The Decameron, Volume II

by Giovanni Boccaccio

the more ready performance of the promise she had given him, to feignsickness; and Nicostratus, coming to see her one day after breakfast,attended only by Pyrrhus, she besought him for her better solacement, tohelp her down to the garden. Wherefore Nicostratus on one side, andPyrrhus on the other, took her and bore her down to the garden, and sether on a lawn at the foot of a beautiful pear-tree: and after they hadsate there a while, the lady, who had already given Pyrrhus to understandwhat he must do, said to him:--"Pyrrhus, I should greatly like to havesome of those pears; get thee up the tree, and shake some of them down."Pyrrhus climbed the tree in a trice, and began to shake down the pears,and while he did so:--"Fie! Sir," quoth he, "what is this you do? Andyou, Madam, have you no shame, that you suffer him to do so in mypresence? Think you that I am blind? 'Twas but now that you were gravelyindisposed. Your cure has been speedy indeed to permit of your sobehaving: and as for such a purpose you have so many goodly chambers, whybetake you not yourselves to one of them, if you must needs so disportyourselves? 'Twould be much more decent than to do so in my presence."Whereupon the lady, turning to her husband:--"Now what can Pyrrhus mean?"said she. "Is he mad?" "Nay, Madam," quoth Pyrrhus; "mad am not I. Thinkyou I see you not?" Whereat Nicostratus marvelled not a little;and:--"Pyrrhus," quoth he, "I verily believe thou dreamest." "Nay, mylord," replied Pyrrhus, "not a whit do I dream; neither do you; ratheryou wag it with such vigour, that, if this pear-tree did the like, therewould be never a pear left on it." Then the lady:--"What can this mean?"quoth she: "can it be that it really seems to him to be as he says? Uponmy hope of salvation, were I but in my former health, I would get me upthere to judge for myself what these wonders are which he professes tosee." Whereupon, as Pyrrhus in the pear-tree continued talking in thesame strange strain:--"Come down," quoth Nicostratus; and when he wasdown:--"Now what," said Nicostratus, "is it thou sayst thou seest upthere?" "I suppose," replied Pyrrhus, "that you take me to be deluded ordreaming: but as I must needs tell you the truth, I saw you lying uponyour wife, and then, when I came down, I saw you get up and sit you downhere where you now are." "Therein," said Nicostratus, "thou wastcertainly deluded, for, since thou clombest the pear-tree, we have notbudged a jot, save as thou seest." Then said Pyrrhus:--"Why make morewords about the matter? See you I certainly did; and, seeing you, I sawyou lying upon your own." Nicostratus' wonder now waxed momently,insomuch that he said:--"I am minded to see if this pear-tree beenchanted, so that whoso is in it sees marvels;" and so he got him upinto it. Whereupon the lady and Pyrrhus fell to disporting them, andNicostratus, seeing what they were about, exclaimed:--"Ah! lewd woman,what is this thou doest? And thou, Pyrrhus, in whom I so much trusted!"And so saying, he began to climb down. Meanwhile the lady and Pyrrhus hadmade answer:--"We are sitting here:" and seeing him descending, theyplaced themselves as they had been when he had left them, whomNicostratus, being come down, no sooner saw, than he fell a rating them.Then quoth Pyrrhus:--"Verily, Nicostratus, I now acknowledge, that, asyou said a while ago, what I saw when I was in the pear-tree was but afalse show, albeit I had never understood that so it was but that I nowsee and know that thou hast also seen a false show. And that I speaktruth, you may sufficiently assure yourself, if you but reflect whether'tis likely that your wife, who for virtue and discretion has not herpeer among women, would, if she were minded so to dishonour you, see fitto do so before your very eyes. Of myself I say nought, albeit I hadliefer be hewn in pieces than that I should so much as think of such athing, much less do it in your presence. Wherefore 'tis evident that 'tissome illusion of sight that is propagated from the pear-tree; for noughtin the world would have made me believe that I saw not you lying there incarnal intercourse with your wife, had I not heard you say that you sawme doing that which most assuredly, so far from doing, I never so much asthought of." The lady then started up with a most resentful mien, andburst out with:--"Foul fall thee, if thou knowest so little of me as tosuppose that, if I were minded to do thee such foul dishonour as thousayst thou didst see me do, I would come hither to do it before thineeyes! Rest assured that for such a purpose, were it ever mine, I shoulddeem one of our chambers more meet, and it should go hard but I would soorder the matter that thou shouldst never know aught of it." Nicostratus,having heard both, and deeming that what they both averred must be true,to wit, that they would never have ventured upon such an act in hispresence, passed from chiding to talk of the singularity of the thing,and how marvellous it was that the vision should reshape itself for everyone that clomb the tree. The lady, however, made a show of beingdistressed that Nicostratus should so have thought of her,and:--"Verily," quoth she, "no woman, neither I nor another, shall againsuffer loss of honour by this pear-tree: run, Pyrrhus, and bring hitheran axe, and at one and the same time vindicate thy honour and mine byfelling it, albeit 'twere better far Nicostratus' skull should feel theweight of the axe, seeing that in utter heedlessness he so readilysuffered the eyes of his mind to be blinded; for, albeit this vision wasseen by the bodily eye, yet ought the understanding by no means to haveentertained and affirmed it as real."

