“Dì a mammata che se allecorde de la ’mprommessa!” [“Tell your mother to remember the promise!”]
“When Petrosinella, who knew nothing about the matter, next encountered the ogress, she repeated the usual proposition, to which Petrosinella innocently answered what her mother had told her to say. At that, the ogress grabbed her by the hair, took her to a wood—where the Sun’s horses never entered, so as not to pay rent on those pastures of shadow—and locked her in a tower that she had created with a spell. This tower was without doors or stairs; it had just one little window through which the ogress climbed up and down on Petrosinella’s hair, which was very long, like a ship boy uses shrouds to climb the masts.
“Now it happened one day that while the ogress was away from the tower, Petrosinella stuck her head out of the hole and spread her braids in the sun.4 The son of a prince passed by, and when he saw those two golden banners summoning souls to enlist in the ranks of Love and noticed that heart-enchanting face of a Siren5 amid those precious waves, he became hopelessly infatuated with such beauty. And after sending her a memorial of sighs, it was decreed that the stronghold should be surrendered to his grace. The negotiations went so well that the prince received nods of the head in exchange for kisses sent on his hands, winks of the eye in exchange for bows, thanks in exchange for offers, hopes for promises, and kind words for salaams. When this had gone on for many days they became so friendly that they made an appointment to meet, which had to take place at night—when the moon played ‘Mute Sparrow’6 with the stars—at which time Petrosinella would give the ogress a sleeping potion and then hoist the prince up on her hair.
“And so they remained. The appointed hour came and the prince arrived at the tower. He gave a whistle and Petrosinella lowered her braids, which he grabbed with both hands, saying, ‘Heave ho!’ And when he had been pulled up, he threw himself through the little window of the room and made himself a meal of that parsley of the sauce of Love, and then—before the Sun taught its horses to jump through the circle of the zodiac—lowered himself down on the same golden ladder and went off to look after his affairs.
“Since they continued to do this often, one of the ogress’s neighbors caught on, and, troubling herself about it like Rosso,7 she decided to stick her face in the shit. She told the ogress to take heed, for Petrosinella was making love with a certain young man and she suspected that things might have gone even farther because she could see the buzz of activity and trafficking, and feared that once they had made a clean sweep, they would vacate the house before May.8 The ogress thanked her neighbor for the helpful warning and told her that she would take care of blocking Petrosinella’s way, and that besides, she couldn’t possibly escape because she had put a spell on her. If she didn’t have three acorns in her hand, which were hidden in one of the rafters in the kitchen, trying to slip out of there was a lost cause.
“While they were engaged in this talk Petrosinella, who had kept her ears pricked since she was a bit suspicious of the neighbor, heard the whole conversation, and—as soon as Night shook out its black clothes so they wouldn’t be eaten by moths—when the prince arrived in the usual manner she got him to climb up into the rafters. They found the acorns, which Petrosinella knew how to use because she had been enchanted by the ogress, made a ladder of string down which they both went, and then threw up their heels and took off in the direction of the city.
“But as they were leaving they were seen by the neighbor, who began to scream and call for the ogress, and her screams were so loud that she woke her up. When the ogress heard that Petrosinella had escaped she went down that same ladder, which was still tied to the little window, and began to race after the lovers. They saw her coming after them faster than an unreined horse, and thought they were lost; but then Petrosinella remembered the three acorns and immediately threw one of them on the ground. Out sprung a Corsican hound; and was it terrifying, oh, dear mother! With its mouth hanging open it ran toward the ogress, barking, intending to eat her up in one bite. But since she was slyer than Old Nick himself, she reached into her little sack, pulled out a loaf of bread, and gave it to the dog, which made its tail lower and its fury subside.
“The ogress returned to running after the fleeing ones, and Petrosinella, seeing her draw close, threw down the second acorn. Out came a ferocious lion, which, beating its tail on the ground and shaking its mane, opened its gaping jaws two spans wide and prepared to crush the ogress between them. The ogress backed off, skinned a donkey that she found grazing in a field, put on its skin, and ran back to confront the lion, which thought she really was a donkey and was so scared that it’s still running.
