paris represented, in 1393, a Mystery, in French verse, entitled “Le Mystère de Griseldi.” There is also an English drama, named “Patient Grissel,” entered in Stationer's Hall, 1599. One of Goldoni's plays, in which the tyrant husband is king of Thessaly, is also formed on the subject of “Griselda.” In a novel by Luigi Alamanni, a count of Barcelona subjects his wife to a similar trial of patience with that which Griselda experienced. He proceeds, however, so far as to force her to commit dishonorable actions at his command. The experiment, too, is not intended as a test of his wife's obedience, but as a revenge, on account of her once having refused him as a husband.

The story of Boccaccio seems hardly deserving of so much popularity and imitation. 

“An English reader,” says Ellis, in his notes to Way's Fabliaux,” is naturally led to compare it with our national ballad, the “Nut Brown Maid” (the “Henry and Emma” of Prior), because both compositions were intended to describe a perfect female character, exposed to severest trials, submitting, without a murmur, to unmerited cruelty, disarming a tormenter by gentleness and patience; and finally recompensed for her virtues by transports rendered more exquisite by her sufferings.” The author then proceeds to show that although the intention be the same, the conduct of the ballad is superior to that of the novel. “In the former, the cruel scrutiny of the feelings is suggested by the jealousy of a lover, anxious to explore the whole extent of his empire over the heart of a mistress; his doubts are perhaps natural, and he is only culpable because he consents to purchase the assurance of his own happiness at the expense of the temporary anguish and apparent degradation of the object of his affections. But she is prepared for the exertion of her firmness by slow degrees; she is strengthened by passion, by the consciousness of the desperate step she had already taken, and by the conviction that every sacrifice was tolerable which ensured her claim to the gratitude of her lover, and was paid as the price of his happiness; her trial is short, and her recompense is permanent. For his doubts and jealousy she perhaps found an excuse in her own heart; and in the moment of her final exultation and triumph in the consciousness of her own excellence, and the prospect of unclouded security, she might easily forgive her lover for having evinced that the idol of his heart was fully deserving of his adoration. Gualtieri, on the contrary, is neither blinded by love nor tormented by jealousy: he merely wishes to gratify a childish curiosity, by discovering how far conjugal obedience can be carried; and the recompense of unexampled patience is a mere permission to wear a coronet without further molestation. Nor, as in the ballad, is security by a momentary uneasiness, but by long years of suffering. It may be doubted whether the emotions to which the story of Boccaccio gives rise are at all different from those which would be excited by an execution on the rack. The spirit, too, of resignation, depends much on its motive; and the cause of morality is not greatly promoted by bestowing on a passive submission to capricious tyranny the commendation which is only due to a humble acquiescence in the just dispensations of Providence.”]


Dioneo's novel, which was now concluded, was much canvassed by the whole company, this blaming one thing, and that commending another, according to their respective fancies; when the king, seeing the sun was now far in the west, and that the evening drew on apace, said, without rising from his seat, “I suppose you all know, ladies, that a person's sense and understanding consist, not only in remembering things past, or knowing the present but that to be able, by both these means, to foresee what is to come, is, by the more knowing part of mankind, judged the greatest proof of wisdom. Tomorrow, you are aware, it will have been fifteen days since we, by way of amusement, and for the preservation of our lives, came out of Florence, avoiding all those cares and melancholy reflections which continually haunted us in the city, since the beginning of that fatal pestilence. And, in my opinion, we have done honestly and well. For, though some light things have been talked of, and a loose given to all sorts of innocent mirth, yet am I not conscious of anything blame-worthy that has passed among us; but everything has been decent, everything harmonious, and such as might well beseem the community of brothers and sisters. Lest, therefore, something should happen, which might give us uneasiness, and make people put a bad construction upon our being so long together, now all have had their days, and their shares of honour, which at present rests in me, I hold it most advisable for us to return from whence we came. Besides, as people know of our being together, our company may probably increase, which would make it entirely disagreeable. If you approve of it, then, I will keep the power till tomorrow that we depart; but if you resolve otherwise, I have a person in my eye to succeed me”. This occasioned great debates, but at last it was thought safest and best to comply with the king's advice. He consequently called the master of the household, and after giving proper directions for the next morning, dismissed them all till supper-time. They now betook themselves, as usual, some to one thing and some to another, for their amusement; and, when the hour came, supped very agreeably together, after which they began their music; and whilst Lauretta led up a dance, the king ordered Fiametta to sing a song, which she did in a pretty, easy manner, as follows: -

SONG.

