On hearing this tale, his wife perceived that other women, even though their plans occasionally miscarried, were no less shrewd than herself, and she was strongly tempted to speak up in defence of Ercolano’s wife. But thinking that by censuring another’s misconduct she would cover up her own more successfully, she said:
‘What a nice way to behave! What a fine, God-fearing specimen of womanhood! What a loyal and respectable spouse! Why, she had such an air of saintliness that she looked as if butter wouldn’t melt in her mouth! But the worst part about it is that anyone as old as she is should be setting the young so fine an example. A curse upon the hour she was born! May the Devil take the wicked and deceitful hussy, for allowing herself to become the general butt and laughing-stock of all the women of this city! Not only has she thrown away her own good name, broken her marriage vows, and forfeited the respect of society, but she’s had the audacity, after all he has done for her, to involve an excellent husband and venerable citizen in her disgrace, and all for the sake of some other man. So help me God, women of her kind should be shown no mercy; they ought to be done away with; they ought to be burnt alive and reduced to ashes.’
But at this point, recollecting that her lover was concealed beneath the chicken-coop in the very next room, she started coaxing Pietro to go to bed, saying it was getting late, whereupon Pietro, who had a greater urge to eat than to sleep, asked her whether there was any supper left over.
‘Supper?’ she replied. ‘What would I be doing cooking supper, when you’re not at home to eat it? Do you take me for the wife of Ercolano? Be off with you to bed, and give your stomach a rest, just for this once.’
Now, earlier that same evening, some of the labourers from Pietro’s farm in the country had turned up at the house with a load of provisions, and had tethered their asses in a small stable adjoining the lean-to without bothering to water them. Being frantic with thirst, one of the asses, having broken its tether, had strayed from the stable and was roaming freely about the premises, sniffing in every nook and cranny to see if it could find any water. And in the course of its wanderings, it came and stood immediately beside the coop under which the young man lay hidden.
Since the young man was having to crouch on all fours, one of his hands was sticking out slightly from underneath the coop, and as luck would have it (or rather, to his great misfortune) the ass brought one of its hooves to rest on his fingers, causing him so much pain that he started to shriek at the top of his voice. Pietro, hearing this, was filled with astonishment, and, realizing that the noise was coming from somewhere inside the house, he rushed from the room to investigate. The youth was still howling, for the ass had not yet shifted its hoof from his fingers and was pressing firmly down upon him all the time. ‘Who’s there?’ yelled Pietro as he ran to the coop, lifting it up to reveal the young man, who, apart from suffering considerable pain from having his fingers crushed beneath the hoof of the ass, was trembling with fear from head to foot in case Pietro should do him some serious injury.
Pietro recognized the young man as one he had long been pursuing for his own wicked ends, and demanded to know what he was doing there. But instead of answering his question, the youth pleaded with him for the love of God not to do him any harm.
‘Get up,’ said Pietro. ‘There’s no need to worry, I shan’t do you any harm. Just tell me what you’re doing here, and how you got in.’
The young man made a clean breast of the whole thing, and Pietro, who was no less pleased with his discovery than his wife was filled with despair, took him by the hand and led him back into the room, where the woman was waiting for him in a state of indescribable terror. Pietro sat down, looked her squarely in the face, and said:
‘When you were heaping abuse on Ercolano’s wife just now, and saying that she ought to be burnt alive, and that she was giving women a bad name, why didn’t you say the same things about yourself? And if you wanted to keep yourself out of it, what possessed you to say such things about her, when you knew full well that you were tarred with the same brush? The only reason you did it, of course, was because all you women are alike. You go out of your way to criticize other people’s failings so as to cover up your own. Oh, how I wish that a fire would descend from Heaven and burn the whole revolting lot of you to ashes!’
On finding that all she had to contend with, in the first flush of his anger, was a string of verbal abuse, and noting how delighted he seemed to be holding such a good-looking boy by the hand, the wife plucked up courage and said:
‘It doesn’t surprise me in the least that you want a fire to descend from Heaven and burn us all to ashes, seeing that you’re as fond of women as a dog is fond of a hiding, but by the Holy Cross of Jesus you’ll not have your wish granted. However, now that you’ve raised the subject, I’d like to know what you’re grumbling about. It’s all very well for you to compare me to Ercolano’s wife, but at least he gives that sanctimonious old trollop whatever she wants, and treats her as a wife should be treated, which is more than can be said for you. I grant you that you keep me well supplied with clothes and shoes, but you know very well how I fare for anything else, and how long it is since you last slept with me. And I’d rather go barefoot and dressed in rags, and have you treat me properly in bed, than have all those things to wear and a husband who never comes near me. For the plain truth is, Pietro, that I’m no different from other women, and I want the same that they are having. And if you won’t let me have it, you can hardly blame me if I go and get it elsewhere. At least I do you the honour not to consort with stable-boys and riff-raff.’
Pietro saw that she could go on talking all night, and since he was not unduly interested in his wife, he said:
‘Hold your tongue now, woman, and leave everything to me. Be so good as to see that we’re supplied with something to eat. This young man looks as though he’s had no more supper this evening than I have.’
