8-8, two neighbours, wife, chest

NOVEL VIII. 

Two neighbours are very intimate together, when one making very free with the other's wife, the other finds it out, and returns the compliment, whilst the friend is locked up in a chest all the time. 

The lady's sufferings seemed grievous to all who heard them; though their pity for her was the less, as they judged that she had in some measure deserved them; whilst the scholar was deemed most rigidly obstinate, and even cruel. But Pampinea having made an end, the queen ordered Fiammetta to go on, who spoke as follows; - As I suppose you have been under some concern for the scholar's severity, it may be proper, I believe, to revive your drooping spirits with some more cheerful subject. Therefore I shall tell you a story of a certain young man, who received an injury with more mildness than he, and returned it with more moderation. Whence you may learn, that a person ought to be content if he gives people as good as they bring, without desiring an unreasonable vengeance, and far beyond what the provocation which he may have received requires. 

Know, then, that at Siena lived, as I have been told, two wealthy young citizens, the one named Spinelloccio Tanena, and the other Zeppa di Mino, near neighbours to each other, and as intimate together as if they had been brothers, and each had a very handsome wife. Now it happened that Spinelloccio, going often to the other's house, whether he was at home or not, became too familiar at last with his wife, which continued some time before anybody perceived it. But Zeppa being at home one day, without her knowing it, Spinelloccio came to enquire for him, and being told by her that he was gone abroad, he began to make free with her as Usual. This Zeppa was a witness to, and greatly troubled at; yet knowing that making a clamour would no way lessen the injury, but rather add to his shame, he began to think of some revenge, which should make no noise abroad, and with which he should yet be content. 

Resolving at length what to do, he went into the room after the friend was gone away, when he found his wife setting her head-dress a little to rights, and he said, "What are you doing, madam?" " She replied, "Do you not see?" - "Yes, truly," quoth he, "and I have seen a great deal more than I could have wished. So he charged her with the thing, and she came to an open confession, as it was in vain to deny it, and began to weep and beg his pardon. He then said to her, "You see you have been guilty of a very great crime; if you expect forgiveness from me, you must resolve to do what I shall enjoin you, which is to tell Spinelloccio that about the third hour tomorrow he must find some pretence for leaving me to go to you, when I will return home; and as soon as you hear me, do you make him go into that chest, and lock him up, and after you have done this, I will tell you the rest. Have no doubt, however, about it, for I promise you I will do him no harm." She agreed to do so, and kept her word. 

The next day, the two friends being together, Spinelloccio, who had promised the lady to be with her then, said to Zeppa, "I am engaged to go and dine with a friend, whom I would not have wait for me: so fare you well." "It is a long while till dinner yet," said Zeppa. - "Yes," replied the other, "but we have business to confer about, which requires me to be there in good time. So he left him, took a little circuit, and went to the lady. No sooner were they shut in together in the chamber than Zeppa returned; when she, seeming to be very much frightened, made Spinelloccio go into the chest, as the husband had directed, locked him up, and then came out to her husband, who asked her whether dinner was ready. "It will be very soon," she replied, - "Then," said he, "as Spinelloccio has gone to dine with a friend, and has left his wife at home by herself, go and call to her out of the window, to come and dine with us." The lady whose fear for herself had rendered her very obedient, did as she was desired, and Spinelloccio's wife came, after much entreaty, hearing that her husband was not to dine at home. 

Zeppa shewed the greatest fondness towards her imaginable, and making a sign for his wife to go into the kitchen, he took her familiarly by the hand, led her into the chamber, and locked the door. Upon this she began to say, "Oh, Zeppa, w.iat means this? Is this what you invited me for? Is this the regard you have for your friend Spinelloccio?"

Zeppa having got her up to the chest where her husband was shut in, and holding her fast, replied, "Madam, before you utter any complaints, hear what I am going to tell you: I have loved your husband, and still love him, as a brother; and what has come of the trust I reposed in him? Yesterday I found out, though he knows nothing of it, that he is as intimate with my wife as he is with you. Now I respect him so much, that I intend to take no other revenge than simple retaliation. He has had my wife, and I mean to have you. If you will not consent to this, be assured I shall revenge myself in such a manner, that both he and you shall have cause to repent it." Then, in reply to the lady's remonstrances, he entered into such details as convinced her of the truth of what he alleged. - "Well, Zeppa," she said, at last, 'since your revenge is to fall upon me, I must be content. Only make my peace with your wife for what we are going to do, in like manner as I am ready to forgive her." - "Be assured I will do that," he said, "and moreover I will make you a present also of as fine a jewel as you could wish to have. So saying he fell to kissing her; and laying her down on the chest in which her husband was locked up, he took his fill of revenge, and so did she too on her own account. 

Spinelloccio, hearing what passed, was fit to burst with vexation; and had it not been that he was prevented by the fear of Zeppa's anger, he would have roared out, and abused his wife, even shut up as he was. But considering again that he had given the provocation, and that Zeppa had reason for what he had done, and had behaved humanely and like a friend, he resolved to respect him more than ever. 

