 Day 9. The Fourth Story of the Decameron This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Recording by Ruth Golding. The Decameron by Giovanni Boccaccio, translated by J. M. Rigg. Day 9. The Fourth Story Checo, son of Messer Fortarigo, loses his all at play at Buon Convento, besides the money of Checo, son of Messer Anguillieri, whom, running after him in his shirt and crying out that he has robbed him, he causes to be taken by peasants. He then puts on his clothes, mounts his poultry, and leaves him to follow in his shirt. Both the company laughed beyond measure to hear what Calandrino said touching his wife. But when Filistrato had done, they feele, being bitten by the queen, thus began. Noble ladies, were it not more difficult for men to evince their good sense and virtue than their folly and their vice, many would labour in vain to set bounds to their flow of words, whereof you have had a most conspicuous example in poor blundering Calandrino, who for the better cure of that with which in his simplicity he supposed himself to be afflicted, had no sort of need to discover in public his wife's secret pleasures. Which affair has brought to my mind one that fell out contrary wise, in as much as the guile of one discomforted the good sense of another, to the grievous loss and shame of the discomforted? The manor were of, I am minded to relate to you. It is not many years since there were in Siena two young men, both of age and both alike named Checo, the one being son of Messer Anguillieri, the other of Messer Fortarigo, who, albeit in many other respects their dispositions accorded ill, agreed so well in one to which that they both hated their fathers, that they became friends and kept much together. Now Anguillieri, being a pretty fellow and well-mannered, could not brook to live at Siena on the allowance made him by his father, and learning that there was come into the march of Ancona as legate of the pope, a cardinal to whom he was much bounden, resolved to resort to him there, thinking thereby to improve his circumstances. So, having acquainted his father with his purpose, he prevailed upon him to give him there and then all that he would have given him during the next six months, that he might have the wherewith to furnish himself with apparel and a good mount, so as to travel in a becoming manner. And as he was looking out for someone to attend him as his servant, Fortarigo, hearing of it, came presently to him, and besought him with all earnestness to take him with him as his groom or servant or what he would, and he would be satisfied with his keep without any salary whatsoever. Where too Anguillieri made answer that he was not disposed to take him, not but that he well knew that he was competent for any service that might be required of him, but because he was given to play, and there with all would at times get drunk. Fortarigo assured him with many an oath that he would be on his guard to commit neither fault, and added there too such instant entreaties that Anguillieri was, as it were, vanquished and consented. So, one morning they took the road for Buon Convento, being minded there to breakfast. Now when Anguillieri had breakfasted, as it was a very hot day, he had a bed made in the inn, and having undressed with Fortarigo's help, he composed himself to sleep, telling Fortarigo to call him on the stroke of nine. Anguillieri thus sleeping, Fortarigo repaired to the tavern, where, having slaked his thirst, he sat down to a game with some that were there, who speedily won from him all his money, and thereafter in like manner all the clothes he had on his back. Wherefore he, being anxious to retrieve his losses, went, stripped as he was, to his shirt, to the room where lay Anguillieri, and seeing that he was sound asleep, he took from his purse all the money that he had, and so went back to the gaming table and staked it, and lost it all as he had his own. By and by Anguillieri woke, and got up and dressed, and called for Fortarigo, and as Fortarigo answered not, he supposed that he must have had too much to drink, and be sleeping it off somewhere as was his won't. He accordingly determined to leave him alone, and, doubting not to find a better servant at Corsignano, he let saddle his poultry and attached the valise. But when, being about to depart, he would have paid the host, never a coin could he come by, whereat there was no small stir, so that all the inn was in an uproar, Anguillieri avering that he had been robbed in the house, and threatening to have them all arrested and taken to Siena. When lo! who should make his appearance, but Fortarigo in his shirt, intent now to steal the clothes as he had stolen the moneys of Anguillieri? And marking that Anguillieri was accoutered for the road, how is this Anguillieri, quote he, are we to start so soon? Nay, but wait a little. One will be here presently that has my doublet in porn for thirty-eight soldy. I doubt not that he will return it me for thirty-five soldy if I pay money down. And while they were yet talking, in came one that made it plain to Anguillieri that was Fortarigo that had robbed him of his money, for he told him the amount that Fortarigo had lost. Whereat Anguillieri, in a towering passion, rated Fortarigo right soundly, and but that he stood more in fear of man than of God, would have suited action to word, and so threatening to have him hanged by the neck and proclaimed an outlaw at the gallows tree of Siena, he mounted his horse. Fortarigo, making as if it was not to him but to another that Anguillieri thus spoke, made answer, Come now, Anguillieri, we were best have done with all this idle talk, and consider the matter of substance. We can redeem for thirty-five soldy if we pay forthwith, but if we wait till tomorrow, we shall not get off with less than thirty-eight the full amount of the loan. And is because I staked by his advice that he will make me this allowance. Now why should not we save these three soldy? Whereat Anguillieri waxed well, Nay, desperate, more particularly that he marked that the bystanders were scanning him suspiciously, as if, so far from understanding that Fortarigo had staked and lost his Anguillieri's money, they gave him credit for still being in funds. So he cried out, What have I to do with thy doublet? Tis hide time now was hanged by the neck, that not content with robbing me and gambling away my money, thou must needs also keep me in parley here and make mock of me, when I would feign be gone. Fortarigo, however, still persisted in making believe that Anguillieri did not mean this for him, and only said, Nay, but why wilt not thou save me these three soldy, things thou I can be of no more use to thee? Prithee, and thou loves may do me this turn. Wherefore in such a hurry? We have time enough to get to Torinieri this evening. Come now, out with thy purse, thou knowest I might search Siena through and not find a doublet that would suit me so well as this, and for all I let him have it for thirty-eight soldy, which is worth forty or more, so thou wilt wrong me twice over. Vexed beyond measure that after robbing him Fortarigo should now keep him clevering about the matter, Anguillieri made no answer, but turned his horse's head and took the road for Torinieri. But Fortarigo, with cunning malice, trotted after him in his shirt, and was still his doublet, his doublet, that he would have of him. And when they had thus ridden two good miles, and Anguillieri was forcing the pace to get out of earshot of his pestering, Fortarigo aspired some husbandman in a field beside the road, a little ahead of Anguillieri, and fell a shouting to them a main, Take Thief! Take Thief! whereupon they came up with their spades and their mattocks, and barred Anguillieri's way, supposing that he must have robbed the man that came shouting after him in his shirt, and stopped him, and apprehended him, and little indeed did it avail him to tell them who he was, and how the matter stood. For up came Fortarigo with a wrathful air, and I know not, quote he, why I spare to kill thee on the spot, traitor, thief that thou art, thus to despoil me and give me the slip. And then, turning to the peasants, you see, gentlemen, quote he, in what a trim he left me in the inn after gambling away all that he had with him, and on him. Well, indeed, may I say that under God, tis to you I owe it, that I have thus come by my own again, for which cause I shall ever be beholden to you. Anguillieri also had his say, but his words passed unheeded. Fortarigo, with the help of the peasants, compelled him to dismount, and having stripped him, donned his clothes, mounted his horse, and leaving him barefoot and in his shirt, rode back to Siena, giving out on all hands that he had won the poultry and the clothes from Anguillieri. So Anguillieri, having thought to present himself to the cardinal in the march, a wealthy man, returned to Buonconvento, poor, and in his shirt, and being ashamed for the time to show himself in Siena, pledged a nag that Fortarigo had ridden for a suit of clothes, and betook him to his kinsfolk at Corsignano, where he tarried until he received a fresh supply of money from his father. Thus, then, Fortarigo's guile disconcerted Anguillieri's judicious purpose, albeit when time and occasion served, it was not left unrequited. End of Day 9 The Fourth Story Recording by Ruth Golding Day 9 The Fifth Story of the Decameron This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Recording by Gesino The Decameron, by Giovanni Boccaccio, translated by J. M. Rigg. Day 9 The Fifth Story Calandrino being enamored of a damsel, Bruno gives him a scroll, a varying that if he but touch her therewith, she will go with him. He is found with her by his wife, who subjects him to a most severe and vexatious examination. So at no great length, in that may feel her story, which the company allowed to pass was none too much laughter or remark, whereupon the queen, turning to Fiametta, bade her for lawsuit. Fiametta, with me in most glatsom, made answer that she willingly obeyed, and thus began. As I doubt not, you know, ladies most debonair, be the topic of discourse never so well worn it will still continue to please if the speaker knows how to make due choice of time and occasion meet. Wherefore, considering the reason for which we are here, how that is to make merry and speed the time gaily, and that merely, I deem that there is naught that may afford us mirth and solace, but here may find time and occasion meet, and after serving a thousand turns of discourse should still prove not unpleasing for another thousand. Wherefore, notwithstanding that of Callandrino and his doings, not a little has from time to time been said among us. Yet considering that, as a while ago Filostrato observed, there is not that concerns him that is not entertaining, I will make bold to add to the preceding stories another, which I might well, had I been minded to deviate from the truth, have disguised, and so recounted it to you, under other names. But as Housseau in telling a story diverges from the truth, does thereby in no small measure diminish the delight of his hearers, and I purpose for the reason of foreshad to give you the narrative in proper form. Niccolo Cornaquini, one of our citizens