‘Oh, my sweet Calandrino, heart of my body, my dearest, my darling, my angel, how long I have been yearning to have you all to myself and hold you in my arms! You’ve swept me off my feet with your winning ways! You’ve captured my heart with that rebeck of yours! Is it really possible that I am holding you in my embrace?’
‘Alas, my dearest,’ said Calandrino, who was scarcely able to move. ‘Let me up, so that I may kiss you.’
‘Oh, but you are too hasty,’ said Niccolosa. ‘First let me have a good look at you. Let me feast my eyes upon your dear, sweet face.’
Bruno and Buffalmacco saw and heard everything that passed between them, having meanwhile joined Filippo in his hiding place. And just as Calandrino had freed his arms, and was on the point of kissing Niccolosa, along came Nello with Monna Tessa.
‘I swear to God they are in there together,’ he said, as they came up to the door of the barn. Fuming with rage, Calandrino’s wife applied both her hands to the door and pushed it open. On entering the barn, she saw Calandrino lying there on his back, straddled by Niccolosa, who no sooner caught sight of Monna Tessa than she leapt to her feet and ran off to join Filippo.
Before Calandrino could get up, Monna Tessa pounced upon him and attacked him with her nails, clawing his face all over before seizing him by the hair and dragging him round the floor of the barn, saying:
‘You filthy, despicable dog, so you’d do this to me, would you? A curse on all the love I ever bore you, demented old fool that you are. Don’t you think you have enough to do, keeping the home fires burning, without going off to stoke up other people’s? A fine lover you would make for anyone! Don’t you know yourself, villain? Don’t you realize, scoundrel, that if they were to squeeze you from head to toe, there wouldn’t be enough juice to make a sauce? God’s faith, it wasn’t your wife who was getting you with child7 this time. May the Lord make her suffer, whoever she is, for she must surely be a depraved little hussy to take a fancy to a precious jewel like you.’
When he first saw his wife coming in, Calandrino was unsure whether he was dead or alive, and hadn’t the courage to defend himself against her furious onslaught. But in the end, all torn and bleeding and dishevelled, he picked up his cape, staggered to his feet, and humbly entreated Monna Tessa not to shout unless she wanted him to be torn to pieces, for the woman who was with him was none other than the wife of the master of the house.
’I don’t care who she is,’ bawled Monna Tessa. ‘May God punish her as she deserves.’
Pretending to have been attracted by all the noise, Bruno and Buffalmacco now appeared on the scene, having laughed themselves silly along with Filippo and Niccolosa as they watched this spectacle; and after much heated discussion, they pacified Monna Tessa and advised Calandrino to return to Florence and never show his face there again in case Filippo came to hear of what had happened and did him some serious mischief.
And so, scratched and torn to ribbons, Calandrino made his way back to Florence feeling all forlorn and dejected; and not having the courage to return to Camerata, he resigned himself to the torrent of strictures and abuse to which he was subjected day and night by Monna Tessa, and made an end to his love for Niccolosa, having supplied a feast of entertainment, not only for his companions, but for Filippo and Niccolosa as well.
SIXTH STORY
Two young men lodge overnight at a cottage, where one of them goes and sleeps with their host’s daughter, whilst his wife inadvertently sleeps with the other. The one who was with the daughter clambers into bed beside her father, mistaking him for his companion, and tells him all about it. A great furore then ensues, and the wife, realizing her mistake, gets into her daughter’s bed, whence with a timely explanation she restores the peace.
As on previous occasions, so also on this, the company was heartily amused by Calandrino’s doings, which the ladies had no sooner finished debating than the queen called on Panfilo to address them; and he began as follows:
Laudable ladies, the name of Calandrino’s lady-love reminds me of a tale about another Niccolosa, which I should now like to relate to you, for as you will see, it shows us how a good woman’s presence of mind averted a serious scandal.
*
Not long ago, there lived in the valley of the Mugnone1 a worthy man who earned an honest penny by supplying food and drink to wayfarers; and although he was poor, and his house was tiny, he would from time to time, in cases of urgent need, offer them a night’s lodging, but only if they happened to be people he knew.
Now, this man had a most attractive wife, who had borne him two children, the first being a charming and beautiful girl of about fifteen or sixteen, as yet unmarried, whilst the second was an infant, not yet twelve months old, who was still being nursed at his mother’s breast.
The daughter had caught the eye of a lively and handsome young Florentine gentleman who used to spend much of his time in the countryside, and he fell passionately in love with her. Nor was it long before the girl, being highly flattered to have won the affection of so noble a youth, which she strove hard to retain by displaying the greatest affability towards him, fell in love with him. And neither of the pair would have hesitated to consummate their love, but for the fact that Pinuccio (for such was the young man’s name) was not prepared to expose the girl or himself to censure.
At length however, his ardour growing daily more intense, Pinuccio was seized with a longing to consort with her, come what may, and it occurred to him that he must find some excuse for lodging with her father overnight, since, being conversant with the layout of the premises, he had good reason to think that he and the girl could be together without anyone ever being any the wiser. And no sooner did this idea enter his head than he promptly took steps to carry it into effect.
