10-4, Signor Gentil de' Carisendi

NOVEL IV. 

Signor Gentil de' Carisendi takes a lady out of her grave, whom he had loved, and who was buried for dead. She recovers, and is brought to bed of a son, which he presents along with the lady to her husband. 

It seemed strange to them all for a man to be so lavish of his blood, and it was agreed that Nathan had outdone both the king of Spain and the abbot of Cligni. The king then signified his will to Lauretta that she should begin, which she did to this effect: - Great, as well as beautiful, most noble ladies, are the incidents which have been already related, nor does anything seem wanting, in my opinion, to bring our argument home to the subject, but that we take in the affair of love, which affords matter enough for discourse upon any question whatever. For this reason, then, and as it is always an agreeable topic to youth, I shall mention the generosity of an enamoured young gentleman, which, all things considered, will appear, perhaps, no way inferior to the others: if it be true that people give away their wealth, forget animosities, run a thousand risks of their lives, and, what is more, their fame and honour too, and all to come at the thing desired. 

In Bologna was a knight, of great consequence and worth, called Gentil Carisendi, who was in love with Catalina, the wife of Niccoluccio Caccianimico, and meeting with no return, he went, in a kind of despair, to Modena, whither he was called as Podesta. In the meantime, Niccoluccio being absent from Bologna, and his lady at a country-house about three miles distant, where she was gone to stay, being with child, it happened she was taken with an hysteric fit, which quite extinguished all signs of life, so that her physician declared her dead. And because her acquaintance said, they had been informed by her that she was not quick with child, she was immediately buried in a vault belonging to a neighbouring church. This was soon signified by a friend to Signor Gentil, who, though, he had never received the least mark of her favour, grieved extremely, saying at last to himself, "Behold, my dear Catalina, you are dead! living you would never deign me one kind look; now, however, that you cannot prevent it, I will please myself even with a kiss." 

So, giving orders that his departure should be a secret, towards evening he mounted his horse, and taking a servant along with him, he rode directly to the vault where she was buried, which he opened, and lying down by her, he put his cheek to hers, and wept. At length, laying his hands for some time upon her bosom, he thought he felt something beat, when, throwing all fear aside, and attending more nicely to the circumstance, he was convinced she had a small spark of life remaining in her; therefore, by the help of his servant, he took her out of the vault as gently as possible, and, laying her upon the horse, he brought her privately to his house at Bologna. There his mother, a worthy good lady, having the whole account from him, by warm baths and other means, soon brought her to herself; when, after fetching a deep sigh, she said, "Alas! where am I!"The good lady replied, "Make yourself easy, you are in a very good place." Looking then all round, and seeing Signor Gentil before her, her astonishment was great, and she desired his mother to inform her by what means she had come thither. He then related everything to her, at which she was greatly affected, and, after giving due thanks, she requested of him, by his love and generous deportment, to attempt nothing contrary to her honour and that of her husband, and that, when it was daylight, he would suffer her to go home. "Madam," he replied, "whatever my love has been heretofore, I promise both now and hereafter, seeing I have been so fortunate to bring you to life, to use you with the same regard as I would do my sister: but, as I think myself entitled to some reward, I must insist upon your granting me one favour." - "sir," said she, "you may command anything from me consistent with modesty." He made answer, "Madam, your relations and all the people of Bologna are assured of your being dead; therefore I insist only upon your staying here with my mother till I return from Modena, which will be very soon. My reason is, that I would then, in the presence of the principal inhabitants here, make a valuable and solemn present of you to your husband." The lady, knowing her obligations to the knight, and that his demand was honourable, consented, and gave her word to abide by it, notwithstanding she longed extremely to gratify her relations with the news of her being alive. And whilst they were talking, she felt labour-pains come upon her, when she was soon delivered of a son, which added greatly to their joy. Signor Gentil ordered that she should have the same care taken of her as if she had been his own wife, and then returned privately to Modena. There he continued till the expiration of his office, and the morning he was to come home, he ordered a great entertainment to be made at his house, to which Niccoluccio Caccianimico, with many of the principal citizens were invited; and after he had dismounted, and found the company waiting for him, understanding too that the lady and child were both very well, he received them all with a great deal of joy, and dinner was immediately served up in the most magnificent manner possible. 