When Zeppa had received full satisfaction from the lady, he got up from the chest. She asked for the jewel which he had promised, whereupon he went to the door and called his wife, who coming in with a smile said only this to her, "Madam, you have given me tit for tat." Then said Zeppa, "Here, open this chest." She did so, and he showed Spinelloccio to his wife. Now it would be difficult to sav which of the two was the more confounded: the man at seeing his friend, and knowing that he was privy to what he had done, or the woman at seeing her husband, and being conscious that he must have heard and felt what she had done over his head. "Behold," added Zeppa, "this is the jewel; I now give it you.'spinelloccio hereupon came out of the chest, and said, "Well, now we are even; and, as you said before to my wife, it is best for us to Continue friends:" Zeppa was content; so they all four sat down to dinner together in the greatest peace and harmony; and from that day forth each of the wives had two husbands, and each of the husbands two wives, without the least dispute or grudge ever arising between them on that account. 

[This story is in the "Seven Wise Masters," of Hebers, but was probably suggested to Boccaccio by the latter part of the Fabliau, "Constant du Hamel" (Le Grand, iv, 226). There, a priest, a provost, and a forester, attempt to seduce a peasant's wife. The husband has thus a triple vengeance to execute. But, in the Fabliau, this was an ungrateful return to the wife, who had not yielded to the solicitations of her lovers, but had contrived to coop them up successively in a tun which held feathers. The Fabliau, again, probably derived its origin from some oriental tale. In the story of Arruya, in the “Persian Tales," a lady solicited by a cadi, a doctor, and a governor, exposes them to each other. To Persia the story has probably come from the Brahmins, as there is a similar incident in the "Bahar Danush," which is founded on their traditions. Boccaccio's tale is introduced in La Fontaine's "Le Faiseur d'oreilles et le racommodeur de moules."

7-5, jealous man confesses his wife

NOVEL V. 

A jealous man confesses his wife under a priest's habit, who tells him that she is visited every night by a friar; and, whilst he is watching the door, she lets her lover in at the house-top. 

Lauretta having made an end, the king, without loss of time, pointed to Fiammetta, who began in this manner: - The preceding novel brings to my mind the story of another jealous person, which I will relate, being of opinion that those husbands are justly served in that manner, who are jealous without reason. And if legislators, when they make their laws, could be supposed to think of everything, I imagine they would decree no other punishment than what is ordered in cases of self-defence: for those jealous people are frequently the death of their wives. All the week long are they kept mewed up in their houses, and when holidays come, that they should have some ease and diversion, as all other people according to the laws both of God and man have then rest, yet on those days are they more confined than at any other time; so that none are so wretchedly enslaved as themselves. Therefore I conclude that a trick put upon a husband, who was jealous without any reason, will by you be rather commended than blamed. 

There lived in Arimino a certain rich merchant, who had an agreeable woman for his wife, of whom he was immoderately jealous, and for no other reason in the world, but that as he was very fond of her himself, and knew that it was her whole study to please him; so he imagined every one else would like her as well, and that she would be as desirous to oblige them; which showed him to be one of a wicked disposition, as well as of little understanding. He consequently kept so strict an eye over her always, that no felon under sentence of death could be more narrowly watched. So far from going out to feasts at any time, or to church, or out of doors, under any pretence whatever, she was not suffered to look out of the window; so that she led a most wretched life, and so much the worse, as she knew herself to be innocent. 

Thus, finding herself so wrongfully treated, she resolved, for the time to come, to give him some reason for such usage. And as she had no opportunity of seeing people in the street, and knew that there was an agreeable young man living in the next house, she looked about to see if there was any chink in the wall, through which she might have an opportunity of speaking to him, to make him an offer of her love, and to have him come to her sometimes, if such a thing could be contrived, in order to spend her life with a little more comfort, till her husband should be cured of his jealousy. At last, in a comer of the room, she espied a crack which looked into a chamber of the next house, and she said to herself, "Now if this should prove to be Filippo's chamber (for that was the young gentleman's name), "my scheme would be half accomplished." She set her maid to work to ascertain the truth upon this point, and soon learned that the young man did sleep there all alone. She now made it her business to visit that place pretty often, and put little sticks and straws through into her neighbour's chamber, which he soon perceiving, came to the wall to see what it meant. Then she called to him softly; he knew her voice and answered; a few words sufficed to make her mind known to him, which being quite to his satisfaction, he contrived to enlarge the opening on his own side, taking care all the time that nobody should perceive it. From that time they had frequent conferences together, and could touch each other's hands, but no more, because of the husband's extraordinary care and jealousy. 

