“Upon hearing this, the poor prince began to kick up his heels as if he had boils on his tail, and he walked so far that he encountered another old woman. She was sitting on top of a wheel with a basket full of little pastries and candies on one arm; she was feeding these to a bunch of donkeys that were jumping around on the bank of a nearby river and doling out kicks to some poor swans.5 When the prince arrived before this old woman, he salaamed her6 a hundred times and then told her the story of his wanderings. The old woman, comforting him with kind words, fed him a meal so good that he licked his fingers, and when he had gotten up from the table she presented him with three citrons that looked like they had just come off the tree, together with a nice knife, and told him, ‘You can return to Italy, for you’ve filled your spindle and found what you are looking for. Leave, then, and at a short distance from your kingdom cut open one of the citrons at the first fountain you find. A fairy will come out and say, ‘Give me something to drink!’ and you be right there with the water or else she’ll slip away like quicksilver. And if you’re not fast enough with the second fairy open your eyes and be ready with the third; make sure you don’t let her get away and give her something to drink immediately, and you’ll have a wife that’s your heart’s desire.’
“The prince was full of joy, and he kissed that hairy hand that looked like the back of a porcupine a hundred times. Then he took his leave of the old woman and departed from that land, and when he got to the coast he sailed off toward the Columns of Hercules,7 and when he had entered our seas, after a thousand storms and dangers he landed at a port that was a day’s journey from his kingdom. Upon arriving in a beautiful little wood—where the shadows served as palace to the meadows so that they would not be seen by the Sun—he got off his horse at a fountain that with its crystal tongue whistled for people to come and refresh their mouths. Here he sat on the Persian carpet of grass and flowers, pulled his knife out of its sheath, and began to cut the first citron. And like a flash of lightning out came a ravishingly beautiful girl, as white as creamy milk and as red as a cluster of strawberries, saying, ‘Give me something to drink!’ The prince was so flabbergasted, open-mouthed, and amazed at the beauty of the fairy that he was not quick enough to give her the water, so that she appeared and disappeared in the same instant. That this was like a club falling on the prince’s noggin may be understood by anyone who has ever desired something great and, once it was in their grip, lost it.
“When he cut the second citron the same thing happened, and this was the second blow he received on the temple, so that, making two little trickles of his eyes, he poured out tears drop for drop, brow to brow, blow for blow, face to face, and eye to eye with the fountain, not yielding a crumb. And in the midst of all these laments, he said, ‘May I be damned; how wretched I am! Twice I let her get away, as if I had arthritis in my hands; may I get the palsy! And whenever I move I’m like a rock, while I should be running like a greyhound! Just look what a fine job I’ve done! Wake up, poor man, there’s one more, and at three the king wins! This knife will either give me the fairy or do something that won’t smell very good!’ As he was saying this he cut the third citron; the third fairy came out and like the others said, ‘Give me something to drink!’ The prince immediately held the water out to her, and there in his hands was a girl as tender and white as curds and whey, with a streak of red on her face that made her look like an Abruzzo ham or a Nola salami. Never had such a thing been seen in the world: it was a beauty without measure, a whiteness beyond all imagination, a grace superior to all others. Jove had rained gold onto her hair,8 and Love had used that gold to make arrows for piercing hearts; Love had stained9 that face so that some innocent soul might be hanged there on the gallows of desire; the sun had lit two bowls of lights in those eyes so that bangs, rockets, and firecrackers of sighs would be set off in the chests of all who beheld her; Venus and her whole temple10 had alit on those lips, coloring the rose so that it might prick with its thorns a thousand enamored souls; Juno had squeezed her tits on that breast so that human desires might there be nursed. In short, she was so beautiful from head to toe that it was impossible to find a more splendid creature, and the prince did not know what had happened to him. Beside himself, he gazed at this beautiful fruit of a citron, this beautiful cut of a woman blossomed from the cutting of a fruit, and said, ‘Are you asleep or awake, O Ciommetiello? Is your vision enchanted, or did you put your eyes on backward? What a white thing has come out of a yellow rind! What a sweet paste from a sour citron! What a robust shoot from a tiny seed!’