Towards the end, having concerted everything beforehand with the lady, he addressed himself to his guests in the following manner: "Gentlemen, I remember to have heard of a pretty custom in Persia, that when any one has a mind to show the greatest respect in his power to any of his friends, that he invites them to his house, and produces that thing, be it what it will, wife, mistress, or daughter, that is most dear to him, declaring thereby that he would, if he was able, lay his very heart before them. This custom I mean to introduce at Bologna. You do me honour with your company at this feast, and I will return it, by showing that thing which is the most dear to me of all that I have now in the world, or ever shall possess. But I must beg your solution of a difficulty which I am going to start to you. A certain person had a very honest and trusty servant, who was taken extremely ill, whom, without more to do, he sent out into the street in that condition, when a stranger, out of mere compassion, took him into his house, and with a great deal of trouble and expense, had him restored to his former health. 

- Now I would gladly know whether the first master has any right to complain of the second, for keeping him in his service, and refusing to restore him." This occasioned a great deal of argument, and all agreed at last in opinion, leaving Niccoluccio Caccianimico, who was an elegant speaker, to report it. He, therefore, after commending the Persian custom, said, "they were all persuaded that the first master had no farther right, after he had not only abandoned his servant, but thrown him away as it were; and that, on account of the kindness done to him, he justly belonged to the second, who offered no violence or injury to the first in detaining him." The rest of the company, being all wise and worthy persons, declared that they joined in opinion with Niccoluccio. The knight, pleased with the answer, and having it too from Niccoluccio, declared that those were his own sentiments, adding, "It is now time for me to honour you according to promise." 

He then sent two servants to the lady, whom he had taken care to have very gaily dressed, desiring her to favour his guests with her company. Accordingly, she came into the hall, followed by the two servants, with the little infant in her arms. And after she had seated herself, he said, "Behold, this is what I value beyond everything else; see if you think I am in the right." The gentlemen all praised her extremely, pronouncing her worthy of his esteem; and, after looking more nicely at her, many of them were going to have owned her, had it not been that they thought her dead. But none gazed upon her so much as Niccoluccio, who (the knight having stepped a little aside) grew impatient to know who she was, and, unable any longer to contain himself, demanded of her if she was a citizen or a stranger? The lady, hearing this from her husband, could scarcely refrain from giving him an answer, yet, in regard to her injunctions, she held her peace. Another inquired whether that was her child; and a third, whether she was wife, or any relation, to Signor Gentil. Stili she made no reply to any. So when the knight returned, one of the company said, "sir, this is really a pretty creature, but she appears to be dumb: is she actually so?" - "Gentlemen," he replied, "her silence is no small argument of her virtue." - "Tell us then," quoth one, "who she is." - "That I will," said the knight, "with all my heart, if you will promise me in the meantime that none of you stir from your places till I have made an end." 

This being agreed, and the tables all removed, he went and sat down by her, saying, "Gentlemen, this lady is that good and faithful servant, about whom I proposed the question: who, being set at nought by her friends, and thrown into the street, as it were, as a thing of no account, was by me with great care taken up, and redeemed from death; and from so terrible an object as she once was, brought to what you now see. But, for your more perfect understanding of what has happened, I will make it plain to you in few words." So he began from his being first enamoured, and related everything particularly that had happened, to the great amazement of the hearers; adding, at last, "For these reasons, if you stick to what you said just now, and Niccoluccio especially, the lady is mine, and nobody has any right to demand her from me." No reply was made to this, but all stood expecting to hear what he had farther to say. In the meantime, Niccoluccio and the rest of the company, as well as the lady, were so affected, that they all wept. But Signor Gentil arose, and taking the child in his arms, and the lady by the hand, he went towards Niccoluccio, and said, "Rise, my friend, behold, I do not give you your wife, whom you and your relations had thrown away, but I bestow this lady upon you, as an acquaintance of mine, along with her little son, which is yours, and whom I have called by my own name; and I entreat you not to have the worse opinion of her, for having been three months in my house; for I call Heaven to witness, that though my love was the cause of her being preserved, she has lived with the same honour in my house, along with my mother, as she could have done with her own parent." Then, turning to the lady, he said, "Madam, I now acquit you of your promise, and give you up freely to your husband. So giving him the lady and the child into his arms, he returned, and sat down. Niccoluccio received them with joy, the greater, as it was the more unexpected, loading the knight with infinite thanks, whilst the company, who could not refrain from weeping, highly commended his generosity, as did every one also that heard it. The lady now was brought to her own house with great demonstrations of joy, and the people all beheld her with the same wonder as if she had been raised from the dead. Moreover, the knight was in the greatest esteem ever after, both with her and Niccoluccio, as well as all their relations and friends. 