Now Christmas-day drawing near, the lady said to her husband, that, with his leave, she would go to church that day, to confess and receive the sacrament, like other good Christians. "And pray what sins can you have committed," he replied, "that you should want to confess?" - "What! " quoth she, "do you take me for a saint? Though you keep me shut up in this manner, yet I must sin as well as other people; but I am not going to tell them to you, as you are no priest." These words occasioned such a strong suspicion in him, that he was resolved to know what those sins were; and having determined what means to use, he told her that he was willing; but that she should go only to their chapel, and that betimes in the morning, and confess to their chaplain, or some person that he should appoint, and to no other, and return home directly. The lady seemed partly to know his design, and without making any other reply, said she would do as he desired. On Christmas-day, then, she rose betimes in the morning, and went to the chapel, as her husband had directed her. He also went to the same place, got there first, and having agreed with the priest what to do, he put on a gown, with a great hood that almost covered his face, such as we see priests wear sometimes, and drawing it over his eyes, sat himself down in the choir. The lady, upon coming into the chapel, inquired for the priest; who, hearing from her that she wanted to confess, told her, that he could not stay to hear her himself, but would send one of his brethren. Accordingly he sent the jealous husband, in an ill hour for him, as it happened, who had not so well disguised himself, but she immediately knew him, and said to herself, "Thank Heaven, from a jealous fool he has become a priest: but I will take care to give him what he seeks for." 

Affecting then not to know hrm, she sat down at his feet. The jealous gentleman had put some little stones into his mouth, to alter his voice, thinking himself well enough disguised as to everything else. Coming then to the confession, amongst other things, she told him, that, though married, she was yet in love with a priest, who came and lay with her every night. When the confessor heard this, he felt as if a knife was stuck into his heart, and were it not for his desire to learn something farther, he would have gone away that moment, and left her on her knees. Keeping his seat, then, he said to her, "Well, but how is it? Does not your husband lie with you." - "Yes, he does, sir," she replied. "Then," continued he, "how can the priest lie with you at the same time?" - "I know not how he does it, but there is not a door in the house but opens upon his touching it; he tells me also, that, upon coming to our chamber, before he opens the door, he says some certain words, which throw my husband asleep, and then he comes in, and lies with me, and the other never knows it." - "O, madam," quoth the confessor, "that is a very bad thing; you must leave off such practices entirely." - "Ah, father," answered she, "I know not how to do it, I love him so well." - "Then I can give you no absolution." - "I am sorry for that," she replied; "but I came here to speak the truth: if I could leave off, I would tell you so." - "I am sorry for you, as I see your soul is in a state of damnation; but I will offer up my particular prayers for you, which may be of service, and I will send a person to you at certain times, when you may inform him if you think you have received any benefit, and in that case we will proceed farther." 

The lady replied, “sir, never think of sending anybody to our house, for my husband is so unreasonably jealous, that all the world could never beat it out of his head but that he came with a bad intent, and I should not have one good day for this twelvemonth." 

- "Madam," he rejoined, "have no care for that, for I shall manage in such a manner, that you will hear no more from him upon that score." - "If you can do that," said the lady, "I am content." And having made an end of her confession, and had her penance assigned her, she got up and went to mass. 

The husband, ready to burst with fury, put off the priest's habit, and went home, waiting to find the priest and his wife together, in order to wreak his vengeance upon both; whilst she went out of the church, seeing plainly by his looks that she had given him but a bad Christmas-box, though he endeavoured to conceal both what he had done and meant farther to do. Resolving then to wait the next night at the door for the priest, he said, "I shall go out to sup and stay all night; be sure, therefore, you lock the street door, and that upon the stairs, as also your chamber door, and when you are disposed you may go to bed." She wished him a good night, went immediately to the chink in the chamber, and made the usual sign, when Filippo came to her, and she told him what she had done that morning, and what her husband had said afterwards, adding, "I am confident he will never stir from the door all night long; do you contrive a way, then, to come in at the top of the house. " He replied, full of joy, "Depend upon it. Madam, I will." When night came, therefore, the jealous husband armed himself privately, and lay concealed in the ground-room, whilst his wife made the doors fast, especially that upon the stairs, so that he could not come up to her: and the young man, when he thought it proper time, came by a secret way into her chamber, where they enjoyed themselves all night, without fear of interruption. The husband, in the meantime, continued supperless all night long, uneasy to the last degree, and almost starved to death with cold, waiting by the door for the priest. Day appearing at last, and nobody coming, he composed himself there to sleep. Rising at the third hour, and the door of the house being now opened, he came in, pretending to come from another place, and called for his breakfast. Soon afterwards he sent a messenger to his wife, as from the priest who had confessed her, to know if that person had come to her since. She, who understood full well the nature of the message, replied, "No, he did not come that night, and if he left off visiting her, she might forget him, although she had no desire to do so." 

What more need I say to you? The husband continued to watch every night, and the wife and her gallant were together all the time. At last, being out of all manner of patience, he demanded of her, with the utmost wrath in his looks, what it was that she had confessed to the priest? But she refused to tell him, saying that it was neither just nor reasonable. "Vile woman?"he cried, "I know in spite of you, what it was, and will make you confess who this priest is, that lies with you every night, by virtue of his enchantments, or else I will cut your throat." She replied, "It is false; I never lay with any priest." - "What!” said he, " did you not say so and so to the priest who confessed you?"

- "Not," she replied, "for him to tell you again; but if you were present, it is a different thing: then, to be plain with you, I did say so." - "Now tell me," quoth he, "who this priest is, and quickly." 

