6-7, Madam Filippa, gallant, surprised, husband

NOVEL VII. 

Madam Filippa, being surprised with her gallant by her husband, is accused and tried for it, but saves herself by her quick reply, and has the laws moderated for the future. 

Scalza's argument to prove the nobility of the Baronci having made them all very merry, the queen turned to Filostrato, who began in this manner: - It is a good thing, most worthy ladies, to be able to speak well, and to the purpose; but I hold it best of all to know how to do it when need requires, as was the case with a lady of whom I am going to treat, who escaped an ignominious death by this means, as you shall hear. 

In the territory of Prato there was formerly a most severe law, which, without any distinction, condemned all such women to be burnt as were detected by their husbands in adultery. Whilst this law was in force, it chanced that a beautiful young lady, named Filippa, was surprised by her husband with her gallant, a young gentleman of the same city, in her own chamber. Rinaldo de' Pugliesi, for that was the husband's name, was so provoked at this, that he could scarcely refrain from putting them both to death, and forbore it only out of regard to his own life; but yet he resolved that the law should effect what he durst not accomplish with his own hand - the death, namely, of his wife. Having, therefore, sufficient testimony to prove the fact, he had her summoned before the court. The lady, who was of an undaunted spirit, resolved to make her appearance, contrary to the advice of her friends, choosing rather to die by a resolute confession of the truth, than abscond and live basely in exile, or, by denying the fact, show herself unworthy of the lover with whom she had this intrigue. Being brought, then, before the lord-provost, attended by a great number of friends of both sexes, and encouraged all the way to deny it, she asked him, with a firm voice and steady countenance, what he had to say to her. The provost, seeing her beauty, her noble deportment, and greatness of spirit, began to pity her, fearing lest she should confess something which would force him, for the sake of his honour to condemn her to death. Being constrained, however, to interrogate her upon the charge preferred before him, he said to her, "Madam, here is Rinaldo, your husband, who affirms that he has taken you in adultery, and insists that I pronounce sentence of death upon you, according to the law in that case; but this I cannot do, unless you yourself confess it; therefore take care what answers you make, and tell me if this accusation of his be true." The lady, without showing the least concern, replied, "My lord, it is true, that Rinaldo is my husband, and that he found me in the arms of Lazzarino, where I have been many a time, for the great love I bear him, nor will I ever deny it; but you must know, at the same time, that laws ought to be alike for all, and made with the consent of those persons whom they concern. Now, in this law of yours, it is quite otherwise; for it is binding only on us poor women, who are much better able than men to satisfy many, and moreover none of us ever consented to, or were even consulted about the making of it. I call it, therefore, a most iniquitous law. If you are disposed to take away my life for the breach of it, why of course you may; but, before you pass sentence, I entreat one little favour of you, that is, that you would ask my husband whether, at all times, and as often as he pleased, I have not yielded myself fully to his desires, without ever saying him nay." Rinaldo, without waiting to be questioned by the provost, declared at once, that the lady had never failed to respond to his wishes in that respect. "Well, then, master provost," said the lady, "if he has always had from me as much as he wanted and wished, what, I ask, was I to do with what was left? Should I throw it to the dogs? Is it not much better to gratify with it a man who loves me more than himself, than to let it be lost or spoiled?" All the principal people of the city were present to hear this process, and after laughing heartily at this humorous question, they cried out, as with one voice, "The lady says well; she is quite right!" Before they broke up, the law, by the interposition of the lord-provost, was moderated so far as to apply only to such women as wronged their husbands for thè sake of money. So Rinaldo departed from the court, covered with shame and confusion, whilst the lady, snatched as it were out of the fire, returned victorious to her own house. 

2-2 Rinaldo d'Asti

NOVEL II. 

Rinaldo d'Asti having been robbed, comes to Castle Guiglielmo, where he is entertained by a widow lady, makes good his loss, and returns safe home. 

The ladies all laughed immoderately at Martellino's adventure, as did the gentlemen likewise, but more especially Filostrato, who, as he sat next to Neiphile, was ordered by the queen to begin his novel, and he immediately complied as follows: - I am going to relate a story, consisting partly of misfortunes, end partly of love, which may be of use to such as walk in love's uncertain paths; in which it happens to those who have not said the Pater Noster of St. Julian, that they often get a bad night's rest, though they lie in a good bed. 