What will you say, then, ladies? Is a king's giving away his crown and sceptre, an abbot's reconciling a malefactor to the pope, or an old man's offering his throat to an enemy's dagger, anything like this action of Signor Gentile, who, being in the bloom and heat of youth, and seeming to have a good title to that which other people's carelessness had thrown away, and he by good fortune happened to pick up, not only restrained his desire, much to his honour, but generously resigned what he had entirely coveted, and sought at all events to possess. To me they seem no way comparable. 

7-8, woman, thread, toe

NOVEL VIII. 

A woman who had a very jealous husband, tied a thread to her great toe, by which she informed her lover whether he should come or not. The husband found it out, and whilst he was pursuing the lover, she put her maid in her place. He takes her to be his wife, beats her, cuts off her hair, and then fetches his wife's relations, who find nothing of what he had told them, and load him with reproaches. 

Beatrice seemed to them all to have been strangely spite, fui towards her husband; and every one agreed that Anichino's fright and confusion must have been very great, to be held in that manner, whilst she told her husband of his design upon her. The king seeing that Filomena had done, turned to Neifile, who smiled and said, - A great charge at present rests upon me, to relate something equal to what has been said already; but I shall endeavour to acquit myself as well as I can. 

Know, then, that in our city lived a certain rich merchant, named Arriguccio Berlinghieri, who, like many other trades- people now-a-days, foolishly thought to ennoble himself by marriage; and he took a wife, not at all suitable to himself, whose name was Sismonda. She (her husband, like other persons of business, being often abroad) fell in love with a young gentleman called Ruberto, who had long paid his addresses to her, and being not so discreet in that affair as she ought to have been, it happened, whether her husband had any notion of it, or for what other reason I cannot tell, that he became the most jealous creature in the world, and, laying aside all his other concerns, he applied his mind wholly to watching her; nor would he ever go to sleep without seeing her first in bed. This was the greatest torment to her, as it deprived her of all opportunity of being with her gallant; therefore, after much thinking about it, and being greatly importuned by him all the time, it came into her head at last to take the following method; namely, to have her lover come to the door in the middle of the night, and go and let him in whilst the husband was asleep; for her chamber was towards the street, and she knew that, though her husband was sometimes slow to fall asleep, yet when he was once fast he was not easily roused. And, that she might know when he was there, and nobody else perceive it, she resolved to put a thread out of the window, one end of which should go near to the ground, and the other end was to be brought low along the floor, and so under the clothes into the bed, where she would tie it to her great toe. Having acquainted Ruberto with this, she told him, that, as often as he came, he should pull the thread, when, if her husband was asleep, she would let it go: but, if he was not asleep, she would hold it fast, and then he was not to expect her. Ruberto liked this scheme very well; and he was frequently coming thither, when sometimes he could have her company, and sometimes not. 