She smiled and said, "I am always glad to see a wise man led (by the horns as it were) by a simple woman; though you deserve not that character, since you have suffered yourself to be transported by an unreasonable fit of jealousy, without knowing why; therefore, the more weak you are, the less is my glory. Do you think my eyes are as bad as your understanding? No; I knew very well who the priest was that confessed me, and that was you. But I was resolved to give you what you wanted, and I think I have done so. But if you were as wise as you would be thought, you would never have desired to come at your wife's secrets in that manner, and would have known, without any vain suspicion, that every word was true which I said, and without the least crime or offence. I told you I loved a priest: were not you, my unworthy husband, then a priest? I said, no door could be kept shut when he had a mind to come to me: and is not that literally true? I added that the priest lay with me every night. And pray when did you lie from me? And when you sent to know if he was with me that night - you know that very time you had not been with me- I answered that he had not been with me. Who but a person blinded with jealousy, like yourself, but must have understood these things? And yet you kept watch all night at the door, and would have made me believe that you were gone elsewhere to sup and spend the night Consider a little better, and behave like a man, and do not make a fool of yourself any longer, in the eyes of one who is acquainted with all your ways, as I am. Leave off this extraordinary care upon my account; for, I assure you, were I disposed to be what you suspect, had you a hundred eyes, whereas you have only two, I could do it over and over again, and you be never the wiser." 

The poor jealous creature, who had thought himself very cunning before, now saw how he was despised, and, without more words, devested himself of that foolish and troublesome disposition, ever after esteeming his a wife virtuous and prudent woman. And she had no further occasion to make her lover come in at the top of the house, as cats do; for the door was open afterwards whenever they had a mind to be together. 

[This story is an ingenious improvement upon the Fabliau "Du Chevalier qui confessa sa Femme." It has been frequently imitated. In the 78th of the "Cent Nouvelles Nouvelles," entitled "Le Mari Confesseur,” a lady who is confessed by her husband under the disguise of a priest acknowledges a criminal intercourse with a squire, a knight, and a priest. On hearing this, the husband bursts out into an indignant exclamation. "Were you not," says she, with some presence of mind, "a squire when I married you, were you not afterwards a knight, and are you not now a priest?"

This is copied by Lafontaine, in "Le Mari Confesseur." ] 

4-10, A doctor's wife puts her gallant into a chest

NOVEL X. 

A doctor's wife puts her gallant into a chest, imagining him to be dead, which chest is stolen by two usurers, and carried home. He comes to himself, and is taken for a thief; whilst the lady's maid informs the magistrates that she had put him into a chest, which the usurers had carried away, upon which he escapes, and they are fined a sum of money. 

Dioneo was the only person now left to speak, who accordingly began, by the king's order, as follows: - "The miseries of unfortunate lovers, which have been related by you, 

have so affected both my eyes and. heart, that I have long wished there might be an end of such tales. We may now be thankful that they are all over, unless I should add one to their number, which is no part of my design; I mean therefore to shift the scene, and to present you with a little mirth after all this sorrow, and which may serve as a good argument for tomorrow's discourse. 

You must understand, then, that not long since there lived at Salerno a famous doctor in surgery, called Master Mazzeo della Montagna, who in his old age had married a young and beautiful wife, of the same city. There being such a disproportion in their years, he spared no cost for clothes and jewels, and gratified her in all such things to the utmost of her wishes; so that in that respect she was far better off than any other lady in the city. But she was not to be so satisfied; and looking out amongst the young gentlemen of Salerno, she at last fixed upon one, on whom she settled her entire hope and affection; and he being made sensible of it, shewed the same regard for her. He was named Ruggieri da Jeroli, and came of a noble family, but had always been of a rakish disposition, on which account he had displeased all his friends so far, that none of them would see him, and he was now branded all over Salerno for everything that was vile and wicked. This had no weight with her, and by her maid's assistance they were brought together, when she reproved him for his past conduct, and desired, that, for her sake, he would leave off those wicked courses; and to take away all temptation, she supplied him from time to time with money. The affair being carried on in this manner between them with a good deal of caution, it happened that the doctor had a patient in the meantime, who had a bad leg; this, he told the person's friends was owing to a decayed bone, which he must take out to make a cure, otherwise the patient must either lose his leg, or his life; but in every way he looked upon it as a very doubtful case. The friends bade him do as he thought proper. Now the doctor, supposing that the patient would never be able to endure the pain without an opiate, deferred the operation till the evening; and in the meantime, ordered a certain water to be distilled, which, being drunk, would throw a person asleep as long as he judged it necessary in this particular case. This water being brought home to him, he set it in his chamber window without saying what it was. 

