6-3, Madam Nonna de' Pulci, Bishop of Florence

NOVEL III. 

Madam Nonna de' Pulci silences the Bishop of Florence, by a smart reply to an unseemly piece of raillery. 

Cisti's answer and his generosity having been highly commended, the queen gave her orders to Lauretta, who began as follows: - Most gracious ladies, Pampinea, the other day, and Filomena now, have both justly touched upon our own little merit, as well as the beauty of repartees: therefore, as it is needless to say anything farther upon that head, I shall only remind you, that your words should be such as only to nip or touch the hearer, as the sheep nibbles the grass, and not as the dog bites; for in that case it is no longer wit, but foul scurrility. This was excellently well set forth, both in what was said by Oretta, and in the reply of Cisti. It is true, however, that if a sharp thing be spoken by way of answer, and bites a little too keenly, yet if the person who answers in that manner was stung first, he is the less to blame. Therefore, you should be cautious both how, when, and with whom you jest. For want of attending sufficiently to this, a certain prelate of ours met with a sharper bite than he had given, as I shall show you in a very short novel. When Signor Antonio d'Orso, a most wise and worthy person, was bishop of Florence, a certain gentleman of Catalonia, marshal to King Robert, happened to come thither; who, having a good person, and being a great admirer of the fair sex, took a particular liking to a lady of that city, who was niece to the bishop's brother; and understanding that her husband, though of a good family, was most abominably sordid and covetous, he agreed to give him five hundred florins of gold to let him pass one night with her. Accordingly he got so many pieces of silver gilt, which he gave to him, and then obtained his desire contrary to her will and knowledge. This being discovered soon afterwards, the wretch became the common jest and scorn of mankind; but the bishop, like a wise man, affected to know nothing of the matter. 

The bishop being often in company with the marshal, it happened on St. John's day, that, as they were riding side by side through the city, viewing the ladies all the way, that the bishop cast his eye upon one, named Monna de' Pulchi, then newly married, and who is since dead of the plague, cousin also to Alesso Rinucci, whom you all knew: this lady, besides her great beauty, was endowed with a generous spirit, and spoke pertinently and well. Showing her, therefore, to the marshal, as soon as they came near her, he laid his hand upon the marshal's shoulder, and said, "Madam, what do you think of this gentleman? Could he make a conquest over you or not?" This seemed to touch her honour, or at least she thought it might give some persons present a worse opinion of her. Without ever thinking, then, how to clear herself of such a charge, but resolving to return like for like, she replied, "Perhaps he might, my lord; but then I should like to be paid with good money." This touched them both to the quick; the one as doing a very dishonourable thing to the bishop's relation; the other as receiving in his own person the shame belonging to his brother. And they rode away, without so much as looking at one another, or exchanging a word together all the day after. Very justly, therefore, did this lady bite the biter. 

6-2, Cisti, baker, Signor Geri Spina

NOVEL II. 

Cisti, the baker, by a smart reply, makes Signor Geri Spina sensible of an unreasonable request. 

The whole company was pleased with what Oretta had said, when the queen pointed next to Pampinea, who spoke thus: - It is beyond my capacity to determine whether nature be more in fault, when she joins a generous soul to a homely person; or fortune in dooming a body, graced with a noble spirit, to a mean condition of life; as was the case of a citizen of ours, named Cisti, as well as of many others. For this man, though he had a truly great spirit, yet fortune made him no better than a baker. For my part, I should quarrel with both nature and fortune, did I not know nature to be absolutely wise, and that fortune has a thousand eyes, although fools have described her as blind. I suppose, therefore, that both, being truly wise and judicious, act as we ourselves often do, who, uncertain of what may happen, for our convenience often bucy our most valuable treasure in the meanest places of our houses, as the least liable to suspicion; whence we can fetch them in time of need, and where they have continued more secure than they would have been in the best chamber of the house. So these two ministers of the world do many times hide their most precious blessings under the cover of some mean employ, to the end that, drawing them thence when need requires, they may appear with greater lustre; which was plainly shown, although in a small matter, by our baker Cisti, to the apprehension of Signor Geri Spina, whom the story of Madame Oretta, who was his wife, brings fresh into my mind; as I shall relate in a very short novel. 