At last it happened, whilst she was asleep, as the husband was stretching out his feet in the bed, that he met with this thread; when putting down his hand and finding it tied to her toe, he thought within himself there must be some trick here; perceiving afterwards that the other end went out of the window, he held the fact for certain: accordingly he took it off her toe and put it upon his own, waiting to see what the event would be. He had not been long waiting, before Ruberto came, and pulled the thread as usual: Arriguccio felt it, but not having tied the thread fast enough, and the other drawing pretty hard, it came off, which Ruberto took for a signal that he should stay, and so he did. Arriguccio upon this rose with all haste, and taking arms with him, went to the door, to see who it was, and to inflict vengeance upon him. Now, though he was a merchant, he was a stout, war-like man; and being come to the door, and not opening it in the manner the lady used to do, Ruberto began to have a suspicion how it was, and immediately took to his heels, and the other after him. At last Ruberto having run a great way, the other still pursuing him, he faced about (as he was armed likewise) and drew his sword, and to it they fell, the one continually thrusting, whilst the other stood upon his defence. 

The lady awoke the moment her husband opened the chamber-door, and finding the thread gone from her toe, concluded she was discovered. Perceiving that her husband had run after her lover, she rose, resolving what to do; and calling her maid (who was in the secret) she prevailed upon her to go into her bed; begging of her to receive all the blows patiently which her master should give, without making any discovery; and she would make her such a recompense, that she should have no cause to repent. Putting out the light, then, which was in the chamber, she went and hid herself in a corner of the house, waiting for the event. The fray between Arriguccio and Ruberto had alarmed all the neighbours, who rose and began to reprove them very severely: on which Arriguccio, without knowing who his antagonist was, or being able to do him any harm, left him (for fear of being known himself), and returned full of wrath to his own house. And coming into the chamber, "Where is this vile woman?" he said, "What! she has out the candle that I should not find her: but she is mistaken.” So he went to the bed-side, and began to beat and kick the maid (thinking it was his wife), till he was quite weary, and what with his hands and feet together, had bruised her face to a mummy. 

When he had done that, he cut off her hair, saying all the reproachful things that could be spoken to a woman. The girl roared lustily (as indeed she had reason); and though she frequently cried "For God's sake have mercy! "and nothing more, yet her words were so broken with lamentation, and he so crazed too with fury, that he never discovered her not to be his wife. Having beat her then to some purpose, and cut off her hair (as we observed) he said, "Thou vile prostitute, I shall meddle with thee no farther, but will go for thy brothers, to let them know of thy exploits, when they may do as they shall think most for their own credit, and take thee away with them; for here thou shalt no longer abide:” So he locked her in, and went away by himself. 

As soon as Sismonda (who had heard the whole transaction) perceived he was gone, she came into the chamber and struck a light, when she found the girl all bruised and in tears. Having comforted her in the best manner she was able, she removed her to her own apartment, where she was well taken care of: and rewarding her at Arriguccio's expense, to her own content, she went immediately and set her room to rights. She made the bed over again, as if nobody had lain in it that night, lighted up the lamp, dressed herself as if she had never been in bed, and then taking up her work, sat herself down at the top of the stairs, and began to sew. Arriguccio in the meantime went with all possible haste to her brother's house, and knocked there till he made them hear and open the door. The three brothers and the mother all rose, hearing who it was; and seeing him come alone, and at that time of night, they inquired the reason. Thereupon he related the whole affair, beginning with the thread, and going on to what he had done afterwards, and, at length, by way of conviction, showed them the hair, which he had cut off; adding, that in regard to their own honour they might take her away and dispose of her as they pleased, for that he would be no longer troubled with her. The brothers were greatly incensed at hearing this story, and in their fury ordered torches to be got ready, preparing to go back with him, that she might not want her due treatment, whilst the mother went heavily after, sometimes entreating one, and sometimes another of them, not to be too hasty in condemning their sister; alleging, that he might have quarrelled with her upon some other account, and now brought this charge by way of excuse; and declaring she could not imagine how it could be, seeing that she well knew her daughter, having brought her up herself, with more words to that effect. By this time they had reached the house, and were going up stairs, when Sismonda called out to them, "Who is there?" One of her brothers replied, "You shall soon know, you vile creature as you are! " - "Lord have mercy on me!”, said she, "what is all this for?" And rising up, she went to meet them, saying, "Brothers, you are welcome; but what is the meaning of your coming all three at this time of the night?" 