CHORUS.


Did love no jealous cares infest,

No nymph on earth would be so blest.


If sprightliness, and blooming youth,

An easy and polite address,

Strict honour, and regard for truth,

Are charms which may command success; 

Then sure you will my choice approve,

For these all centre in my love.

Did love, etc.


But when I see that arts are tried,

By nymphs as fair and wise as I,

A thousand fears ma heart betide,

Lest they should rob me of my joy;

Thus that for which I triumph'd so,

Becomes the cause of all my woe.

Did love, etc.


Would he prove firm to my desire,

No more I should myself perplex:

But virtues like to his inspire

The same regard in all our sex:

This makes me dread what nymph be nigh,

And watch each motion of his eye.

Did love, etc.


Hence, then, ye damsels, I implore,

As you regard what's just and fit,

That you, by am'rous wiles, no more

This outrage on my love commit:

For know, whilst thus you make me grieve,

You shall repent the pain you give.


Did love no jealous cares infest,

No nymph on earth would be so blest.


As soon as Fiammetta had finished her song, Dioneo, who sat close to her, laughed and said, “Madam, it would be kind to let the ladies know whom you mean, for fear some other should take possession out of ignorance, and you have cause to be offended.” 

The song was followed by many others, and, it now drawing near midnight, they all went, at the king's command, to repose themselves. By break of day they arose, and, the master of the household having sent away their carriages, returned, under the conduct of their discreet king, to Florence, when the three gentlemen left the seven ladies in new St. Mary's church, where they first met, going from thence where it was most agreeable to themselves; and the ladies, when they thought fit, repaired to their several houses.

THE END. 

10-9, Saladin, Signor Torello

NOVEL IX. 

Saladin, disguising himself like a merchant, is generously entertained by Signor Torello, who, going upon an expedition to the Holy Land, allowed his wife a certain time to marry again. In the meantime he is taken prisoner, and being employed to look after the hawks, is recognised by the Soldan, who shows him great respect. Afterwards Torello falls sick, and is conveyed by magic art, in one night, to Pavia, at the very time that his wife was to have been married; when he makes himself known to her, and returns with her home. 

Saladin, disguising himself like a merchant, is generously entertained by Signor Torello, who, going upon an expedition to the Holy Land, allowed his wife a certain time to marry again. In the meantime he is taken prisoner, and being employed to look after the hawks, is recognised by the Soldan, who shows him great respect. Afterwards Torello falls sick, and is conveyed by magic art, in one night, to Pavia, at the very time that his wife was to have been married; when he makes himself known to her, and returns with her home.


Filomena had now concluded her story, and Titus's gratitude having been much applauded, the king tegan in this manner: - Most certainly, ladies, Filomena is in the right as to what she has said upon friendship; and it was with reason she complained, last of all, of its being in such little esteem with mankind: and, had we met here to correct or reprove the vices of the age, I could proceed in a fluent harangue to the same purpose; but, as that is foreign to our design, I intend to relate, in a long but pleasant novel, one of the many generous actions of Saladin; to the end, that if, through our imperfections, we cannot attain the friendship of any one, we should yet make it a pleasure to oblige, in hopes that a reward may ensue some time or other. 

I say, therefore, that in the reign of the Emperor Frederick the First, a general crusade was undertaken by all the Christian princes for the recovery of the Holy Land: which design of theirs coming first to the ears of Saladin, a most renowned prince, then soldan of Babylon, he resolved to go in person to see what preparations were making against him, in order to provide the better for his own defence. So, settling all his affairs in Egypt, and taking with him two of his most sage and principal nobles, and three servants only, he set forwards in the habit of a merchant, as if he was going on a pilgrimage. After travelling over many Christian countries, and riding through Lombardy, in order to pass the mountains, it happened, towards the evening, that, between Pavia and Milan, he met with a gentleman, named Torello d'Istria, who was going with his hawks, hounds, and servants to a country-house that he had on the river Tesino. 