and a man of wealth, had among other estates a fine one at Camerata, on which he had a grand house built, and engaged Bruno and Bufolmakko to paint it throughout, in which task, for that it was by no means light, they associated with them Nello and Callandrino, and so set to work. There were a few rooms in the house provided with beds and other furniture, and an old female servant lived there as caretaker. But otherwise the house was unoccupied, for which course Niccolo's son, Filippo, being a young man and a bachelor, was want sometimes to bring Dither a woman for his pleasure, and after keeping her there for a few days to escort her thence again. Now on one of these occasions it befell that he brought Dither one Niccolosa, whom a vile fellow named Mangiorna kept in the house at Camaldoli as a common prostitute, and a fine piece of flesh she was, and wore fine clothes, and for one of her sort knew how to comport herself becomingly, and talk agreeably. Now one day at high noon, forth tripped the damsel from her chamber in a white gown, her locks braided about her head, to wash her hands and face at a well that was in the courtyard of the house, and while she was so engaged it befell that Callandrino came there for water, and greeted her familiarly. Having returned his salutation she, rather because Callandrino struck her as something out of the common than for any other interest she felt in him, regarded him attentively. Callandrino did the like by her, and being smitten by her beauty, found reasons enough why he should not go back to his comrades with the water, but as he knew not who she was he made not bold to address her. She upon whom his gaze was not lost, being minded to amuse herself at his expense, let her glance from time to time rest upon him, while she heaved a slight sigh or two. Whereby Callandrino was forthwith captivated, and tarried in the courtyard, until Filippo called her back into the chamber. Returned to his work, Callandrino sighed like a furnace, which Bruno, who was ever regardful of his doings, for the diversion they afforded him, failed not to mark, and by and by, what the devil is amiss with thee, comrade Callandrino, quoth he. Thou dost nought but puff and blow. Comrade, replied Callandrino, I should be in luck, had I but one to help me. How so, quoth Bruno? Why, return Callandrino, it is not to go farther, but there was a damsel below, fairer than Elamia, and so mightily in love with me that it would astonish thee. I observed it but now when I went to fetch the water. Nay, but Callandrino, make sure she be not Filippo's wife, quoth Bruno. I doubt it is even so, replied Callandrino, for he called her and she joined him in the chamber, but what signifies it? I would circumvent Christ himself in such a case, not to say Filippo. Of a truth, comrade, I tell thee she pleases me, I could not say how. Comrade, return Bruno, I will find out for thee who she is, and if she be Filippo's wife, two words from me will make it straight for thee, for she is much my friend. But how shall we prevent Pufalmako knowing it? I can never have a word with her, but he is with me. As to Pufalmako, replied Callandrino, I care not if he do know, but let us make sure it come not to Nello's ears, for he is of kin to Mona Tessa, and would spoil it all. Where to? Thou art in the right, returned Bruno. Now Bruno knew who the damsel was, for he had seen her arrive, and moreover Filippo had told him. So, Callandrino, having given over working for a while, and be taken him to her, Bruno acquainted Nello and Pufalmako with a whole story, and thereupon they privily concerted how to entreat him in regard of his love affair. Wherefore, upon his return, quoth Bruno softly, didst see her? I woes me, replied Callandrino, she has stricken me to the death. Quoth Bruno? I will go see if she be the lady I take her to be, and if I find that is so, leave the rest to me. Whereupon down went Bruno, and found Filippo in the damsel, and fully apprised them what sort of fellow Callandrino was, and what he had told them, and concerted with them what each should do and say, that they might have a merry time together over Callandrino's love affair. He then rejoined Callandrino, saying, it is the very same, and therefore the affair needs very delicate handling, for if Filippo were but where thereof, not all Arnaud's waters would suffice to cleanse us. However, what should I say to her from thee, if by chance I should get speech of her? If face, replied Callandrino, why, first of all, thou wilt tell her that I wish for a thousand bushels of the good seed of generation, and then that I am her servant, and if she is faint of, hort, thou takes'd me? Aye, quoth Bruno, leave it to me. Supper time came, and the day's work done they went down into the courtyard, Filippo and Nicolosa being there, and there they tarried awhile to advance Callandrino's suit. Callandrino's gaze was soon riveted on Nicolosa, and such and so strange and startling for the gestures that he made, that they would have given sight to the blind. She on her part used all her arts to inflame his passion, primed as she had been by Bruno, and diverted beyond measure as she was by Callandrino's antics, while Filippo, Bufalmaco, and the rest feigned to be occupied in converse, and to see naught of what passed. However, after a while, to Callandrino's extreme disgust, they took their leave, and as they bent their steps towards Florence, I warned thee, quoth Bruno to Callandrino, she wastes away for thee like ice in the sunlight, by the body of God, if thou were to bring thy rebeck, and sing to her one or two of thy love songs, she'd throw herself out of the window to be with thee. Quoth Callandrino, thinkst thou, comrade, thinkst thou, to her well I brought it? I indeed, returned Bruno, whereupon, ah, comrade, quoth Callandrino, so thou wouldst not believe me when I told thee to-day, of a truth I perceive, there's no another knows so well what he would be at his eye. Who but I would have known, how so soon, to win the love of a lady like that? Lucky indeed might they deem themselves, if they did it. Those young gallants that go about, day and night, up and down, are strumming on the eyestringed vial, and would not know how to gather a handful of nuts once in a millennium. Mayst thou be by, to see when I bring her the rebeck? Thou wouldst see fine sport. List well what I say, I am not so old as I look, and she knows it right well, I, and anyhow, I will soon let her know it, when I come to grapple her. By the very body of Christ I will have such sport with her, that she will follow me as any love-sick maid follows her swain. Oh, Quasbruno, I doubt not thou will make her thy prey, and I seem to see thee bite her dainty ver-male mouth, and her cheeks that show as twin roses, with thy teeth, that are as so many loot pegs, and after as devour her bodily. So encouraged Calandrino fancied himself already in action, and went about singing and capering in such high glee, that twas as if he would burst his skin. And so next day he brought the rebeck, and to the no small amusement of all the company sang several songs to her. And in short, by frequently seeing her, he waxed so mad with passion that he gave over working, and a thousand times a day he would run now to the window, now to the door, and none to the courtyard, in the chance of catching sight of her. Nor did she, astutely following Bruno's instructions, fail to afford him abundance of opportunity. Bruno played the go-between, bearing him her answers to all his messages, and sometimes bringing him messages from her. When she was not at home, which was most frequently the case, he would send him letters from her, in which she gave great encouragement to his hopes, at the same time giving him to understand that she was at the house of her kinsfolk, where as yet he might not visit her. On this wise, Bruno and Bufal Mako so managed their fare as to divert themselves inordinately, causing him to send her, as at her request, now an ivory comb, now a purse, now a little knife, and other such dainty trifles, in return for which they brought him, now and again, a counterfeit ring of no value, with which Calandrino was marvelously pleased, and Calandrino, to stimulate their zeal in his interest, would entertain them hospitably at table, and otherwise flatter them. Now, when they had thus kept him in play for two good months, and the affair was just where it had been, Calandrino, seeing that the work was coming to an end, and be thinking him that, if it did so before he had brought his love affair to a successful issue, he must give up all hopes of ever doing so, began to be very instant and importunate with Bruno. So, in the presence of the damsel, and by pre-concert, with her and Filippo, quas Bruno to Calandrino. Hark I, comrade, this lady has vowed to me a thousand times that she will do as thou wouldst have her, and as, for all that, she does not to pleasure thee, I am of opinion that she leads thee by the nose, wherefore, as she keeps not her promises, we will make her do so willy-nilly, if thou art so minded. Nay, but for the love of God so be it, replied Calandrino, and that speedily. Darest thou touch her, then, with a scroll that I shall give thee, quas Bruno. I dare, replied Calandrino. Fetch me, then, quas Bruno, a bit of skin of an unborn lamb, a live bat, three grains of incense, and a blessed candle, and leave the rest to me. To catch the bat, taxed all Calandrino's art and craft for the whole of the evening, but having at length taken him, he brought him with the other matters to Bruno, who, having withdrawn into a room by himself, wrote on the skin some cabalistic jargon, and handed it to him, saying, No, Calandrino, that if thou touch her with this scroll, she will follow thee forthwith, and do whatever thou shalt wish. Wherefore, should Philippo go abroad to-day, get thee somehow up to her, and touch her, and then go into the barn that is hereby. It is the best place we have, for never a soul goes there, and thou wilt see that she will come there, too. When she is there, when she is there, thou wattest well what to do. Calandrino, overjoyed as nearer another, took the scroll, saying only, Comrade, leave that to me. Now, Nello, whom Calandrino mistrusted, entered with no less zest than the others into the affair, and was there confederate for Calandrino's disconfiture. Accordingly, by Bruno's direction, he hide to Florence, and finding Mona Tessa. Thou hast scarce forgotten Tessa, quasi, what a beating Calandrino gave thee, without the least cause, that day when he came home with his stones from Mugnone, for which I would have thee be avenged, and so thou wilt not. Call me no more kinsmen or friend. He has fallen in love with the lady up there, who was abandoned enough to go closeting herself not seldom with him, and tis but a short while, since they made as a nation to foregather forthwith. So I would have thee go there, and surprise him in the act, and give him a sound trancing. Which, when the lady heard, she deemed it no laughing matter, but started up and broke out with, alas, the aren't-nave. Is thus he treats me? By the holy rude, never fear, but I will pay him out. And wrapping herself in her cloak, and taking a young woman with her for companion, she