9-6, Two young gentlemen lie at an inn

NOVEL VI. 

Two young gentlemen lie at an inn, one of whom goes to bed to the landlord's daughter; whilst the wife, by mistake, lies with the other. Afterwards, he that had lain with the daughter, gets to bed to the father, and tells him all that had passed, thinking it had been his friend: a great uproar is made about it; upon which the wife goes to bed to the daughter, and very cunningly sets all to rights again. 

Calandrino, who had so frequently diverted the company, made them laugh once more: when the queen laid her next commands upon Pamfilo, who therefore said: - Ladies, the name of Niccolosa, mentioned in the last novel, puts me in mind of one concerning another of the same name; in which will be shown, how the subtle contrivance of a certain good woman was the means of preventing a great deal of scandal. 

On the plains of Mugnone lived, not long ago, an honest man, who kept a small house for the entertainment of travellers, serving them with meat and drink for their money, but seldom lodging any, unless they were his particular acquaintances. He had a wife, a very comely woman, by whom he had two children, the one an infant, the other a fine handsome girl of about fifteen or sixteen years of age, not yet married. She had taken the fancy of a young gentleman of our city, who used to travel much that way, and being proud of such a conquest, she strove to preserve his good opinion, so that their mutual inclinations would several times have been gratified, had not Pinuccio, for that was the young gentleman's name, carefully avoided it, for her credit as well as his own. At last, his love growing every day more fervent, he resolved, in order to gain his point, to lie all night at her father's house; supposing, as he was acquainted with the state of the house, that it might then be effected without any one's privity. He communicated his design to a confidential friend of his, named Adriano; so they hired a couple of horses one evening, and having their portmanteaus behind them, filled perhaps with straw, they set out from Florence; and, after taking a circuit, came, as it grew late, to the plains of Mugnone. There, turning their horses' heads, as if they had come from Romagna, they rode on to this cottage, and knocked at the door, which was immediately opened by the attentive landlord. "Honest landlord," said Pinuccio, "we must beg the favour of a night's lodging, for we designed to have reached Florence, but have so managed that it is now much too late, as you see." - "sir," replied the host, "you know very well how ill I can accommodate such gentlemen as yourselves; but, as you are come at such an hour, and there is no time for your travelling any farther, I will entertain you as well as I can. So they dismounted, and went into the house, having first taken care of their horses; and as they had provision along with them, they sat down and supped with their host. 

Now there was only one little chamber in the house, which had three beds in it; namely, two at one end, and the third at the other, opposite to them, with just room to go between, and no more. The least incommodious of these, the landlord ordered to be sheeted for these two gentlemen, and put them to bed. A little time afterwards, neither of them being asleep, though they pretended to be so, he made his daughter lie in one of the beds that remained; he and his wife went into the other, and she set the cradle with the child by her bed-side. Things being so disposed, and Pinuccio having made an exact observation of every particular, as soon as he thought it a proper time, and that every one was asleep, he rose, and went softly to bed to the daughter, where he remained to his great satisfaction. In the meantime, a cat happened to throw something down in the house, which awakened the good woman, who, fearing it was something else, got up in the dark, and went where she had heard the noise. Just then it chanced that Adriano rose, upon a particular occasion, and finding the cradle in his way, he moved it nearer to his own bed; and having done what he rose for, went to bed again, without troubling himself to put the cradle back in its place. The good woman, finding what was thrown down to be of no moment, never troubled herself to strike a light, to see farther about it, but returned to the bed where her husband lay; and not finding the cradle, "Bless me," she said to herself, "I had like to have made a strange mistake, and gone to bed to my guests!" Going farther then, and finding the cradle which stood by Adriano, she stepped into bed to him, thinking it had been her husband. He was awake, and treated her very kindly, without saying a word all the time to undeceive her. At length Pinuccio, fearing lest he should fall asleep, and so be surprised with his mistress, after having made the best use of his time, left her to return to his own bed; when meeting with the cradle, and supposing that was the host's bed, he went farther, and stepped into the host's bed indeed, who immediately awoke. Pinuccio, thinking it was his friend, said to him, “surely, nothing was ever so sweet as Niccolosa; never man was so blessed as I have been with her all night long." The host, who anything but pleased with this news, said first to himself, "What the devil is the man doing here?" Afterwards, being more passionate than wise, he cried out, "Thou art the greatest of villains to use one in that manner: but I vow to God I will pay thee for it." 

