NOVEL III.
Pietro Boccamazza, running away with his mistress, is set upon by thieves, whilst the lady makes her escape into a forest whence she is conducted to a castle. He is taken, but escapes by some accident, and arrives at the same castle, where they are married, and return thence to Rome.
There was not one among them all that did not applaud Emilia's novel. The queen, seeing that it was ended, turned to Eliza, and desired her to go on; she readily obeyed in this manner: I have a mind to relate a most melancholy night, as it happened to two lovers; but which, being succeeded by many happy days, is conformable enough to the subject proposed.
There lived at Rome, which was once the head, though now the tail of the world, a young gentleman of a good family, named Pietro Boccamazza, who was in love with a most beautiful lady, called Angelina, daughter to one Gigliuozzi Saullo, a plebian, but one well esteemed among his fellow citizens; and she, after some time, began to have the same regard for him. Weary of languishing longer for her, Pietro demanded her in marriage, which, as soon as his parents knew, they blamed him very much, and, at the same time, gave her father to understand, that they would have him take no notice of what the young spark might say upon that head; since, should he marry her, they would never own him more. Pietro, seeing himself disappointed in that manner, was ready to die with grief, and, could he but have prevailed upon her father, he would have married her in spite of them all. At last he thought of a scheme, which, if she would agree to it, would answer his purpose, and finding by a messenger that she was willing, it was resolved between them to fly together from Rome. Having concerted measures for their departure, they set out one morning on horseback towards Alagna, where he had some friends in whom he had the greatest confidence; when, not having time to marry, and making the best of their way, for fear of being pursued, it happened, after their riding about eight miles, that they missed their road, turning to the left, when they should have kept to the right. About two miles farther, they came in sight of a little castle, whence twelve men came rushing out upon them, whom she espying, but not till they were almost upon them, cried out, "Ride, Pietro, for we are attacked." Then, clapping spurs to her horse, and holding fast by the pummel of the saddle, she galloped full speed through the forest. Pietro, whose eyes were more upon his mistress than anything else, followed her as well as he could, till unawares he fell amongst the assailants, who seized and made him dismount. They inquired his name, and being told who he was, they said one to another, "This man is a friend to our enemies; let us strip and hang him up on one of these oaks, out of spite to the Orsini family." Having agreed upon this, they ordered him to undress himself, which he complied with, expecting nothing but death; when, on a sudden, an ambuscade of twenty-five others started up behind them, crying out aloud, "Kill them every man." Upon this they left Pietro, to prepare for their own defence; but, finding themselves outnumbered, they took to their heels, and the others followed hard after them.
Pietro, in the meantime, took his clothes, and getting on horseback again, rode as fast as he could the same way that Angelina had taken; but seeing no track or footsteps of any horse, and finding himself now out of the reach, as well of those who had first taken him, as of the others by whom those persons were attacked, and not being able to make out his Angelina he was almost distracted, and went up and down the forest, calling aloud to see if she could hear, but in vain. In this painful situation, he durst not turn back, and all before him he was ignorant of; besides, he was under perpetual apprehensions for them both, on account of the wild beasts which are in those places, and fancied every moment that he saw some bear or wolf tear her to pieces. In this manner did poor Pietro traverse the forest over and over, hallooing and shouting, and frequently coming back again, when he thought he was going forwards all the time; until, what with his fatigue, and his fright and long fasting, he was quite spent. Perceiving now the night coming upon him, and not knowing what else to do, he tied his horse to an oak tree, and got up into it to secure himself from the wild beasts; whilst the moon rising soon after, and it being a fine clear night, he sat there sighing and lamenting his hard fortune all the night long, not daring to sleep for fear of falling down, or if he had been in a place more commodious his great grief and care for his mistress would not have suffered him to rest.
The young lady, in the meantime, as we before observed, was carried so far into the wood that she could not find the way out again: therefore, she went up and down full of grief for what had happened. At last, seeing nothing of Pietro, and getting into a little path, as it was now towards the evening, she followed it so long, that in about two miles it brought her in sight of a little hut, to which she rode as fast as she could, and found therein a very old man and his wife; who on seeing her, said, "Daughter, what do you in this country at this time of day?” she wept, and replied, that she had lost her company in the wood, and inquired how near she was to Alagna. The honest man made answer
- "Daughter, this is not the way; it is more than twelve miles from us." - " And how far is it," she said, "to any inn, where I may go to lodge?" - "There is none near enough for you to go to by night." - "For Heaven's sake," quoth the lady, "as I can go nowhere else, will you please to give me a lodging?" - "Daughter, you shall be very welcome; but I must acquaint you that there are companies of people, both friends and enemies, continually passing this way, who do us great injury sometimes; and should any of them find you here, they might offer rudeness, and we not have it in our power to help you. I apprise you of this, that you may lay no blame upon us, if such a thing should happen." The lady, seeing it was late, though she was terrified by the old man's words, said,
"I trust to God for my protection, as to what you mention; but if that should happen, I may expect more mercy from men than from beasts." She then dismounted and went to supper with them upon such poor diet as they had, and afterwards lay down upon their bed with her clothes on, lamenting her own misfortune and her lover's all the night, not knowing whether she had more cause to hope or fear on his account.