Torello, upon seeing them, supposed that they were strangers of some quality, and as such was desirous of showing them respect. Saladin, therefore, having asked one of the servants how far it was to Pavia, and if they could get there time enough to be admitted. Torello would not let the servant reply, but answered himself, "Gentlemen, it is impossible for you to reach Pavia now before the gates are shut." 

- "Then," quoth Saladin, "please to inform us, as we are strangers, where we may meet with the best entertainment." Torello replied, "That I will do with all my heart; I was just going to send one of my fellows to a place near Pavia, upon some particular business; he shall go with you, and bring you to a place where you will be accommodated well enough." So, taking one of the most discreet of his men aside, and having told him what he should do, he sent him along with them, whilst he made the best of his way to his own house, where he had as elegant a supper provided for them as was possible within so short a time, and the tables all spread in the garden; and when he had done this he went to the door to wait fop his guests. The servant rode chatting along with them, leading them by round-about ways, till at last, without their suspecting it, he brought them to his master's house. As soon as Torello saw them, he advanced pleasantly, saying, "Gentlemen, you are most heartily welcome.” Saladin, who was a very shrewd person, perceived that the knight was doubtful whether they would have accepted his invitation had he asked them to go with him home, and that he had contrived this stratagem not to be denied the pleasure of entertaining them. So he returned his compliment, and said, "If it was possible for one person to complain of another's courtesy, we should have cause to blame yours, which, not to mention the hinderance of our journey, compelled us, without deserving your notice otherwise than by a casual salutation, to accept of such great favours as these." Torello, being both wise and eloquent, replied, "Gentlemen, it is but poor respect you receive from me, compared to what you deserve, so far as I can judge by your countenances; but, in truth, there was no convenient place out of Pavia that you could possibly lie at; then pray take it not amiss that you have stepped a little out of your way to be something less incommoded." As he said this, the servants were all at hand to take their horses; so they alighted, and were shown into rooms prepared for them, where they had their boots pulled off, were refreshed with a glass of wine, and fell into an agreeable discourse together afterwards till supper-time. 

Now Saladin and his people all spoke Latin extremely well, so that they were easily understood by each other, and Torello seemed, in their judgment, to be the most gracious, accomplished gentleman, and one that talked the best of any they had ever met with. On the other hand, Torello also judged them to be people of great rank and figure, and much beyond what he at first apprehended; for which reason he was extremely concerned that he could not then have an entertainment and guests suitable. But for this he resolved to make amends the following day; and having instructed one of his servants what he would have done, he sent to Pavia, which was near at hand, and by a way where no gate was locked, to his wife, who was a lady of great sense and magnanimity. Afterwards, taking his guests into the garden, he courteously demanded of them who they were. Saladin replied, "We are merchants from Cyprus, and are going upon our affairs to Paris." - "Would to heaven, then," said Torello, "that our country produced such gentry as I see Cyprus does merchants!" So they fell from one discourse to another till the hour for supping, when they seated themselves just as they pleased, and a supper, entirely unexpected, was served up with great elegance and order. In some little time, after the tables were removed, Torello, supposing they might be weary, had them conducted to their chambers, where most sumptuous beds were prepared for them, and he in like manner went to take his rest. 