They, observing that she had been sitting at work, and without any such bruises or blows as the husband had talked of, began to wonder; and, abating a little of their former wrath, they inquired the meaning of this difference with her husband, threatening her severely if she spoke anything but the truth. The lady replied, "I know not what you would have me say, nor of any quarrel that I have had with him." Arriguccio, on beholding her, was quite confounded; remembering that he had scratched and beat her in a most outrageous manner, of which no sign now appeared; and her brothers then told her what they had heard from him. She now turned to him, and said, "Alas! my dear, what is this I hear? Why would you have me thought to be a wicked person, to your great disgrace, when I am not so, and yourself an ill-tempered sorry man, when it is quite otherwise? When were you here to-night before now? Or when did you beat me? For my part, I know nothing of the matter." Arriguccio replied, "You abominable wretch! what, did we not go to bed together? Did I not return hither again after pursuing your gallant? Did I not give you a thousand blows at the same time that I cut off your hair?" - "You never went to bed in this house to-night," she made answer, "but, letting this alone, for which you can have only my word, and to come to what you now talk of, namely, your beating me, and cutting off my hair, let any one see if I have such bruises upon me; nor should I advise you to attempt ever to serve me so; for, as I hope to be saved, I would return the like, if you did. And, as to cutting off my hair, I never knew anything of it, if it was so; but let us see whether it be as you say, or not." She then pulled her veil off, and shewed her hair all entire, and in order. 

The brothers and the mother seeing this, turned fiercely upon Arriguccio. "How now, sir!" they said. “Surely this can never be the thing that you came to acquaint us with; which way will you prove the rest?" Arriguccio was like one out of his wits. Gladly would he have said something, but seeing the thing appear differently from what he had undertaken to show them, he could not get out one word. She now said to her brothers, "I see he has a mind I should relate to you his vile proceedings, and my own unhappiness, and I will do it. I believe firmly that what he says may be true, and I'll tell you which way. This sorry fellow, to whom you gave me in an ill hour, who calls himself a merchant truly, and would be thought such, and who therefore should be as temperate as a hermit, and as modest as a maid: this man, I say, is drunk most nights in one tavern or other; one while with one prostitute, and then again with another, whilst I am forced to sit up for him, in the manner you have found me, till midnight for the most part, and very often till morning. And being very drunk, he might find a thread tied to the toe of one of those strumpets, and run after some person or other, and fight him, as he says; and returning back, he might beat her in that manner, and cut off her hair: and not being thoroughly sober again, he imagines it was done to me; if you observe, he appears now to be half fuddled; therefore I would have you consider him as a person in liquor, and forgive him even as I mean to do." 

The mother, at these words, made a great clamour, and said, "My dear child, it shall never be; he deserves hanging, for an ill-conditioned brute as he is. He is unworthy of such a woman as you are. What could he have done more, had he catched you in the open street? Things are come to a fine pass truly, if you must be set down by the words of a little paltry merchant. This sort of fellows, you must know, if they have but little money in their pockets, are all for a gentleman's daughter; when they pretend to some coat-of-arms, and say, " I am of such a family, and my ancestors did so and so." Would to heaven my sons had followed my advice! Count Guido would gladly have taken you without a penny of fortune; yet they chose to marry you to this jewel here; and though there is not a better gentlewoman, nor one more virtuous in all Florence, yet he was not ashamed to call you strumpet, as if we were strangers to your character. But, as I hope to live, were they ruled by me, they would beat him to a mummy." Turning now to her sons, she said, "I told you, as we came along, that it could never be true. You hear how this fine brother of yours uses your sister: a poor sorry fellow as he is! were I in your place, hearing what he has both said and done towards her, I would never leave him with life. Confound him! for a drunken, quarrelsome villain, to have no shame in him!" The brothers followed up this harangue with all the severe things they could think of; concluding, at last, with saying, "We forgive you this once, as you were drunk, but take care we hear no more such stories: if we do, we will pay off all your old scores," and so they left hira. Arriguccio stood like one who had lost his senses; scarcely knowing whether all this was real, or only a dream, and from that time quarrelled no more with his wife; whilst she not only escaped from the most imminent danger, but opened a way to obtain her desires, without the least fear of her husband for the time to come. 