About break of day, she heard a great noise of people on horseback, and immediately she rose, and went into a great yard behind the house, in one corner of which was a stack of hay, and there hid herself. This was no sooner done than a knot of thieves was at the door, which was instantly opened to them, and seeing there the lady's horse and saddle, they asked whom it belonged to? The honest man, seeing nothing of her, made answer, "Nobody is here; but this horse came to us last night, having got away, I suppose, from his owner, and we took him in that he should not be devoured by the wolves." - "Then," quoth the captain, "as he has no master, he shall be ours." The gang dispersed up and down the house and yard, laying down their lances and targets, and one of them by chance thrust his lance into the hay where Angelina had hid herself, and was so near killing her, that she was on the point of crying out, for it pierced her clothes; but recollecting herself, she resolved to lie still. In the meantime they fell to boiling some kids and other meat that they had brought with them, and after they had ate and drunk, they went about their business, carrying off the horse. When they were some distance from the house, the honest man began to inquire of his wife what was become of the lady, as he had never seen her since he rose. “she could not tell," she said, and went all about to seek for her. The lady meanwhile finding that the men were gone, came forth from her hiding-place. The old man was much pleased to find that she had not fallen into their hands, and said to her, "It is now daylight, we will go with you therefore to a castle about five miles off, where you may be in safety; but you will be obliged to travel on foot, for these sorry fellows have taken your horse away.” She was under no great concern for that loss, but set forward with them at once, and they arrived there betimes in the morning. Now the castle belonged to one of the family of the Orsini, whose name was Liello di Campo di Fiore, and by great good fortune his lady was then there, a worthy good woman, who, seeing Angelina, soon recollected her, and received her with the utmost respect, inquiring by what means she had come thither.
She then related the whole story; and Liello's lady, who knew Pietro, as a friend of her husband's was under great concern, supposing him to be dead; and said to Angelina: "As it happens that you know not where Pietro is, you shall stay with me till I have an opportunity of conveying you safe to Rome."
Now as for Pietro, he had but a dismal night of it, for he soon saw his horse surrounded with a number of wolves, which made him break his bridle, and endeavour to make his escape, but he was so encompassed that he could not, and defended himself with kicking and biting for some time, till at last he was pulled down, and torn all to pieces, and the wolves having devoured him to the very bones went away. This was a sore affliction to Pietro, who expected much from his horse, after all the fatigue that he had undergone; and he began now to despair of ever getting out of the forest. It being at this time almost day, and he nearly dead with cold, as he was looking about him, he chanced to spy a fire at last about a mile off; when it was quite light, therefore, he descended from the tree, not without a great deal of fear, and directing his course thither, he found some shepherds making merry together, who received him out of mere compassion. After he had ate and warmed himself, he related his whole adventure, and inquired whether there was no town or castle in those parts that he could go to. The shepherds told him, that three miles off was a castle belonging to Liello di Campo di Fiore, whose lady was then there. He entreated some of them to go with him, and two readily offered their service. Being arrived, he was known, and as he was going to send out to seek his mistress, he was called by the lady of the castle, and, on stepping up to her, he beheld Angelina, which made him the happiest man in the world; and if he was thus transported, she was no less so. The lady, after giving them a handsome reception, and hearing what had happened to both, began to reprimand him for attempting to do what was so disagreeable to his parents; but seeing him resolved, and finding that he was agreeable to the lady, she said, "What should I trouble myself for?
They like each other, and are both my husband's friends; besides, it seems as if Providence would have it so, seeing that one escaped from being hanged, the other from being stabbed by a lance, and both from being devoured by wild beasts. Then let it be done." Turning to them now, she said, "If you are resolved to be man and wife, I am content, and will celebrate the wedding at my husband's expense: afterwards I will undertake to make peace between you and your friends. So they were married in the castle, tq their great joy, and with all the magnificence that the country could afford: and in a few days the lady took them both to Rome, where she contrived to reconcile Pietro and his parents, who were much enraged at what he had done. He lived afterwards with Angelina, in all peace and happiness, to a good old age.
[This, though an insipid story of itself, is curious, as presenting us with the rudiments of a modem romance of the school of Mrs. Radcliffe.]