The servant that was sent to Pavia delivered his message to the lady, who, not with a feminine disposition, but a soul truly loyal, got together great numbers of the friends and servants of Torello, and had everything provided to make a feast indeed, sending through the city by torchlight, to invite most of the nobility, and setting forth all the rooms with rich furniture of cloth of gold, fine tapestry, velvets, etc., according to his directions. In the morning the gentlemen arose, and mounted their horses, along with Torello, who ordered out his hawks, and carried them to a neighbouring lake, where he showed them two or three fair flights; but Saladin requesting somebody to direct him to the best inn in Pavia, Torello said, "That I will do, because I have business there. So they were satisfied, and rode on along with him, arriving there about the third hour of the day. And whilst they supposed that he would carry them to thè best inn, he brought them directly to his own house, where were about fifty of the principal persons of the city ready to receive them. Saladin and his friends perceiving this, readily guessed how the matter was, and they said, "sir, this is not what we desired; you did enough for us last night, and more than we could have wished; you might now, therefore, very well let us pursue our journey." He made answer, "Gentlemen, last night I was obliged to fortune, which surprised you upon the road in such manner that you were necessitated to take up with my little mansion; but now I shall be indebted to you, and these noble persons all around equally with me, if, out of your great courtesy, you will not refuse the favour of dining with me," Thus they were prevailed upon, and they alighted from their horses, when they were welcomed by the company with great joy and respect, and conducted into several apartments most richly set for their reception, where laying aside their riding-dresses, and taking some refreshment, they then made their appearance in the grand hall. After washing their hands they sat down all in order, when such a prodigious entertainment was served up, that if the emperor himself had been present, he could not have been more sumptuously regaled. Even Saladin himself, and his friends, who were people of figure, and accustomed to everything of grandeur, could not help being astonished, having regard to the rank of the person whom they knew to be only a private gentleman. When dinner was over, and they had discoursed a little together, the Pavian gentry all withdrew to repose themselves, the weather being extremely hot; and Torello, being left with his three guests, showed them into a drawing-room, where, that nothing which he valued might be left unseen by them, he sent for his lady. She, therefore, being a person of extraordinary beauty, and most sumptuously attired, was speedily introduced between her two little sons, who seemed like angels, when she very modestly and genteelly saluted them. At her coming, they arose, and received her with great deference and respect, seating her down by them, and taking great notice of the children. In a little time, after some discourse together, when Torello was gone out of the room, she, in a modest and graceful manner, began to inquire of them whence they came, and whither they were going. To which they returned the same answer they had given to Torello. "Then," said she, very pleasantly "I see, gentlemen, that my poor design may be acceptable; I beg, then, as a particular favour, that you will not think lightly of a very small present which I mean to offer you; but considering that women give little things, according to their slender abilities, that you will accept it, more out of respect to the good intention of the donor, than the real value of the present. So she ordered two robes to be brought for each, the one lined with taffeta, and the other with fur, not so much becoming a citizen or a merchant as a great lord; and three doublets of sarsnet, with the same of linen, saying, "Gentlemen, pray accept of these things: I clothe you as I do my husband: and, for the rest, considering that you are a great way from your wives, that you have come a long journey, and have far yet to go, they may be of service though of small value, especially as you merchants love always to be genteel and neat." They were greatly surprised, seeing plainly that Signor Torello would allow no part of his respect to be wanting, doubting likewise, when they came to see the richness of the presents, whether they were not discovered. At length one of them said, "Madam, these are very great things, and such as we ought not to accept, unless you force them upon us; in which case we must comply." Her husband now returned, when she took her leave, and went and made suitable presents to their servants. 

Torello, with much entreaty, prevailed upon the strangers to stay there all that day: therefore, after taking a little sleep, they put on those robes, and took a ride with him round the city, and at their return were nobly entertained with a great deal of good company at supper. At due time they went to bed, and when they arose in the morning, instead of their wearied steeds, they found three strong, handsome, fresh ones, with new serviceable horses also for their servants; which when Saladin saw, he turned to his friends, and said, "I vow to Heaven, a more complete, courteous, or a more understanding gentleman, I never met with anywhere; and if the Christian kings be in their degree like to him, the soldan of Babylon would never be able to stand against one, much less so many as are now preparing to invade us." Knowing well that it would be in vain to refuse the horses, after returning all due thanks, he and his attendants mounted, and Torello, with a great number of his friends, went with them a considerable distance from the city: and, though Saladin was grieved to separate from Torello, such was the regard he had conceived for him, yet, being constrained to depart, he begged he would return. He, yet loath to leave them, replied, "Gentlemen, I will dp so, as it is your desire; but this I must tell you, I know not who you are, nor do I seek to be informed any farther than you desire I should; but, be you who you may, you shall never make me believe that you are merchants, and so I commend you to Providence." - Saladin then took leave of all the company, and to Torello he said, "Sir, we may chance to show you some of our merchandise, and so convince you; but, in the meantime, fare you well." Thus Saladin departed, and his companions, with a firm resolution, in case he lived, and the approaching war did not prevent it, to show no less respect and honour to Signor Torello than he had received from him; and talking much of him, his lady, and everything that he had said and done, he commended all, to the greatest degree imaginable. At length, after Saladin had travelled over the west, not without great labour and fatigue, he embarked on board a ship for Alexandria; and being fully informed as to every particular, he prepared for a most vigorous defence. 