Pinuccio, who was none of the sharpest men in the world, seeing his mistake, without ever thinking to amend it, as he might have done, replied, "You pay me! what can you do?" The hostess, imagining that she had been with her husband, said to Adriano, "Hark to our guests! what is the matter with them?" He replied, with a laugh, "Let them be hanged, if they will; they got drunk, I suppose, last night." The woman now distinguished her husband's voice, and hearing Adriano, soon knew where she was, and with whom. Therefore she very discreetly got up, without saying a word, and removed the cradle, though there was no light in the chamber, as near as she could guess to her daughter's bed, and crept in to her; when, seeming as if she had been awoke with their noise, she called out to her husband to know what was the matter with him and the gentleman. The husband replied, "Do you not hear what he says he has been doing tonight with Niccolosa?" - "He is a liar," quoth she, "he was never in bed with her, it was I, and I have never closed my eyes since. You are an ass to believe him. You drink to that degree in the evening, that you rave all night long, and go here and there, without knowing anything of the matter, and think you do wonders. It's surprising you don't break your neck. But what is that gentleman doing there? why is he not in his own bed?" Adriano, on the other side, perceiving that the good woman had found a very artful evasion, both for herself and daughter, cried out, "Pinuccio, I have told you a hundred times that you should never lie out of your own house; for that great failing of yours, of walking in your sleep, and telling your dreams for truth, will get you into mischief some time or other. Come back to your own bed, confound you! "The landlord, hearing what his wife and Adriano said, began to think Pinuccio was really dreaming, so he got up and shook him by the shoulders, to rouse him, saying, "Wake up, and get back to your own bed." Pinuccio now began to ramble in his talk, like a man that was dreaming, whereat the host made himself exceedingly merry. At last he seemed to wake, after much ado, and called out, "Hallo! Adriano, is it daylight? what do you wake me for?" - "Yes, yes," said Adriano, "come here, will you?" He, pretending to be very sleepy, got up at last, and went to Adriano. In the morning, the landlord laughed very heartily, and was full of jokes about him and his dreams. So they passed from one merry subject to another, whilst their horses were getting ready, and their portmanteaus tying upon them; when, taking the host's parting cup, they mounted and went to Florence, no less pleased with the manner of the thing's being effected, than with what followed. Afterwards, Pinuccio contrived other means of being with Niccolosa, who still vowed to her mother that he had been dreaming that night; whilst she, well remembering how she had fared with Adriano, thought herself the only person that had been awake. 

[This tale has been taken from an old Fabliau of the Trouveur Jean de Boves, entitled "De Gombert et des deux Clercs." These two clerks go to get their corn ground. The miller pretends to be from home, and while they are seeking him through the wood, he purloins the corn, but without their suspecting him of the theft. The night scene corresponds with the "Decameron," except that the cradle is removed intentionally, by one of the clerks, in order to entrap the miller's wife: the catastrophe, however, is different; for the miller, during his quarrel with the other clerk, on account of the information he had unconsciously given, strikes a light, and discovers the circumstances in which his wife is placed. He addresses her in terms the most energetic. She answers, that what she had done was undesigned, which is more than he can say of stealing the corn. The "Reeve's Tale," in Chaucer, seems to be compounded of the Fabliau and the novel of Boccaccio. It bears the nearest resemblance to the former, but in one or two incidents is different from both, and by no means so ingenious. The story, as related by our author, has been imitated in the "Cent Nouvelles Nouvelles," and in the "Berceau," of La Fontaine.] 

9-5, Calandrino is in love with a certain damsel

NOVEL V. 

Calandrino is in love with a certain damsel; Bruno prepares a charm for her, by virtue of which she follows him, and they are found together by his wife. 