‘Of course he hasn’t had any supper,’ said his wife. ‘We were no sooner seated at table than you had to come knocking at the door.’
‘Run along, then,’ said Pietro, ‘and get us some supper, after which I’ll arrange matters so that you won’t have any further cause for complaint.’
On perceiving that her husband was so contented, the wife sprang to her feet and quickly relaid the table. And when the supper she had prepared was brought in, she and the youth and her degenerate husband made a merry meal of it together.
How exactly Pietro arranged matters, after supper, to the mutual satisfaction of all three parties, I no longer remember. But I do know that the young man was found next morning wandering about the piazza, not exactly certain with which of the pair he had spent the greater part of the night, the wife or the husband. So my advice to you, dear ladies, is this, that you should always give back as much as you receive; and if you can’t do it at once, bear it in mind till you can, so that what you lose on the swings, you gain on the roundabouts.
* * *
Dioneo’s story was thus concluded, and if the ladies’ laughter was restrained, this was more out of modesty than because it had failed to amuse them. But now the queen, perceiving that her sovereignty had come to an end, rose to her feet; and transferring the laurel crown from her own head to that of Elissa, she said to her:
‘Madam, it is now for you to command us.’
Elissa, having accepted the honour, proceeded as before, first of all arranging with the steward about what was to be done during her term of office, and then, to the general satisfaction of the company, she addressed them as follows:
‘Already we have heard many times how various people, with some clever remark or ready retort, or some quick piece of thinking, have been able, by striking at the right moment, to draw the teeth of their antagonists or avert impending dangers. This being so splendid a topic, and one which may also be useful, I desire that with God’s help our discussion on the morrow should confine itself to the following: those who, on being provoked by some verbal pleasantry, have return
ed like for like, or who, by a prompt retort or shrewd manoeuvre, have avoided danger, discomfiture or ridicule.’
This proposal was warmly approved by one and all, and so the queen, having risen to her feet, dismissed the whole company till suppertime.
On seeing that the queen had risen, the honourable company did likewise; then all of them turned their attention, in the usual way, to whatever pleased them most. But when the cicadas’ song was no longer to be heard, everyone was called back, and they all sat down to supper. Of this they partook in a gay and festive spirit, and when the meal was over they proceeded to sing and make music. Emilia having begun to dance, Dioneo was called upon to sing them a song, and he promptly came out with: ‘Monna Aldruda, lift up your tail, for marvellous tidings I bring.’1 Whereupon all the ladies began to laugh, especially the queen, who ordered him to stop and sing them another.
‘My lady,’ said Dioneo, ‘if I had a drum, I’d sing you “Skirts up, Monna Lapa”, or “The grass beneath the privet grows”, or, if you preferred, “The waves of the sea are my torment”. But I haven’t a drum, so take your pick from among these others. Would you like “Out you come to wither away, like to the flower that blossoms in May”?’
‘No,’ said the queen, ‘sing us something else.’
‘In that case,’ said Dioneo, ‘I’ll sing you “Monna Simona, put wine in your cask. Not till October, sir, she said”.’
‘Oh, confound you,’ said the queen, with a laugh, ‘if you’re going to sing, choose something nice. We don’t want to hear that one.’
‘Come, my lady,’ said Dioneo, ‘don’t take offence. Which do you like best? I know a thousand of them, at least. Would you like “I never have enough of my little bit of stuff”, or “Ah! be gentle, husband dear”, or “I bought myself a cock for a hundred pounds”?’
All the ladies laughed except the queen, who was beginning to grow impatient with him.
‘No more of your nonsense, Dioneo,’ she said. ‘Sing us something pleasant, or you’ll learn what it means to provoke my anger.’
Dioneo, hearing these words, curtailed his idle chatter and promptly began to sing the following song:
‘Cupid, the beauteous light
That shines forth from my mistress’ eyne
Has made me both her slave and thine.
‘Moved by the splendour of those lovely eyes
Which first thy flame did kindle in my heart,
Their gaze transfixing mine,
I understood what lofty virtue lies
In thee, for her fair countenance hath art
In my esteem to shine,
So that no virtue known can with her vie,
Which gives me all the more a cause to sigh.
‘Therefore, my dear Lord, I have lately grown
One of thy servants, and obedient wait
Clemency from thy might.
Yet I know not if my whole state is known –
That high desire thou didst initiate
And, too, that faith so bright
In her, that doth my mind so utterly possess
That this apart I crave no other happiness.
‘And so I pray thee, gentle Lord of mine,
That thou wilt show her this, and let her feel
Some inkling of thy power
To do me some small service, since I pine
Consumed with love, and in its torments reel,
And wither hour by hour;
I beg thee, when thou canst, do this for me,
And when thou goest, would I might come with thee!’
When, by his silence, Dioneo showed them that his song was finished, the queen, having warmly commended it, called for many others to be sung. But it was now very late, and the queen, perceiving that the cool of the night had banished the warmth of the day, bade them all go and sleep to their hearts’ content till the morning.