You must know, then, that Pope Boniface, with whom this same Signor Geri was in great esteem, having occasion to send ambassadors to Florence, about some particular business, they were entertained at this Geri Spina's house, and employed with him in the said pope's negotiation. It happened, whatever was the reason, that they passed on foot every morning by the church of St. Maria Ughi, where Cisti the baker dwelt, and followed his trade. Though fortune had given Cisti but a mean employ, yet in this respect she had been kind to him - that he had grown very rich in it; and, without having any desire to leave it for a better, he lived very generously among his neighbours, having everything in plenty, the best wine especially, both red and white, that the country could afford. Now, seeing the ambassadors walk daily by his door, Cesti supposed, as the season was sultry, that it would be esteemed a kindness to let them drink some of his fine white wine; but regarding at the same time the disparity between his station and theirs, he would not presume to invite them, but thought of a way whereby Signor Geri might be induced of his own accord to taste it. Having a white frock on, therefore, with an apron before him, which bespoke him rather a miller than a baker, every morning about the time that he supposed they should come that way, would he order a bucket full of fair water to be brought, and a decanter of wine, with a couple of beakers as bright as crystal, to be set before him; then, seating himself at his door, and first clearing his mouth and throat, he would take a draught or two just as they were going past, with a gusto sufficient to cause an appetite almost in a man that was dead. 

Signor Gerì observing this once or twice, said, the third time, "What say you? Is your wine good, Master Cisti?" "That it is, signor," he replied, starting up; "but how can I convince you unless you taste?" Signor Geri, whom either the heat of the weather, or his extraordinary fatigue, or perhaps the relish with which he saw the other drink, had rendered thirsty, turned with a smile to the ambassadors, and said, "Gentlemen, we may as well drink of this honest man's wine, perhaps it is such that we shall not need to repent." Accordingly they went together to Cisti, who, ordering seats to be brought out of his bakehouse, prayed them to sit down, saying to their servants, who offered to wash their glasses, "Friends, get you gone; leave this to me. I am no worse a skinker than a baker, and stay you ever so long you shall not taste a drop." Washing then four neat glasses, and ordering a fresh decanter to be brought, he filled round to Signor Geri and the ambassadors, who all thought it the best wine they had tasted in a long time; and having highly commended it, they called to drink with him most mornings during their stay. At length, having despatched their business, and being about to depart. Signor Geri made an entertainment for them, to which he invited a great part of the most eminent citizens, and Cisti amongst the rest, who could by no means be persuaded to go. Signor Geri then ordered one of his servants to fetch a flask of Cisti's wine, and to fill half a glass lound to all the company at the first table. The servant (offended, as we may suppose, that he had never been able to get a taste of it) took a very large bottle, which as soon as Cisti saw, he said, "Friend, Signor Geri never sent thee to me." The servant affirmed over and over that he had, but meeting with no other reply, he returned to his master, and told him. Then said Signor Geri, "Go back, and tell him that I did send thee, and if he makes the like answer again, ask him whither he thinks I should send thee." The servant went again, and said, "Most assuredly. Signor Geri, my master, has sent me to you." - "I tell thee, friend, it is impossible." - "Then," quoth the servant, "whither do you think he sent me?" - "To the river Arno." When the fellow reported this answer to Signor Geri, his eyes were immediately opened, and he said, "Let me see what bottle it was which you carried to him." On seeing it, he added, "Now, trust me, Cisti spoke truth." Then reprimanding him severely, he ordered him to take a more suitable vessel, which as soon as Cisti saw, he said, "Why now I am certain that he sent thee to me; "and he filled it very readily for him. That day also he had a cask filled with the same wine, which he sent to Signor Geri's house, and going himself after it, he thus addressed him: - “sir, I would not have you think that I was any way startled at the sight of the great bottle this morning; but as I imagined you had forgotten what I had endeavoured to intimate to you for several days past with my little decanters; namely, that mine is no wine for servants; so I only did it to remind you again of the same. But, meaning to be steward no longer, I have now brought my whole store; dispose of it as you please.” Signor Geri was extremely thankful for his valuable present, and ever afterwards esteemed him as his most intimate friend. 

THE SIXTH DAY. NOVEL I. Knight, lady.

THE SIXTH DAY. 

