The maidservant comforted her mistress, and when she found Pyrrhus in a cheerful and agreeable mood, she said to him:
‘Pyrrhus, a few days ago I told you of the ardent flames of love with which my mistress is consumed on your account, and I now assure you for the second time that if you persist in treating her so cruelly, she cannot go on living for much longer. I therefore appeal to you to lay aside your scruples, and grant her the solace she desires. I have always thought you very sensible, but if you carry this stubbornness of yours any further, I shall begin to think you’re a blockhead. What greater honour could you have than to be loved above all else by so noble and beautiful and wealthy a lady as this? Don’t you realize how fortunate you are, to be offered so pleasant a remedy to the cravings of your youth, and so secure a refuge from all your material needs? Which of your equals will lead a more blissful life than your own, if only you will see reason? Which of them will you find so abundantly supplied with arms and horses, or with clothes and money, if only you will grant her your love?
‘Open your heart to my appeals, and return to your senses. Remember how seldom it happens that Fortune greets the same man twice with smiling face and open arms! If such a man should fail to grasp her bounty with both hands, and later suffer poverty and distress, he will only have himself to blame, not Fortune. And another thing: the loyalty of servants to their masters is quite a different matter from the loyalty of friends and equals. In fact, so far as it lies within their power, servants should treat their masters no differently from the way their masters treat them. If you had a beautiful wife, or mother or daughter or sister, and Nicostratos took a liking to her, do you honestly think he would bother his head, as you are doing, with notions of loyalty? More fool you, if that is what you believe; for you can rest assured that if flattery and coaxing proved ineffectual, he would take her by force, and you’d be powerless to stop him. So let us treat them and their belongings as they would treat us and ours. Make the most of Fortune’s blessings; don’t spurn the lady, go out and meet her half-way, for you may be sure that if you fail to do so, not only will you bring about the certain death of your mistress, but you will reproach yourself so often for it that you too will want to die.’
Having already reflected at length on Lusca’s original message, Pyrrhus had made up his mind that if she were to approach him again on the subject, his answer would be different, and he would do all in his power to please the lady, provided it could be proved that she was not simply putting his loyalty to the test. And so he replied as follows:
‘Look here, Lusca, I agree with everything you say, but on the other hand I know my master to be very wise and very shrewd, and now that he has entrusted me with the conduct of all his affairs, I strongly suspect that Lydia is doing this with his advice and encouragement, so as to put me to the test. But if she will do three things to reassure me, she can count on me in future to do whatever she asks without a moment’s hesitation. The three things I want her to do are these: first, she must kill Nicostratos’ favourite sparrowhawk before his very eyes; second, she must send me a tuft of Nicostratos’ beard; and lastly, she must send me one of the best teeth he has left in his jaw.’
These terms seemed harsh to Lusca and well nigh impossible to the lady. But Love, that great comforter and excellent teacher of guile, bolstered her resolve, and through her maidservant she sent him word that she would carry out all of his demands to the letter, and without undue delay. Moreover, since Pyrrhus seemed to think Nicostratos so intelligent, she informed him that she would make love to Pyrrhus under the old man’s nose, and then persuade Nicostratos that he was suffering from hallucinations.
Pyrrhus therefore waited to see what the lady would do, and a few days later, when Nicostratos was entertaining certain gentlemen to a sumptuous banquet, this being a regular practice of his, the tables had no sooner been cleared away than Lydia issued forth from her chamber, wearing a dress of green velvet and a splendid array of jewels, and strode majestically into the hall where the gentlemen were. In full view of Pyrrhus and all the others, she then went up to the perch where the sparrowhawk, so greatly prized by Nicostratos, was standing, unhooked its chain as though intending to take it on her hand, and having seized it by the jesses, dashed its head against the wall and killed it.