spared more at a run than at a walk, as quoted by Nello, up to Camarata. Bruno, aspiring her from afar, said to Filippo, Lo, here comes our friend. Whereupon Filippo went to the place where Calandrino and the others were at work, and said, My masters, I must need's go at once to Florence. Slacken not on that account. And so off he went, and hid himself, where, unobserved, he might see what Calandrino would do. Calandrino waited only until he saw that Filippo was at some distance, and then he went down into the courtyard, where he found Nicolosa alone, and fell a-talking with her. She, knowing well what she had to do, drew close to him, and showed him a little more familiarity than she was want. Whereupon Calandrino touched her with a scroll, and having done so, saying never a word, bent his steps towards the barn, where the Nicolosa followed him, and, being entered, shut the door, and forthwith embraced him, threw him down on the straw that lay there, and got astride of him, and, holding him fast by the arms about the shoulders, suffered him not to approach his face to hers, but gazing upon him, as if he were the delight of her heart. Oh, Calandrino, sweet, my Calandrino, quoth she, heart of my body, my very soul, my bliss, my consolation. Oh, how long have I yearned to hold thee in my arms, and to have thee all my own? Thy endearing ways have utterly disarmed me, thou hast made prize of my heart with thy rebeck. Do I indeed hold thee in mine embrace? Calandrino scarce able to move, murmured, Ah, sweet my soul, suffer me to kiss thee. Where to? Nay, but thou art too hasty, replied Nicolosa. Let me first feast my eyes on thee, let me but sate them with his sweet face of thine. Meanwhile Bruno and Bufalmaco had joined Filippo, so what past was seen and heard by all three, and while Calandrino was thus intent to kiss Nicolosa, lo, up came Nello, with Monatessa. By God I swear they are both there, ejaculated Nello, as they entered the doorway, but the lady, now fairly furious, laid hold of him and thrust him aside, and rushing him as spied Nicolosa as stride of Calandrino. Nicolosa no sooner caught sight of the lady than up she jumped, and in a trice was beside Filippo. Monatessa fell upon Calandrino, who was still on the floor, planted her nails in his face, and scratched it all over. She then seized him by the hair, and hailing him to and fro about the barn. Foul pestilent cur, quos she. Is this the way thou treatest me, thou old fool? A moraine on the love I have borne thee. Has thou not enough to do at home that thou must needst go falling in love with strange women? And a fine lover thou wouldst make. Does not thou know thy self-nave? Thou, from whose body, to her not possible to ring enough sap for a source? God's faith, it was not Tessa that got thee with child. God's curse on her, whoever she was, verily she must be a poor creature to be enamoured of a jewel of thy rare quality. At sight of his wife, Calandrino, suspended as it were between life and death, ventured no defence. But his face torn to shreds, his hair and clothes all disordered, fumbled about for his capuche, which having found up he got, and humbly besought his wife not to publish the matter, unless she were minded that he should be cut to pieces, for that she that was with him was the wife of the master of the house. Then God-giver a bad year, replied the lady. Verapun Bruno and Bufal Mako, who by this time had laughed their fill with Filippo and Nicolosa, came up as if attracted by the noise, and after not a little ado, pacified the lady, and cancelled Calandrino to go back to Florence and stay there, lest Filippo should get wind of the affair, and do him a mischief. So Calandrino, crestfallen and woe be gone, got him back to Florence with his face torn to shreds, where, daring not to show himself at camarada again, he endured day and night the grievous torment of his wife's vituporation. Such was the issue to which, after ministering not a little mirth to his comrades, and also to Nicolosa and Filippo, this ardent lover brought his amor. End of day nine, the fifth story. Day nine, the sixth story of the Decameron. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Recording by Eugene Smith. The Decameron by Giovanni Boccaccio, translated by J. M. Rigg. Day nine, the sixth story. Two young men lodge at an inn, of whom the one lies with the host's daughter, his wife by inadvertence lying with the other. He that lay with the daughter afterwards gets into her father's bed and tells him all, taking him to be his comrade. They bendy words, whereupon the good woman, apprehending the circumstances, gets her to bed with her daughter, and by diverse apt words re-establishes perfect accord. Calandrino as on former occasions, so also on zest, moved the company to laughter. However, when the ladies had done talking of his doings, the queen called for a story from Panfillo, who thus spoke. Worshipful ladies, this Nicolosa that Calandrino loved has brought to my mind a story of another Nicolosa, which I am minded to tell you because it will show you how a good woman, by her quick apprehension, avoided a great scandal. In the plain of Mugnone, there was not long ago a good man that furnished travelers with meat and drink for money, and for that he was in poor circumstances, and had but a little house, gave not lodging to every comer, but only to a few that he knew, and if they were hard bested. Now the good man had to wife a very fine woman, and by her had two children, two wit, a pretty and winsome girl of some fifteen or sixteen summers, as yet unmarried, and a little boy, not yet one year old, whom the mother suckled at her own breast. The girl had found favor in the eyes of a goodly and mannerly young gentleman of our city, who was not seldom in those parts, and loved her to the point of passion. And she, being mightily flattered to be loved by such a gallant, studied how to comport herself so debonarily as to retain his regard, and while she did so, grew likewise enamored of him, and diverse times, by consent of both, their love had had its fruition. But that Pnutcio, such was the gallant's name, shrank from the disgrace that would bring upon the girl and himself alike. But as his passion daily waxed apace, Pnutcio, yearning to find himself a bed with her, we thought him that he were best contrived to lodge with her father, deeming from what he knew of her father's economy that if he did so, he might affect his purpose, and never a soul be the wiser, which I did no sooner struck him than he said about carrying it into effect. So, late one evening, Pnutcio, and a trusted comrade, Adriano, by name, to whom he had confided his love, hired two nags, and having set upon them two valices, filled with straw or such-like stuff, sallied forth of Florence, and rode by a circuitous route to the plain of Munoz, which they reached after nightfall, and having fetched a compass, so that it might seem as if they were coming from Romagna, they rode up to the good man's house and knocked at the door. The good man, knowing them both very well, opened to them forthwith, whereupon. Now must even put us up tonight, quote Pnutcio. We thought to get into Florence, but for all the speed we could make, we are but arrived here, as thou seest, at this hour. Pnutcio replied the host, Thou well knowest that I can make but a sorry shift to large gentlemen like you. But yet, as night has overtaken you here, and time serves not to be taken elsewhere, I will gladly give you such accommodation as I may. The two gallants then dismounted and entered the inn, and having first looked to their horses, brought out some supper that they had carried with them, and supped with the host. Now the host had but one little bedroom, in which were three beds, set, as conveniently as he could contrive, two on one side of the room, and the third on the opposite side. But for all that, there was scarce room enough to pass through. The host had the least as comfortable of the three beds made up for the two friends, and having ordered them there, some little while afterwards, both being awake, but feigning to be asleep, he caused his daughter to get into one of the other two beds, while he and his wife took their places in the third, the good woman setting the cradle, in which was her little boy, beside the bed. Such then, being the partition made of the beds, Pnutcio, who had taken exact note thereof, waited only until he deemed all but himself to be asleep, and then got softly up and stole to the bed, in which lay his beloved, and laid himself beside her. And she, according to him, albeit a timorous, yet a gladsome welcome, he stayed there, taking with her that solace of which both are most feigned. Pnutcio, being thus with the girl, a chance that certain things, being overset by a cat, fell with a noise that aroused the good woman, who, fearing that it might be a matter of more consequence, got up as best she might in the dark, and betook her to the place whence the noise seemed to proceed. At the same time, Adriano, not by reason of the noise, which he heeded not, but perchance to answer the call of nature, also got up, and questing about for a convenient place, came upon the cradle beside the good woman's bed, and not being able otherwise to go by, took it up, and set it beside his own bed. And when he had accomplished his purpose, went back, and giving never a thought to the cradle, got him to bed. The good woman searched until she found that the accident was no such matter as she had supposed, so, without troubling to strike a light to investigate it further, she reproved the cat, and returned to the room, and groped her way straight to the bed in which her husband lay asleep. But not finding the cradle there, quote she to herself, alas, blunder that I am, what was I about? God's faith! I was going straight to the guest's bed. And proceeding a little further, she found the cradle, and laid herself down by Adriano in the bed that was beside it, taking Adriano for her husband. And Adriano, who was still awake, received her with all due mononity, and tackled her more than once to her no small delight. Meanwhile, Pnutcio, fearing less sleep should overtake him while he was yet with his mistress, and having satisfied his desire, got up and left her to return to his bed. But when he got there, coming upon the cradle, he supposed that towards the host's bed. And so going a little further, he laid him down beside the host, who thereupon awoke. Supposing that he had Adriano beside him, I weren't thee, quote Pnutcio to the host, there was never so sweet a piece of flesh as Nicolosa. By the body of God, such delight have I had of her as never had man of woman. And mark me, since I left thee, I have gotten ye up to the farm six times. Which tidings, the host being none too well pleased to learn, said first of all to himself, What the devil does this fellow here? Then his resentment getting the better of his prudence, Tis a gross affront thou has put upon me, Pnutcio, quote he, nor know I what occasion Thou hast to do me such a wrong. But by the body of God I will pay thee out. Pnutcio, who was not the most discreet of gallants, albeit he was now apprised of his error, Instead of doing his best to repair it, retorted, And wilt thou pay