The Decameron

by Giovanni Boccaccio

  Sicurano then addressed the Sultan, who, though he had been listening carefully and taking it all in, was still in the dark about Sicurano’s motives in requesting and arranging this meeting.

  ‘My lord,’ he said. ‘It will be quite obvious to you what a fine swain and a fine husband that good lady was blessed with. For the swain deprives her of her honour by besmirching her good name with lies, at the same time ruining her husband. And the husband, paying more attention to another man’s falsehoods than to the truth that years of experience should have taught him, has her killed and eaten by wolves. Moreover, both the suitor and the husband love and respect her so deeply that they are able to spend a long time in her company without even recognizing her. But in order that you shall be left in no possible doubt concerning the merits of these two gentlemen, I am ready, provided that you will grant me the special favour of pardoning the dupe and punishing the deceiver, to make the lady appear, here and now, before your very eyes.’

  The Sultan, who was prepared to allow Sicurano a completely free hand in this affair, gave his consent and told him to produce the lady. Bernabò, being firmly convinced that she was dead, was unable to believe his ears, whilst Ambrogiuolo, for whom things were beginning to look desperate, was afraid in any case that he was going to have more than a sum of money to pay, and could not see that it would affect him either one way or the other if the lady really were to turn up. But if anything he was even more astonished than Bernabò.

  No sooner had the Sultan agreed to Sicurano’s request than Sicurano burst into tears and threw himself on his knees at the Sultan’s feet, at the same time losing his manly voice and the desire to persist in his masculine role.

  ‘My lord,’ he said, ‘I myself am the poor unfortunate Zinevra, who for six long years has toiled her way through the world disguised as a man, a victim of the false and wicked calumnies of this traitor Ambrogiuolo and of the iniquitous cruelty of this man who handed her over to be killed by one of his servants and eaten by wolves.’

  Tearing open the front of her dress and displaying her bosom, she made it clear to the Sultan and to everyone else that she was indeed a woman. Then she rounded on Ambrogiuolo, haughtily demanding to know when he had ever slept with her, as he had claimed. But Ambrogiuolo, seeing who it was, simply stood there and said nothing, as though he were too ashamed to open his mouth.

  The Sultan, who had always believed her to be a man, was so astonished on seeing and hearing all this, that he kept thinking that he must be dreaming and that his eyes and ears were deceiving him. But once he had recovered from his astonishment and realized that it was true, he lauded Zinevra to the skies for her virtuous way of life, her constancy, and her strength of character. And having ordered women’s clothes of the finest quality to be brought, and provided her with a retinue of ladies, he complied with her earlier request and spared Bernabò from the death he assuredly deserved. On recognizing his wife, Bernabò threw himself in tears at her feet asking her forgiveness, and although he merited no such favour, she graciously conceded it and helped him up again, clasping him in a fond and wifely embrace.

  The Sultan next commanded that Ambrogiuolo should instantly be taken to some upper part of the city, tied to a pole in the sun, smeared with honey, and left there until he fell of his own accord; and this was done. He then decreed that all of Ambrogiuolo’s possessions, which amounted in value to more than ten thousand doubloons, should be handed over to the lady. And for his own part, he put on a splendid feast, at which Bernabò, being Lady Zinevra’s husband, and the most excellent Lady Zinevra herself were the guests of honour. And in addition he presented her with jewels, gold and silver plate, and money, all of which came to a further ten thousand doubloons in value.

  He men while commissioned a ship to be specially fitted out for their use, and once the feast held in their honour was concluded, he gave them leave to return to Genoa whenever it suited their purpose. And when they sailed into Genoa, weak with joy and laden with riches, a magnificent welcome awaited them, especially Lady Zinevra, whom everyone had thought to be dead. And thereafter, for as long as she lived, she was held in high esteem and regarded as a paragon of virtue.