Nicostratos yelled at her, saying: ‘For pity’s sake, woman, what have you done?’ but she ignored him, and turning instead to the gentlemen with whom he had been dining, she said: ‘Gentlemen, even if a king were to insult me, I should be hard put to avenge myself if I hadn’t the courage to take my revenge on a sparrowhawk. I should like you to know that for some little time, this bird has been depriving me of all the attention that men should devote to their ladies’ pleasure; for Nicostratos gets up every morning at the crack of dawn, mounts his horse, and with his sparrowhawk perched on his wrist, he rides away to the open plains in order to watch it fly, leaving me, such as you see me, alone and ill content in my bed. Hence I have often longed to do the thing I have done just now, and all I was waiting for was an opportunity to do it in the presence of men who would judge my cause impartially, as I trust you gentlemen will.’
Supposing that her affection for Nicostratos was no less profound than her words appeared to imply, all the gentlemen started to laugh. And turning to Nicostratos, who was flushed with anger, they said:
‘Well, well! How right the lady was to avenge her wrongs by killing the sparrowhawk!’ And by dint of various witty remarks on the subject (the lady having meanwhile returned to her chamber), they converted Nicostratos’ rage into laughter.
Pyrrhus, who had witnessed the whole of this episode, said to himself: ‘The lady has set my love on a firm and noble footing. God grant that she may persevere, and thus conduct it to a happy conclusion.’
Having killed the sparrowhawk, Lydia bided her time, and a few days later, being closeted in her chamber with Nicostratos, she began to caress him and tease him, and he took her playfully by the hair, giving it a gentle pull. This provided her with the chance to fulfil the second of Pyrrhus’ demands, and she promptly took hold of a small tuft of his beard, and, laughing the whole time, jerked it with so much violence that it came away entirely from his chin. When Nicostratos began to protest, she interrupted him, saying:
‘What’s the matter? Why do you pull such a face just because I’ve plucked some half-dozen hairs from your beard? I can’t possibly have hurt you as much as you hurt me, when you were tugging at my hair just now.’
And so they continued jesting and sporting with one another, and the lady, having carefully preserved the tuft she had removed from his beard, sent it that same day to her beloved.
The third demand presented a rather more difficult problem, but Love had greatly sharpened the lady’s wits, and since she was no dullard in the first place, she had already thought of a way of fulfilling it.
Now, Nicostratos had two young boys in his household, who, since they came of noble stock, had been entrusted to his care by their fathers so that they might learn good manners, and when Nicostratos was at table, one of them carved his meat whilst the other poured out his drink. Having sent for these two boys, the lady gave them to understand that they suffered from bad breath, and instructed them that, whenever they were waiting upon Nicostratos, they should hold their heads as far to one side as possible; but they were not to mention this matter to anyone.
The boys believed her, and began to do as the lady had told them, so that eventually she took Nicostratos aside, and said to him:
‘Have you noticed what these boys do when they are waiting upon you?’
‘I have indeed,’ said Nicostratos, ‘and in fact, I’ve been meaning to ask them why they do it.’
Whereupon the lady said:
‘There’s no need: I can tell you the reason. I’ve been keeping it to myself for ages as I didn’t want to upset you, but now that others have begun to notice, it’s time that you were told. All that’s wrong is that you suffer from appallingly bad
breath, and I’ve no idea why this should be, because you never used to have it. However, it is quite repulsive, and seeing that you have to consort with people of quality, we shall have to find some way of curing it.’
‘What could be causing it, I wonder?’ said Nicostratos. ‘Can it be that one of my teeth is rotten?’
‘That’s quite possible,’ said Lydia. Whereupon, having taken him over to a window, she got him to open his mouth, and after carefully inspecting both sides of his jaw, she exclaimed:
‘Oh, Nicostratos, how can you have endured it for so long? There’s a tooth over here, on this side of your mouth, that as far as I can see is not only decayed, but rotten to the very core, and if it stays there much longer it will certainly contaminate the ones on either side of it. I advise you to have it out, before the damage gets any worse.’