Neifile's short novel being concluded, without either too much talk or laughter, the queen ordered Fiammetta to follow, which she did cheerfully in this manner: - There is nothing, be it ever so often repeated, but will please always if mentioned in due time and place. When I consider, therefore, the intent of our meeting, which is only to amuse and divert ourselves whilst we are here, I judge nothing either ill-timed or ill-placed which serves that purpose. So, though we have had much about Calandrino already, yet I will venture to give you another story concerning him; in relating which, were I disposed to vary from the truth, I should carefully have disguised it under very different names; but, as romancing upon these occasions greatly lessens the pleasure of the hearer, I shall report it in its true shape, relying on the reason before assigned. 

Niccolo Cornacchini, a fellow citizen of ours, was a very rich man. Amongst his other estates he had one at Camerata, where he built a mansion, and agreed with Bruno and Buffalmacco to paint it; but there being a great deal of work, they took Nello and Calandrino to assist them. As some of the chambers were furnished, and there was an old woman to look after the house, a son of this Niccolo's named Filippo, a gay young gentleman, would frequently bring a mistress thither for a day or two, and then send her away. Amongst the rest that used to come with him, was one Niccolosa, an agreeable and facetious woman enough, who going from her chamber one morning, in a loose, white bedgown, to wash her hands and face at a fountain in the court, it happened that Calandrino was there at the same time, when he made his compliments to her, which she returned with a kind of smile at the oddity of the man. Upon this he began to look wistfully at her, and seeing she was very handsome, he found pretences for staying, yet durst not speak a word. Still her looks seemed to give him encouragement, and the poor fellow became so enamoured, that he had no power to leave the place, till Filippo chanced to call her into the house. Calandrino then returned to his friends in a most piteous taking, which Bruno perceiving, said, "What the devil is the matter with you, that you seem to be in all this trouble?" He replied, "Ah! my friend, if I had any one to assist me, I should do well enough." - "As how?" - "I will tell you," he replied. "The most beautiful woman you ever saw, exceeding even the fairy queen herself, fell in love with me just now as I went to the well." - "Wheugh!", said Bruno, "you must take care it be not Filippo's mistress." - "I believe it is the same," he replied; "for she went away the moment he called her: but why should I mind that." Was she a king's, I would lie with her, if I could" - "Well," quoth Bruno, "I will find out who she is, and if she proves the same, I can tell you in two words what you have to do; for we are well acquainted together: but how shall we manage, that Buffalmacco may know nothing of the matter Ì I can never speak to her but he will be present." - "As to Buffalmacco," said he, "I am in no fear about him; but we must take care of Nello; he is my wife's relation, and would spoil our whole scheme." 

Now Bruno knew Niccolosa, very well, and when Calandrino was gone out one day, to get a sight of her, he acquainted Buffalmacco and Nello with the affair, and they agreed together what was to be done. Upon Calandrino's return, therefore, Bruno whispered him, and said, "Have you seen her?" - "Alas! I have, and she has slain me outright." 

- "I will go and see," said Bruno, "whether she be the person I mean; if she be, you may leave the whole to me." So he went and told Filippo and Niccolosa what had passed, and laid a plot with them for making sport of the enamoured Calandrino. He then came back, and said, "It is the same, therefore we must be very cautious; for if Filippo should chance to find it out, all the water in the river would never wash off the guilt in his sight. But what shall I say to her on your part?" - "First, you must let her know," said Calandrino, "that she shall have much joy, and pleasure without end, and afterwards that I am her most obedient servant, and so forth. Do you understand?" - "Yes," quoth Bruno, "I do, and you may now trust me to manage for you." 

