“The sisters got their bread, but poor Tore’s hunger only grew. And so they started plotting again, and after another two days the pregnant women went back to complaining to Sapia that they had a craving for a couple of pears from the king’s garden. Their poor sister put on a different outfit and went to the royal garden, where she found Tore, who as soon as he caught sight of the beggar and heard that she was asking for pears, insisted on climbing a tree himself. When he had thrown a handful of pears into Sapia’s lap and was intending to come down and grab her, she took the ladder away and left him up in the arbor shouting at the crows, and if a gardener hadn’t happened to come by to pick a few heads of romaine lettuce and helped him down, he would have been there all night. At this he bit his hands in rage and threatened to take fierce revenge.
“Now as the heavens willed it, after the two sisters gave birth to two lovely cherubs they said to Sapia, ‘We’ll be completely ruined, my dear girl, if you don’t make up your mind to help us, since it can’t be long before our master comes back, and when he finds this bad service in the house, the largest piece of us left will be our ears. So go downstairs; we’ll pass these babies out to you in a basket and you take them to their fathers, who can worry about them.’ Sapia Liccarda was full of love, and although this seemed like a heavy load to bear for the asininity of her sisters, she nonetheless let herself be convinced to go downstairs. The babies were lowered and she brought them to their fathers’ chambers; finding no one there, she put each of them in the proper father’s bed, using information she had expertly obtained. Then she went into Tore’s chambers, put a large stone in his bed, and returned home. When the princes came back to their chambers and found those lovely boys with the names of their fathers written on little tags sewn to their chests, they felt great joy. But Tore went to bed with a lump in his throat, since he was the only one who had not been worthy of continuing his race, and when he threw himself on the bed he hit his head on the stone so hard that he got a big bump.
“In the meantime the merchant returned from his travels. After he looked at his daughters’ rings and found that those of the two older girls were all spotted, he did terrible things and was already thinking of putting them in irons and torturing and beating them until he discovered what had happened, when the king’s sons came to ask him for his daughters’ hands in marriage. The merchant didn’t know what was going on and at first thought they were playing a joke on him. Finally, when he heard how they had conducted business with his daughters and of the children who had been born, he considered himself happy with his good luck. And so they agreed to hold the wedding that evening.
“Sapia rubbed her stomach and remembered the way she had tormented Tore, and although she saw herself pursued with so much insistence, she imagined nonetheless that all grass is not mint and that the coat was not without bristles. For this reason she immediately made a lovely statue of sugar paste, put it in a large basket, and covered it up with some clothes. And after they danced and celebrated all evening, Sapia made up the excuse that she was having palpitations and went off to bed before everyone else. Then, with the excuse that she had to get changed, she had the basket brought in, tucked the statue under the sheets, and hid behind a curtain to await the results of this business.
“When the time came for the newlyweds to go to sleep and Tore arrived at his bed he said, believing that Sapia was lying there, ‘Now you’re going to pay, bitch, for the grief you caused me! Now you’ll see what happens to a cricket that wants to compete with an elephant! Now you’re going to suffer for everything! And I want to remind you of the linen comb, the ladder you pulled away from the tree, and all the other disturbances you caused me.’ As he was saying this he grabbed a dagger and ran it through her from front to back, and, not content even with this, said to her, ‘And now I want to suck your blood, too!’ When he took the dagger out of the statue’s chest and licked it, he tasted the sweetness and the fragrance of musk, so strong that it stunned him. At this he regretted having impaled such a sugary and fragrant girl, and began to lament his fury, uttering words that would have moved stones to pity and crying that his heart must have been full of bile and his sword full of poison to have offended such a sweet and suave creature. And after wailing at length he let himself be pulled into the noose of desperation and he lifted his hand, which still held the dagger, with the intention of cutting his own veins.