me out, what canst thou do? Hark, what high words our guests are at together! Quote, meanwhile the host's wife to Adriano, deeming that she spoke to her husband. Let them be, replied Adriano with a laugh, God give them a bad year, they drank too much yester eve. The good woman had already half recognized her husband's angry tones, And now that she heard Adriano's voice, she at once knew where she was and with whom. Accordingly, being a discreet woman, she started up, and saying never a word, Took her child's cradle, and though there was not a ray of light in the room, bore it, Divining rather than feeling her way, to the side of the bed in which her daughter slept. And then, as if aroused by the noise made by her husband, She called him, and asked what he and Pnutcio were bandying words about. Here is thou not, replied the husband, what he says he has this very night done to Nicolosa? Tush, he lies in the throat, return the good woman. He has not lain with Nicolosa, for what time he might have done so, I laid me beside her myself, and I have been wide awake ever since, And thou art a fool to believe him. You men take so many cups before going to bed, that then you dream, and walk in your sleep, and imagine wonders. It is a great pity you do not break your necks. What does Pnutcio there? Why keeps he not in his own bed? We're upon Adriano, in his turn, seeing how adroitly the good woman cloaked her own, and her daughter's shame. Pnutcio, quote he, I have told thee a hundred times that thou shouldst not walk about at night, for this by bad habit of getting up in thy dreams, and relating thy dreams for truth, will get thee into a scrape some time or another. Come back, and God see thee a bad night. Hearing Adriano thus confirm what his wife had said, a host began to think that Pnutcio must be really dreaming. So he took him by the shoulder, and fell a-shaking him, and calling him by his name, saying, Pnutcio, wake up, and go back to thy bed. Pnutcio, taking his cue from what he had heard, began, as a dreamer would be like to do, to talk, wanderingly, where at the host laughed a-main. Then, feigning to be aroused by the shaking, Pnutcio uttered Adriano's name, saying, Is it already day that thou callest me? I, too, so, quote Adriano, come hither, whereupon Pnutcio, makings if he were mighty drowsy, got him up from beside the host, and back to bed with Adriano. On the morrow, when they were arisen, the host fell a-loughing in making Mary touching Pnutcio and his dreams, and so the jest passed from mouth to mouth, while a-gallant's horses were groomed and saddled, and their valices adjusted. Which done, they drank with the host, mounted and rode to Florence, no less pleased with the matter than with the matter of the night's adventure. Nor, afterwards, did Pnutcio fail to find other means of meeting Nicolosa, who assured her mother that he had unquestionably dreamed, for which caused the good woman, calling to mind Adriano's embrace, accounted herself the only one that had watched. End of Day 9, The Sixth Story Giovanni Boccaccio, translated by J. M. Rigg. Day 9, The Seventh Story Talano di Mollezzi, dreams that a wolf tears and rends all the neck and face of his wife. He gives her warning thereof, which she heeds not, and the dream comes true. When Pamphiloch had brought his story to a close, and all had commanded the good woman's quick perception, the queen-bade Pampinea tell hers, and thus Pampinea began. A while ago, debonair my ladies, we held discourse of the truths that dreams show forth, which not a few of us derived, for which case, albeit the topic has been handled before. I shall not spare to tell you that, which not long ago befell a neighbour of mine, for that she disbelieved a dream that her husband had. I would not, if you knew Talano di Mollezzi, a man worthy to be hard in honour. Who, having married a young wife, Margarita by name, fair as ever another, but without her much for whimsical, fractious and perverse humours, in so much that there was not she would do at the instance of another, either for his or her own good, bound her behaviour most grievous to bear, but was feign to endure what he might not cure. Now it so befell that Talano and Margarita, being together, uttered an estate that Talano had in the Contardo. He, sleeping, saw in a dream a very beautiful wood that was on the estate at no great distance from the house, and his lady there walking. And as she went, there leaped forth upon her a huge and fierce wolf that griped her by the throat and bore her down to the ground. And she, shrieking the while for succour, would have carried her off by main force. But she got quit of his jaws, albeit her neck and face showed as quite disfigured. On the morrow, as soon as he was risen, Talano said to his wife, albeit for thy perversity I have not yet known a single good day with thee, yet I should be sorry, wife, that harm should befall thee, and therefore, if thou takes my advice, there wilt not stir out of doors to-day. Wherefore, quoth the lady, and thereupon he recounted to her all his dream. The lady shook her head, saying, Who means ill, dreams ill? Thou makest, as if thou wast mighty tender of me, but thou boast of me and thy dream, that which thou wast fancy betide me. I warrant thee that to-day and all days I will have a care to avoid this or any other calamity that might gladden thy heart. Whereupon? Well, Weste, replied Talano, that thou wouldst so say, for such is ever the requital of those that comb scurvy heads. But whatever thou mayst be pleased to believe, I for my part speak to thee for thy good, and gain I advise thee to keep indoors to-day, or at least not to walk in the wood. Good! returned the lady. I would look to it. And then she began communing with herself on this wise. Dits mark how artfully he thinks to have scared me from going into the woods to-day. Doubtless! it is that he has an arsegnation there with some light of love, with whom he had rather I did not find him. Ha! he would sup well with the blind, and what a fool were I to believe him! But I warrant he will be disappointed. That needs must I, though I stay there all day long, see what commerce it is that he will adventure in to-day. Having so said, she quitted the house on one side, while her husband did so on the other. And forthwith, shunning observation as best she might, she hide her to the woods, and hid where it was most dense, and there waited on the alert, and glancing, now this way and now that, to see if any were coming. And while thus she stood, nor even a thought of a wolf crossed her mind, low, forth of a closed covert heart by came a wolf of monstrous size and appalling aspect, and scarce had she time to say, God, help me, before he sprang upon her, and griped her by the throat so tightly that she might not utter a cry. But, passive as any lambkin, was borne off by him, and had certainly been strangled, had he not encountered some shepherds, who with shouts compelled him to let her go. The shepherds recognized the poor, hapless woman, and bore her home, where the physicians by dint of long and careful treatment cured her. Howbeit the whole of her throat and part of her face remained so disfigured that, fair as she had been before, she was ever thereafter most foul and hideous to look upon. Wherefore, being ashamed to show her face, she did many a time bitterly deplore her perversity, in that, when it would have cost her nothing, she would nevertheless pay no heed to the true dream of her husband. End of Day 9, The Seventh Story Recording by Miet of Miet's Bedtime Story podcast Day 9, The Eighth Story of the Decameran This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Recording by Philippa Jevons The Decameran by Giovanni Boccaccio Translated by J. M. Rig Day 9, The Eighth Story Biondello gulls Chaco in the matter of a breakfast, for which prank Chaco is cunningly avenged on Biondello, causing him to be shamefully beaten. All the company by Common Consent pronounced it no dream, but a vision that Talano had had in his sleep. So exactly, no circumstance lacking had it fallen out according as he had seen it. However, as soon as all had done speaking, the queen-baid Loretta followed suit, which Loretta did, and this wise. As, at most discreet, my ladies, those that have preceded me today have almost all taken their cue from somewhat that has been said before, so prompted by the stern vengeance taken by the scholar in Pampinea's narrative of yesterday, I am minded to tell you of a vengeance that was indeed less savage, but for all that grievous enough to him on whom it was wreaked. Wherefore, I say, that there was once at Florence one that all folk called Chaco, a man second to none that ever lived for inordinate gluttony, who, lacking the means to support the expenditure which his gluttony demanded, and being for the rest well-mannered and well-furnished with excellent and merry jests, did, without turning exactly court jester, cultivate a somewhat biting wit, and love to frequent the houses of the rich, and such as kept good tables, wither, bidden, or unbidden, he not seldom resorted for breakfast or supper. There was also in those days at Florence one that was called Biondello, a man very short of stature, and not a little debonair, more trim than any fly with his blonde locks surmounted by a quaff, and never a hair out of place, and he and Chaco were two of a trade. Now, one morning in Lent, Biondello, being in the fish market, purchasing two mighty fat lampries for Mesevieri de Cherqui, was observed as engaged by Chaco, who came up to him, and, what means this, cos' he? Why? replied Biondello, tis that, yes, to leave, Mesecurso Donati had three lampries much finer than these, and a sturgeon sent to his house, but as they did not suffice for breakfast that he is to give certain gentlemen, he has commissioned me to buy these two beside. Will they not be there? I marry that will I, returned Chaco, and in what he deemed due time he hired him to Mesecurso Donati's house, where he found him with some of his neighbours not yet gone to breakfast, and, being asked by Mesecurso with what intent he was come, he answered, I am come, sir, to breakfast with you and your company. And welcome art thou, returned Mesecurso, go we then to breakfast, for it is now the time. So to table they went, when nought was set before them but peas and the inward part of the tunny salted, and afterwards the common fish of the arno fried, wherefore Chaco, not a little wroth, the trick that he perceived Biondello had played him, resolved to pay him out. And not many days after, Biondello, who had meanwhile had many a laugh with his friends over Chaco's discomforture, met him, and, after greeting him, asked him with a laugh what Mesecurso's lamp-race had been like. That question, replied Chaco, thou art be able to answer much better than I before eight days are gone by. And parting from Biondello upon the word, he went forthwith and hired a cousining rogue, and having thrust a glass bottle into his hand, brought him with insight of the loggia di Cavicciulli, and there, pointing to a knight, won Mesefilippo Argenti, a tall man and stout, and of a high courage, and haughty, coloric, and cross-grained as near another, he said to him, thou wilt go flask in hand