--
A jealous husband disguises himself as a priest, and hears his own wife's
confession: she tells him that she loves a priest, who comes to her every
night. The husband posts himself at the door to watch for the priest, and
meanwhile the lady brings her lover in by the roof, and tarries with him.
--
When Lauretta had done speaking, and all had commended the lady, for that
she had done well, and treated her caitiff husband as he had deserved,
the king, not to lose time, turned to Fiammetta, and graciously bade her
take up her parable; which she did on this wise:--Most noble ladies, the
foregoing story prompts me likewise to discourse of one of these jealous
husbands, deeming that they are justly requited by their wives, more
especially when they grow jealous without due cause. And had our
legislators taken account of everything, I am of opinion that they would
have visited ladies in such a case with no other penalty than such as
they provide for those that offend in self-defence, seeing that a jealous
husband does cunningly practise against the life of his lady, and most
assiduously machinate her death. All the week the wife stays at home,
occupied with her domestic duties; after which, on the day that is sacred
to joy, she, like every one else, craves some solace, some peace, some
recreation, not unreasonably, for she craves but what the husbandmen take
in the fields, the craftsmen in the city, the magistrates in the courts,
nay what God Himself took, when He rested from all His labours on the
seventh day, and which laws human and Divine, mindful alike of the honour
of God and the common well-being, have ordained, appropriating certain
days to work, and others to repose. To which ordinance these jealous
husbands will in no wise conform; on the contrary by then most sedulously
secluding their wives, they make those days which to all other women are
gladsome, to them most grievous and dolorous. And what an affliction it
is to the poor creatures, they alone know, who have proved it; for which
reason, to sum up, I say that a wife is rather to be commended than
censured, if she take her revenge upon a husband that is jealous without
cause.
Know then that at Rimini there dwelt a merchant, a man of great substance
in lands and goods and money, who, having a most beautiful woman to wife,
waxed inordinately jealous of her, and that for no better reason than
that, loving her greatly, and esteeming her exceeding fair, and knowing
that she did her utmost endeavour to pleasure him, he must needs suppose
that every man loved her, and esteemed her fair, and that she, moreover,
was as zealous to stand well with every other man as with himself;
whereby you may see that he was a poor creature, and of little sense.
Being thus so deeply infected with jealousy, he kept so strict and close
watch over her, that some, maybe, have lain under sentence of death and
been less rigorously confined by their warders. 'Twas not merely that the
lady might not go to a wedding, or a festal gathering, or even to church,
or indeed set foot out of doors in any sort; but she dared not so much as
shew herself at a window, or cast a glance outside the house, no matter
for what purpose. Wherefore she led a most woeful life of it, and found
it all the harder to bear because she knew herself to be innocent.
Accordingly, seeing herself evilly entreated by her husband without good
cause, she cast about how for her own consolation she might devise means
to justify his usage of her. And for that, as she might not shew herself
at the window, there could be no interchange of amorous glances between
her and any man that passed along the street, but she wist that in the
next house there was a goodly and debonair gallant, she bethought her,
that, if there were but a hole in the wall that divided the two houses,
she might watch thereat, until she should have sight of the gallant on
such wise that she might speak to him, and give him her love, if he cared
to have it, and, if so it might be contrived, forgather with him now and
again, and after this fashion relieve the burden of her woeful life,
until such time as the evil spirit should depart from her husband. So
peering about, now here, now there, when her husband was away, she found
in a very remote part of the house a place, where, by chance, the wall
had a little chink in it. Peering through which, she made out, though not
without great difficulty, that on the other side was a room, and said to
herself:--If this were Filippo's room--Filippo was the name of the
gallant, her neighbour--I should be already halfway to my goal. So
cautiously, through her maid, who was grieved to see her thus languish,
she made quest, and discovered that it was indeed the gallant's room,
where he slept quite alone. Wherefore she now betook her frequently to
the aperture, and whenever she was ware that the gallant was in the room,
she would let fall a pebble or the like trifle; whereby at length she
brought the gallant to the other side of the aperture to see what the
matter was. Whereupon she softly called him, and he knowing her voice,
answered; and so, having now the opportunity she had sought, she in few
words opened to him all her mind. The gallant, being overjoyed, wrought
at the aperture on such wise that albeit none might be ware thereof, he
enlarged it; and there many a time they held converse together, and
touched hands, though further they might not go by reason of the
assiduous watch that the jealous husband kept.