“Having jumped this second ditch, the ogress returned to chasing after those poor youngsters. When they heard the footfalls and saw the cloud of dust that rose up to the sky, they concluded that the ogress was back again. Since she suspected that the lion might still be after her, the ogress had not taken off the donkey skin, and when Petrosinella threw down the third acorn, out came a wolf, which—without giving the ogress time to find another solution—gobbled her up as if she really were a donkey. Now that the lovers were freed from their predicament, they set off at a leisurely pace to the prince’s kingdom, where, with the kind permission of his father, the prince took Petrosinella for his wife. And thus they proved, after so many tempests of travail, that just one hour in a safe harbor, and a hundred years of bad fortune are forgotten.”
2
GREEN MEADOW*
Second Entertainment of the Second Day
Nella is loved by a prince, who by means of a glass tunnel goes often to take his pleasure with her. But when the passageway is broken by Nella’s envious sisters, he gets all cut up and comes close to death. By a strange twist of fate Nella hears of a possible remedy for his ills, administers it to the sick man, cures him, and takes him for her husband.
Oh, my dear, they listened to Zeza’s tale right up until the end with such pleasure that if it had lasted another hour it would have seemed like a moment to them! And since it was now Cecca’s turn, she carried on with the speaking in this manner: “It is truly a strange thing, if you think about it, that from the same piece of wood may be carved statues of gods and gallows beams, emperors’ thrones and covers for chamber pots; just as it is also curious that from the same rag is made paper which, after it is used for love letters, may receive a fair lady’s kisses or wipe an ugly asshole: and this would make the best astrologer in the world lose his mind. The same thing can be said about a single mother from whom is born a good daughter and a ruinous one, one full of gas and one a hard worker, one beautiful and one ugly, one envious and one loving, one a chaste Diana and one a ducky little Catherine,1 one who encounters misfortune and one who has good luck. Because according to reason we’re all of the same stock and should all have the same nature. But let’s leave this topic to those who know more about it. I’ll merely give you an example of what I’ve been referring to with a tale of three daughters of the same mother, in which you’ll see the difference in behavior that brought the wicked ones to their grave and the honorable girl to the top of the wheel of Fortune.
“There once was a mother who had three daughters, two of whom were so unlucky that nothing ever turned out right for them; all their plans went awry and all their hopes ended up in crumbs. But the youngest, Nella, took her good fortune with her when she left her mother’s belly, and I do believe that when she was born everything was orchestrated so that she would be given the very best possible: the heavens gave her the zenith of its light, Venus the prime cut of beauty, Amor the first cream of his strength, Nature the most perfect of comportments. She offered no service that was not done flawlessly; she began no enterprise that was not completed in exemplary fashion; she joined no dance without leaving it with honor. For this reason she was less envied by those hernia-bound sisters of hers than she was loved and held dear by everyone else, and her sisters’ desire to bury her underground was not
as strong as the desire of other people to raise her up high on the palms of their hands.
“In that land there was an enchanted prince who sailed on the sea of her beauty, and he threw the hook of amorous servitude to that bream so many times that he finally stuck her in the gills of her affection and made her his. And in order to take their pleasure without causing any suspicion on the part of her mother, who was a wicked little demon, the prince gave her a special powder, and he constructed a crystal tunnel that ran from the royal palace to right up under Nella’s bed, even though it was eight miles away. And he said to her, ‘Whenever you want to feed me like a sparrow on your lovely grace put a little bit of this powder in the fire, and I’ll immediately come through the tunnel and respond to your call, running down a road of crystal so that I can enjoy that face of silver.’
