[Day the Second]
BERNABO OF GENOA, DUPED BY AMBROGIUOLO, LOSETH HIS GOOD AND
COMMANDETH THAT HIS INNOCENT WIFE BE PUT TO DEATH. SHE
ESCAPETH AND SERVETH THE SOLDAN IN A MAN'S HABIT. HERE SHE
LIGHTETH UPON THE DECEIVER OF HER HUSBAND AND BRINGETH THE
LATTER TO ALEXANDRIA, WHERE, HER TRADUCER BEING PUNISHED,
SHE RESUMETH WOMAN'S APPAREL AND RETURNETH TO GENOA WITH HER
HUSBAND, RICH
Elisa having furnished her due with her pitiful story, Filomena the
queen, who was tall and goodly of person and smiling and agreeable of
aspect beyond any other of her sex, collecting herself, said, "Needs
must the covenant with Dioneo be observed, wherefore, there remaining
none other to tell than he and I, I will tell my story first, and he,
for that he asked it as a favour, shall be the last to speak." So
saying, she began thus, "There is a proverb oftentimes cited among the
common folk to the effect that the deceiver abideth[131] at the feet
of the deceived; the which meseemeth may by no reasoning be shown to
be true, an it approve not itself by actual occurrences. Wherefore,
whilst ensuing the appointed theme, it hath occurred to me, dearest
ladies, to show you, at the same time, that this is true, even as it
is said; nor should it mislike you to hear it, so you may know how to
keep yourselves from deceivers.
[Footnote 131: _Rimane._ The verb _rimanere_ is constantly used by the
old Italian writers in the sense of "to become," so that the proverb
cited in the text may be read "The deceiver becometh (_i.e._ findeth
himself in the end) at the feet (_i.e._ at the mercy) of the person
deceived."]
There were once at Paris in an inn certain very considerable Italian
merchants, who were come thither, according to their usance, some on
one occasion and some on another, and having one evening among others
supped all together merrily, they fell to devising of divers matters,
and passing from one discourse to another, they came at last to speak
of their wives, whom they had left at home, and one said jestingly, 'I
know not how mine doth; but this I know well, that, whenas there
cometh to my hand here any lass that pleaseth me, I leave on one side
the love I bear my wife and take of the other such pleasure as I may.'
'And I,' quoth another, 'do likewise, for that if I believe that my
wife pusheth her fortunes [in my absence,] she doth it, and if I
believe it not, still she doth it; wherefore tit for tat be it; an ass
still getteth as good as he giveth.'[132] A third, following on, came
well nigh to the same conclusion, and in brief all seemed agreed upon
this point, that the wives they left behind had no mind to lose time
in their husbands' absence. One only, who hight Bernabo Lomellini of
Genoa, maintained the contrary, avouching that he, by special grace of
God, had a lady to wife who was belike the most accomplished woman of
all Italy in all those qualities which a lady, nay, even (in great
part) in those which a knight or an esquire, should have; for that she
was fair of favour and yet in her first youth and adroit and robust of
her person; nor was there aught that pertaineth unto a woman, such as
works of broidery in silk and the like, but she did it better than any
other of her sex. Moreover, said he, there was no sewer, or in other
words, no serving-man, alive who served better or more deftly at a
nobleman's table than did she, for that she was very well bred and
exceeding wise and discreet. He after went on to extol her as knowing
better how to ride a horse and fly a hawk, to read and write and cast
a reckoning than if she were a merchant; and thence, after many other
commendations, coming to that whereof it had been discoursed among
them, he avouched with an oath that there could be found no honester
nor chaster woman than she; wherefore he firmly believed that, should
he abide half a score years, or even always, from home, she would
never incline to the least levity with another man. Among the
merchants who discoursed thus was a young man called Ambrogiuolo of
Piacenza, who fell to making the greatest mock in the world of this
last commendation bestowed by Bernabo upon his wife and asked him
scoffingly if the emperor had granted him that privilege over and
above all other men. Bernabo, some little nettled, replied that not
the emperor, but God, who could somewhat more than the emperor, had
vouchsafed him the favour in question. Whereupon quoth Ambrogiuolo,
'Bernabo, I doubt not a whit but that thou thinkest to say sooth; but
meseemeth thou hast paid little regard to the nature of things; for
that, hadst thou taken heed thereunto, I deem thee not so dull of wit
but thou wouldst have noted therein certain matters which had made
thee speak more circumspectly on this subject. And that thou mayst not
think that we, who have spoken much at large of our wives, believe
that we have wives other or otherwise made than thine, but mayst see
that we spoke thus, moved by natural perception, I will e'en reason
with thee a little on this matter. I have always understood man to be