Now towards Christmas the lady told her husband that, if he approved, she
would fain go on Christmas morning to church, and confess and
communicate, like other Christians. "And what sins," quoth he, "hast thou
committed, that wouldst be shriven?" "How?" returned the lady; "dost thou
take me for a saint? For all thou keepest me so close, thou must know
very well that I am like all other mortals. However, I am not minded to
confess to thee, for that thou art no priest." Her husband, whose
suspicions were excited by what she had said, cast about how he might
discover these sins of hers, and having bethought him of what seemed an
apt expedient, made answer that she had his consent, but he would not
have her go to any church but their own chapel, where she might hie her
betimes in the morning, and confess either to their own chaplain or some
other priest that the chaplain might assign her, but to none other, and
presently return to the house. The lady thought she half understood him,
but she answered only that she would do as he required. Christmas morning
came, and with the dawn the lady rose, dressed herself, and hied her to
the church appointed by her husband, who also rose, and hied him to the
same church, where he arrived before her; and having already concerted
matters with the priest that was in charge, he forthwith put on one of
the priest's robes with a great hood, overshadowing the face, such as we
see priests wear, and which he pulled somewhat forward; and so disguised
he seated himself in the choir.
On entering the church the lady asked for the priest, who came, and
learning that she was minded to confess, said that he could not hear her
himself, but would send her one of his brethren; so away he hied him and
sent her, in an evil hour for him, her husband. For though he wore an air
of great solemnity, and 'twas not yet broad day, and he had pulled the
hood well over his eyes, yet all did not avail, but that his lady
forthwith recognized him, and said to herself:--God be praised! why, the
jealous rogue is turned priest: but leave it me to give him that whereof
he is in quest. So she feigned not to know him, and seated herself at his
feet. (I should tell you that he had put some pebbles in his mouth, that
his speech, being impeded, might not betray him to his wife, and in all
other respects he deemed himself so thoroughly disguised that there was
nought whereby she might recognize him.) Now, to come to the confession,
the lady, after informing him that she was married, told him among other
matters that she was enamoured of a priest, who came every night to lie
with her. Which to hear was to her husband as if he were stricken through
the heart with a knife; and had it not been that he was bent on knowing
more, he would have forthwith given over the confession, and taken
himself off. However he kept his place, and:--"How?" said he to the lady,
"does not your husband lie with you?" The lady replied in the
affirmative. "How, then," quoth the husband, "can the priest also lie
with you?" "Sir," replied she, "what art the priest employs I know not;
but door there is none, however well locked, in the house, that comes not
open at his touch; and he tells me that, being come to the door of my
room, before he opens it, he says certain words, whereby my husband
forthwith falls asleep; whereupon he opens the door, and enters the room,
and lies with me; and so 'tis always, without fail." "Then 'tis very
wrong, Madam, and you must give it up altogether," said the husband.
"That, Sir," returned the lady, "I doubt I can never do; for I love him
too much." "In that case," quoth the husband, "I cannot give you
absolution." "The pity of it!" ejaculated the lady; "I came not hither to
tell you falsehoods: if I could give it up, I would." "Madam," replied
the husband, "indeed I am sorry for you; for I see that you are in a fair
way to lose your soul. However, this I will do for you; I will make
special supplication to God on your behalf; and perchance you may be
profited thereby. And from time to time I will send you one of my young
clerks; and you will tell him whether my prayers have been of any help to
you, or no, and if they have been so, I shall know what to do next."
"Nay, Sir," quoth the lady, "do not so; send no man to me at home; for,
should my husband come to know it, he is so jealous that nothing in the
world would ever disabuse him of the idea that he came but for an evil
purpose, and so I should have no peace with him all the year long."
Madam, returned the husband, "have no fear; rest assured that I will so
order matters that you shall never hear a word about it from him." "If
you can make sure of that," quoth the lady, "I have no more to say." And
so, her confession ended, and her penance enjoined, she rose, and went to
mass, while the luckless husband, fuming and fretting, hasted to divest
himself of his priest's trappings, and then went home bent upon devising
some means to bring the priest and his wife together, and take his
revenge upon them both.
When the lady came home from church she read in her husband's face that
she had spoiled his Christmas for him, albeit he dissembled to the
uttermost, lest she should discover what he had done, and supposed
himself to have learned. His mind was made up to keep watch for the
priest that very night by his own front door. So to the lady he said:--"I
have to go out to-night to sup and sleep; so thou wilt take care that the
front door, and the mid-stair door, and the bedroom door are well locked;
and for the rest thou mayst go to bed, at thine own time." "Well and
good," replied the lady: and as soon as she was able, off she hied her to
the aperture, and gave the wonted signal, which Filippo no sooner heard,
than he was at the spot. The lady then told him what she had done in the
morning, and what her husband had said to her after breakfast,
adding:--"Sure I am that he will not stir out of the house, but will keep
watch beside the door; wherefore contrive to come in to-night by the
roof, that we may be together." "Madam," replied the gallant, nothing
loath, "trust me for that."