Signor Torello returned to Pavia, full of conjectures who these three people might be, in which, however, he was far from the truth. But the time was now drawing nigh for the march of the forces, and great preparations being made everywhere. Torello, notwithstanding the prayers and tears of his lady, resolved to go, and having everything in readiness, and being about to mount his horse, he said to her, "My dear, you see I am going upon this expedition, as well for the glory of my body as the safety of my soul: I commend my honour and everything else to your care; and, as my departure is now certain, but my return, by reason of a thousand accidents which may happen, uncertain, I request, therefore, this one favour, that, happen what will to me, if you have no certain account of my being alive, you will only wait a year, a month, and a day, without marrying again, reckoning from the day of my leaving you." The lady, who wept exceedingly, thus replied: "My dear husband, I know not how I shall be able to bear the grief in which you leave me involved for your going from me: but, if I should outlive it, and anything happen amiss to you, you may live and die assured, that I shall live and die the wife of Torello, and of his memory." He then said, "I make not the least doubt but that what you promise will be performed, as far as lies in your power; but you are young, beautiful, and well descended, and your virtues so universally known, that I am afraid, should there be the least suspicion of my death, that many great lords and noble personages would come, and demand you of your brethren and other relations, from whose most urgent solicitations you could never defend yourself, however you might be disposed, and so you would be compelled to give way. It is, then, for this reason, that I would tie you down to that time, and not for a moment longer." The lady said, "I will do all in my power with regard to ray promise; but should I ever think of acting otherwise, yet your injunction I will steadily abide by. Heaven grant, however, that I see you long before that time! "Here she embraced him, shedding abundance of tears, and taking a ring from her fìnger, gave it him, and said, "If I should chance to die before your return, remember me always when you look upon this." He received it, and, bidding every one farewell, mounted his horse and rode away, with a handsome retinue, for Genoa. 

At that port they all embarked, and soon arrived at Acre, when they joined the Christian army, which was visited by a mortal pestilence that swept away a great part of the people; and the thin remains of it were, by the dexterity or good fortune of Saladin taken prisoners almost to a man, and distributed into divers cities to be imprisoned, when it was Torello's fortune to be sent to Alexandria. There, being unknown, and fearing lest he should be discovered, he was driven by necessity to undertake the care of hawks, of which he was a great master. By that means he soon fell under the notice of Saladin, who set him at liberty, and made him his falconer. Torello, who went by no other name than that of the Christian, and neither remembered the soldan, nor the soldan him, had all his thoughts at Pavia, and was often contriving how to make his escape, though without success; but some ambassadors from Genoa being come thither to treat with the soldan about the redemption of certain of their countrymen, as they were just upon their departure, he resolved to write to his lady, to let her know he was alive and would make all possible haste home, and to pray her, therefore, to be in daily expectation of his coming; and so he did. He earnestly entreated also, one of the ambassadors, whom he knew, that he would take care those letters came to the hands of the abbot of San Pietro, who was his uncle. Whilst Torello remained in this condition, it happened one day, as Saladin was talking with him about his hawks, that he chanced to laugh, when he made a certain motion with his lips, which Saladin, when he was at his house in Pavia, had taken particular notice of. Upon this he recollected him; and looking steadfastly at him, believed he was the same person. Now leaving his former discourse, he said, "Tell me, Christian, of what country in the west art thou?" - "My lord," replied he, " I am a Lombard, and born in a city called Pavia; but am a poor man, and of no account." When Saladin heard that, he became assured of what he doubted before, saying joyfully to himself, "Providence has now given me an opportunity of showing how acceptable his generosity was to me. So, causing his wardrobe to be set open, he carried him thither, and said, "Take notice. Christian, if there is any one robe amongst these that thou hast ever seen before." Torello soon cast his eye upon that which his lady had given to Saladin, but not imagining it could be the same, he replied, "My lord, I know not one; two there are indeed, which are like what I have worn formerly, and which I gave to three merchants that were at my house." Now Saladin could refrain no longer; but taking him joyfully in his arms, he said, " You are Signor Torello d'Istria, and I am one of the three merchants to whom your lady gave these robes: and now the time is come for me to convince you what my merchandise is, as I said, at my leaving you, might possibly happen." 