to Mesefilippo, and wilt say to him, I am sent for you, sir, by Biondello, who intrigues you to be pleased to colour this flask for him with some of your good red wine, for that he is minded to have a good time with his catamites. And of all things have a care that he lay not hands upon thee, for he would make thee rue the day, and would spoil my sport. Have I else to say? inquired the rogue. Nothing more, returned Chaco, and now get thee gone, and when thou has delivered the message bring me back the flask, and I will pay thee. So away went the rogue, and did the errant to Mesefilippo, who forthwith, being a hasty man, jumped to the conclusion that Biondello, whom he knew, was making mock of him, and while an angry flush overspread his face, colour the flask for sooth, quote he, and catamites, God send thee and him a bad year. And therewith, up he started, and reached forward to lay hold of the rogue, who, being on the alert, gave him the slip and was off, and reported Mesefilippo's answer to Chaco, who had observed what had passed. Having paid the rogue, Chaco rested not until he had found Biondello, to whom, was now but now, quote he, at the logitic avicule. Indeed no, replied Biondello, wherefore such a question. Because, returned Chaco, I may tell thee that thou art soughtful by Mesefilippo for what cause I know not. Good, caused Biondello, I will go thither and speak with him. So away went Biondello, and Chaco followed him to see what cause the affair would take. Now, having failed to catch the rogue, Mesefilippo was still very wroth, and inly fumed and fretted, being unable to make out ought from what the rogue had said, save that Biondello was set on by some one or another, to flout him. And while he thus vexed his spirit, up came Biondello, whom he knows soon respite, then he made for him, and dealt him a mighty blow in the face, and tore his hair and quaff, and cast his capuch on the ground, and to his, alas, so what means this? Still beating him amain, Traitor, cried he, I will give thee to know what it means to send me such a message. Color the flask for sooth and catamites. Does thou take me for a stripling to be befooled by thee? And therewith he pummeled Biondello's face all over with a pair of fists that were likeer to iron than ought else, until it was but a mass of bruises. He also tore and dishevelled all his hair, tumbled him in the mud, rent all his clothes upon his back, and that without allowing him breathing space to ask why he thus used him, or so much as utter a word. Color me the flask, and catamites rang in his ears, but what the words signified he knew not. In the end, very badly beaten, and in very sorry and ragged trim, many folk having gathered round him, they, albeit not without the utmost difficulty, rescued him from Mesut Filippo's hands, and told him why Mesut Filippo had thus used him, censoring him for sending him such a message, and adding that thenceforth he would know Mesut Filippo better, and that he was not a man to be trifled with. Biondello told them in tearful exculpation that he had never sent for wine to Mesut Filippo. Then, when they had put him in a little better trim, crestfallen and woe-begone, he went home, imputing his misadventure to Chiaco. And when, many days afterwards, the marks of his ill usage being gone from his face, he began to go abroad again, it chanced that Chiaco met him, and with a laugh, Biondello, quote he, how does their relish Mesut Filippo's wine? Why, as to that, replied Biondello, would thou hast relish the lampries of Mesut Corso as much? So, returned Chiaco, such meat as thou then gavest me, thou most henceforth give me, as often as art so minded, and I will give thee even such drink as I have given thee. So, Biondello, witting that against Chiaco his might was not equal to his spite, prayed God for his peace, and was careful never to flout him again. End of Day 9, The Eighth Story. Bocaccio, translated by J. M. Rigg. Day 9, The Ninth Story. Two young men asked Council of Solomon, the one how he is to make himself beloved, the other how he is to reduce an unruly wife to order, the king bids one to love, and the other to go to the bridge of Ghis. None now remained to tell saves of Queen, unless she were minded to infringe the Oneo's privilege. Therefore, when the ladies had loved their fill over the misfortunes of Biondello, thus gaily the queen began. Observe, we love some ladies, the order of things with a sound mind, and we shall readily perceive that we women are one and all, subjected by nature and custom and law, unto man, by him to be ruled and governed at his discretion, but wherefore she that would feign and joy, quietude and solace and comfort with the man to whom she belongs ought not only to be chaste but lowly, patient and obedient, the which is the discreet wise chief and most precious possession, and if the laws which in all matters have regardant to the common wheel, and use and want or custom, call it what you will, a power very great and to be head and o'er, should not suffice to school us there to, yet abundantly clears the witness of nature which has fashioned our frames delicate and sensitive, and our spirits timorous and fearful, and has decreed that our bodily strength shall be slight, our voices tunable, and our movements graceful, which qualities do all avouch, that we have need of others' governance, and who so has need of succour and governance ought in all reason to be obedient and submissive and reverent to what his governor, and whom have we to govern and succour us, save men, tis then our bounden duty to give men all honour and submit ourselves unto them, from which rule of any deviate I deem her most deserving not only of grave sanger, but of severe chastisement, which reflections, albeit they are not new to me, I am now led to make by what but a little while ago Pampinea told us touching the perverse wife Talano, on whom God bestowed that chastisement which the husband had omitted, and accordingly it jumps with my judgment that all such women as deviate from the graciousness, kindliness and compliancy which nature and custom and law prescribe, merit, as I said, stern and severe chastisement, wherefore as a salutary medicine for the healing of those of us who may be afflicted with this disease, I am minded to relate to you that which was once delivered by Solomon by way of counsel in such a case, which led none that stands not in need of such physique deemed to be meant for her, albeit a proverb is current among men, to it good steed, bad steed, alike need their roles prick, good wife, bad wife, alike demand the stick, which whoso should construe as a merry conceit would find you already enough to acknowledge its truth, but even in its moral significance I say that it ought to command ascent, for women are all by nature apt to be swayed and to fall, and therefore for the correction of the wrongdoing of such as transgress the bounds assigned to them, there is need of the stick punitive, and also for the maintenance of virtue in others that they transgress not these appointed bounds, there is need of the stick auxiliary and deterrent. However, to cut short this preachment, and to come to that which I propose to tell you, I say, that the brood of the incomparable renown of the prodigious wisdom of Solomon, as also of the exceeding great liberality with which he accorded proof thereof, to all that craved such assurance, being gone forth over well-nigh all the earth, many from diverse parts were want to resort to him for counsel in matters of most pressing and arduous importance, among whom was a young man, Melissa, by name, a very wealthy nobleman, who was, as had been his father's before him, of Lassistan, and there dwelled, and as Melissa fared toward Jerusalem on his departure from Antioch, he fell in with another young man, Josepho, by name, who was going the same way, and with whom, after the manner of travellers, he entered into converse. Melissa, having learned from Josepho who and whence he was, asked him whether he went and on what errand, whereupon Josepho made an answer that he was going to seek counsel of Solomon, how he should deal with his wife, who had not her match among women for unrulyness and perversity, in so much that neither entreaties nor blandishments nor old else availed him to bring her to a better frame, and thereupon he, in like manner, asked Melissa whence he was, and whither he was bound, and on what errand, where too? Of Lassistan I, replied Melissa, and like thyself in evil plight, for all bide I am wealthy and spend my substance freely, inhospitably entertaining and honorably entreating my fellow citizens, yet for all that, passing strange though it be to think upon, I find never a soul to love me, and therefore I am bound to the self-same place as thou, to be advised how it may come to pass that I be loved. So the two men fared on together, and being arrived at Jerusalem, were, by the good officers of one of Solomon's parents, ushered into his presence, and Melissa, having briefly laid his case before the king, was answered in one word. Love. Which said, Melissa was forthwith dismissed, and Josepho discovered the reason of his coming, to whom Solomon made no answer but, Get thee to the Bridge of Geese. Whereupon Josepho was likewise promptly ushered out of the king's presence, and finding Melissa awaiting him, told him what manner of answer he had gotten, which utterances of the king the two men pondered, but finding therein not that was helpful or relevant to their need, they doubted the king had but mocked them, and set forth upon their homeward journey. Now, when they had been some days on the road, they came to a river, which was spanned by a fine bridge, and a great caravan of Sumter mules and horses being about to cross, there must needs a terry, until the caravan had passed by. The more part of which had done so, when a chance that a mule turned silkly, as we know they will not sell them do, and stood stock still, wherefore a mule-tear took a stick, and fell a-beating the mule therewith, albeit at first with no great vigor to urge the mule forward. The mule, however, swerving now to this, now to the other side of the bridge, and sometimes facing about, utterly refused to go forward, where at the mule-tear, wroth beyond measure, fell a bit laboring him with the stick now on the head, now on the flanks, and on the crook, never so lustily, but all to no purpose. Which caused Melissa and Josepho, often times to say to him, How now, Catef, what hath this thou doest? Wouldst kill the beast? Why not try if thou canst not manage him kindly and gently? Who would start sooner so than for this cuddling of dine? To him? You know your horses, replied the mule-tear, and I know my mule, leave me to deal with him. Which said, he resumed his cuddling of the mule, and laid about him on this side and on that to such purpose, that he started him, and so the honours of the day rested with the mule-tear. Now, as the two young men were leaving the bridge behind them, Josepho asked the good man that sat at his head, where the bridge was cold, and was answered, Sir, this cold the bridge of geese. Which Josepho no sooner heard, then he called to mind Solomon's words, and turned him to Melissa. Now, comrade, I warn thee, I