Late one afternoon, he and a trusted companion of his called Adriano, who knew of his love for the girl, hired a couple of pack-horses, and having laden them with a pair of saddlebags, filled probably with straw, they set forth from Florence; and after riding round in a wide circle they came to the valley of the Mugnone, some time after nightfall. They then wheeled their horses round to make it look as though they were returning from Romagna, rode up to the cottage of our worthy friend, and knocked at the door. And since the man was well acquainted with both Pinuccio and his companion, he immediately came down to let them in.
‘You’ll have to put us up for the night,’ said Pinuccio. ‘We had intended to reach Florence before dark, but as you can see, we’ve made such slow progress that this is as far as we’ve come, and it’s too late to enter the city at this hour.’
‘My dear Pinuccio,’ replied the host, ‘as you know, I can’t exactly offer you a princely sort of lodging. But no matter: since night has fallen and you’ve nowhere else to go, I shall be glad to put you up as best I can.’
So the two young men dismounted, and having seen that their nags were comfortably stabled, they went into the house, where, since they had brought plenty to eat with them, they made a hearty supper along with their host. Now, their host had only one bedroom, which was very tiny, and into this he had crammed three small beds,2 leaving so little space that it was almost impossible to move between them. Two of the beds stood alongside one of the bedroom walls, whilst the third was against the wall on the opposite side of the room; and having seen that the least uncomfortable of the three was made ready for his guests, the host invited them to sleep in that for the night. Shortly afterwards, when they appeared to be asleep, though in reality they were wide awake, he settled his daughter in one of the other two beds, whilst he and his wife got into the third; and beside the bed in which she was sleeping, his wife had placed the cradle containing her infant son.
Having made a mental note of all these arrangements, Pinuccio waited until he was sure that everyone was asleep, then quietly left his bed, stole across to the bed in which his lady-love was sleeping, and lay down beside her. Although she was somewhat alarmed, the girl received him joyously in her arms, and they then procee
ded to take their fill of that sweet pleasure for which they yearned above all else.
Whilst Pinuccio and the girl were thus employed, a cat, somewhere in the house, happened to knock something over, causing the man’s wife to wake up with a start. Being anxious to discover what it was, she got up and groped her way naked in the dark towards that part of the house from which the noise had come.
Meanwhile Adriano also happened to get up, not for the same reason, but in order to obey the call of nature, and as he was groping his way towards the door with this purpose in view, he came in contact with the cradle deposited there by the woman. Being unable to pass without moving it out of his way, he picked it up and set it down beside his own bed; and after doing what he had to do, he returned to his bed and forgot all about it.
Having discovered the cause of the noise and assured herself that nothing important had fallen, the woman swore at the cat, and, without bothering to light a lamp and explore the matter further, returned to the bedroom. Picking her way carefully through the darkness, she went straight to the bed where her husband was lying; but on finding no trace of the cradle, she said to herself: ‘How stupid I am! What a fine thing to do! Heavens above, I was just about to step into the bed where my guests are sleeping.’ So she walked a little further up the room, found the cradle, and got into bed beside Adriano, thinking him to be her husband.
On perceiving this, Adriano, who was still awake, gave her a most cordial reception; and without a murmur he tacked hard to windward over and over again, much to her delight and satisfaction.
This, then, was how matters stood when Pinuccio, who had gratified his longings to the full and was afraid of falling asleep in the young lady’s arms, abandoned her so as to go back and sleep in his own bed. But on reaching the bed to find the cradle lying there, he moved on, thinking he had mistaken his host’s bed for his own, and ended up by getting into bed with the host, who was awakened by his coming. And being under the impression that the man who lay beside him was Adriano, Pinuccio said:
‘I swear to you that there was never anything so delicious as Niccolosa. By the body of God, no man ever had so much pleasure with any woman as I have been having with her. Since the time I left you, I assure you I’ve been to the bower of bliss half a dozen times at the very least.’
The host was not exactly pleased to hear Pinuccio’s tidings, and having first of all asked himself what the devil the fellow was doing in his bed, he allowed his anger to get the better of his prudence, and exclaimed:
‘What villainy is this, Pinuccio? I can’t think why you should have played me so scurvy a trick, but by all that’s holy, I shall pay you back for it.’
Now, Pinuccio was not the wisest of young men, and on perceiving his error, instead of doing all he could to remedy matters, he said:
‘Pay me back? How? What could you do to me?’
Whereupon the host’s wife, thinking she was with her husband, said to Adriano:
‘Heavens! Just listen to the way those guests of ours are arguing with one another!’
Adriano laughed, and said:
‘Let them get on with it, and to hell with them. They had far too much to drink last night.’
The woman had already thought she could detect the angry tones of her husband, and on hearing Adriano’s voice, she realized at once whose bed she was sharing. So being a person of some intelligence, she promptly got up without a word, seized her baby’s cradle, and having picked her way across the room, which was in total darkness, she set the cradle down beside the bed in which her daughter was sleeping and scrambled in beside her. Then, pretending to have been aroused by the noise her husband was making, she called out to him and demanded to know what he was quarrelling with Pinuccio about. Whereupon her husband replied:
‘Don’t you hear what he says he has done to Niccolosa this night?’