When supper-time arrived, they left their work, and went down into the court, where they found Filippo and his mistress waiting to make themselves merry with the poor man. Calandrino began at once to ogle her in such a manner that a blind man almost must have perceived it; and she encouraged him with all her heart, thinking it capital fun, whilst Filippo pretended to be talking to Buffalmacco and the others, as if he saw nothing of the matter. After some time the painters left the place, to Calandrino's great vexation, and as they were returning to Florence, said Bruno to Calandrino, "I tell you now, that you have made her melt like ice before the sun; do but bring your guitar, and play her a tune, and she will throw herself out of the window to you." - "Do you think so?" - "Most certainly," replied the other. - "Well," quoth Calandrino, "who but myself could have made such a conquest in so short a time? I am not like your young fellows that whine for years together to no manner of purpose. Oh! you would be vastly pleased to hear me play and sing: besides, I am not old, as you suppose. She saw this at once; but I will convince her still better of it if once I get her unto my clutches. 

By the Lord I'll please her so that she will run after me as a mother does after her child." - "Oh, you'll touzle her no doubt," said Bruno; "I fancy I see you with those teeth of yours like lutepegs, biting her little vermilion lips, and her cheeks that looks like two roses, and then munching her all over." Calandrino taking all this in earnest, fancied himself at the sport already, and began to sing and dance about as if he would jump out of his skin. The next morning he carried his instrument with him, and diverted them all very much with his minstrelsy; and not a bit could he work, for he was every moment running to the window, and to the door, in hopes to see his charmer. Bruno carried all his messages, and answered them too as from her; and when she was not there, he would bring letters, purposing to give her admirer hopes that she would soon gratify his desires, but that then she was with her relations, and could not see him. 

Thus Bruno and Buffalmacco diverted themselves at Calandrino's expense for some time, often getting from him presents to give the lady, such as a comb, a purse, a knife, or such nicknacks, for which Bruno brought him in return counterfeit rings of no value, with which he was vastly delighted. Besides all these things they got many a good treat and presents out of him, that they might be sedulous in attending to his business. The affair had gone on in this manner for two months, when seeing that the work was nearly finished, and imagining that unless he brought his love to a conclusion before that time, he should làave no opportunity of doing it afterwards, he began to be very urgent with Bruno about it. When Niccolosa next came there, Bruno had a talk with her and Filippo. Then he went to Calandrino, and said to him, "Look you, comrade, this lady has made us a thousand promises to no purpose, so that it appears to me as if she only did it to lead us by the nose: my advice, therefore, is, that we make her comply, whether she will or not." - "Odds life! let us do it out of hand," cried Calandrino. - "But," says Bruno, "will your heart serve you to touch her with a certain charm that I shall give you?" - "You need not doubt that." "Then, you must procure me a little virgin-parchment, a living bat, three grains of incense, and a consecrated candle." All that night was Calandrino employed in catching a bat, which at length he brought with the other things to Bruno, who went into a room by himself, scribbled some odd characters upon the parchment, and gave it him, saying, "All you have to do is to touch her with this, and she will do that moment what you would have her. Therefore, if Filippo should go from home, take an opportunity to steal up to her, and having touched her, then go into the barn, which is a most convenient place for your purpose, whither she will follow you, and then you know that you have to do." Calandrino received the charm with great joy, saying, "Let me alone for that." Meanwhile Nello, whom he was most afraid of, and who was as deep as any in the plot, went, by Bruno's direction, to Calandrino's wife, at Florence, and said to her, "Cousin, you have now a fair opportunity to be revenged on your husband, for his beating you the other day without cause: if you let it slip, I will never look upon you more, either as a relation or a friend. He has a mistress, whom he is frequently with, and at this very time they have made an appointment to meet; then pray be a witness to it, and correct him as he deserves." This seemed to her beyond a jest. "Oh, the villain! " She said. "But I will pay him off all old scores." Accordingly, taking her hood, and a woman to bear her company, she went along with him; and when Bruno saw them at a distance, he said to Filippo, 'see, our friends are coming; you know what you have to do." On this, Filippo went where Calandrino and the people were at work, and said, 