  As for Ambrogiuolo, on the very day that he was tied to the pole and smeared with honey, he was subjected to excruciating torments by the mosquitoes, wasps and horseflies which abound in that country, and not only was he slain, but every morsel of his flesh was devoured. Hanging by their sinews, his whitened bones remained there for ages without being moved, an eloquent testimony of his wickedness to all who beheld them. And thus it was that the dupe outwitted his deceiver.

  TENTH STORY

  Paganino of Monaco steals the wife of Messer Ricciardo di Chinzica, who, on learning where she is, goes and makes friends with Paganino. He asks Paganino to restore her to him, and Paganino agrees on condition that he obtains her consent. She refuses to go back with Messer Ricciardo, and after his death becomes Paganino’s wife.

  Every member of the worthy company complimented the queen most warmly for telling so excellent a story, especially Dioneo, who was the sole remaining speaker of the day. And when he had finished singing its praises, he addressed them as follows:

  Fair ladies, there was one feature of the queen’s story which has caused me to substitute another tale for the one I was intending to relate. I refer to the stupidity of Bernabò, and of all other men who are given to thinking, as he apparently was, that while they are gadding about in various parts of the world with one woman after another, the wives they left behind are simply twiddling their thumbs. I will grant you that things turned out nicely for Bernabò, but we, who spend our lives in the company of women from the cradle upwards, know perfectly well what they enjoy doing most. In telling you this story, I shall demonstrate the foolishness of such people as Bernabò. And at the same time, I shall show the even greater foolishness of those who, overestimating their natural powers, resort to specious reasoning to persuade themselves that they can do the impossible, and who attempt to mould other people in their own image, thus flying in the face of Nature.

  There once lived, in Pisa, a very wealthy judge called Messer Ricciardo di Chinzica, who had rather more brain than brawn, and who, thinking perhaps he could satisfy a wife with those same talents that he brought to his studies, went to a great deal of trouble to find himself a wife who was both young and beautiful; whereas, had he been capable of giving himself such good advice as he gave to others, he should have avoided marrying anyone with either of the attributes in question. He succeeded in his quest, however, for Messer Lotto Gualandi agreed to let him marry a daughter of his called Bartolomea, who was one of the prettiest and most charming young ladies in Pisa, a city where most of the women look as ugly as sin.1 The judge brought her home with an air of great festivity, and although the wedding was celebrated in truly magnificent style, on the first night he only managed to come at her once in order to consummate the marriage, and even then he very nearly fell out of the game before it was over. And next morning, being a skinny and a withered and a spineless sort of fellow, he had to swallow down vernaccia,2 energy-tablets and various other restoratives to pull himself round.

  Now, this judge fellow, having thus obtained a better notion of his powers, began to teach her a calendar which schoolchildren are apt to consult, of the sort that was once in use at Ravenna.3 For he made it clear to her that there was not a single day that was not the feast of one or more Saints, out of respect for whom, as he would demonstrate by devious arguments, man and woman should abstain from sexual union. To the foregoing, he added holidays of obligation, the four Ember weeks,4 the eves of the Apostles and a numerous array of subsidiary Saints, Fridays and Saturdays, the sabbath, the whole of Lent, certain phases of the moon, and various special occasions, possibly because he was under the impression that one had to take vacations from bedding a woman, in the same way that he sometimes took vacations from summing up in the law courts. For a long time (much to the chagrin of his lady, whose turn
came round once a month at the most) he abided by this régime, always keeping a close watch on her lest anyone else should teach her as good a knowledge of the working-days as he had taught her of the holidays.

  One summer, during a heat-wave, Messer Ricciardo happened to be seized by a longing to go and relax in the fresh air at a very fine villa of his near Montenero,5 and he took his fair lady with him. And during their stay, in order to provide her with a little recreation, he arranged a day’s fishing, he and the fishermen taking out one boat whilst she and some other ladies went along to watch from a second. But as he became absorbed in what he was doing, they drifted several miles out to sea almost before they realized what was happening.