  So Pyrrhus presently hied him to fetch the axe, and returning therewithfelled the pear; whereupon the lady, turning towards Nicostratus:--"Nowthat this foe of my honour is fallen," quoth she, "my wrath is gone fromme." Nicostratus then craving her pardon, she graciously granted it him,bidding him never again to suffer himself to be betrayed into thinkingsuch a thing of her, who loved him more dearly than herself. So the poorduped husband went back with her and her lover to the palace, where notseldom in time to come Pyrrhus and Lydia took their pastime together moreat ease. God grant us the like.

  NOVEL X.

  --Two Sienese love a lady, one of them being her gossip: the gossip dies,having promised his comrade to return to him from the other world; whichhe does, and tells him what sort of life is led there.--

  None now was left to tell, save the king, who, as soon as the ladies hadceased mourning over the fall of the pear-tree, that had done no wrong,and were silent, began thus:--Most manifest it is that 'tis the primeduty of a just king to observe the laws that he has made; and, if he donot so, he is to be esteemed no king, but a slave that has meritedpunishment, into which fault, and under which condemnation, I, your king,must, as of necessity, fall. For, indeed, when yesterday I made the lawwhich governs our discourse of to-day, I thought not to-day to availmyself of my privilege, but to submit to the law, no less than you, andto discourse of the same topic whereof you all have discoursed; but notonly has the very story been told which I had intended to tell, buttherewithal so many things else, and so very much goodlier have beensaid, that, search my memory as I may, I cannot mind me of aught, nor wotI that touching such a matter there is indeed aught, for me to say, thatwould be comparable with what has been said; wherefore, as infringe Imust the law that I myself have made, I confess myself worthy ofpunishment, and instantly declaring my readiness to pay any forfeit thatmay be demanded of me, am minded to have recourse to my wonted privilege.And such, dearest ladies, is the potency of Elisa's story of thegodfather and his gossip, and therewith of the simplicity of the Sienese,that I am prompted thereby to pass from this topic of the beguilement offoolish husbands by their cunning wives to a little story touching thesesame Sienese, which, albeit there is not a little therein which you werebest not to believe, may yet be in some degree entertaining to hear.

  Know, then, that at Siena there dwelt in Porta Salaia two young men ofthe people, named, the one, Tingoccio Mini, the other Meuccio di Tura,who, by what appeared, loved one another not a little, for they werescarce ever out of one another's company; and being wont, like otherfolk, to go to church and listen to sermons, they heard from time to timeof the glory and the woe, which in the other world are allotted,according to merit, to the souls of the dead. Of which matters craving,but being unable to come by, more certain assurance, they agreed togetherthat, whichever of them should die first, should, if he might, return tothe survivor, and certify him of that which he would fain know; and thisagreement they conf
irmed with an oath. Now, after they had made thisengagement, and while they were still constantly together, Tingocciochanced to become sponsor to one Ambruogio Anselmini, that dwelt in CampoReggi, who had had a son by his wife, Monna Mita. The lady was exceedingfair, and amorous withal, and Tingoccio being wont sometimes to visit heras his gossip, and to take Meuccio with him, he, notwithstanding hissponsorship, grew enamoured of her, as did also Meuccio, for she pleasedhim not a little, and he heard her much commended by Tingoccio. Whichlove each concealed from the other; but not for the same reason.Tingoccio was averse to discover it to Meuccio, for that he deemed