THE EIGHTH DAY. NOVEL I. Gulfardo, Guasparruolo

THE EIGHTH DAY. 

The rays of the rising sun began now to gild the tops of the highest mountains, and the shade of the night was withdrawn from the earth, when the queen, and all her company arose on Sunday morning; and, after taking a pleasant walk along the meadows, they went about the third hour to a neighbouring chapel, where they heard divine service. 

Returning to the house, and dining cheerfully, they afterwards began to sing and dance as usual: when leave was given to such as wished to repose themselves. After the sun had passed the meridian, they all met again by the fountain-side; and being seated, Neifile, by the queen's command, thus began; 

NOVEL I. 

Gulfardo borrows a sufi of money of Guasparruolo, in order to give it his wife for granting him a favour; he afterwards tells Guasparruolo, in her presence, that he had paid it to her, which she acknowledges to be true. 

Seeing it is my fortune to begin today with a novel, I am content to obey: and, as we have heard much of the women overreaching the men, I have a mind to tell you of a man's being too cunning for a woman: not that I mean to blame him for it, or to say that she was not rightly served. No, I rather commend him, and think she met with no more than her due. I do it also to show that the men know how to deceive us on occasion, as well as we do to impose upon them: though, to speak more properly, this cannot be called deceiving, so much as making a deserved return; for a woman ought to be virtuous and chaste, and to hold her honour as dear as her life: and though our frailty is such, that we cannot always be upon our guard, yet I think that woman ought to be burned who makes a trade of love. But where the little god takes the field, whose force you know is very great, some grains of allowance should be made, as was shown a few days since by Filostrato, in the story of Madam Philippa di Prato. 

There lived at Milan, a soldier, who was a German, and his name was Gulfardo; one of a good person, and very trusty to such as retained him in their service, as the Germans generally are; and, because he was always very punctual in his payments, he found a great many merchants ready at any time to lend him any sum, for a very small profit. Now he had placed his affections on a lady, called Ambruogia, wife to a certain rich merchant, named Guasparruolo, who was his old friend and acquaintance. Conducting this affair with such caution, that neither the husband nor any one else had the least suspicion about it, he took an opportunity one day of declaring his mind to her, when she promised to comply upon two conditions; first, that it should be kept secret; and, secondly, as she had occasion for two hundred florins of gold, that he should supply her with that sum. Gulfardo was so provoked at this sordidness, that his love was changed into rage and contempt; and he resolved, therefore, to put a trick upon her. Accordingly, he let her know that he was ready at all times to do that or anything else which she desired, and that she should send him word when she would have him wait upon her with the money, promising to bring only one friend, in whom he put entire confidence, and who was his companion upon all occasions. She was content, and gave him to understand that her husband was to set out in a few days for Genoa; and that, as soon as he was gone, she would take care to send for him. 

In the meantime, Gulfardo went to Guasparruolo, and said, “sir, I have an affair of consequence upon my hands, which requires me to raise two hundred florins of gold; if you will advance that sum, I will allow you the utmost gratuity." Guasparruolo readily agreed to it, and told him out the money. In a few days after he set out for Genoa, as foretold by the lady, who immediately sent word for Gulfardo to come, and bring the two hundred florins. Obedient to the command, he took his friend along with him, and went to her house; when the first thing he did was to give her the money before this person, saying, "Madam, you will keep this, and give it to your husband when he returns." 

Never guessing why he spoke to her in that manner, but supposing it was because he would have his friend know nothing of the matter, she replied, "I will do so; but first let me see what money there is. So she turned it out upon the table, and found there were just two hundred florins; then, locking it up with a secret satisfaction, she came and showed him into the chamber. And he continued his visits to her during her husband's absence at Genoa. 

On Guasparruolo's return, Gulfardo went again to his house, having previously ascertained that his wife was with him, and said, in her hearing, "sir, the money you were so kind as to lend me was of no service, because I could not compass the thing on account of which I borrowed it: therefore, I brought it back immediately to your wife. Please, then, to cancel my account." Guasparruolo turned to her, and inquired whether she had received the money? She, seeing the witness present, and not knowing how to deny it, said, "Yes, I received it, and forgot to tell you." - "Then," he replied, "I am satisfied: farewell, your account is clear." Gulfardo withdrew, well pleased, leaving the lady full of indignation, defeated and despised. 

[This is Chaucer's "Shipmanne's Tale, or Story of Don John;" and La Fontaine's 

"A Femme avare Galant escroc.” Gulfardo's stratagem is attributed to Captain Philip Stafford, in Johnson's "Lives of Pirates and Highwaymen." Indeed, that work is full of tricks recorded by Boccaccio, Gabadino, and Sacchetti; which shows that it is a mere invention, unless Johnson's worthies resorted to the Italian novelists for instruction.]