The moon had now lost her brightness in the midst of the heavens, and the world became illumined by the appearance of the new day, when the queen arose with all her company, and they walked forth upon the dewy grass, to some distance from that little eminence, holding various arguments by the way concerning their late novels, and making themselves merry with reciting some of the most entertaining over again: till at last, the heat growing excessive, as the sun was mounted to a greater height, they turned back, and came to the palace, where, the tables being set forth against their return, and every part of the house bedecked with sweet smelling flowers, they sat down to dinner. When that was over, and after they had sung a few songs, some went to sleep, and others played at chess; whilst Dioneo and Lauretta sang the song of Troilus and Cressida. At the usual hour they met, by the fountain's side, and the queen was about to call for the first novel, when she was interrupted by an occurrence such as never had happened before, namely, a great noise and tumult among the servants in the kitchen. The queen sent for the master of the household to know what it was all about, but he could not tell; all he knew was that there was a dispute between Licisca and Tindaro. The queen then ordered the pair to be brought before her, and when they were come into her presence she demanded the reason of their discord. Tindaro began to make answer, - when Licisca, whose blood was up, turning upon him in high disdain, exclaimed, "How dare this beast of a man presume to open his mouth before me! Let me speak." Then turning to the queen she proceeded: 

"This fellow, my lady, would tell me, forsooth, all about Sicofante 's wife, for all the world as if I did not know her of old; and he would have me believe that there was violence and bloodshed the first night Sicofante went to bed to her; but I say there was no such thing, but all passed very smoothly and comfortably. This jackass actually believes that young girls are such fools as to lose their time, waiting, shilly shally, three or four years, till their fathers or brothers think fit to get them a husband. Ecod, a fine time they'd have of it waiting so long! By the faith of a Christian! and I ought to know what I am saying when I swear that oath, among all my gossips there is not one that went a maid to her husband: aye and the married women too, I know what tricks they play on their husbands: and yet this great mutton-headed oaf would have me learn from him what are the ways of women, as if I was born yesterday." 

Whilst Licisca talked thus, the ladies laughed at such a rate you might have drawn all their teeth. The queen commanded her six times at least to hold her tongue, but it was of no avail. As soon as she had let out all she chose to say, the queen turned to Dioneo, and said with a smile, "This question belongs to your province; therefore, when our novels are ended, you shall give your verdict upon it." "Madam," he replied at once, "the verdict is given without hearing more; I say that Licisca is right, and I agree with her in opinion that Tindaro is an ass." 

When Licisca heard this she burst out laughing, and turning to Tindaro: "I told thee so," she said; "God help thee, with thy eyes hardly open yet, to think thou knowest more than I do. Gramercy! I have not lived for nothing, not I." And if the queen had not peremptorily cut her short, and ordered her and Tindaro to begone, nobody else would have had a chance of speaking that day. When the disputants were gone, the queen called on Filomena to begin the day's novels, which she did as follows: 

NOVEL I. 

A certain knight offers a lady to carry her behind him, and to tell her a pleasant story by the way; but, doing it with an ill grace, she chose rather to walk on foot. 

Ladies, as stars are the ornaments of heaven, flowers of the spring, and as the hills are most beautiful when planted with trees, so a smart and elegant turn of expression is the embellishment of discourse; and the shorter the better, especially in women. But true it is, whether it be owing to our unhappy dispositions, or some particular enmity which the stars bear to our sex, there is hardly any among us that knows how to say a good thing pat to the occasion, or to understand it when said, which is a great disgrace to us all. 

But as Pampinea has before enlarged on this point, I shall say nothing farther, but only show, by the neat manner in which a lady silenced a knight, the great beauty of a word or two spoken in due time and place. 

You may all of you have heard, that there lived in our city, not a great while ago, a lady of much worth and wit, whose good qualities deserve not that her name should be concealed; she was called Madame Oretta, and was the wife of Signor Geri Spina. Once when she was in the country, and was taking a long walk with some ladies and knights, who had dined at her house the day before, the way seemed a little tedious, and one of the knights, who happened to be on horseback, said, that if she pleased, he would take her up behind him, and entertain her with one of the best stories in the world. The lady willingly accepted the offer. The knight, who told a story with as ill a grace as he wore a sword, began his tale, which was really a good one; but, by frequent repetitions, and beginning it over again to say it better; by mistaking one name for another, and relating everything in the worst manner, he mangled it to that degree, that he made the lady quite sick. Unable to bear it any longer, seeing him set fast and not likely soon to extricate himself, she said pleasantly to him, "sir, your horse has a very uneasy, trot, pray set me down." The knight, who took a hint more readily than he told a story, made a laugh of it, and began another tale, leaving unfinished the one he had begun so badly.