Night came, the husband armed, and noiselessly hid himself in a room on
the ground floor: the lady locked all the doors, being especially careful
to secure the mid-stair door, to bar her husband's ascent; and in due
time the gallant, having found his way cautiously enough over the roof,
they got them to bed, and there had solace of one another and a good
time; and at daybreak the gallant hied him back to his house. Meanwhile
the husband, rueful and supperless, half dead with cold, kept his armed
watch beside his door, momently expecting the priest, for the best part
of the night; but towards daybreak, his powers failing him, he lay down
and slept in the ground-floor room. 'Twas hard upon tierce when he awoke,
and the front door was then open; so, making as if he had just come in,
he went upstairs and breakfasted. Not long afterwards he sent to his wife
a young fellow, disguised as the priest's underling, who asked her if he
of whom she wist had been with her again. The lady, who quite understood
what that meant, made answer that he had not come that night, and that,
if he continued to neglect her so, 'twas possible he might be forgotten,
though she had no mind to forget him.
Now, to make a long story short, the husband passed many a night in the
same way, hoping to catch the priest as he came in, the lady and her
gallant meanwhile having a good time. But at last the husband, being able
to stand it no longer, sternly demanded of his wife what she had said to
the priest the morning when she was confessed. The lady answered that she
was not minded to tell him, for that 'twas not seemly or proper so to do.
Whereupon:--"Sinful woman," quoth the husband, "in thy despite I know
what thou saidst to him, and know I must and will who this priest is, of
whom thou art enamoured, and who by dint of his incantations lies with
thee a nights, or I will sluice thy veins for thee." "'Tis not true,"
replied the lady, "that I am enamoured of a priest." "How?" quoth the
husband, "saidst thou not as much to the priest that confessed thee?"
"Thou canst not have had it from him," rejoined the lady. "Wast thou then
present thyself? For sure I never told him so." "Then tell me," quoth the
husband, "who this priest is; and lose no time about it." Whereat the
lady began to smile, and:--"I find it not a little diverting," quoth she,
"that a wise man should suffer himself to be led by a simple woman as a
ram is led by the horns to the shambles; albeit no wise man art thou: not
since that fatal hour when thou gavest harbourage in thy breast, thou
wist not why, to the evil spirit of jealousy; and the more foolish and
insensate thou art, the less glory have I. Deemest thou, my husband, that
I am as blind of the bodily eye as thou art of the mind's eye? Nay, but
for sure I am not so. I knew at a glance the priest that confessed me,
and that 'twas even thyself. But I was minded to give thee that of which
thou wast in quest, and I gave it thee. Howbeit, if thou hadst been the
wise man thou takest thyself to be, thou wouldst not have chosen such a
way as that to worm out thy good lady's secrets, nor wouldst thou have
fallen a prey to a baseless suspicion, but wouldst have understood that
what she confessed was true, and she all the while guiltless. I told thee
that I loved a priest; and wast not thou, whom I love, though ill enough
dost thou deserve it, turned priest? I told thee that there was no door
in my house but would open when he was minded to lie with me: and when
thou wouldst fain have access to me, what door was ever closed against
thee? I told thee that the priest lay nightly with me: and what night was
there that thou didst not lie with me? Thou sentest thy young clerk to
me: and thou knowest that, as often as thou hadst not been with me, I
sent word that the priest had not been with me. Who but thou, that hast
suffered jealousy to blind thee, would have been so witless as not to
read such a riddle? But thou must needs mount guard at night beside the
door, and think to make me believe that thou hadst gone out to sup and
sleep. Consider thy ways, and court not the mockery of those that know
them as I do, but turn a man again as thou wast wont to be: and let there
be no more of this strict restraint in which thou keepest me; for I swear
to thee by God that, if I were minded to set horns on thy brow, I should
not fail so to take my pastime that thou wouldst never find it out,
though thou hadst a hundred eyes, as thou hast but two."
Thus admonished, the jealous caitiff, who had flattered himself that he
had very cunningly discovered his wife's secret, was ashamed, and made no
answer save to commend his wife's wit and honour; and thus, having cause
for jealousy, he discarded it, as he had erstwhile been jealous without
cause. And so the adroit lady had, as it were, a charter of indulgence,
and needed no more to contrive for her lover to come to her over the roof
like a cat, but admitted him by the door, and using due discretion, had
many a good time with him, and sped her life gaily.