“Finally, when he realized that it was not a dream and that he was playing for real, he embraced the fairy and gave her a hundred and then another hundred kisses and hugs, and after they exchanged a thousand amorous words about this and that, words that like plainchant were counterpointed by their sugary little kisses, the prince said, ‘I do not want, dear heart, to bring you to my father’s land without luxuries worthy of your beautiful person and without a train suitable for a queen. And so climb up this oak tree, where it looks like nature has made a cavity in the form of a little room that suits our very needs, and wait for me until my return, for without delay I’m putting on wings and before this bit of spit dries I’ll be back to take you to my kingdom, dressed and accompanied as befits you.’ And after performing the necessary ceremonies, he departed.
“In the meantime, a black slave had been sent by her mistress with a jug to get some water at that fountain. When by chance she saw the image of the fairy reflected in the ripples of the water, she thought it was herself and, full of wonder, began to say, ‘What you see, unfortunate Lucia, you be so beautiful and mistress send you to get water and me put up with this, O unfortunate Lucia?’ As she was saying this she broke the jug and then went back home, and when she was asked by her mistress why she had done her this bad service, she answered, ‘Went to little fountain, jug banged against stone.’
“Her mistress swallowed this hogwash, and the next day gave her a nice little barrel and told her to go fill it with water. When the slave returned to the fountain and again saw that beauty shining in the water, she said with a great sigh, ‘Me no thick-lipped slave, me no Allah lover,11 me no wiggle ass;12 me so beautiful and me bring barrel to fountain?’ And saying this, whack! again, and she smashed the barrel into a thousand little pieces. She returned, all grumbly, and said to her mistress, ‘Donkey gone by, banged into barrel, fell on ground, broke all to pieces!’
“When the poor mistress heard this she could no longer keep her calm, and she grabbed a broom and bruised the slave up so good that she felt it for quite a few days afterward. And then she took a goatskin and said, ‘Run, and hurry up, you ragged slave, cricket leg, broken ass; run, and no dawdling, no hide-and-seek with Lucia.13 Fill this with water and bring it back immediately, or I’ll grab you like an octopus and give you such a beating that you’ll always remember my name!’
“The slave kicked up her heels and ran off, for she had experienced the lightning and was afraid of the thunder. But as she was filling up the goatskin she again saw the beautiful image, and said, ‘Me be stupid to get water: better if Giorgia marry! This no beauty for to die angry and serve cross mistress!’ As she said this she took a long pin that she had in her hair and began to pierce the goatskin, so that with its hundred jets of water it looked like a trick fountain in a garden.14 At the sight of this the fairy began to split her sides laughing, and when the slave heard the laughter she raised her eyes and discovered the ambush, and said to herself, ‘You be reason for me beaten, but you not care!’ and then said to the fairy, ‘What you doing up there, pretty girl?’ The fairy, who was the mother of courtesy, poured out everything that she had on her chest, leaving out not an iota of what had happened to her with the prince, who she was expecting to arrive any hour now, any moment now, with clothes and a train to take her to his father’s kingdom, where she would take her pleasure with him.
“When the slave heard this she grew co
ckier and, deciding that she would try to win this hand, replied to the fairy, ‘Since you wait for husband, me come up and comb head and make you more beautiful!’ And the fairy said, ‘May you be as welcome as the first of May!’ and as the slave scrambled up she put out her little white hand, which grasped by those black sticks looked like a crystal mirror in an ebony frame. When the slave got up there and began to fix the fairy’s hair, she pierced her memory with the pin; feeling herself pricked, the fairy shouted, ‘Dove, dove!’ and she became a dove, raised herself in flight, and flew away. The slave stripped herself naked, made a bundle of the rags and tatters she had been wearing, and hurled it a mile off. And sitting atop that tree just like her mother had made her, she looked like a statue of jet in a house of emerald.