may yet find Solomon's counsel sound and good, for that I knew not how to beat my wife is abundantly clear to me, and this mule-tear has shown me what I have to do. Now, some days afterwards they arrived at Antioch, where Josepho prevailed upon Melissa to tear with him, and rest a day or two, and, meeting with better sorry welcome on the part of his wife, he told her to take her orders as to supper from Melissa, who, seeing that such was Josepho's will, briefly gave her his instructions, which the lady, as had been her want, not only did not obey, but contravened in almost every particular wish to save her marking. Was thou not told, Quathi angrily, after what fashion thou was to order the supper? Where to? So replied the lady heartily. What means this? If thou hast to mind to supper, why take not thy supper? No matter what I was told, just as I saw fit to order it. If it like thee, so be it, if not, to this dine affair. Melissa heard the lady with surprise and inward disapprobation. Josepho retorted, Hi, wife, thou art still as thou was'd used to be, but I will make thee mend thy manners. Then, turning to Melissa, friend, Quathi, thou wilt soon prove the worth of Solomon's counsel, but, prithee, let it not irkly to look on, and deem that what I shall do is but done in sport, and if thou shouldst be disposed to stand in my way, bear in mind how we were answered by the Militiae when we pitted his mule. I am in thy house, replied Melissa, and thy pleasure is to me law. Thereupon Josepho took a stout cudgel cut from an oak sapling, and hired him into the room where the lady had withdrawn from the table in high dudgeon, seized her by the hair, threw her on the floor at his feet, and fell up beating her in her mane with the cudgel. The lady at first uttered a shriek or two, from which she passed to threats, but seeing that, for all that, Josepho slackened not, by the time she was thoroughly well thrashed, she began to cry him mercy, imploring him not to kill her, and adding that henceforth his will should be to her for law. But still Josepho gave not over, but with every fresh fury dealt her mighty swinging blows, now about the rips, now on the haunches, now over the shoulders. Nor had he done with the fair lady, until in short he had left never a bone or other part of her person whole, and he was fairly spent. Then returning to Meliso, to-morrow, Quothi, we shall see whether, get thee to the bridge of geese, will prove to have been sound advice or no. And so, having rested a while, and then washed his hands, he subbed with Meliso. With great pain the poor lady got upon her feet, and laid herself on her bed, and having there taken such rest as she might, rose to be times on the morrow, and craved to know of Josepho what it was minded to have to breakfast. Josepho, laughing with Meliso over the message, gave her his directions, and when in due time they came to breakfast, they found everything excellently ordered according as it had been commanded, for which cause the council, which they had at first failed to understand, now received their highest commendation. Some few days later, Meliso, having taken leave of Josepho, went home, and told the wise man the council he had gotten from Solomon, whereupon, and no truer or sounder advice could he have given thee, Quoth the sage, thou knowest that thou lovest never a soul, and that the others thou paced, and the services thou rendest, to others are not prompted by love of them, but by love of this play, love then, as Solomon bade thee, and thou shalt be loved. On such wise was the unruly chastised, and the young man, learning to love, was beloved. End of Day 9 The Ninth Story Day 9 The Tenth Story of the Decameron This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For further information or to volunteer, please go to LibriVox.org Reading by Andy Minter The Decameron by Giovanni Boccaccio translated by J. M. Rigg Day 9 The Tenth Story Dom Gianni, at the instance of his gossip Pietro, uses an enchantment to transform Pietro's wife into a mare, but when he comes to attach the tale, gossip Pietro, by saying that he will have none of the tale, makes the enchantment of no effect. The Queen's Story evoked some murmurs from the ladies, and some laughter from the young men. However, when they were silent, Dionil thus began. Dainty, my ladies, a black crow amongst a flock of white doves enhances their beauty more than would a white swan. And so, when many sages are met together, their right wisdom not only shows the brighter and goodlier for the presence of one that is not so wise, but may even derive pleasure and diversion therefrom. Wherefore, as you, my ladies, are one and all most discreet and judicious, I, who know myself to be somewhat scant of sense, sure and for that by my demerit I make your merit show them all glorious, be more dear to you than if by my greater merit I clipped yours, and by consequence should have more ample license to reveal myself to you as I am, and therefore have more patient sufferance on your part than would be due to me where I am more discreet in the relation of the tale which I am about to tell you. It will be then a story not too long, where from you may gather with what exactitude it behoves folk to observe the injunctions of those that for any purpose use an enchantment, and how slight an error committed therein may bring to nought all the work of the enchanter. A year or so ago there was at Barletta a priest named Don Gianni de Barolo, who, to week out the scanty pittance his church afforded him, set a pack saddle upon his mare, and took to going the round of the fairs of Apulia, buying and selling merchandise, and so it befell that he clapped up a close acquaintance with one Pietro de Trisanti, who played the same trade as he, albeit instead of a mare he had but an ass, whom in token of friendship and good fellowship, Don Gianni, after the Apulian fashion, called ever Gossip Pietro, and had him to his house, and there lodged and honorably entreated him as often as he came to Barletta. Gossip Pietro, on his part, albeit he was very poor, and had but a little caught at Trisanti, that scarce sufficed for himself his fair young wife and their ass, nevertheless, when Don Gianni arrived at Trisanti, made him welcome, and did him the honors of his house as best he might, in requital of the hospitality which he received at Barletta. However, as Gossip Pietro had but one little bed in which he slept with his fair wife, it was not in his power to lodge Don Gianni as comfortably as he would have liked. But the priest's mare, being quartered beside the ass in a little stable, the priest himself must need sly beside her on the straw. Many a time when the priest came, the wife, knowing how honorably he entreated her husband at Barletta, would feign have gone to sleep with a neighbor, one Zeta Caprese di Giudicilio, that the priest might share the bed with her husband, and many a time had she told the priest so. However he would never agree to it, and on one occasion, Gossip Giammata, quote he, Trouble not thyself about me, I am well lodged, for when I am so minded, I turn the mare into a fine lass, and dally with her, and then when I would I turn her back into a mare, and wherefore I could ill brook depart from her. The young woman, wondering, but believing, told her husband what the priest had said, adding, if he is even such a friend as thou sayest, why dost thou not get him to teach thee the enchantment, so that thou mayst turn me into a mare, and have both ass and mare for thine occasions? We should then make twice as much gain as we do, and thou couldst turn me back into a woman when we came home at night. Gossip Pietro, whose wit was somewhat blunt, believed that twos, as she said, approved her counsel, and began aduring Dom Gianni as persuasively as he might to teach him the incantation. Dom Gianni did his best to wean him of his folly, but as all was in vain. Lo now, quote he, as you are both bent on it, we will be up, as it is our want, before the sun to-morrow morning, and I will show you how tis done. The truth is that tis in the attachment of the tale that the great difficulty lies, as thou wilt see. Scarce a wink of sleep had either Gossip Pietro or Gossip Giovarta that night, so great was their anxiety, and towards daybreak up they got, and called Dom Gianni, who, being risen, came in his shirt into Gossip Pietro's little bedroom, and I know not, quote he, that there is another soul in the world for whom I would do this, save you, my Gossips. However, as you will have it so, I will do it. But it behoves you to do exactly as I bid you, if you would have the enchantment work. They promised obedience, and Dom Gianni thereupon took a light, which he handed to Gossip Pietro, saying, Let nought that I shall do or say escapely, and have a care, so thou wouldst not ruin all to say never a word, whatever thou mayst see or hear, and pray God that the tale may be securely attached. So Gossip Pietro took the light, and again promised obedience. Dom Gianni caused Gossip Giammata to strip herself stark naked, and stand on all fours like a mare, at the same time strictly charging her, that whatever might happen she must utter no word. Then, touching her head and face, be this a fine head of a mare, quote he, in like manner, touching her hair, he said, be this a fine mane of a mare, touching her arms, be these fine legs and fine hooves of a mare. Then, as he touched her breast, and felt its firm roundness, and there awoke and arose one that was not called, and be this a fine breast of a mare, quote he, and in like manner he dealt with her back, belly, crook, thighs, and legs. Last of all, the work being complete, save for the tale, he lifted his shirt, and took in his hand the tool with which he was used to plant men, and forthwith thrust it into the furrow made for it, saying, and be this a fine tale of a mare. Were that Gosset Pietro, who had followed everything very heedfully to that point, disapproving that last particular, exclaimed, No, Dom Gianni, I'll have no tale, I'll have no tale. The essential juice by which all plants are propagated was already discharged when Dom Gianni withdrew the tool, saying, Alas, Gosset Pietro, what has thou done? Did I not tell thee to say never a word, no matter what thou might see? The mare was all but made, but by speaking thou hast spoiled all, and is not possible to repeat the enchantment. Well and good, replied Gosset Pietro, I would have none of that tale, why says thou not to me make it thou? And besides, thou wast attaching it too low. It was because, returned Dom Gianni, thou wouldst not have known on the first essay how to attach it so well as high, whereupon the young woman stood up, and in all good faith said to her husband, Fool that thou art, wherefore hast thou brought to nought what had been for the good of us both, when did thou ever see mare without a tale? So help me, God, poor as thou art, thou deservedest to be poorer still. So, after Gosset Pietro's ill-timed speech, there being no way left of turning the young woman into a mare, downcast and melancholy she resumed her clothes, and Gosset Pietro plied his old trade with his ass, and went with Dom Gianni to the fair of Bitonto, and never asked him to so serve him