“Once things were thus arranged, there wasn’t a night that the prince didn’t do in-and-out and come-and-go through the tunnel. Finally the sisters, who were spying on Nella’s affairs, discovered the dirty business and decided to make her choke on her tasty morsel. And so they went and broke the tunnel at various points in order to tangle up the thread of those amours; and when the poor girl threw the powder in the fire to give her lover the signal to come, he who usually came racing in a naked frenzy battered himself up so badly on the shards of crystal that he was a sorry sight. Not being able to proceed, he turned back, all sliced up like a pair of German breeches,2 and then put himself to bed and summoned all the doctors of the city.
“But since the crystal was enchanted, his wounds were so fatal that no human remedy was of any use. For this reason the king, seeing that his son’s situation was desperate, had a proclamation issued: whoever found a remedy for his son’s illness would be given his son for a husband, if a woman, and half of his kingdom, if a man. When Nella, who was madly in love with the prince, heard this she colored her face, disguised herself, and, unbeknownst to her sisters, left home to go see him before he died.
“Since by that time the golden balls with which the Sun plays in the celestial courts had taken a downward turn to the West, night overtook Nella in a wood close to the house of an ogre where, in order to flee danger, she climbed up a tree. The ogre and his wife were at the table, and they had the windows open to let in some fresh air. When they had finished emptying jugs and putting out lamps,3 they began to chat about this and that, and since she was as close to them as a nose is to a mouth, Nella could hear every word. Among other things, the ogress said to her husband, ‘My hairy darling, what have you been hearing? What are people talking about in the world?’ And he answered, ‘Let’s just say that there’s not a corner that’s clean, and everything is topsy-turvy and all awry.’ ‘All right, but what about it?’ replied his wife. And the ogre: ‘I could go on and on about the deceits perpetrated; you hear of things that would make you jump out of your clothes: buffoons rewarded, scoundrels esteemed, lazybones honored, assassins protected, counterfeiters4 defended, and respectable men barely appreciated or esteemed. But since it’s enough to make you explode, I’ll tell you only about what happened to the king’s son, who built a crystal road on which he traveled, naked, to take his pleasure with a lovely wench. I don’t know how but the passageway was broken, and when he tried to go through it he got himself shredded up so badly that before he plugs up all those holes, the drainpipe of his life is going to come completely unclogged. And although the king has had a proclamation issued that promises great things to whoever heals him, it’s a wasted effort, and he might as well pick his teeth with it; the best he can do is get the mourning clothes ready and prepare the funeral.’
“Upon hearing the cause of the prince’s illness Nella, heaving with great sobs, said to herself, ‘Who was that accursed soul who broke the duct where my splendid bird passed, so that the pipe where my own spirits pass is about to shatter?’ But since the ogress had started talking again, Nella grew silent and mute, and listened. She was saying, ‘And is it possible that the world is lost for this poor lord? And that no cure for his illness can be found? Go tell medicine to stick itself in the oven! Go tell the doctors to wrap a cord around their necks! Go tell Galen and Mesua5 to give the master back his money, since they’re not capable of finding the right prescriptions for the health of this prince!’ ‘Listen, my little drooler,’ answered the ogre, ‘doctors aren’t obliged to find cures that go beyond Nature’s own limits. This is not a passing colic, where all you need is a bath of oil; it’s not flatulence, which you get rid of with suppositories of laxative figs and mouse shit; it’s not a fever, which goes away with medicine and diets; nor are they ordinary wounds that call for tow plasters or oil of hypericum.6 The spell put on the broken glass has the same effect that onion juice7 has on an arrow tip: it makes the wound incurable. There’s only one thing that could save his life, but don’t make me say what, for it is of some weight.’ ‘Tell me, my tusky,’ replied the ogress, ‘tell me what it is, if you don’t want to see me dead!’