Here ends the Fifth Day of the Decameron
SIXTH DAY
Here begins the Sixth Day, wherein, under the rule of Elissa, the discussion turns upon those who, on being provoked by some verbal pleasantry, have returned like for like, or who, by a prompt retort or shrewd manoeuvre, have avoided danger, discomfiture or ridicule.
The moon, poised in the centre of the heavens, had lost her radiance, and the whole of our hemisphere was already suffused with the fresh light of dawn, when the queen arose and summoned her companions. Leaving their fair abode, they sauntered over the dew, conversing together on one subject after another, and discussing the merits and demerits of the stories so far narrated, at the same time laughing anew over the various adventures therein related, until, as the sun rose higher and the air grew warmer, they decided with one accord to retrace their steps, whereupon they turned about and came back to the house.
The tables being already laid, with fragrant herbs and lovely flowers strewn all around, they followed the queen’s bidding and addressed themselves to their breakfast before the heat of the day should become too oppressive. And after making a merry meal of it, they first of all sang some gay and charming songs, after which some of their number retired to sleep, whilst others played chess or threw dice. And Dioneo, along with Lauretta, began to sing a song about Troilus and Cressida.1
When the time came for them to reassemble, the queen saw that they were all summoned in the usual way, and they seated themselves round the fountain. But just as the queen was about to call for the first story, something happened which had never happened before, namely, that she and her companions heard a great commotion,2 issuing from the kitchen, among the maids and menservants. So the steward was summoned, and, on being asked who was shouting and what the quarrel was about, he replied that it was some dispute between Licisca and Tindaro. He was unable to explain its cause, as he had no sooner arrived on the scene to restore order than he had been called away by the queen. She therefore ordered him to fetch Licisca and Tindaro to her at once, and when they came before her, she demanded to know what they were quarrelling about.
Tindaro was about to reply, when Licisca, who was no fledgeling and liked to give herself airs, rounded on him with a withering look, spoiling for an argument, and said:
‘See here, you ignorant lout, how can you dare to speak first, when I am present? Hold your tongue and let me tell the story.’
She then turned back to the queen, and said:
‘Madam, this fellow thinks he knows Sicofante’s3 wife better than I do. I’ve known her for years, and yet he has the audacity to try and convince me that on the first night Sicofante slept with her, John Thomas had to force an entry into Castle Dusk, shedding blood in the process; but I say it is not true, on the contrary he made his way in with the greatest of ease, to the general pleasure of the garrison. The man is such a natural idiot that he firmly believes young girls are foolish enough to squander their opportunities whilst they are waiting for their fathers and brothers to marry them off, which in nine cases out of ten takes them three or four years longer than it should. God in Heaven, they’d be in a pretty plight if they waited all that long! I swear to Christ (which means that I know what I’m saying) that not a single one of the girls from my district went to her husband a virgin; and as for the married ones, I could tell you a thing or two about the clever tricks they play upon their husbands. Yet this great oaf tries to teach me about women, as though I were born yesterday.’
While Licisca was talking, the ladies were laughing so heartily that you could have pulled all their teeth out. Six times at least the queen had told her to stop, but all to no avail: she was determined to have her say. And when she had come to the end of her piece, the queen turned, laughing, to Dioneo, and said:
‘This is a dispute for you to settle, Dioneo. Be so good, therefore, when we come to the end of our storytelling, to pronounce the last word on the subject.’
‘Madam,’ Dioneo swiftly replied, ‘the last word has already been spoken. In my opinion, Licisca is right. I believe it is just as she says; and Tindaro is a fool.’
Hearing this, Licisca burst out laughing, and, turning back to Tindaro, she said:
‘There! What did I tell you? Now get along, and stop thinking you know more than I do, when you’re hardly out of your cradle. Thanks be to God, I haven’t lived for nothing, believe you me!’
But for the fact that the queen sternly commanded her to be silent, told her not to shout or argue any more unless she wanted to be whipped, and sent her back to the kitchen with Tindaro, there would have been nothing else to do for the rest of the day but listen to her prattle. And when they had withdrawn, the queen enjoined Filomena to tell the first story, whereupon Filomena gaily began, as follows:
FIRST STORY
A knight offers to take Madonna Oretta riding through the realm of narrative, but makes such a poor job of it that she begs him to put her down.
Tender ladies, as stars bedeck the heavens on cloudless nights, and in the spring the green meadows are adorned with flowers, and hillsides with saplings newly come into leaf, so likewise are graceful manners and polite discourse enriched by shafts of wit. These, being brief, are much better suited to women than to men, since it is more unseemly for a woman to make long speeches than it is for a man.
But for some reason or other, whether because we are lacking in intelligence or because all the women of our generation were born under an unlucky star, few if any women now remain who can produce a witticism at the right moment, or who, on hearing a witticism uttered, can understand its meaning. Since Pampinea has already spoken at some length on this subject,1 I do not propose to elaborate further upon it. But in order to show you how exquisite these sayings can be if proffered at the right moment, I should like to tell you about the courteous way in which a lady imposed silence upon a certain knight.
The Decameron Page 68