“But Sapia quickly came out from where she was, stayed his hand, and said to him, ‘Stop, Tore, lower that hand; here’s a piece of what you’re crying for! Here I am, healthy and alive and able to see that you, too, are alive and green. Do not think that I was as obstinate as an old ram if I tormented you and caused you some displeasure, since it was only to test and probe your constancy and faithfulness.’ And she told him that she had orchestrated this final trick as a remedy for the rage of a scornful heart, and that therefore she begged his pardon for everything that had happened. The bridegroom, full of love, hugged her and had her lie down next to him, and then made peace with her. And when it had been proved to him that pleasure is sweeter after much suffering, he respected the bit of reluctance on his wife’s part much more than the excessive readiness of his sisters-in-law, since, as that poet said, neither naked Cythera4 nor bundled Cynthia:5 the middle way has always been the most esteemed.”
5
THE COCKROACH, THE MOUSE, AND THE CRICKET*
Fifth Entertainment of the Third Day
Nardiello is sent three times to market by his father, each time with a hundred ducats. The first time he buys a mouse, and then a cockroach and a cricket. His father kicks him out of the house and he ends up in a place where he cures the daughter of a king by means of the animals, and after various other adventures he becomes her husband.
The prince and the slave heartily praised Sapia Liccarda’s wisdom, but they praised Tolla even more for her ability to present the story so well that everyone hearing it had seemed to be present. And since, following the order of the list, it was Popa’s turn to speak, she behaved like Orlando and began telling her tale in this fashion: “Fortune is a stubborn woman who avoids the faces of learned men because they pay more attention to the turning of pages than to the rotation of a wheel. For this reason she more willingly associates with ignorant and paltry people and—in order to receive plebeian glory—does not worry about dividing her goods among the big birds, as I will tell you about in the tale that follows.1
“There once was, on the Vomero hill,2 a very rich farmer named Miccone, who had a son named Nardiello, the most wretched blockhead you could ever find on any ship of fools.3 The poor father was embittered and miserable, for he knew of no way or means of inducing his son to lead a level-headed and useful life. If Nardiello went to the tavern to guzzle with his buddies he was cheated by crooks; if he associated with women of ill repute he was given the worst meat for the top price; if he played in gambling dens they kneaded him like a pizza and took him out when he was nice and hot. And so, in one way or another, he had dissipated half of his father’s wealth.
“For this reason Miccone was always armed and ready to defend his castle and would shout and threaten, saying, ‘What do you think you’re doing, spendthrift? Can’t you see that my wealth is trickling away like water at low tide? Leave, leave those damned taverns,4 which start with the name of the enemy and end up signifying evil! Leave them, for they’re migraines to your head, dropsy to your throat, and diarrhea to your wallet! Leave, leave that godless gambling, which puts your life at risk and gnaws away at my fortune, which repels happiness and eats up cash, where the dice reduce you to zero and the words whittle you down to a peg!5 Leave, leave your bordello commerce with that evil race of the daughters of ugly sin, where you squander and spend! You consume pouches of money for a perch6 and you suffer agonies and reduce yourself to picking at a bone for a piece of rotten meat; they are not meretrices, but a Thracian sea7 where you are captured by the Turks! Keep away from the occasion, and yo
u’ll give up the vice; if the cause is remote, said that fellow, the effect will be removed. So here are a hundred ducats: go to the Salerno fair8 and buy as many steer so that in three or four years we’ll have as many oxen; once we’ve got the oxen we’ll work the fields; once we’ve worked the fields we’ll start dealing in wheat, and if we meet up with a good famine we’ll weigh our coins by the bushel and at the very least I’ll buy the title on some friend’s land and then you’ll be titled, too,9 like so many others.10 So be careful, my son, everything has a head; he who does not begin, cannot continue.’