In the time of Azzo, marquis of Ferrara, a certain merchant, named Rinaldo d'Asti, came to Bologna to transact some affairs of his own, which being despatched, and being on his return home, it chanced, as he was riding from Ferrara towards Verona, that he fell in with some persons, who seemed to be merchants, also, but were in reality highwaymen, and he unguardedly joined them. They, finding him to be a merchant, and supposing, therefore, that he must have money about him, resolved to rob him as soon as an opportunity offered; and, that he should have no suspicion, they rode on discoursing with him like persons of reputation and character, showing themselves extremely complaisant and courteous, insomuch, that he thought himself happy in meeting with such good company, as he had with him only one servant. 

Talking of various things, they began at last to speak of prayers, and one of the rogues, there being three in number, turned towards Rinaldo, and said, "and pray, sir, what sort of prayer do you use when you are upon a journey?" "In good truth," answered Rinaldo, "I know little of those matters, and am master of very few prayers; but I live in an old-fashioned way, and can tell that twelve pence make a shilling; nevertheless, I always use, when I am upon a journey, before I go out of my inn, to say one Pater Noster and one Ave Maria for the souls of the father and mother of St. Julian, and after that I pray to God and St. Julian to send me a good lodging at night. And let me tell you, sir, very often have I met with great dangers upon the road, from all which I still escaped; and when night drew on I always came to a good lodging, which favour I firmly believe St. Julian, to whose honour I speak it, hath obtained of God for me: nor do I think I should ever travel securely, or succeed in my lodging at night, were I to forget this prayer." - "Then," said the other, "of course you offered up that prayer this morning?" - "Most certainly I did," answered Rinaldo. Said the rogue to himself, having determined now to handle him, "Thou wilt have need enough of it; for, if I mistake not, thy lodging is like to be none of the best:" and afterwards he added, "I have travelled much myself, yet did I never say that prayer, though I have heard it often commended, and I have always fared well; and now this night shall you see which of us will get the better lodging. I must own, however, that instead of it I have used the Dirupisti, or the Intemerata, or the De profundis, which, as my grandmother was wont to tell me, are of singular virtue." 

Thus they travelled along, discoursing upon many subjects, and the rogues waiting for a fit time and place to put their wicked purpose in execution. At length the hour growing late, they arrived at a lonely place, closely screened from view, just at the ford of a river near Castle Guiglielmo. There they made their assault, robbed and stripped Rinaldo to the shirt; and leaving him there on foot, they said to him, "Go, see if thy St. Julian will provide as good a lodging for thee to-night, as we shall have: "so, passing the river, away they went. The servant, like a rascal as he was, seeing his master attacked, rode away without offering the least assistance, and never stopped till he came to Castle Guiglielmo, where, it being late when he got in, he took up his lodging without giving himself any further trouble. Rinaldo remained in his shirt, without shoes or stockings; the weather was extremely cold, and it snowed incessantly. Not knowing what to do, the dark night coming on apace, and he all over in a tremble, with his teeth chattering for cold, he now began to look round for some shelter under which he might continue that night, for fear of being frozen to death; but he saw none (the whole country being laid waste by the late war), and being forced away by the cold, he trudged on towards Castle Guiglielmo, not knowing whether his servant was gone thither or elsewhere; but supposing, if he got admittance, that he should meet with relief. But before he came within a mile of the town, it grew quite dark; and it was so late when he got thither, that the gates were already locked, and the bridge drawn up, and he could obtain no entrance. Grieving much at this, and now quite disheartened, he looked wo fully about to see if he could find a cover from the snow; when by chance he spied a house projecting a little way over the walls of the castle, under which he proposed to stand till daylight. There he found a door in the wall, but fast locked, and gathering some straw together which was lying about, he sat down thereon, all pensive and sad, and making loud complaints to St. Julian, telling him, that this was not according to the confidence he had always reposed in him.

But St. Julian, who had a regard for him, soon provided a better lodging. There was a widow lady in that castle, of great beauty, whom the Marquis Azzo loved as his life, and kept in that house under which Rinaldo had taken shelter. That very day the marquis was come to stay all night with her, she having secretly provided a bath for him, and a most elegant supper. Everything being now ready, and only the marquis's company wanting, an express arrived with dispatches, which required him to take horse instantly: he therefore sent to the lady to excuse him, and posted away.

She was much concerned at this, and not knowing how to pass her time, she resolved to go herself into the bath which she had provided for the marquis, and then to sup and go to bed. Now it happened that the bath was near the door where poor Rinaldo was sitting; so that she could hear him moaning and chattering his teeth at such a rate that one would have thought he had a stork's beak instead of jaws. 