Now in the evening when he was to perform this operation, a messenger arrived from some very considerable persons at Malfi, who were his friends, charging him to come away instantly, for that there had been a great fray among them, in which many people were wounded. The doctor then put off the operation on the man's leg till the morning, and went in a boat directly to Malfi: whilst the lady knowing that he would be out all night, had her gallant brought privately into her chamber, where she locked him in, till certain persons of her family were gone to bed. Ruggieri, waiting thus in the chamber, expecting his mistress, and being extremely thirsty, whether from fatigue, or some salt meat that he had eaten, or rather from a bad habit which he had of drinking, happened to cast his eye upon the bottle of water, which the doctor had ordered for his patient, and imagining it something pleasant to drink, he took it all off at a draught, and in a little time he fell into a profound doze. The lady made what haste she could to her chamber, and finding him fast asleep, began, with a low voice, to try to wake him; but he making no reply, nor even stirring, she was much vexed, and shook him roughly, saying, "Get up, sluggard! If thou art disposed to sleep, thou shouldst have stayed at home, and not come to sleep here." He being pushed in that manner, fell down from a chest, on which he was sitting, upon the ground, and shewed no more sense or feeling than if he had been really dead. She was now under greater concern, and began to pull him by the nose, as well as twinge him by the beard, but it was all of no service; the enchantment was too strong. On this she really suspected him to be dead, and pinched and burned his flesh with the candle, till, finding all to no purpose, and being no doctress, although her husband was a doctor, she took it for granted he was a corpse. 

You may easily suppose what her grief now must be, as she loved Ruggieri beyond all the world. Not daring to make any noise, she for some time continued silently deploring her calamity: till fearing at last lest dishonour should follow, she thought some means must be contrived to convey him out of the house. Not knowing how to manage it herself, she called her maid and advised with her about it. The girl was in great surprise, and trying all means to rouse Ruggieri to no purpose, agreed with her mistress that he was certainly dead, and that it was best to get him away. " "But where can we carry him," said the lady, "that it may never be suspected tomorrow, when he shall be found, that he was brought from this house?" - "Madam," replied the maid, "I saw late this evening a good large chest, standing before a joiner's shop in our neighbourhood. If it be not taken into the house again, we may put him in there well enough, giving him two or three slashes with a pen-knife; whoever finds him will scarcely imagine that we should put him there rather than anywhere else; on the contrary, it will rather be supposed that he has been upon some bad exploit, because he has a general ill character, and that he was killed by his adversary, and so shut up in the chest." The lady approved of her maid's advice in everything save the wounding him, saying, that for all the world she would never consent to that: accordingly she sent her to see if the chest was still there. The maid brought her back word that it was; and, being stout and lusty, she took him on her shoulders, whilst the lady went first to see that nobody was in the way; and so coming to the chest, they threw him in, shut the lid, and left him there. 

The same day, as it chanced, two young men, who let out money upon interest, had taken a house a little farther on in the same street. Willing to gain much, and spend but little, and having need of household goods, they had taken notice of that chest the day before, and were resolved, if it should be left there all night, to steal it away At midnight, then, they went and carried it off, without at all examining its contents, though it seemed to be very heavy"; and, setting it down in a chamber where their wives lay, they went to bed. Now Ruggieri, by this time, had got the greatest part of his sleep over; and his draught being pretty well digested, and its virtue at an end, he awoke before morning. But though his senses were in some measure returned to him, yet was there a kind of stupefaction remaining, which continued not that night only, but for several days. He opened his eyes, however, and seeing nothing, groped about with his hands, and perceiving that he was shut up, he was in the utmost amazement, and said to himself - "What is the meaning of this? Where am I? Am I asleep or awake? I remember last night to have been in my mistress's chamber, and now methinks I am in a chest. What can it mean Ì Surely the doctor has returned, or some other accident has happened; and she, finding me asleep, put me in here: it can be nothing else." 

Upon that consideration he lay still, and began to listen if he could hear anything stir, and having lain for some time in an uneasy posture, as the chest was narrow, and that side being sore which he had pressed so long upon, he wished to turn upon the other; when, thrusting his back against one side of the chest, which stood upon an uneven place, he overset it, and down it came to the floor, with such a noise, that the women were awakened, and frightened out of their wits. Ruggieri upon this knew not what to think, but finding the chest open with the fall, he thought it better to get out if he could, than to stay within it; therefore he went groping up and down in the dark, to find some door or place to make his escape at. The women, hearing this, cried out, "Who is there?" But he, not knowing their voices, made no answer. Upon this they began to call their husbands, but they were so fast asleep, having been awake the greatest part of the night, that they heard nothing of the matter. 

They were then more terrified than before, and went to the window, calling out "Thieves! Thieves!" This brought together many of the neighbours, who forced their way into the house. The husbands also were roused by all this clamour, and seized upon poor Ruggieri, who was out of his wits almost with surprise to find himself in a place from which he saw no possibility of making his escape. By this time the city officers were drawn to the spot by the tumult and uproar. Into their hands, therefore, he was delivered, and was had by them before the provost, when he was immediately put to the rack, as he was one of bad character, and he confessed that he had got into the house with intent to rob it; whereupon the provost sentenced him to be hanged. 