“‘Leave it to this fellow,’ answered Nardiello. ‘I know how to do my calculations now, and I’ve learned the rules for every situation!’ ‘That’s what I want to hear,’ answered his father, and when he had forked out the money, Nardiello started off to the fair. But he had not yet reached the waters of the Sarno when he came upon a lovely little elm wood where, at the foot of a rock that had surrounded itself with fronds of ivy so as to cure its perpetual wound of cool water, he saw a fairy frolicking with a cockroach, and the cockroach was playing a tiny guitar so beautifully that a Spaniard would have said that it was a superb and grandiose thing.11 When Nardiello saw this he stopped to listen as if enchanted, and said that he would give one of his eyes to have such a talented animal. The fairy told him that if he paid a hundred ducats she would give it to him. ‘There’s never been a better time than this,’ Nardiello answered, ‘since I have the money ready and waiting!’ Saying this he threw the hundred ducats in her lap, then took the cockroach away in a little box and ran back to his father with a joy that went from the little bones of his feet up, and said to him, ‘Now you’ll really get to see, my sir, if I’m a man of ingenuity and know how to go about my business, for without tiring myself by going all the way to the fair I found my fortune when I was halfway there, and for a hundred ducats I got this jewel!’
“Upon hearing these words and seeing the little box, his father was certain that his son had bought a diamond necklace or something of the sort, but when he opened it and saw the cockroach, the humiliation of being tricked and the pain of losing his money were a set of bellows that made him swell up like a toad. And while Nardiello would have liked to tell him all about the virtues of the cockroach, he wasn’t allowed to say a word, for his father went on and on, saying, ‘Shut up, plug it, close that mouth, cork it; not a peep, you mule, you horse brain, you ass head! Take the cockroach back this very instant to whoever sold it to you, and with these other hundred ducats that I’m giving you buy just as many steer. And come back right away and take care the Wicked One doesn’t blind you or I’ll make you eat your hands with your own teeth!’
“Nardiello took the money and set off toward the Tower of Sarno,12 and when he had reached the same place as before he came upon another fairy playing with a mouse, which was executing the loveliest dance steps you ever did see. For some time Nardiello watched with amazement the fawn steps,13 twirls, caprioles, point dancing, and leaps of this animal, until he was beside himself with wonder and told the fairy that if she was willing to sell it to him he would give her a hundred ducats. The fairy accepted these terms, and after taking his coins she gave him the mouse in a box. When Nardiello went back home and showed poor Miccone the fine purchase he had made, Miccone made an awful scene, slamming himself around like a beaten octopus and snorting like a skittish horse. Indeed, if it hadn’t been for a neighbor of his who happened to appear in the middle of all this uproar, he would truly have taken the measure of Nardiello’s shoulders. Finally Miccone, boiling with anger, took a hundred more ducats and said to Nardiello, ‘I’m warning you, don’t try another one of your tricks because the third time it won’t work. Go to Salerno and buy the steer, and I swear on the souls of my ancestors that if you slip up this time, woe to the mother who gave birth to you!’
“With his head hanging, Nardiello made off in the direction of Salerno. When he arrived at the same place as before he came upon another fairy, who was amusing herself with a cricket that sang so sweetly that it lulled people to sleep. Upon hearing this new breed of nightingale Nardiello immediately felt the desire to do business, and once they had agreed on a hundred ducats, he put it in a tiny cage made of a long hollowed squash covered with sticks and went back to his father. When he saw the third bad service his son had performed for him, Miccone lost his patience and, grabbing a club, fixed Nardiello up so well that even Rodomonte14 couldn’t have done better.
“Nardiello escaped from Miccone’s clutches as soon as he could; he took all three animals, moved out of that town, and set off in the direction of Lombardy, where there lived a great lord named Cenzone who had an only daughter whose name was Milla. On account of a certain illness Milla had become so melancholy that no one had seen her laugh for seven years straight, so that her father, after having attempted a thousand remedies and spent money in every direction, issued a proclamation announcing that whoever made her laugh would receive her for his wife.
Nardiello cavaie da la sctaola li tre animale, li quale sonaro, ballaro e cantaro co tanta grazia e co tante squasenzie che la regina scappaie a ridere. [Nardiello took the three animals out of the box. They played, danced, and sang with such grace and such charm that the queen burst into laughter.]