Torello, at hearing these words, was overwhelmed both with joy and shame: joy, at having had such a guest; and shame, to think how indifferently he had received him. Then said Saladin, "Torello, as Providence has sent you hither, account yourself to be master, and not me. So, after great expressions of joy, he clothed him in royal apparel, and having recommended him to all his principal barons, and spoken highly in his praise, he commanded them to show him the same respect and honour as they would himself, if they expected any favour at his hands; which, accordingly, they all observed, especially the two lords who had accompanied Saladin at his house. 

The great pitch of grandeur and glory, to which Torello saw himself so suddenly advanced, had made him forgetful of his affairs in Lombardy, especially as he was in hopes that his letters had been conveyed safe to his uncle. Now there was among the Christians, on the day they were surprised by Saladin, a gentleman of small esteem, dead and buried, called Torello di Dignes; consequently, as Torello d'Istria was universally known through the whole army, on account of his nobility, whoever heard that Torello was dead, concluded it was he of Istria, and not of Dignes; and their being all taken prisoners immediately upon that event, prevented people's being undeceived; so that many Italians returned home with the news, and some were daring enough to affirm that they had seen him dead, and were present at his interment. This occasioned great grief both to his wife and his relations, as also to every one that knew him. It would be tedious to set forth the lady's trouble and affliction, who, after wearing out some months in mourning, and beginning now to be a little comforted, was much pressed by her brethren and relations to marry again, seeing she was courted by divers great lords of Lombardy. She several times, with tears, withstood their solicitations, till, being over-importuned, she consented at last, provided they would let her wait the time prescribed by Torello. 

Things proceeding thus at Pavia, and there wanting only eight days for her taking a second husband, it happened one day that Torello met with one cf the people whom he had seen go on board with the Genoese ambassadors, and inquiring of him what sort of a voyage they had, and when they arrived at Genoa, the other replied, "sir, they had a very bad one, as we understood at Crete, whither I was bound; for, as they came near to Sicily, a strong north wind arose, which drove them upon the sands of Barbary, so that every soul of them perished, and amongst the rest two of my brethren were lost." Torello gave credit to this account, which indeed was very true, and calling to mind that the limited time was near expiring, supposing likewise that no tidings had come to Pavia concerning him, he took it for granted that she would be married again, and laid it so much to heart, that he began to loathe his food, and was brought to death's door; which, when Saladin understood, who had a great affection for him, he came to visit him, and learning, after great importunity, the cause of his disorder, he reproved him for not acquainting him with it sooner, desiring him, nevertheless, to be easy, and promising that he should be at Pavia within the time, and he told him in what manner. Torello gave credit to these words, hearing that it was possible, and had been often done, and he began to take heart, and to press Saladin about it; who, therefore had recourse to a necromancer, whose skill he had made trial of, desiring he would convey Torello upon a bed to Pavia in one night's time. The necromancer promised it should be done, but said it would be more convenient for him to be thrown into a sleep. This having been concerted, Saladin returned to Torello, and found him bent upon being at Pavia, if possible, within the time, otherwise wishing to die; when he said to him, "Torello, if you have that prodigious value for your lady, and are in such concern lest she should be given away to another, heaven knows my heart, I can in no way blame you for it; because, of all the women I ever saw, her address and behaviour, setting beauty aside, which is only a fading flower, are most to be commended and esteemed. I should have been glad, as fortune has sent you hither, that what time we have to live we might have reigned together in these our kingdoms. But as I am not likely to have this favour, and you seem resolved to go to Pavia in due time, or else to die, I could greatly have wished to have known it early enough, that I might have sent you home with that state and equipage which your virtue justly requires. But as this did not happen, and you are desirous of being instantly there, I will take care you shall be conveyed in the manner I related to you." Torello then replied, "My lord, the effects, without the words, have sufficiently made manifest your generous disposition towards me, and which, in that supreme degree, is far beyond my deserts: what you say, living or dying, I shall most assuredly rely upon you. As that, then, is my desire, I beg it may be done immediately, for tomorrow is the last day of my being expected." 