That morning the news was carried all over Salerno, that Ruggieri was taken breaking into the usurers' house; which the lady and her maid hearing, were so astonished, that they could scarcely believe that what had happened the preceding night was real; whilst the lady was in such concern for her lover that she was almost distracted. Some few hours after the doctor returned from Malfi, when he inquired for his narcotic water, because he was then going to perform his operation and finding the bottle empty, he made a terrible hubbub, telling them that nothing in his house could stand untouched for them. The lady, who had something else that lay nearer her heart, replied with some warmth, "What would you say in anything of consequence, when you make such a stir about a little water?" The doctor then said, "My lady, you should consider this is no common water; it is water distilled to cause sleep;" and he further told her upon what account it was made. When she heard this, she guessed that Ruggieri had drunk it off, and that this was the cause of their having supposed him to be dead, and she added, “sir, we knew nothing of your intention, but if you please you can make more:" and he perceiving that there was no other remedy, did so. 

Soon afterwards the maid, whom she had sent to learn news of her lover, returned, and said, "Madam, there is nobody that speaks well of Ruggieri, whether relation or otherwise, or intends to give him any assistance; but all people agree that he will be hanged tomorrow: one thing, however, I have learnt, which is new; that is how he came into those usurers' house, which I will tell you. You know the joiner at whose door the chest stood, wherein we had put him; he has just had a warm dispute with another person, who, it seems, owned the chest, and who insisted that the joiner should pay for it: however, he replied that he had not sold it, but that it was stolen from him. The other answered, "It is a story, you sold it to two usurers, as they themselves told me this morning, when I saw it in their house at the time Ruggieri was taken." - " They are liars," quoth the joiner, "I never sold it them; but they stole it from me last night; let us go to them therefore." So away they went together, whilst I returned hither; hence it is easy to see that Ruggieri was carried in that manner to the place where he was taken; but how he came to himself afterwards is beyond my comprehension." 

The lady now plainly saw how the case stood, and told her maid what she had learnt from the doctor, begging that she would lend her assistance in promoting her lover's escape; for it was in her power at once to save his life, and her own honour. "Madam," the maid answered, "tell me only how, and I will do it with all my heart." 

The lady, as it was a thing that so nearly touched her, had all her wits about her, and gave the maid full instructions what she wished her to do: accordingly she went to the doctor, and began to weep, saying: "sir, I am come to ask your pardon for a great crime which I have committed towards you." The doctor asked what crime it was? She, still crying, replied, "You know what sort of a person Ruggieri da Jeroli is, who has been my sweetheart for this twelvemonth past, notwithstanding all his imperfections. Knowing last night that you were abroad, he wheedled me so far, that I brought him into your house, and took him up into my chamber to be all night with me; when, being thirsty, and I not knowing how to get him either any water or wine, without being seen by my mistress, who was then in the hall, I suddenly recollected to have seen a bottle of water in your chamber, which I fetched and gave him to drink, and set the bottle again where I found it; and I since understand that you have been in a great passion about it; I confess I did very ill; but who is there that some time or other does not act amiss? I am extremely sorry for it; not so much on account of the thing itself, as what has ensued; for it has brought him in danger of his life. Therefore, I earnestly beg your forgiveness, and that you would give me leave to go and assist him to the utmost of my power." 

The doctor, hearing this story, answered merrily, notwithstanding his former passion, "You have reason enough to be sorry upon your own account, for instead of having a brisk young fellow, you had nothing but a sluggard. You may go, then, and save the man if you can, but take care you do so no more; for if you do, I shall then pay you for all together." Having this answer, she thought she had made a good beginning: therefore she hastened to the prison, and persuaded the gaoler to let her speak to Ruggieri; when, having informed him what answers he was to make to the magistrate, if he meant to escape, she went thence to the judge, to whom she got introduced, and said to him, “sir, you have had Ruggieri da Jeroli before you, who was taken up for a thief; but the case is quite otherwise:" and then she related her whole story; how she had brought him into the doctor's house, how she had given him that narcotic water to drink without knowing it, and how he was put into the chest for dead: she afterwards told him what had passed between the joiner and owner of the chest, making it appear how he came into the usurers' house. 

The judge saw that it would be an easy thing to come at the truth of this matter; therefore, he first inquired of the doctor whether the story was true concerning the water, and found it exactly so: he then sent for the joiner and owner of the chest, as also the usurers, and after much examination it appeared that they had stolen the chest the foregoing night, and carried it home. Last of all, he had Ruggieri brought before him, when he being asked where he had lodged that night, he replied, that he could not tell where he actually did lie, but said, his intention was to have lain with the doctor's maid, in whose chamber he had drunk some water to quench his most violent thirst, but as for what became of him from that time, to the time of his awaking, and finding himself in the chest in the usurers' house, that he could give no account of. 

The judge was mightily pleased with their statements, and made them repeat their several stories over and over. At length, perceiving Ruggieri to be innocent, he gave him his liberty, and sentenced the usurers to pay a fine of ten crowns. It is easy to imagine what Ruggieri's joy now was, as well as that of the lady. They made themselves very merry together afterwards with the maid, for the slashes with her penknife, which she had meant to give him, still going on in the same mirth and pleasure from good to better; which I wish may happen always to myself, but never to be put into a chest. 