“In the meantime the prince returned with a great cavalcade, and when he found a barrel of caviar where he had left a vat of milk, for a long while he was out of his senses. He finally said, ‘Who put this ink blot on the royal paper where I planned to write my happiest days? Who draped with black mourning the freshly whitewashed house where I thought I would take all my pleasures? Who would have me find this touchstone where I left a silver mine destined to make me rich and blissful?’ When she saw the prince’s marvel, the cunning slave said, ‘Not to marvel, my prince, for presto! Me be enchanted, one year white face, one year black ass!’
“The prince, poor man, saw that there was no remedy for his trouble, made the sign of ox horns, and swallowed the pill, and when he had gotten coal-face to come down he dressed her from head to toe, giving her a complete makeover and decking her all out. And with a lump in his throat and bile in his gorge, swollen with rage and incensed beyond belief, he set off for his land. There they were received by the king and the queen, who had traveled six miles out of their kingdom to meet him, with the same pleasure a prisoner feels when he receives the sentence of sospendatur.15 And although they witnessed the fine demonstration offered by their crazy son, who had voyaged so far in search of a white dove only to bring home a black crow, they could not, nevertheless, do without him, and so they gave up their crown to the newlyweds and put the golden tripod atop that face of coal.
“Now while fabulous festivities and astounding banquets were being prepared, and the cooks were plucking ducks, slitting the throats of suckling pigs, skinning baby goats, larding roasts, skimming soup pots, pounding meatballs, stuffing capons, and making a thousand other tasty morsels, a pretty dove appeared at a little window of the kitchen and said,
Cook in the kitchen,
What is the king doing with the Saracen?
The cook took little notice of this, but after the dove came back a second and a third time and did the same, he ran to the table to tell of this marvelous thing; when she heard this music, the lady gave the order that the dove be seized immediately and without a moment’s delay made into a gratin.
“The cook went off to do this and finally managed to catch the dove, and when he had done bitchy-dear’s16 command and heated the dove so that he could pluck it, he then threw the water and the feathers into a flower pot on a balcony, where before three days had passed there sprung up a lovely little citron tree, which grew tall in four snaps.
“Now it happened that while the king was looking out a window that faced in that direction he saw the tree, which he had never seen before, and he called the cook to ask him when and by whom it had been planted. When he had heard the whole story from master Ladle, he began to have suspicions about the matter and ordered that under penalty of death no one touch it, and that it be tended to with great care. After a few days three splendid citrons similar to the ones the ogress had given him appeared, and as soon as they were full grown he had them picked. Then he locked himself in a room with a large glass of water and the same knife that he always carried at his side, and he began to cut. The same thing happened with the first and second fairies that had happened the other time, and when he finally cut the third citron and gave the fairy something to drink, as she asked, he found in front of him the same young lady he had left up in the tree, from whom he learned of all the bad things done by the slave.
“Now who can recount even the smallest part of the jubilation that the king felt in the face of this good fortune? Who can recount the delight, the glee, the joy, the pleasure in which he reveled? Let’s just say that he was swimming in sweetness, bursting from his skin, heading toward seventh heaven, and floating in ecstasy; and after he pressed her in his arms he had her finely dressed from head to toe, and then took her by the hand and brought her to the middle of the hall where all the courtiers and people of his land were gathered in honor of the festivities. Calling them over one by one he said, ‘Tell me, what sort of punishment would someone who harmed this lovely lady deserve?’ One responded that that person would be worthy of a necklace of cord, another that it should be a collar of rocks, another a mallet that played counterpoint on the old hide of her stomach, another a little sip of scammony,17 another a choker of millstones: there were those who said one thing and those who said another.
“He finally called the black queen to him, and when he asked her the same question she answered, ‘Deserve to burn, and throw ashes from castle top!’ When the king heard this he said, ‘You have written your bad fortune with your own pen! You have cut off your foot with your own hatchet! You have forged your own chains, sharpened your own knife, and dissolved your own poison, since no one has caused her more harm than you, you bitch dog, you snout face! Do you know that this is the lovely young thing you stuck with your pin? Do you know that this is the pretty dove whose throat you slit so that you could cook her in a pan? What do you think, Cecca, of this nag? Give yourself a shake; you’re done for now! You sure took a fine shit! Those who do evil should expect evil, and those who cook branches ladle out smoke.’ As he was saying this he had her carried off and placed, as alive as could be, onto a large pile of wood, and when she had turned into ashes they scattered her from the top of the castle into the wind, proving the truth of the saying: Those who sow thorns should not go barefoot.”