This Saladin promised, and resolving to send him away the following night, he had a most beautiful and rich bed put up in his grand hall, made of fine velvet and cloth of gold, according to their custom, over which was a most curious counterpoint, wrought in certain figures, with the largest pearls and other precious stones, supposed to be of immense value, with two noble pillows, suitable to such a bed. When this was done, he ordered Torello to be clothed after the Saracen manner, with the richest and most beautiful robes that were ever seen, and a large turban folded upon his head; and it now growing late, he went with divers of his nobles to the chamber where Torello was, when, sitting down by him, he began to weep and say, "Torello, the hour is now at hand which must divide us, and as I can neither attend you myself, nor cause you to be attended, through the nature of the journey you have to go, which will not admit of it, I must, therefore, take leave of you in your chamber, for which purpose I am now come hither. First, then, I commend you to God's providence, begging you, by the love and friendship existing between us, to be mindful of me always, and, if it be possible, before we finish our lives, that you would settle your affairs in Lombardy, and come once more at least to see me, in order to make some amends for the pleasure which your hasty departure now deprives me of: and till this shall happen, do not think much to visit me by letters, asking whatever favours you please from me, being assured there is no person living whom I would so readily oblige as yourself." Torello could not refrain from tears, and answered in a few words, as well as he could for weeping, that it was impossible the favours he had received should ever be forgotten by him, and that, at a proper time, he would not fail to do what he desired. Saladin then embraced him, and saying, "God be with you! "departed out of the chamber, weeping: the nobles also took their leave, and went with Saladin into the great hall, where the bed was provided. But it now waxing late, and the necromancer desiring despatch, a physician came with a certain draught, and telling him that it was to fortify his spirits, made him drink it off, when he was immediately cast into a profound sleep. He was then, by Saladin's order, laid upon that magnificent bed, on which was set a most beautiful crown, of prodigious value, written upon in such a manner as to show that it was designed by Saladin as a present to Torello's lady. On his finger he put a ring, wherein was a carbuncle, that appeared like a flaming torch, the value of which was not to be estimated. To his side was a sword girt, with such ornaments that the like was scarcely ever seen. About his neck was a kind of solitaire not to be equalled for the value of the pearls and other precious stones, with which it was embellished. And, lastly, on each side were two great basins of gold, full of double ducats, with many strings of pearl, rings, girdles, and other things, too tedious to mention; which were laid all round him. When this was done, he kissed Torello once more, as he lay upon his bed, commanding the necromancer then to use all possible expedition. Instantly the bed, with Torello upon it, was carried away in presence of them all, leaving them in discourse about it, and set down in the church of San Pietro di Pavia, according to his own request. There, in the morning when it rung to matins, he was found fast asleep, with all these jewels and other ornaments, by the sacrist, who, coming into the church with a light in his hand, and seeing that rich bed, was frightened out of his wits, and ran out. - When the abbot and monks saw him in this confusion, they were greatly surprised, and inquired the reason, which the monk told them. "How!" quoth the abbot, "thou art no child or stranger here, to be so easily terrified: let us go and see this bugbear." They then took more lights, and went all together into the church, where they saw this wonderful rich bed, and the knight lying upon it fast asleep. And, as they stood gazing at a distance, and fearful of taking a nearer view, it happened, the virtue of the draught being gone, that Torello awoke, and heaved a deep sigh; at which the monks and abbot all cried out, "Lord have mercy upon us! "and away they ran. Torello now opened his eyes, and looking around him, saw he was where he had desired Saladin to have him conveyed, at which he was extremely satisfied; so raising himself up, and beholding the treasure he had with him, whatever Saladin's generosity seemed to him before, he now thought it greater than ever, as having had more knowledge of it. Nevertheless, without stirring from the place, seeing the monks all run away in that manner, and imagining the reason, he began to call the abbot by name, and to beg of him to entertain no doubts in the affair, for that he was Torello, his nephew. - The abbot, at hearing this, was still more afraid, as he supposed him dead many months before; till, being assured, by good and sufficient reasons, and hearing himself again called upon, he made the sign of the cross, and went to him. Then said Torello, "Father, what are you in doubt about? I am alive, God be thanked, and now returned from beyond sea." The abbot, notwithstanding he had a great beard, and was dressed after the Turkish fashion, soon remembered him; and plucking up some courage, he took him by the hand, and said, "son, you are welcome home. You need not be surprised at my fear, for there was nobody here but was fully persuaded of your death, insomuch that, I must tell you, your lady, Madam Adalieta, overpowered by the prayers and threats of her friends, is now married again, contrary to her own will, and this morning she is to go home to her new husband, and everything is prepared for solemnizing the nuptials." 