“Nardiello heard of this proclamation and fancied that he would try his fortune, and he went before Cenzone and offered to make Milla laugh. To which the lord responded, ‘Be mindful, my friend, that if you do not succeed your hood will lose its shape!’15 ‘Both my hood and my shoe can lose their shape, for all I care,’ replied Nardiello, ‘for I want to try my luck, and whatever happens will happen!’ The king summoned his daughter to come sit with him under a canopy, and Nardiello took the three animals out of the box. They played, danced, and sang with such grace and such charm that the queen burst into laughter, whereas the prince’s16 heart wept, for, according to the terms of the proclamation, he was now forced to give a jewel of a woman to a scum of a man. But since he was not able to go back on his promise he said to Nardiello, ‘I will give you my daughter, and my state as dowry, but with the agreement that if you do not consummate the marriage in three days I will feed you to the lions.’ ‘I have no fear,’ said Nardiello, ‘since in that time I’m man enough not only to consummate the marriage but to consume your daughter and your whole house as well!’ And the king: ‘Slow down, we’ll get to that, as Carcariello17 said; you can’t know a good watermelon until you’ve seen its flesh.’18
“After the festivities were held and evening fell—when the Sun, like a thief, was taken off to the prison of the West with a cape over its head—the bride and bridegroom went to bed. But since the malicious king had arranged for a sleeping draught to be given to Nardiello, he did nothing but snore all night. After the same thing happened on the second and the third days the king had him thrown into the lion pit, where Nardiello, realizing he was nearing his end, opened the animals’ box and said, ‘Since my fate has dragged me with a bitter towline to this wretched impasse, and since I have nothing else to leave to you, O lovely animals of mine, I will free you, so that you can go where best you please.’ As soon as they were let out, the animals began to exhibit themselves in so many little capers and games that the lions became as still as statues. In the meantime the mouse addressed Nardiello, whose spirit was already in his mouth, saying to him, ‘Cheer up, master, for even if you’ve given us our freedom we want more than ever to be your slaves, seeing that you’ve nourished us with so much love and cured us with so much affection and that at the end you gave us a sign of your great devotion by setting us free. Have no doubts: he who does good may expect good; do good and then forget about it. But you should know that we are enchanted, and if you want to see what we are capable and worthy of, follow us, and you’ll free yourself of this danger.’
“With Nardiello behind them, the mouse soon made a hole in the wall big enough for a man, through which, after going up a staircase, they led him to the top, where it
was safe. There they put him in a hut and told him to order them to do whatever he wished, for they would leave nothing undone which might bring him pleasure. ‘My desire would be,’ responded Nardiello, ‘that if the king has given Milla another husband, you do me the favor of not allowing the marriage to be consummated, because it would bring about the consummation of my own miserable life.’ ‘That and nothing are but the same thing,’ answered the animals. ‘Keep your spirits up and wait for us in this shack, for we’ll clean up the mess without delay!’
“They set off for the court, and found that the king had married his daughter to a great German lord and that that very evening the cask was to be uncorked. Once the animals had skillfully entered the chamber of the newlyweds, they waited until the banquet was over and evening came—when the Moon came out to feed the Pleiades19 with dew—and the couple went to bed. And since the bridegroom had loaded his crossbow and taken one too many cards,20 as soon as he had holed himself up under the sheets he immediately fell asleep and lay there as if his throat had just been cut. When the cockroach heard the bridegroom’s snoring, it crawled very quietly up the foot of the bed, made its way under the covers, and nimbly slipped into the bridegroom’s asshole, serving him a suppository that uncorked his body in such a way that one might have said, with Petrarch: ‘love drew from him a subtle liquid.’ The bride, who heard the rumbling of this dysentery—‘the breeze and the fragrance and the coolness and the shade’21—woke her husband up. When he saw the sort of perfume he had incensed his idol with, he nearly died of shame and croaked with rage, and once he had gotten out of bed and his whole body had been laundered, he sent for the doctors, who attributed the cause for this disgrace to the excesses of the banquet the day before.
The Tale of Tales Page 31