If the former novels had occasioned great grief and sorrow to the ladies, this last of Dioneo's made ample amends. But the king now perceiving that the sun was about to set, and that his sovereignty was therefore at an end, began to excuse himself for giving such a cruel subject to expatiate upon, as the unhappiness of lovers: then rising up he took the crown from his head, and whilst they were waiting to see to whom he would resign it, he put it upon Fiammetta saying, "I make choice of you, as one who knows better than any other person to comfort us, for what we have heard today, with tomorrow's mirth." 

Fiammetta, whose golden locks hung in long graceful ringlets over her white and delicate shoulders, her face round and beautiful with white and red, like lilies and roses blended together; her eyes like those of a falcon, with a little mouth, and lips like rubies: she, I say, said with a smile, "I willingly accept the sovereignty. Filostrato; and, to the end that you may better recollect yourself concerning what you have done hitherto, I will and command that every one be prepared to treat tomorrow upon what has happened happily to lovers, after certain cruel and unlucky accidents; "which proposal was agreeable to them all. Calling, then, the steward, and concerting with him what was most needful to be done, she gave them leave to depart till supper. Some, therefore, walked into the garden, the beauty of which was such, that they were never weary of it; others went to see the mill, and some went to one place, and some to another, according to their different inclinations; till the time being come, they all met together, as usual, by the fountain-side, where they supped with great elegance, and satisfaction to themselves. When that was over, they began to dance and sing: and as Filomena was leading up the dance, the queen said, "Filostrato, I do not intend to deviate from the example of my predecessors, but as they have done hitherto, so I intend to order a song; and as I am very sure that yours are like your novels, therefore, that no more of our days may be disturbed with your misfortunes, I desire you would give us one of those which pleases you most." 

Filostrato replied, "With all my heart;" and immediately began the following 

SONG. 

CHORUS. 

Sure, none can more your pity move. 

Than I, who am betray'd in love. 

When my poor wounded heart, 

For her of whom I now complain, 

First felt the am'rous smart, 

The greatest pain 

As nought I deemed: 

For she, since most unkind, 

Then all perfection seem'd 

But, ah! too late my error now I find. 

Sure, etc. 

For why? I see myself deceiv'd 

By her, my only hope and joy 

And when too fondly I believ'd, 

None so secure, so blest as I; 

All past engagements laid aside, 

To soothe a happier rival's pride. 

Sure, etc. 

Since my disgrace, 

I mourn and curse the day 

When her too beauteous face 

First stole my ravish'd heart away; 

Whilst my too easy faith and love 

An endless source of sorrow prove. 

Sure, etc. 

So great the grief. 

Which has my mind possest! 

That vain is all relief, 

And only death can give me rest; 

'Tis that shall all my sorrows close 

With a secure and long repose. 

Sure, etc. 

No other means remain 

To ease my pain! 

But, oh! when clos'd shall be these eyes, 

Within her breast 

Let ne'er one anxious thought arise 

Be she for ever blest! 

Sure, etc. 

Yet ere I go. 

Kind Cupid whisper in her ear 

That 'tis for her, 

I all these torments know: 

Perhaps she may repent her usage past, 

And grant my love a kind return at last. 

Sure none can more your pity move, 

Than I who am betrayed in love. 

Filostrato's sentiments, and the grounds of them, were plainly set forth in this song, and perhaps the lady's countenance who was engaged in the dance, would have made a farther discovery, if the darkness of the night had not concealed the blushes rising in her face; but the song being ended, as well as many others afterwards, and the hour of rest now drawing on, by the queen's command they all repaired to their several chambers. 

3-4 Felix, scholar, Puccio

NOVEL IV. 

A young scholar, named Felix, teaches one Puccio how he may be saved, by performing a penance which he shows him: this he puts into execution, and in the meantime Felix amuses himself with his wife. 

When Filomena had finished her story, which was much commended by Dioneo, the queen, casting her eyes on Pamfìlo, said: "Continue this amusement by some agreeable story." He replied, that he was very willing, and began thus: 

- Some people there are, who, whilst they endeavour to get to heaven themselves, inadvertently send others thither, which was the case of a neighbour of ours, as you shall hear. Near to St. Brancazio, as I am informed, there lived an honest man, and one of good substance, whose name was Puccio di Rineri, who, being spritually (spiritually) minded, and having much converse with the Franciscans, was usually called Friar Puccio. 

This man, I say, regarding only his religious affairs, and having no family besides a wife and a maid-servant, used constantly to be at church, spending his whole time in saying Pater Nosters, hearing sermons, and going to masses; and for fasting, and all kinds of holy discipline, he was as devout as the best. What with his devotion, and perhaps his age, his wife, whose name was Isabella, a lady of about twenty-eight years of age, as fresh and fair and plump as an apple, had a great deal more fasting than she thought good for her, and many a time would gladly have been asleep or otherwise employed, when he was recounting to her the holy life of our Lord, the preachings of Father Anastasius, the lamentations of Mary Magdalen, and so forth. 

Now at that time there returned from Paris a monk belonging to he convent of St. Brancazio, a comely young man, of good parts and learning, with whom our Puccio contracted an acquaintance; and as he was able to solve all his scruples, and appeared to be very religious, Friar Puccio would frequently invite him to his house, both to dine and sup, whilst his wife shewed him great civility on her husband's account. 