again. End of Day Nine, The Tenth Story Translated by H. M. Rigg Day Nine The Conclusion What laughter this story drew from the ladies, who understood it better than Dioneo had wished, may be left to the imagination of the fair one that now loves their ad. However, as the stories were ended, and the sun now shone with the tempered radiance, the queen, waiting that the end of her sovereignty was come, stood up and took off the crown, and set it on the head of Pamphilo, whom alone it now remains as the honor, and said with a smile. My lord, it is the great burdens that falls upon thee, seeing that though, coming last, are bound to make good my shortcomings and those of my predecessors, which God gives thee grace to accomplish, even as he has given me grace to make thee king. With glad some acknowledgement of the honor, I do not, replied Pamphilo, that thanks to your noble qualities and those of my other subjects, I shall win even such praise as those that have borne sway before me. Then following the example of his predecessors, he made all meet arrangements in concert with the sena-chal, after which he turned to the expectant ladies, and thus spoke, and enamored my ladies, Emilia, our queen of today, deeming it proper to allow you an interval of rest, to recruit your powers, gave you license to discourse of such matters, as should most command themselves to each in turn, and thus thereby you are now rested, I judge, that it is me to revert to our accustomed rule, wherefore I ordain that for tomorrow you do each of you, take thought how you may discourse of the ensuing theme, to it, of such as in matters of love or otherwise, have done something with liberality or magnificence. By the telling, and still more by the doing of such things, your spirits will assuredly be duly attuned, and animated to embrace high and noble, whereby our life, which cannot be but brief, seeing that it is enshrined in a mortal body, fame shall perpetuate in glory, which who so serves not the belly as do the beasts, must not only covet, but is all zeal, sick after, and labored to attain. The gay company having one and all approved the theme, rose at the word from their new king, and betook them to their wanted pastimes, and so, according as they severally had no sleep, diverted them, until they pleasantly reunited for supper, which being served with all due care and dispatched, they rose up to dance, as they were warned, and where they had sung perhaps a thousand detays, fitter to please, by their words than by any excellence of musical art, the king bet Neyvila sing one of her own account, and promptly and graciously, with voice clear and wise, thus Neyvila sang. In prime of maidenhood, and fair and feet, midsprings fresh poison, chant I merrily, thanks be to love, and to my fancies sweet. As o'er the grassy mead I, glancing fair, I mark it white and yellow, and vermil, tight with flowers, the thorny rose, the lily white. And all alike to his face I compare, who loving hath me tame, and me shall airhold bounden to his will, sith I am she that in his will findeth her joy complete. Whereof, if so it be, that I do find any that I most like to him approve, that pluck I straight, and kiss with words of love, discovering all as best I may my mind, yea, all my heart's desire, and then entwined I set it in the chaplet daintily, and with my yellow tresses bind and pleat. And as mine eyes do drink in the delight which the flower yields them, even so my mind, fired with his sweet love, doth such solace find, as he himself were present to the sight. But never word of mine discover might that which the flower's sweet smell awakes in me, witness the true tale that my sighs repeat. For from my bosom gentle and hot they fly, not like the gusty sighs that others heave when as they languish and do sorely grieve, and to my love incontinent they high, whereof when he is where he, by and by, to me wood-hasting cometh suddenly when, lest I faint, I cry, come I entreat. The king and all the ladies did not a little commend Nayfuelus' song, after which, as the night was far spent, the king made all go to rest and do the morrow. End of the conclusion of the ninth day. Day ten. The introduction of the Decameron. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. The Decameron by Giovanni Boccaccio. Tenth day. The introduction. End of the here, the ninth day of the Decameron, and beginning the tenth, in which, under the rule of Pamphilot, discourse is head of such as in matters of love, or otherwise, have done something with liberality or magnificence. Some cloudlets in the west still shoot a varmille flush, albeit those of the eastern sky, as the sun's rays smooth them an ear, were already fringed as with most loose and gold. When opera was Pamphilot, and roused the ladies and his comrades, and all the company being assembled, and choice made of the place with those that should be take them, for their diversion, he, accompanied by Filomena and Fiametta, led the way at a slow pace, followed by all the rest. So they would say no little space, beguiling the time with talk of their future way of life, whereof there was much to tell and much to answer, until, as the sun gained strength, they returned, having made quite a long ground to the palace. And being gathered about the fountain, such as were so minded, drank somewhat from beakers, rinsed in its pure waters. And then, in the delicious shade of the garden, they heed them hither and thither, taking their pleasure until breakfast time. Their meal taken, they slept as they were wont, and then, at a spot chosen by the king, they reassembled, where Neyfila, having received his command to lead the way, wisely as us began. The Decameran by Giovanni Boccaccio, translated by J. M. Rig. Day 10, The First Story A night in the service of the king of Spain deems himself ill-requited, wherefore the king, by most cogent proof, shows him that the blame rests not with him, but with the night's own evil fortune, after which he bestows upon him a noble gift. Highly graced indeed do I deem myself honourable, my ladies, that our king should have given to me the precedence, in a matter so arduous to tell of as magnificence. For as the sun irradiates all the heaven with his glory and beauty, even so does magnificence enhance the purity and the splendour of every other virtue. I shall therefore tell you a story which to my thinking is not a little pretty, and which assuredly it must be profitable to call to mind. You are to know, then, that among other honourable nights, that from days of old, even until now, have dwelt in our city, one, and perchance the worthiest of all, was Messe Rogeri de Fidiovanni, who, being wealthy and magnanimous, reflecting on the customs and manner of life of Tuscany, perceived that by tarrying there he was like to find little or no occasion of showing his metal, and accordingly resolved to pass some time at the court of Alfonso, king of Spain, who for the fame of his high qualities was without a peer among the potentates of his age. So, being well provided with arms and horses and retinue suitable to his rank, he hide him to Spain, where he was graciously received by the king. There tarrying accordingly, Messe Rogeri very soon, as well by the splendid style in which he lived as by the prodigious feats of arms that he did, gave folk to know his high dessert. Now, having tarried there some while, and observed the king's ways with much care, and how he would grant castles, cities, or baronies, to this, that, or the other of his subjects, he deemed that the king showed therein but little judgment, seeing that he would give them to men that merited them not, and for that not was given to him, he, knowing his merit, deemed himself gravely injured in reputation. Wherefore, he made up his mind to depart the realm, and to that end craved license of the king, which the king granted him, and therewith gave him one of the best and finest mules that was ever ridden, a gift which Messe Rogeri, as he had a long journey to make, did not a little appreciate. The king, then bad one of his discreet domestics, contrived as best he might, to ride with Messe Rogeri on such wise that it might not appear that he did so by the king's command, and charge his memory with whatever Messe Rogeri might say of him, so that he might be able to repeat it, which, done, he was on the very next morning to bid Rogeri to bid Rogeri return to the king forthwith. The king's agent was on the alert, and no sooner was Rogeri out of the city than without any manner of difficulty he joined his company, giving out that he was going towards Italy. As thus they rode, talking of diver's matters, Messe Rogeri being mounted on the mule given him by the king, me thinks, quoth the other, it being then hard upon tears, that to her well to give the beasts avoidance. And by and by, being come to a convenient place, they voided all the beasts, saved the mule. Then as they continued their journey, the squire hearkening attentively to the night's words, they came to a river, and while there they watered the beasts, the mule made avoidance in the stream. Were at, ah, foul fall the beast, quoth Messe Rogeri, that art even as thy master that gave thee to me. Which remark, as also many another, that fell from Rogeri as they rode together throughout the day, the squire stored in his memory. But never another word did he hear Rogeri say touching the king that was not laudatory to the last degree. On the morrow when they were gotten to horse, and had set their faces towards Tuscany, the squire apprised Rogeri of the king's command, and thereupon Rogeri turned back. On his arrival the king, having already heard what he had said touching the mule, gave him gladsome greeting, and asked him wherefore he had likened him to the mule, or rather the mule to him. Where too Messe Rogeri answered frankly, my lord, I likened you to the mule, for that as you bestow your gifts where tis not meet, and where meet it were bestow them not, so the mule where twas meet voidid not, and where twas not meet voidid. Messe Rogeri replied the king, tis not because I have not discerned in you a night most good and true, for whose dessert no gift were too great, that I have not bestowed on you such gifts as I have bestowed upon many others, who in comparison of you are nothing worth. The fault is none of mine, but solely of your fortune which would not suffer me, and that this which I say is true I will make abundantly plain to you. My lord, returned Messe Rogeri, mortified am I, not that you gave me no gift, for thereof I had no desire, being too rich, but that you made no sign of recognition of my dessert. However I deem your explanation sound and honourable, and whatever you shall be pleased that I should see that gladly will I, albeit I believe you without attestation. The king then led him into one of the great halls, in which by his pre-ordinance were two chests closed under lock and key, and not a few others being present said to him, Messe Rogeri, one of these chests contains my crown, scepter, and orb, with many a fine girdle, buckle, ring, and whatever else of jewellery I possess, the other is full of earth. Choose then, and whichever you shall choose be it yours, thereby you will discover whether it is due to me or to