[The Fabliau of "Les Cheveux Coupés" (Le Grand, ii, 280), is perhaps the immediate original of Boccaccio's story; but the incidents may be traced back to the tales of Bidpai, the oldest collection in the world. In one part of the fable of the "Dervise and Robbers,” at least as it appears in the version of Gallaud, a shoemaker's wife being detected in an intrigue, and tied to a pillar, persuades another woman to take her place. The husband rises during the night, and cuts off the nose of the substitute. After this catastrophe, the wife instantly resumes her position, and addresses a prayer to God to manifest her innocence by curing her of the wound. The fortieth story of the second part of Malespini is a similar tale to that of Bidpai; it also recurs in the "Cent Nouvelles Nouvelles;" and one or other of these imitations probably suggested the incident in Massinger's "Guardian," of Severino cutting off Calipso's nose, mistaking her in the dark for his wife Iolante.] 

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. 

3-5 Ricciardo, Beau, Francesco Vergellesi

NOVEL V. 

Ricciardo, surnamed the Beau, makes a present of a fine horse to Francesco Vergellesi, upon condition that he should have the liberty of speaking to his wile; and she making him no reply, he answers for her, which accordingly has its effect. 

The ladies all smiled at Pamfilo's story, when the queen laid her next commands upon Eliza, who began pretty smartly, according to her usual manner, to the following effect: - There are many people who know so much, that they think others know nothing at all; and who, whilst they are designing to overreach others, are themselves outwitted; therefore, I hold that person very unwise, who puts another man's wits to the test, without any occasion: but as all of you may not be of my opinion, I will tell you what happened to a knight of Pistoia. In the town of Pistoia there lived, not long since, a knight named Francesco, of the family of the Vergellesi; a rich and prudent man in all respects, but covetous beyond measure. Being made provost of the city of Milan, and having furnished himself with everything necessary for such a high office, excepting a fine horse, he was at a loss where to meet with one that should please him. In the same town lived also a young gentleman, called Ricciardo, of no great family, but rich enough; a person so neat always and exact in his dress, that he was called the Beau; and who had long admired and followed the lady of Francesco, but hitherto without success. Now he was possessed of one of the most beautiful horses in all Tuscany, which he set a high value upon; but as it was known what a respect he bore towards Francesco's wife, Francesco was given to understand, that, if he would ask it of him, the other would gladly make him a present of the horse upon that account. He, therefore, moved by his avarice, requested the beau to sell him his horse, expecting, at the same time, that he should receive it as a gift. The other was much pleased with this, and said, "sir, all you have in the world could not purchase that horse; but you may have him for nothing, provided I may first have leave to say a word or two to your wife in your presence, at such a distance from every one that I may not be overheard." Francesco, overswayed by his covetous temper, and thinking to make a fool of the other, answered, that he was willing, as soon as he pleased; and leaving him in the hall, he went upstairs to his wife, to tell her how easily he was going to get the horse, and to enjoin her to hear what the beau had to say, but to make him no answer, little or much. She blamed him for it, but, being bound to obey, went with him into the hall, to hear what the other had to offer. The beau, then leading her to a seat at the farthest part of the room, began in this manner: "I make no doubt, most worthy lady, but that you have long perceived how great a slave I am to the force of your beauty, which far exceeds that of all the ladies I ever beheld; not to mention your personal accomplishments, enough to vanquish the most resolute and insensible of men: therefore, it would be needless to tell you by words, that my love is the most fervent that a man can possibly have for a woman; and so it shall continue whilst life shall actuate these frail limbs; and even to eternity, if we love in the next world as we do in this. Be assured, then, that you can call nothing your own, so much as me and mine: and to give you proof of this, I should take it as a singular favour, if you would command me such a service as it is possible for me to perform, seeing there is nothing I should refuse for your sake. To you, therefore, whose I am, and on whom all my peace and happiness depend, I address myself for relief; humbly hoping, as I am wounded to the heart by your beauty, that your merciful goodness will not suffer me to perish. For suppose I should die, you could not help saying to yourself, - Alas! why did I not show some pity to my poor beau? which remorse would be greatly to your disquiet. Think, therefore, before it is too late; for it is in your power to make me either the happiest or most miserable of men. I hope, however, that the love I bear you will not be rewarded with death; but that you will speak one word of comfort to raise my drooping spirits, which are ready to take flight, whilst I am now before you." Here he ended, and with tears streaming from his eyes, and heaving deep sighs, sat expecting the lady's answer; whilst she, who had been hitherto unmoved, notwithstanding all his tilts, balls, serenadings, and such-like gallantries, was now heartily affected with his last most tender expressions; and began to feel that passion to which she had been hitherto a stranger; and though she was silent, out of regard to her husband's commands, yet could she not avoid disclosing, by her sighs, what she had much rather have declared by words. 