Coming often to the house in this manner, he soon cast his eye upon Puccio's wife, and perceiving that he was nowise disagreeable to her, he took the first opportunity of making a discovery of his inclinations; but, though he found her disposed to compliance, he could in no way contrive the means, for she would go nowhere out of her own house, and there it could not be, for Puccio was never far from home, which threw the young monk into a kind of despair. At last it came into his head how the thing might be carried on in the house, without any suspicion, though the husband was there all the time. Being one day alone with Puccio, he began in this manner: "I understand. Brother Puccio, that all your desire is to become holy, but it seems to me as if you took quite a round-about way, whilst there is a much shorter path, which the pope and the other great prelates know and follow, yet they are unwilling it should be divulged, for the sake of the clergy, because they live chiefly on the charities of the people, who in that case would have no further need to give them alms. Now as you are my friend, and have entertained me well at your house, if I thought you would tell nobody, and would practise this way I am speaking of, I would reveal it to you." Puccio was extremely impatient to know the secret swearing, by all that was sacred, never to divulge it without the monk's consent, and promising, if possible, to observe it; "As you make this promise," quoth the other, "I will tell you." "You must understand, then, that the holy doctors of the church maintain, that penance in the manner I am going to lay down, is necessary to saintly beatitude. But take notice, I do not say that, after this penance, you will be no more capable of sinning. No; but all the sins committed before that time will be forgiven, and the sins committed afterwards will not be numbered to your damnation; but you may wash them away with holy water, as now you may do by venial sins. A man, then, must begin this penance by a strict confession of all his sins; after which fasting and abstinence are necessary for forty days; during which space you must refrain, not to say from women only, but even from your own wife. Besides this, you must have some place in your own house where you may look towards heaven all night long. Thither you are to go in the evening, and there you must have a very large table fixed in such a manner, that, as you stand upon your feet, the small of your back may lean upon it, whilst your arms are extended like a crucifix; and if you can make them reach to any peg of wood, so much the better. In this manner you are to gaze towards heaven, without altering your posture till the morning. If you had been a scholar, you should have repeated some prayers which I would have taught you; but as you are not, you must say three hundred Pater Nosters, with as many Ave Marias, in honour of the Trinity; and, fixing your eyes upon heaven, you are still to remember God, the Creator of heaven and earth, and to bear in mind Christ's passion, standing in the manner that he was nailed to the cross; and, when the bell sounds in the morning, you may throw yourself upon your bed to sleep. You must afterwards go to church, and hear three masses at least, and say fifty Pater Nosters, and the like number of Ave Marias; and when this is done, you may go fairly and honestly about any business you may have to do; afterwards get your dinner, and be at church in the evening, where you must say a few prayers which I shall give you in writing, without which all would signify nothing; and in the evening return as before. If you follow this method, as I have formerly done, I hope, before the expiration of your penance, that you will perceive wonderful things of the eternal beatitudes; supposing, at the same time, that you are thoroughly devout." 

Friar Puccio replied: "This is no such long and grievous affair, and with God's permission I will begin next Sunday;" and leaving his friend, he went and related the whole to his wife. She knew well enough what the monk meant by that standing still in one spot till the morning, and thinking it a very good plan, she told her husband that she was satisfied with that, or anything else that he should do for the good of his soul; and, to render his penance more effectual, she meant to keep him company with fasting, but with nothing else. So far they were agreed: and when Sunday came, he entered upon his course, whilst the monk came every evening to sup with her, bringing with him plenty of meat and drink, and he stayed with her always till morning, when it was Puccio's time to come to bed. 

Now the room he had fixed upon for his penance was next to that where the lady lay, and divided from it only by a very thin partition. One night, when he had just got through a hundred of his Pater Nosters, he heard a noise in the next room; and, making a full stop, he called out to his wife, to know what she was doing. The lady, who was full heartily, as well she might; "have not I heard you say a thousand times that there is no resting in bed with an empty stomach?" Poor Puccio imagined that her not sleeping was really occasioned by her going to bed without her supper, and said to her, in the simplicity of his heart, "I told you, my dear, not to fast; but since you would do it, even try and rest as well as you can: you make the very floor shake under my feet." - "Never mind: attend to what you are about, and I will do as well as I can." Puccio said no more, but resumed his Pater Nosters. 

After that night the lady and the monk found out another part of the house, where they diverted themselves as long as the penance lasted. In the morning, when the monk was gone, Isabella used to return to her own bed, before her husband came to lie down. Things continuing in this way during the time that Puccio was qualifying himself for saintship, Isabella often said to the roguish monk, "Is it not a good joke, that you have put Puccio upon a penance by which we have gained paradise?" She liked it, indeed, so well, and was so fond of the good cheer supplied her by the monk, after the long time she had been kept on low diet by her husband, that even when the forty days of penance were out she found means to meet the monk elsewhere, and feast with him without stint. Thus I have made good the truth of what I said at the beginning of my story, for you see that whilst poor Friar Puccio thought of winning paradise by his hard penance, he only opened its doors to his wife and to the monk who had shown him the short cut thither.