your fortune that your desserts have lacked requital. Such being the king's pleasure, Messe Rogeri chose one of the chests, which at the king's command being opened, and found to be that which contained the earth. Now, Messe Rogeri, quote the king with a laugh, your own eyes may warrant you of the truth of what I say touching fortune, but verily your merit demands that I take arms against her in your cause. I know that you are not minded to become a Spaniard, and therefore I shall give you neither castle nor city, but that chest which fortune denied you I bestow on you in her despite, that you may take it with you to your own country, and there with your neighbours justly vaunt yourself of your desserts attested by my gifts. Messe Rogeri took the chest, and having thanked the king in a manner befitting such a gift, returned therewith well pleased to Tuscany. Day 10 The Second Story The abbot, on his return to the court of Rome, reconciles Gino with Pope Boniface, and makes him prior off the hospital. The king, who had listened to the story with no small pleasure, bade Elisa full of suit, and for Swiss Elisa began. Dainty, my ladies, undeniable it is that for a king to be magnificent, and to entreat magnificently one that has done him service, is a great matter, and meet for commendation. What then shall we say when the tale is of a dignitary of the church, that showed wondrous magnificence towards one whom he might well have entreated as an enemy, and not have been blamed by a soul? Assuredly not, else than that what in the king was virtue, was in the prelate nothing less than a miracle, seeing that, for superlative greed, the clergy, one and all, adduas as women, and wage war to the knife upon every form of liberality. And, albeit all men are by nature prone to avenge their wrongs, tis notorious that the clergy, however they may preach long suffering, and commend of all things the forgiving of trespasses, are more quick and hot to be avenged than the rest of mankind. Now this, to wit, after what manner a prelate showed magnificence, will be made manifest to you in my story. Gino di Tacco, a man redoubtable by reason of his truculence, and his high-handed deeds, being banished from Siena, and at enmity with the counts of Santa Fiore, raised a radicofani in revolt against the church of Rome, and there, abiding, harried all the surrounding country with the soldiers, plundering all wayfarers. Now Pope Boniface VIII, being at Rome, there came to court the abbot of Clooney, who is reputed one of the wealthiest prelates in the world. And having there gotten a disorder of the stomach, he was advised by the physicians to go to the baths of Siena, where, they averred, he would certainly be cured. So having obtained the Pope's leave, reckless of the bruit of Gino's exploits, he took the road being attended by a great and well-equipped train of Sumter horses and servants. Gino the Taco, getting wind of his approach, spread his nets to such purpose as without the loss of so much as a boy to surround the abbot with all his servants and effects in a straight pass from which there was no exit. Which done, he sent one of his men, the cunning guest of them all, with a sufficient retinue to the abbot, whom must lovingly in Gino's part be sought the abbot, to come and visit Gino at the castle. Where to the abbot, very wroth, made answer that he would none of it, for that not had he to do with Gino, but that he purposed to continue his journey, and would feign see who would hinder him. Sir, returned the envoy, assuming a humble tone, you are come to a part of the country where we have no fear of ought save the might of God, and where excommunications and interdicts are one and all under the ban. Wherefore, you were best be pleased to show yourself agreeable to Gino in this particular. As they thus spoke, Gino's soldiers showed themselves on every side, and it being thus manifest to the abbot that he and his company were taken prisoners, he, albeit mightily incensed, suffered himself with all his strain and effects to be conducted by the envoy to the castle, where the abbot, being alighted, was lodged in a small and very dark and discomfortable room, while his retinue, according to their several conditions, were provided with comfortable quarters and diverse parts of the castle, the horses well-stabled, and all the effects secured, none being in any wise tampered with. Which done, Gino heed him to the abbot, and Sir, quote he, Gino, whose guest you are, sends me to entreat you to be pleased to inform him of your destination and the purpose of your journey. The abbot, veiling his pride like a wise man, told whether he was bound and for what purpose. Whereupon Gino left him, casting about how he might cure him without a bath, to which end he kept a great fire ever burning in the little chamber, and had it closely guarded, and returned not to the abbot until the ensuing morning, when he brought him in a spotless napkin, two slices of toast, and a great beaker of vernacha of Cornelia, being of the abbot's own vintage. And, Sir, quote he, to the abbot, Gino as a young man, made his studies in medicine, and a verse that he then learned that there is no better treatment for disorder off the stomach than that which he will afford you, whereof the matters that I bring you are the beginning, wherefore take them and be of good cheer. The abbot, being far too hungry to make many words about the matter, ate, albeit in high dudgeon, the toast, and drank the vernacha, which, done, he enlarged on his wrongs in a high note, with much questioning and propending, and above all he demanded to see Gino. Part of what the abbot said Gino disregarded as of no substance, to other part he replied courteously enough, and having assured him that Gino would visit him as soon as might be, he took his leave of him, nor did he return until the morrow, when he brought him toast and vernacha in the same quantity as before, and so he kept him several days, then having marked that the abbot had eaten some dried beans that he had secretly brought and left there of set purpose. He asked him, in Gino's name, how he felt in the stomach. Where I but out of Gino's hands replied the abbot, I should feel myself well indeed, next to which I desire most of all a good breakfast, so excellent a cure have his medicines brought on me. Whereupon Gino caused the abbot's servants to furnish a goodly chamber with the abbot's own effects, and there on the morrow make ready a grand banquet, at which all the abbot's sweet and not a few of the garrison being assembled he heed them to the abbot, and sir, quote he, "'Tis time you left the infirmary, seeing that you now feel yourself well, and so saying he took him by the hand and let him into the chamber made ready for him, and having left him there with his own people, made it his chief concern that the banquet should be magnificent.' The abbot's spirits revived as he found himself again among his men, with whom he talked a while, telling them how he had been entreated, wherewith they contrasted the signal honor which they, on the other hand, had, one and all, received from Gino. Breakfast time came, and with order meet, the abbot and the rest were regaled with good vines and good wines, Gino still suffering, not the abbot, to know who he was. But when the abbot had thus passed several days, Gino having first had all his effects collected in a saloon, and all his horses to the poorest jade in the courtyard below, heed him to the abbot and asked him how he felt, and if he deemed himself strong enough to ride. The abbot replied that he was quite strong enough, and that it would be well indeed with him where he once out of Gino's hands. Gino then led him into the saloon in which were his effects and all his retinue, and heaven brought him to a window whence he might see all his horses. Sir Abbott, quote he, you must know that it is not for that he has an evil heart, but because, being a gentleman, he is banished from his home and reduced to poverty, and has not a few powerful enemies, than in defense of his life and honor, Gino di Tacco, whom you see before you, has become a robber of highways and an enemy to the court of Rome. But such as I am, I have cured you of your malady of the stomach, and taking you to be a worthy lord, I purpose not to treat you as I would another, from whom, where he in my hands, as you are, I should take such part of his goods as I should think fit, but I shall leave it to you, upon consideration of my need, to assign to me such portion of your goods as you yourself shall determine. Here are they before you, undiminished and unimpaired, and from this window you may see your horses below in the courtyard, wherefore take the part or take the whole, as you may see fit, and be it at your option to tarry here, or go hence from this hour forth. The abbot marveled to hear a highway robber speak thus liberally, and such was his gratification that his wrath and fierce resentment departed from him. Nay, were transformed into kindness, in so much than in all cordial amity he hasted to embrace Gino, saying, By God I swear that to gain the friendship of a man such I now deem thee to be, I would be content to suffer much greater wrong than that which until now me seemed thou hast done me. Cursed be fortune that constrains thee to ply so censurable a trade. Which said, he selected a very few things, and none superfluous, from his ample store, and having done likewise with the horses, seated all else to Gino, and hid him back to Rome. Where, seeing him, the pope, who to his great grief had heard of his capture, asked him what benefit he had gotten from the baths. Where, too, the abbot made answer with a smile, Holy Father, I found nearer here than the baths a worthy physician who has wrought a most excellent cure on me. He then recounted all their circumstances, where at the pope laughed, afterwards, still pursuing the topic, the abbot, yielding to the promptings of magnificence, asked a favor of the pope, who expecting that he would ask somewhat else than he did, liberally promised to give him whatever he should demand. Whereupon, Holy Father, quote the abbot, That which I would crave of you is that you restore Gino di Tacco, my physician, to your favor. Seeing that among the good men and true and meritorious that I have known, he is by no means of the least account, and for the evil life that he leads, I imputed to fortune rather than to him. Change then his fortune by giving him the means whereby he may live, in manner befitting his rank, and I doubt not that in a little while your judgment of him will jump with mine. Where to the pope, being magnanimous and an admirer of good men and true, made answer that so he would gladly do, if Gino should prove to be such, as the abbot said, and that he would have him brought under safe conduct to Rome. Thither, accordingly, under safe conduct came Gino to the abbot's great delight. Nor had he been long at court before the pope approved his worth, and restored him to his favor, granting him a great office to wit that of prior of the hospital, whereof he made him knight, which office he held for the rest of his life, being ever a friend and a vassal of holy church and the abbot of Cluny. End of Day 10, The Second Story