The beau, having waited some time, and finding she made no answer, at first wondered very much; but he soon began to suspect that it was a trick of her husband's: and looking earnestly at her, and observing the sparkling of her eyes, cast now and then towards him, and some secret sobbings which she strove in vain to stifle; he began to take courage, and immediately hit on a new method, namely, to answer himself in the same manner as if she had spoken; which he did to this effect: - "Dear sir, I have most assuredly been a long witness of the great love you bear towards me, and am now farther convinced of it from your words, with which I am well satisfied, as indeed I ought: and if I appealed displeased or hard-hearted, do not imagine that I was really so; I always loved you far beyond every other person, but that behaviour was necessary, for fear of other people, and to preserve my own character: the time is now come when I have it in my power to repay your love: then be of good cheer; in a few days my husband goes to be provost at Milan, and as you have given him your favourite horse for my sake, I promise you, upon my word, that then you shall have admittance, and (that I may have no occasion to speak to you again upon the subject, till the very time) take notice, that, as soon as you shall perceive two handkerchiefs hanging out of the window, which looks toward the garden, you must be careful nobody sees you, and come to me through the door, into the garden, where I shall be expecting you." 

Having said this, as for the lady, he answered in his own person as follows: "Dear madam, I am so transported with your reply, that I scarcely know how to return you due thanks; but, were I able, no time would be sufficient to do it in the manner I could wish, and as I ought: I leave it therefore for you to imagine, as I find it impossible to describe: you may depend, however, on my being punctual to what you have proposed, and I shall always have a due sense of the great favour conferred upon me. Nothing now remains, my dearest love, but till that time to bid you adieu." All this while the lady said not one word. Ricciardo then stood up, and made towards the knight, who, coming to meet him, said with a smile, "Well, what think you, sir, have I performed my promise or not?" - "By no means," replied the beau, "for you promised that I should speak to your lady, and you have given mc a statue to talk to." The knight was much pleased with this, and if he had a good opinion of his lady before, he had now a better. Afterwards he said, "You allow, I suppose, that the horse is mine." The beau replied, "Most certainly I do; but could I have thought no better success would have ensued on the bargain, I would have given him without any consideration, for as it is, you have bought him, and I not sold him." The knight laughed heartily, and being now provided with a horse, he set out, in a few days, for Milan, and entered upon his office. The lady, being then at liberty, began to think a little of the beau's words, and the regard he had for her; and seeing him often pass by her house, she said to herself, "What am I about? Why do I lose all this time? My husband is at Milan, and will not return these six months, and when shall I meet with such another lover? There is none here that I need to be afraid of. I do not see why I should not make use of the opportunity, whilst I have it. Nobody will know it, or if they should, it is better to do it and repent, than to repent and not do it." Having made up her mind, therefore, she put two handkerchiefs out of the window, as the beau had said. This he saw with a great deal of joy, and that very night went privately to the garden-door, which was open, as was also the door into the house, where he found the lady waiting for him: and though this was their first meeting, it was not the last, for, during the husband's stay at Milan, and even after his return, they found means of being frequently together, to their great mutual joy. 

[La Fontaine's "Magnifique” and a drama by La Motte, have been taken from this tale. It seems also to have suggested a scene in Ben Johnson's comedy, "The Devil is an Ass,” where Willepol makes a present of a cloak to a husband, for leave to pay his addresses to the wife for a quarter of an hour.]