‘If that is your advice, I shall act upon it,’ said Nicostratos. ‘Send at once for a surgeon to come and take it out.’
‘Heaven forbid,’ replied the lady, ‘that we should bother with a surgeon in a trifling matter of this sort. I feel quite capable of taking it out for you myself. Besides, these surgeons are quite barbaric when it comes to extracting people’s teeth, and I couldn’t possibly bear to see you suffering under the hands of any one of them. No, I absolutely insist on doing it myself, and then at least, if you’re in too much pain, I shall stop at once, whereas a surgeon would take no notice.’
So she sent for the necessary implements, and cleared everybody out of the room except Lusca. She then locked the door, persuaded Nicostratos to lie down on a table, and, inserting the pincers in his mouth, clapped them to one of his teeth. And though he screamed with pain, one of the women held him firmly down whilst the other, employing all the manual strength she possessed, extracted the tooth, which she promptly hid away, replacing it with another, horribly decayed, that she had been holding in her hand. This she showed to Nicostratos, who was writhing in agony and very nearly half dead, saying:
‘Just take a look at this tooth that you’ve been carrying around in your mouth for all this time.’
Nicostratos was completely taken in, and although the pain had been quite excruciating and he was rending the air with his plaints, nevertheless, now that the tooth was out, it seemed to him that he felt much better. And when they had soothed and mollified him, and the pain had abated, he got up and went away.
Taking up the tooth, the lady sent it forthwith to her lover, who, being by now convinced of her love, declared that he was ready to minister to all her pleasures. But the lady wished to reassure him still further, and albeit she could hardly wait for him to take her in his arms, she was determined to keep the promise she had given him. She therefore pretended to be ill, and one day, when Nicostratos came to visit her after breakfast, attended only by Pyrrhus, she asked him whether they would help her down to the garden so as to relieve the tedium of her sick-bed. So they conveyed her to the garden, Nicostratos supporting her on one side and Pyrrhus on the other, and set her down on a lawn at the foot of a beautiful pear-tree.4 And after sitting there together for a while, she turned to Pyrrhus, to whom she had sent word beforehand of what he was to do, and said:
‘Pyrrhus, I long to have one or two of those pears. Climb the tree and throw some of them down.’
Pyrrhus, having swiftly clambered up, began to throw down some of the pears, and as he was doing so, he called out to Nicostratos saying:
‘For shame, sir, what are you doing? And you, my lady, how can you be so brazen as to allow it in my presence? Do you think I am blind? Until a moment ago you were very ill; how can you have recovered so rapidly? If you wanted to indulge in that sort of thing, you have plenty of fine bedrooms in the house – why don’t you go and do it in one of those? It would surely be more seemly than doing it here in my presence.’
The lady turned to her husband, and said:
‘What’s Pyrrhus talking about? Is he quite mad?’
Whereupon Pyrrhus said:
‘I’m not mad, my lady. Do you think I can’t see you?’
Nicostratos gaped at him in blank astonishment, and said:
‘Why, Pyrrhus, I think you must be dreaming.’
‘No, my lord,’ he replied, ‘I am wide awake, and so are you, it appears. In fact, you’re putting so much vigour into it that if this tree were to be given so hard a buffeting, there wouldn’t be a single pear left on it.’
‘What can this mean?’ said the lady. ‘Can he really be seeing what he professes to be seeing? Heaven help me, if only I were fit and strong, I should climb up there and see for myself what these marvels are that he claims to be witnessing.’
Meanwhile, Pyrrhus continued to pour forth a stream of similar remarks from his vantage-point in the pear-tree, until eventually Nicostratos ordered him to come down. And when he had reached the ground, Nicostratos said:
‘What is it you claim to be seeing?’
‘I do believe,’ said Pyrrhus, ‘that you take me for an idiot or a lunatic. Since you force me to speak, I saw you lying on top of your lady, and as soon as I started to descend, you got up and sat in the spot where you are sitting now.’