  While their concentration was at its peak, a small galley came upon the scene commanded by Paganino da Mare, a notorious pirate of the time, who having caught sight of the two boats came sailing towards them. They turned and fled, but before they could reach safety, Paganino overtook the boat containing the women, and on catching sight of the fair lady, he disregarded everything else and took her aboard his galley before making off again under the very eyes of Messer Ricciardo, who had meanwhile reached the shore. Needless to say, our friend the judge was extremely distressed on seeing all this, for he was jealous of the very air that she breathed. And all he could do now was to wander about Pisa and other places, bemoaning the wickedness of the pirates, without having any idea who it was that had kidnapped his wife or where she had been taken.

  Paganino reckoned himself very fortunate when he saw how beautiful she was, and since he was unmarried, he made up his mind to keep her. But she was weeping bitterly, and so he poured out a stream of endearments in an attempt to console her, and when night descended, having come to the conclusion that he had been wasting his time all day with words, he turned to comforting her with deeds, for he was not the sort of man to pay any heed to calendars, and he had long since forgotten about feasts and holy days. So effective were the consolations he provided, that before they had reached Monaco,6 the judge and his laws had faded from the lady’s memory, and life with Paganino was a positive joy. And after he had brought her to Monaco, in addition to consoling her continuously night and day, Paganino treated her with all the respect due to a wife.

  When, some time afterwards, information reached Messer Ricciardo of his lady’s whereabouts, he was passionately resolved to go and fetch her in person, being convinced that he alone could handle the affair with the necessary tact. He was quite prepared to pay whatever ransom was demanded, and took ship for Monaco, where he caught sight of her soon after his arrival. But she had seen him, too, and that same evening she warned Paganino and informed him of her husband’s intentions.

  Next morning, Messer Ricciardo saw Paganino and engaged him in conversation, losing no time in getting on friendly and familiar terms with him, while Paganino, pretending not to know who he was, waited to see what he was proposing to do. At the earliest opportunity, Messer Ricciardo disclosed the purpose of his visit as concisely and politely as he could, then asked Paganino to hand the lady over, naming whatever sum he required by way of ransom.

  ‘Welcome to Monaco, sir,’ replied Paganino, smiling broadly. ‘And as to your request, I will answer you briefly, as follows. It is true that I have a young lady in my house, but I couldn’t say whether she is your wife or some other man’s wife, for I do not know you, and all I know about the lady is that she has been living with me for some time. I have taken a liking to you, however, and since you appear to be honest, I will take you to see her, and if you are indeed her husband, as you claim to be, she will no doubt recognize you. If she confirms your story and wants to go with you, you are such an amiable sort of fellow that I am content to leave the amount of the ransom to your own good judgement. But if your story isn’t true, it would be dishonest of you to try and deprive me of her, for I am a young man and no less entitled than anyone else to keep a woman, especially this one, for she is the nicest I ever saw.’

  ‘Of course she is my wife,’ said Messer Ricciardo. ‘You will soon be convinced when you take me to see her, for she will fling her arms round my neck immediately. I could ask for nothing better than the arrangement you suggest.’

  ‘In that case,’ said Paganino, ‘let us proceed.’

  And so off they went to Paganino’s house, where they entered a large room and Paganino sent for the lady, who came in from another room, composed in appearance and neatly dressed, and walked over to where the two men were standing. But she took no more notice of Messer Ricciardo than if he were some total stranger coming into the house as Paganino’s guest. On seeing this, the judge was greatly astonished, for he had been expecting her to greet him with a display of frenzied rejoicing. ‘Perhaps,’ he thought, ‘the melancholy and prolonged suffering to which I have been subjected, ever since I lost her, have wrought such a change in my appearance that she no longer knows who I am.’ He therefore addressed her as follows:

  ‘Madam, it was a costly idea of mine to take you fishing with me, for nobody ever experienced so much sorrow as I have endured from the day I lost you, and now it appears, from the coldness of your greeting, that you do not even recognize me. Don’t you see that I am your Messer Ricciardo? Don’t you understand that I came to Monaco fully prepared to offer this gentleman whatever ransom he required, so that I could have you back again and take you away from this house? And are you perhaps unaware that he has been good enough to tell me that he’ll hand you over for whatever sum I choose to pay?’