“And the ogre: ‘I’ll tell you, but you must promise not to share it with a living soul, for it would mean the destruction of our family and the ruin of our life.’ ‘Have no doubt, my dear, darling little husband,’ answered the ogress, ‘you’ll see pigs with horns, monkeys with tails, and moles with eyes before a word of it ever escapes my mouth!’ And when she had sworn to it with one hand on the other, the ogre said to her, ‘Now you should know that there’s not one thing under the heavens and on the earth that could save the prince from the thugs of Death except for our own fat,8 which, if used to lubricate his wounds, would result in the sequestration of the soul that presently wants to vacate the house of his body.’
“Nella heard this little conversation and let things take their own course. She waited until they had finished chatting, and then climbed down the tree, gathered up her courage, and knocked on the ogre’s door, shouting, ‘Pray, my most ogrish lord and lady, a bit of charity, some alms, a sign of your compassion, a little mercy for a poor wretch, a miserable girl who has been ruined by fortune and is far from her homeland, stripped of all human aid, whom Night has come upon in these woods, and who is dying of hunger!’ And then again, knock knock! At this headache the ogress wanted to throw out half a loaf of bread and send her away. But the ogre, who was greedier for Christian flesh than a siskin is for walnuts, a bear for honey, a cat for little fish, a sheep for salt, and a donkey for bran mash, said to his wife, ‘Let the poor thing come in, for if she sleeps outside in the fields she might be torn apart by some wolf.’ And he kept at it for so long that his wife opened the door and the ogre, with his hairy charity, devised a plan to make four mouthfuls out of her.
“But the glutton calculates one bill and the innkeeper another. After the ogre had gotten good and drunk and put himself to sleep, Nella took a knife from a cupboard and did a butcher job on him. Then she put all the fat in a jar and set off in the direction of the court, where she presented herself to the king and offered to heal the prince.
“With great happiness the king let her into his son’s room, where she lubricated him thoroughly with the fat, and—no sooner said than done—his wounds immediately closed up, as if she had thrown water onto fire, and he became as healthy as a fish. When the king saw this he told his son that the good woman deserved the reward promised in the proclamation and that he should take her for his wife. But upon hearing this the prince answered, ‘From this moment on she can content herself with a toothpick, for my body does not contain a pantry of hearts that I can hand out to so many women. My heart has already been given in down payment, and another lady is its owner.’
“When Nella heard this she answered, ‘You should not dwell on the one who was the cause of all of your troubles!’ ‘Her sisters were the cause of my troubles,’ replied the prince, ‘and they will have to shit their penance!’ ‘You love her that much?’ Nella went on. And the prince answered, ‘More than the pupils of these eyes!’ ‘Well, then,’ Nella continued, ‘hug me and squeeze me tigh
t, for I am the fire of your heart!’ But the prince, seeing her with such a dark face, answered, ‘It’s more likely that you’re coal than fire! So move away, or you’ll get me dirty!’ When Nella saw that he didn’t recognize her she asked for a basin of fresh water and washed her face; as soon as she had gotten rid of that cloud of soot the sun came out, and once she was recognized by the prince he held her tight as a squid. And when he had taken her for his wife, he had her sisters walled inside a fireplace so that, like leeches, they would purge themselves of the contaminated blood of envy in the ashes,9 proving the truth of the saying: No evil has ever gone unpunished.”
3
VIOLA*
Third Entertainment of the Second Day
Viola is envied by her sisters, and after playing many jokes on a prince and having as many played on her, she becomes his wife to spite them.
Those who heard that tale felt its effects all the way down to the little bones in their feet, and they blessed a thousand times over the prince who had given Nella’s sisters a dressing-down, and praised to the stars the unbounded love of the girl who had managed to merit the prince’s love in the midst of so many difficulties. But then Tadeo signaled them all to be quiet and ordered Meneca to do her duty, and she paid her debt in this manner: “Envy is a wind that blows so strongly that it brings down the stays of the glory of worthy men and destroys the fertile fields of good fortune. But quite often, as a heavenly punishment, just when it looks like this wind is going to knock you flat on your face, instead it pushes you even faster to reach the happiness awaiting you, as you will hear in the tale that I want to tell you.
The Tale of Tales Page 20