"Masters, I must go to Florence; you will take care not to be idle when I am away." He then went and hid himself in a place where he might see what passed. As soon as Calandrino thought he was far enough off, he went into the court, where he found the lady all alone. She, well knowing what he meant to do, approached him, looking more than usually gracious. Calandrino touched her with the writing, and immediately moved off, without saying a word, towards the barn, Niccolosa followed him in, and shut the door; then flinging her arms round him, she threw him flat on the straw, fell over him with her hands upon his shoulders, holding him down so fast that he could not kiss her, whilst she made believe to be feasting her eyes with the sight of him. At length she cried out, "O my dear Calandrino! my life! my soul! my only comfort! how long have I desired to have thee in this manner?" He, unable to move, said, "My dearest joy! do let me have one kiss." - "My jewel," replied she, "thou art in too much haste; let me satisfy myself first with gazing upon thee." Bruno, Buffalmacco, and Filippo, heard and saw all this; and just as he was striving to get a kiss from her, up comes Nello along with the wife, and cries, "I vow to God they are together." Monna Tessa, in her rage, burst open the door, and beheld Niccolosa astride of Calandrino, until on the entrance of intruders she left her spark, and went to Filippo; whilst the wife ran and scratched Calandrino's face all over, and tore out his hair, screaming at him, "You poor pitiful rascal, to dare to serve me in this manner! You old villain! What! have you not enough to do at home? A fine fellow, truly, to pretend to a mistress, with this old worn-out carcase! and she as fine a lady, to take up with such a precious thing as you are!" Calandrino was confounded to that degree, that he made no defence; so she beat him as she pleased, till at length he humbly begged her not to make that clamour, unless she had a mind to have him murdered, for that the lady was no less a person than the wife of the master of the house. 

"A plague confound her," she said, "be she who she will." Bruno and Buffalmacco, who, with Filippo and Niccolosa, had been laughing heartily at what passed, came in upon them now, as though they had been drawn thither by the noise. When, with much ado, they had pacified Monna Tessa, they persuaded Calandrino to go home, and come back no more, for fear Filippo should do him a mischief. So he went to Florence, miserably scratched and beaten, without having the heart ever to return; but plagued with the perpetual reproaches of his wife, he let his hot love grow cold, after having afforded great matter for diversion to his friends, to Niccolosa, and to Filippo.

9-4, Fortarrigo, Buonconvento, Angiolieri

NOVEL IV. 

Fortarrigo played away all that he had at Buonconvento, as also the money of Angiolieri, who was his master; then running away in his shirt, and pretending that the other had robbed him, he caused him to be seized by the country people, when he put on his clothes, and rode away upon his horse, leaving him there in his shirt. 

Calandrino's simplicity had occasioned a good deal of diversion; when Neifile, as it was the queen's pleasure, began in this manner: - If it were not more difficult for people to show their worth and good sense, than their bad dispositions and folly, they would not need to lay their tongues under such severe restraint, as many are forced to do. Now I mean to tell a story quite contrary to the last; namely, how the knavery of one man overreached the understanding of another, to the great detriment and derision of the person so outwitted. 

There dwelt, not long since, at Siena, two young men of equal years, named Angiolieri and Fortarrigo, who, though they differed much in other respects, resembled each other in their disobedience to their fathers, by which means they became inseparable friends. Angiolieri, who was an accomplished gentleman, found that he could not subsist very well in Siena upon his father's allowance, and hearing that a certain cardinal was come to Ancona, as the pope's legate, who had showed a particular regard for him, he resolved to go thither, in hopes of bettering his condition. So making his mind known to his father, he got half a year's stipend before-hand, in order to furnish himself with clothes and horses for his more creditable appearance. As he was in want of a servant, Fortarrigo, who had notice of it, came and requested the favour that he would take him along with him in that capacity, offering to be his valet, footman, and everything else, without a farthing of wages more than his expenses. This the other refused, not that he thought him unfit for his service, but because he knew him to be a gamester, and one that would frequently get drunk. Fortarrigo assured him he would be constantly on his guard with respect to both, confirming it with many oaths, and begging so hard besides, that at last his request was granted. 