To which Nicostratos replied:
‘You are certainly behaving like an idiot, for we haven’t moved in the slightest since you climbed up the tree.’
‘What’s the use of arguing about it?’ said Pyrrhus. ‘I can only repeat that I saw you, and you were going to it merrily.’
Nicostratos grew visibly more astonished, until finally he said:
‘I’m going to find out for myself whether this pear-tree is enchanted, and what kind of marvels you can see from its branches.’ So up he climbed, and no sooner had he done so than Pyrrhus and his lady began to make love together, whereupon Nicostratos, seeing what they were about, shouted:
‘Ah, vile strumpet, what are you doing? And you, Pyrrhus, after all the trust I placed in you!’ And so saying, he began to climb down again.
‘We are just sitting here quietly,’ said Pyrrhus and the lady. But on seeing him descending, they returned to their former places. No sooner had Nicostratos descended and found them sitting where he had left them than he began to shower them with abuse.
‘Why Nicostratos,’ said Pyrrhus, ‘I must confess that you were right after all, and that my eyes were deceiving me when I was up in the tree. My only reason for saying this is that I know for a fact that you too have had a similar illusion. If you think I am wrong, you have only to stop and reflect whether a woman of such honesty and intelligence as your good lady, even if she wished to stain your honour in this manner, would ever bring herself to do it before your very eyes. Of myself I say nothing, except that I would sooner allow myself to be drawn and quartered than even contemplate such an act, let alone do it in your presence. Hence it is quite obvious that whatever it is that is distorting our vision, it must emanate from the pear-tree. For nothing in the world would have dissuaded me from believing that you had lain here carnally with your lady, until I heard you claiming that I had apparently been doing something which I most certainly never did, nor even thought of doing for a moment.’
At this point, he was interrupted by the lady, who rose to her feet and said to her husband, in tones of considerable annoyance:
‘The devil take you if you have such a low opinion of me as to suppose that, had I wanted to comport myself as scandalously as you claim to have seen, I should do it before your very eyes. You may rest assured that if I should ever feel the urge to do it, I shouldn’t do it out here in the garden. On the contrary, I’d find myself a nice, comfortable bed, and arrange the whole thing so discreetly that if you ever got to know about it I should be very much surprised.’
Nicostratos now felt that they must both be speaking the truth, and that they could never have brought themselves to do such a thing in his presence. So he ceased his shouting and raving, and began to talk about the strangeness of the thing, and about the miraculous way in which a man’s eyesight could be affected by climbing a
tree.
But the lady pretended to be angry because of the aspersions that Nicostratos seemed to have cast on her character and intelligence, and she said:
‘This pear-tree will certainly never bring shame upon me or any other woman again if I can help it. Run and fetch an axe, Pyrrhus, and, at one and the same time, avenge us both by chopping it down, though in point of fact it would be much better to cleave Nicostratos’ skull with the axe for allowing the eyes of his intellect to be blinded so easily. For however much your eyes may have borne out what you were saying, Nicostratos, you should never have allowed your mind to accept it, or even to entertain the idea for a moment.’
So Pyrrhus very quickly went to fetch the axe, and chopped the pear-tree down. And no sooner was it felled than the lady turned to Nicostratos, saying:
‘Now that I have seen the fall of my honour’s adversary, all my anger has departed.’
Then, as Nicostratos was pleading with her to forgive him, she graciously consented to do so, bidding him never again to harbour such ignoble thoughts about his lady, who loved him more dearly than herself.
And so the poor deluded husband returned with her and her lover to the palace, within whose walls it thenceforth became easier for Pyrrhus and Lydia to meet, at regular intervals, for their common delight and pleasure. May God grant that we enjoy a similar fate!
TENTH STORY
Two Sienese fall in love with a woman of whose child one of them is the godfather. This man dies, returns to his companion from the afterworld in fulfilment of a promise he had given him, and describes what people do there.
The Decameron Page 79