“Cuoco de la cocina / che fa lo re co la saraina?” [“Cook in the kitchen / What is the king doing with the Saracen?”]
END OF THE TALE OF TALES
Conclusion of the Introduction to the Entertainments Corresponding to the Tenth Entertainment of the Fifth Day
Zoza tells the story of her misfortunes. The slave, when she feels her keys being played, snips and cuts with her tongue so that the tale will come to an end. But in spite of her the prince wants to hear it, and when his wife’s betrayal is discovered he makes her die good and pregnant and then takes Zoza.
Their ears were all hanging as they listened to Ciommetella’s tale; part of the group praised the ability with which she told it, while others murmured and accused her of poor judgment, since she shouldn’t have broadcast the disgraceful actions of someone so similar to the slave princess, and they said she was running a great risk of ruining the game.
And Lucia truly acted like a Lucia,1 wiggling all over as the tale was told, and from the agitation of her body could be understood the tempest in her heart, since she had seen in the tale of the other slave the spitting image of her own deceits. But although she immediately made sure all conversation was eliminated and was intending to stage a fine show of resentment at the right time and place, in part because she couldn’t free herself of the tales after the doll had put such a fire of desire for them in her body—just like those who are bitten by the tarantula2 cannot free themselves of the music—and in part so that she would not give Tadeo any reason to suspect her, she swallowed the egg yolk.
But Tadeo, whom this pastime had begun to please, indicated to Zoza that she should tell her tale, and she, after paying her compliments, said, “Truth, lord prince, has always been the mother of hatred, and therefore I would not like my obedience to your commands to offend anyone who is here, since, not being accustomed to fabricating inventions and weaving
fables, I am constrained by nature and by accident to tell the truth. And although the proverb says, ‘Piss clear and make a fig3 at the doctor,’ knowing that truth is not always received in the presence of princes I tremble to say something that might make you fume with anger.”
“Say what you will,” answered Tadeo, “that lovely mouth can issue nothing that is not sugary and sweet.” These words were daggers in the heart of the slave, and she would have shown the sign of it if black faces, as white ones, were the book of the soul, and she would have paid a finger of her hand to have her stomach empty of those tales, for her heart had become blacker than her face, and fearing that the last tale had been an announcement of the bad fortune to come, she presaged the bad day right from the morning.
In the meantime Zoza began to enchant those present with the sweetness of her words, and told from beginning to end of all her woes. She began with her own natural melancholy, which had been the unhappy augury of what later happened to her, since from the cradle she had carried the bitter root of all those terrible calamities that in the key of a forced laugh had forced her to shed so many tears. She then went on to tell of the old woman’s curse, of her anguish-filled wanderings, the arrival at the fountain, her crying like a cut vine, and the sleep that had betrayed her and caused her ruin.
When she heard that Zoza was approaching the matter in a roundabout way but still moving forward and saw that the boat was taking a dangerous course, the slave shouted, “Quiet mouth, be still, or me punch belly and little Georgie kill!” Tadeo, who had by now discovered land, could no longer keep his calm, and removing his mask and throwing his harness to the ground, he said, “Let her tell it to the end, and that’s enough of this cape twirling about little Georgie and big Georgie, because after all, I’m not alone, and if the mustard goes to my head it would be better if you met up with the wheel of a carriage!” And when he ordered Zoza to continue in spite of his wife, she, who wanted nothing other than this signal, went on to tell of the emptied pitcher and of the slave’s deceit in taking her good fortune out of her hands. As she was speaking she burst into tears, and there was not a person present who was able to remain unmoved when this blow hit.
The Tale of Tales Page 53