Torello now rose, and saluted the abbot and all the monks, begging of them to say nothing of his return, till he had dispatched a certain affair. Afterwards, having carried all the jewels and wealth into a place of safety, he related all that had passed to the abbot, who was extremely rejoiced. He then desired to know who that second husband was, and the abbot informed him; when he replied, "I should be glady before she knows of my return, to see how she relishes this wedding: therefore, though it be unusual for the clergy to go to such entertainments, yet, for my sake, I wish you could contrive so that we may both be there." The abbot answered, that he would with all his heart. 

When it was daylight, he sent to the bridegroom, to let him know that he and a friend would come together to his wedding. The bridegroom replied that he should be obliged to them for the favour. And when dinner-time came. Torello, in the same habit in which he had arrived, went along with the abbot to the bridegroom's house, where he was wonderfully gazed at, though known by nobody, the abbot giving out that he was going as an ambassador from the Soldan to the King of France. Torello was then seated at a table opposite to his wife, whom he beheld with great pleasure, and thought he saw uneasiness in her looks at these nuptials. She would likewise give a look sometimes towards him, not out of any remembrance she had of him, for that was quite taken away by his great beard, strange dress, and her full persuasion that he was dead. At last, when he thought it a fit time to try if she would remember him, he took the ring in his hand which she had given him at his departure, and calling one of the young men that were in waiting, he said, "Tell the bride, from me, that it is a custom in our country, when any stranger, as I may be, is at such an entertainment as this, for the bride, in token of his being welcome, to send the cup in which she herself drinks, full of wine; when, after the stranger has drunk what he pleases, and covered up the cup, the bride then pledges him with the lest." The youth delivered the message to the lady, who, thinking him to be some great personage, to let him see his company was agreeable, ordered a large golden cup, which she had before her, to be washed, and filled with wine, and to be carried to him. Torello, having put the ring into his mouth, contrived to let it fall into the cup, without any one's perceiving it; and leaving but little wine therein, he covered it up, and sent it to the lady, who received it; and, in compliance with the custom, uncovered and put it to her month, when she saw the ring; and, considering it awhile, and knowing it to be the same she had given her husband, she took it, and began to look attentively at the supposed stranger; when, calling him to mind, like a distracted person, she threw all the tables down before her, crying out, "This is my lord! This is truly Torello?" Then, running to the table where he was sitting, without having regard to anything that was upon it, she cast that down likewise, and clasped her arms about him in such a manner as if she would never sept rate from him more. At last, the company being in some confusion, though for the most part pleased with the return of so worthy a knight, Torello, after requesting silence, gave them a full account of what had befallen him to that hour; concluding that he hoped the gentleman who had married his wife, supposing he was dead, would not be offended, seeing he was alive, that he took her back again. The bridegroom, though he was not a little disappointed, replied freely, and as a friend, that no doubt he might do what he pleased with his own. She consequently gave up the ring and crown, which she had received from her new husband, and put on that ring instead, which she had taken out of the cup, and likewise the crown sent to her by Saladin; and, leaving the bridegroom's house, she went home with all nuptial pomp along with Torello, and his friends and relations, whom his loss rendered disconsolate, and all the citizens likewise, looking upon him as a miracle, went joyfully to see him, and pay him their respects. Part of the jewels Torello gave to him who had been at the expense of the marriage-feast, and part to the abbot, and to divers others; and having signified his happy arrival to Saladin, he remained from that time his friend and faithful servant, living many years afterwards with his most worthy spouse, and continuing more generous and hospitable than ever. This, then, was the end of both their afflictions, and the reward of their most cheerful and ready courtesy. - Many there are that attempt the like, who, though they have the means, do it yet with such an ill grace, as turns rather to their discredit. If, therefore, no credit ensue thence, neither they nor any one else ought to be surprised.