  The lady turned towards him, with the faintest suggestion of a smile on her lips.

  ‘Are you addressing me, sir?’ she asked. ‘You must surely be mistaking me for someone else, for as far as I can recall, I have never seen you before in my life.’

  ‘Oh, come now,’ said Messer Ricciardo. ‘Take a good look at me, and if you choose to remember properly, you will soon see that I am your husband, Ricciardo di Chinzica.’

  ‘You will forgive me for saying so, sir,’ said the lady, ‘but it is not so proper as you imagine for me to stare at you. And in any case, I have already looked at you sufficiently to know that I have never seen you before.’

  Messer Ricciardo supposed her to be doing this because she was afraid of Paganino, in whose presence she was perhaps reluctant to admit that she recognized him. And so, after a while, he asked Paganino if he would kindly allow him to speak with her alone in her room. Paganino agreed, on condition that he made no attempt to kiss her against her will, and he told the lady to go with Messer Ricciardo into her room, listen to what he had to say, and reply as freely as she pleased.

  Thus the lady and Messer Ricciardo went into her room, closed the door behind them, and sat down.

  ‘Oh, my dearest,’ said Messer Ricciardo, ‘my dear, sweet darling, my treasure, now do you remember your Ricciardo who loves you more than life itself? No? How is this possible? Can I have changed so much? Oh, my pretty one, do take another little look at me.’

  The lady, who had begun to laugh, interrupted his babbling, saying:

  ‘You are well aware that I possess a sufficiently good memory to know that you are my husband, Messer Ricciardo di Chinzica. But you showed very little sign of knowing me, when I was living with you, because if, either then or now, you were as wise as you wish to pretend, you should certainly have had the gumption to realize that a fresh and vigorous young woman like myself needs something more than food and clothes, even if modesty forbids her to say so. And you know how little of that you provided.

  ‘If you were more interested in studying the law than in keeping a wife, you should never have married in the first place. Not that you ever seemed to me to be a judge. On the contrary, you had such an expert knowledge of feasts and festivals, to say nothing of fasts and vigils, that I thought you must be a town-crier. And I can tell you this, that if you had given as many holidays to the workers on your estates as you gave to the one whose job it was to tend my little field, you would never have harvested a single ear of corn. B
ut by the merciful will of God, who took pity on my youth, I chanced upon the man with whom I share this room, where holy days – the ones you used to celebrate so religiously, being more devoted to pious works than to the service of the lathes – have never been heard of. And not only has that door remained firmly shut against sabbaths, Fridays, vigils, Ember Days and Lent (which is such a long-drawn-out affair), but work goes on all the time here day and night, so that the place is a positive hive of activity. Why, this very morning, the bell for matins had barely stopped ringing before he was up and about, and I can’t begin to tell you how busy we were. Hence I intend to remain with him, and work while I am still young, and save up all those fasts and holy days so that I can turn to them, along with pilgrimages, when I am an old woman. As for you, be so good as to clear off as soon as you can, and have as many holidays as you like, but not with me.’

  As he listened to these words, Messer Ricciardo suffered the agonies of the damned, and when he saw that she had finished, he said:

  ‘Oh, my dearest, how can you say such things? Have you lost all regard for your honour and that of your parents? Do you mean to say you prefer to stay on here, living in mortal sin as this man’s strumpet, rather than to live in Pisa as my wife? When this fellow grows tired of you, he will turn you out and make you an object of ridicule, whereas I will always cherish you, and you will always be the mistress of my house whatever happens. Do you mean to cast aside your honour and forsake one who loves you more than life itself, simply because of this immoderate and unseemly appetite of yours? Oh, my treasure, don’t say these things any more, come away with me. Now that I know what you want, I’ll make a special effort in the future. Do change your mind, my precious, and come back to me, for my life has been sheer misery ever since the day you were taken away from me.’