Accordingly they set out upon their journey, and rode as far as Buonconvento, where they stopped to dine; and after dinner, as it was very hot weather, Angiolieri ordered a bed to be prepared, when he made his man undress him, and went to sleep, ordering him to call him up exactly as the clock struck nine. Whilst he was asleep, then, Fortarrigo went to the tavern, and, after drinking pretty heartily, began to play with some people there, who soon won what little money he had, and also the clothes off his back. Being very desirous of retrieving what he had lost, he went, stripped as he was, to Angiolieri's bed-side, and finding him fast asleep, took all the money out of his pocket, and, returning to play, lost it, as he had done the rest. As soon as Angiolieri awoke, he rose and dressed himself, inquiring for Fortarrigo, who, not being to be found, he supposed he was gone somewhere or other to sleep, as he was used to do; therefore he determined to leave him there, ordering the saddle and portmanteau to be put upon his own horse, intending to provide himself with another servant at Corsignano. Then putting his hand into his pocket, to pay his landlord, he found he had no money, upon which he made a great uproar, declaring that he had been robbed, and threatening to have them all sent prisoners to Siena; when, behold, Fortarrigo came running up in his shirt, with a design of stealing his master's clothes, as well as his money, and seeing him about to ride away, he said, "What is the meaning of this, sir? Why should we go so soon? Do stay a little. A man has got my coat in pawn for eight and thirty shillings, and I dare say he will let us have it for five and thirty to be paid down." But as he was saying this, a person came and told Angiolieri, that Fortarrigo was a thief, as appeared from the quantity of money he had lost; upon which Angiolieri was in a most violent passion, threatening to have him hanged up and gibbeted; saying this, he mounted his horse. "But," said Fortarrigo, as if he had been no way concerned, "pray, sir, leave off this idle talk, and let us have regard to the main point; we may have this coat now for five and thirty shillings, but if we stay till tomorrow, the person who lent me the money may expect eight and thirty for it. Why then should we lose these three shillings."

Angiolieri was out of all patience, hearing this from him; and seeing the surprise of the people all round him, who manifestly believed, not that Fortarrigo had gamed away his money, but rather that he had some of Fortarrigo's money in keeping, he said, “Plague take thee and thy coat! Is it not enough to have robbed me, but thou must insult me into the bargain, and stop my going away?'still Fortarrigo continued, as if he had not been the person spoken to, "Consider these three shillings. Do you think I shall never pay you again? If you have any regard for me, pray do. Why need you be in such a hurry? We shall be in time enough at Torrenieri. Then open your purse. I may go to every shop in Siena, and not get such another coat. And to tell me that I must leave it for eight and thirty shillings, when it is worth more than forty, is doing me a double injury." 

Angiolieri, vexed to the last degree at seeing himself robbed, and then kept in talk in that manner, turned his horse, and rode towards Torrenieri. Fortarrigo, who had still a more knavish design, ran after him for two miles together, begging for his coat; and as the other was going to push on, in order to get rid of his noise, Fortarrigo happened to see some labourers by the road where Angiolieri was to pass, and called out to them, “stop thief;" so they took their forks and spades, and seized Angiolieri, imagining that he had robbed the other, who was pursuing him in that manner. It was in vain that Angiolieri offered to tell them how the case really was; for in the meantime, Fortarrigo come up, and said, with an angry countenance, "I have a good mind to knock your brains out, you rascal! to ride away with what belongs to me;" and turning to the people, he added,. "You see, gentlemen, in what a plight he left me yonder at the inn, having first gamed away all that he had of his own. I may well say that it is you I am obliged to for getting back my horse and my clothes, and I shall always acknowledge it." 

Angiolieri then told them a very different story, but they had no regard to what he said. So Fortarrigo dismounted him, with their assistance, stripped him of his clothes, which he put on himself, and got upon his horse, leaving him there in his shirt, and barefoot. Then he returned to Siena, giving it out everywhere that he had won Angiolieri's horse and clothes at play; whilst Angiolieri thinking to have visited the cardinal in a sumptuous manner, returned poor and naked to Buonconvento, and was so ashamed of himself, that he would not go back to Siena, but procuring some money upon the horse that Fortarrigo had ridden on, he clothed himself and went to his relations at Corsignano, where he stayed till he received a supply from his father. Thus Angiolieri's good design was entirely frustrated by the other's subtle villany, which yet in due time and place met with its deserved punishment.