‘He’s telling a pack of lies,’ said the woman. ‘He hasn’t been anywhere near Niccolosa, for I’ve been lying beside her myself the whole time and I haven’t managed to sleep a wink. You’re a fool to take any notice of him. You men drink so much in the evening that you spend the night dreaming and wandering all over the place in your sleep, and imagine you’ve performed all sorts of miracles: it’s a thousand pities you don’t trip over and break your necks! What’s Pinuccio doing there anyway? Why isn’t he in his own bed?’
At which point, seeing how adroitly the woman was concealing both her own and her daughter’s dishonour, Adriano came to her support by saying:
‘How many times do I have to tell you, Pinuccio, not to wander about in the middle of the night? You’ll land yourself in serious trouble one of these days, with this habit of walking in your sleep, and claiming to have actually done the fantastic things you dream about. Come back to bed, curse you!’
When he heard Adriano confirm what his wife had been saying, the host began to think that Pinuccio really had been dreaming after all; and seizing him by the shoulder, he shook him and yelled at him, saying:
‘Wake up, Pinuccio! Go back to your own bed!’
Having taken all of this in, Pinuccio now began to thresh about as though he were dreaming again, causing his host to split his sides with laughter. But in the end, after a thorough shaking, he pretended to wake up; and calling to Adriano, he said:
‘Why have you woken me up? Is it morning already?’
‘Yes,’ said Adriano. ‘Come back here.’
Pinuccio kept up the pretence, showing every sign of being extremely drowsy, but in the end he left his host’s side and staggered back to bed with Adriano. When they got up next morning, their host began to laugh and make fun of Pinuccio and his dreams. And so, amid a constant stream of merry banter, the two young men saddled and loaded their horses, and after drinking the health of their host, they remounted and rode back to Florence, feeling no less delighted with the manner than with the outcome of the night’s activities.
From then on, Pinuccio discovered other ways of consorting with Niccolosa, who meanwhile assured her mother that he had certainly been dreaming. And thus the woman, who retained a vivid memory of Adriano’s embraces, was left with the firm conviction that she alone had been awake on the night in question.
SEVENTH STORY
Talano d’Imolese dreams that his wife is savaged all about the throat and the face by a wolf, and tells her to take care; but she ignores his warning, and the dream comes true.
Panfilo’s story being now at an end, the woman’s presence of mind was applauded by one and all, after which the queen called upon Pampinea to tell hers, and she began as follows:
Delectable ladies, we have talked on previous occasions1 about the truths embodied in dreams, which many of us refuse to take seriously. But even though this topic has already been aired, I am determined to tell you a pithy little tale showing what happened not long ago to a neighbour of mine through ignoring a dream of her husband’s in which she appeared.
I don’t know whether you were ever acquainted with Talano d’Imolese,2 but he was a person of high repute, and was married to a young woman called Margarita, who, though exceedingly beautiful, was the most argumentative, disagreeable and self-willed creature on God’s earth, for she would never heed other people’s advice and regarded everyone but herself as an incompetent fool. This made life very difficult for Talano, but since he had no choice in the matter, he bore it all philosophically.
Now one night, when Talano happened to be staying with this wife of his at one of their country estates, he dreamt that he saw her wandering through some very beautiful woods, which were situated not far away from the house. As he watched, an enormous and ferocious wolf seemed to emerge from a corner of the woods and hurl itself at Margarita’s throat, dragging her to the ground. She struggled to free herself, screaming for help, and when at length she managed to escape from its clutches, the whole of her throat and face appeared to be torn to ribbons. So when Talano got up next morning, he said to his wife:
‘Woman, your cussedness has b
een the bane of my life since the day we were married; but all the same I should be sorry if you came to any harm, and therefore, if you’ll take my advice, you won’t venture forth from the house today.’
When she asked him the reason, he told her about his dream, whereupon she tossed her head in the air and said:
‘Evil wishes beget evil dreams. You pretend to be very anxious for my safety, but you only dream these horrid things about me because you’d like to see them happen. You may rest assured that I shall never give you the satisfaction of seeing me suffer any such fate as the one you describe, whether on this day or any other.’
‘I knew you would say that,’ said Talano. ‘A mangy dog never thanks you for combing its pelt. But you may think whatever you like. I only mentioned it for your own good, and once again I advise you to stay at home today, or at any rate to keep well away from those woods of ours.’
‘Very well,’ said the woman, ‘I’ll do as you say.’
But then she began to think to herself: ‘Here’s a crafty fellow! Do you see how he tries to frighten me out of going near the woods today? He’s doubtless made an appointment there with some strumpet or other, and doesn’t want me to find him. Ah, he’d do well for himself at a supper for the blind, but knowing him as I do, I should be a great fool to take him at his word. He certainly won’t get away with this. I shall find out what business takes him to those woods, even if I have to wait there the whole day.’
Tales From the Decameron of Giovanni Boccaccio Page 95