Whereupon she called her maid, and ordered her to look over the wall and see who was that at the door, and what did he want. The servant went, and by the clearness of the sky could just discern Rinaldo sitting in the manner before described. To her question, Who was he, he made answer as well as he could, trembling all the while so much that she could scarcely understand him, telling her how he came thither, and entreating her not to let him perish with cold. The girl was moved to compassion, and hastened to relate the whole story to her mistress, who had pity on him likewise; and recollecting that she had the key of the door, which served for the private admission of the marquis, she said, "Go and open the door gently: we have victuals enough, and nobody to sit down, and we may also spare him a lodging." The maid commended her great charity, and having opened the door and found Rinaldo almost frozen to death, 

she said, "Make haste, good man, and get into this bath, which is yet warm." He immediately complied without waiting for any farther invitation, and found himself so much refreshed by the warmth, that he seemed restored from death to life. Then the lady sent him some clothes, which had been her husband s, and which fitted him as well, in all respects, as if they had been made for him. Expecting her further commands, he began to thank God and St. Julian, who had delivered him from the prospect of a most terrible night, and brought him at last where he was likely to meet with good entertainment. 

The lady, having now reposed a little, ordered a great fire to be made in the hall, and coming thither, she inquired concerning the honest man, what sort of a person he was? 

The maid replied, "Madam, now he is clothed, he is a handsome man, and appears to be very well bred." - "Go then," said the lady, "and bid him come to the fire, and he may also sup with me, as I know he has had no supper." When Rinaldo came into the hall, and saw the lady, who appeared to him to be a woman of consequence, he made her a very low bow and thanked her in the wannest and most respectful terms he could find for the favours he had received at her hand. The lady, finding him to answer to the report made of him by her maid, received him graciously, made him sit down familiarly by the fireside with her, and inquired concerning the misfortunes which had brought him thither. Of these he gave her a faithful account, to which she readily gave credit, having previously heard something of the servant's adventure. She then told him what she knew of the matter, and how the fellow was to be met with in the morning. 

Supper being now served up, they washed their hands, and sat down together. He was tall in person, agreeable enough both in countenance and behaviour, and in the prime of life. The lady's eyes took frequent note of all this; and it by no means tended to allay certain emotions which the marquis's visit had bootlessly excited. As soon, therefore, as supper was ended, she advised with her maid whether she might not fairly (since the marquis had put such a slight upon her) make use of the opportunity which fortune had thrown in her way. The girl, who knew how to please her mistress, readily concurred. The lady now returned to the fire, where she liad left Rinaldo by himself, and, looking pleasantly at him, she said, "Why so thoughtful, Rinaldo? does the loss of your horse and a few clothes affect you so much? comfort yourself, you are in your own house; and I can tell you farther, that, seeing you in my late husband's clothes, I could not help thinking, several times to-night, that he himself was present. I was more than once on the point of embracing and kissing you, and but for my fear of offending you, I should certainly have done so." Rinaldo was too great a connoisseur in love-matters not to take her meaning. The affair, therefore, was soon settled, and to bed they went, and were as happy as the night was long. 

In the morning, to prevent the least suspicion, she gave him some old clothes, filled his pocket with money, begging of him to keep the matter secret; and having directed him where to find his servant, she let him out of the door he had come in at. As soon, therefore, as it was broad day, he entered into the castle as if he had come from a great way off, found his servant, and soon clothed himself out of his portmanteau. Just as he was going to mount his man's horse, it happened by great fortune that the three rogues, who had robbed him the day before, were brought into the castle, having been taken up on some other account. In consequence of their own confession, he got back his horse, 

clothes, and money, and lost nothing but a pair of garters, of which the robbers could give no account. Rinaldo now thanked God and St. Julian, and, mounting his horse, arrived safe at his own house; and the very next day the three villains were exhibited in public, dancing on nothing. 

[St. Julian was eminent for providing his votaries with good lodging: in the English title of his legend he is called the gode Herbejour; and Chaucer, in his "Canterbury Tales" bestows on the Frankelein, on account of his luxurious hospitality, the title of St. Julian. It is this novel of Boccaccio that has given rise to "L'oraison de St. Julien” of Lafontaine, and "Le Talisman,” a comedy, by La Motte. There is also some resemblance between it and part of the old English comedy "The Widow,” which was produced by the united labours of Ben Jonson, Fletcher, and Middleton. (See "Dodsley's Collection” vol. xii.)]