the noblest animal created of God among mortals, and after him, woman;
but man, as is commonly believed and as is seen by works, is the more
perfect and having more perfection, must without fail have more of
firmness and constancy, for that women universally are more
changeable; the reason whereof might be shown by many natural
arguments, which for the present I purpose to leave be. If then man be
of more stability and yet cannot keep himself, let alone from
complying with a woman who soliciteth him, but even from desiring one
who pleaseth him, nay more, from doing what he can, so he may avail to
be with her,--and if this betide him not once a month, but a thousand
times a day,--what canst thou expect a woman, naturally unstable, to
avail against the prayers, the blandishments, the gifts and a thousand
other means which an adroit man, who loveth her, will use? Thinkest
thou she can hold out? Certes, how much soever thou mayst affirm it,
I believe not that thou believest it; and thou thyself sayst that thy
wife is a woman and that she is of flesh and blood, as are other
women. If this be so, those same desires must be hers and the same
powers that are in other women to resist these natural appetites;
wherefore, however honest she be, it is possible she may do that which
other women do; and nothing that is possible she be so peremptorily
denied nor the contrary thereof affirmed with such rigour as thou
dost.' To which Bernabo made answer, saying, 'I am a merchant, and not
a philosopher, and as a merchant I will answer; and I say that I
acknowledge that what thou sayst may happen to foolish women in whom
there is no shame; but those who are discreet are so careful of their
honour that for the guarding thereof they become stronger than men,
who reck not of this; and of those thus fashioned is my wife.'
'Indeed,' rejoined Ambrogiuolo, 'if, for every time they occupy
themselves with toys of this kind, there sprouted from their foreheads
a horn to bear witness of that which they have done, there be few, I
believe, who would incline thereto; but, far from the horn sprouting,
there appeareth neither trace nor token thereof in those who are
discreet, and shame and soil of honour consist not but in things
discovered; wherefore, whenas they may secretly, they do it, or, if
they forebear, it is for stupidity. And have thou this for certain
that she alone is chaste, who hath either never been solicited of any
or who, having herself solicited, hath not been hearkened. And
although I know by natural and true reasons that it is e'en as I say,
yet should I not speak thereof with so full an assurance, had I not
many a time and with many women made essay thereof. And this I tell
thee, that, were I near this most sanctified wife of thine, I warrant
me I would in brief space of time bring her to that which I have
already gotten of other women.' Whereupon quoth Bernabo, 'Disputing
with words might be prolonged without end; thou wouldst say and I
should say, and in the end it would all amount to nothing. But, since
thou wilt have it that all women are so compliant and that thine
address is such, I am content, so I may certify thee of my wife's
honesty, to have my head cut off, and thou canst anywise avail to
bring her to do thy pleasure in aught of the kind; and if thou fail
thereof, I will have thee lose no otherwhat than a thousand gold
florins.' 'Bernabo,' replied Ambrogiuolo, who was now grown heated
over the dispute, 'I know not what I should do with thy blood, if I
won the wager; but, an thou have a mind to see proof of that which I
have advanced, do thou stake five thousand gold florins of thy monies,
which should be less dear to thee than thy head, against a thousand of
mine, and whereas thou settest no limit [of time,] I will e'en bind
myself to go to Genoa and within three months from the day of my
departure hence to have done my will of thy wife and to bring back
with me, in proof thereof, sundry of her most precious things and such
and so many tokens that thou shalt thyself confess it to be truth, so
verily thou wilt pledge me thy faith not to come to Genoa within that
term nor write her aught of the matter.' Bernabo said that it liked
him well and albeit the other merchants endeavoured to hinder the
affair, foreseeing that sore mischief might come thereof, the two
merchants' minds were so inflamed that, in despite of the rest, they
bound themselves one to other by express writings under their hands.
This done, Bernabo abode behind, whilst Ambrogiuolo, as quickliest he
might, betook himself to Genoa. There he abode some days and informing
himself with the utmost precaution of the name of the street where the
lady dwelt and of her manner of life, understood of her that and more
than that which he had heard of her from Bernabo, wherefore himseemed
he was come on a fool's errand. However, he presently clapped up an
acquaintance with a poor woman, who was much about the house and whose
great well-wisher the lady was, and availing not to induce her to
aught else, he debauched her with money and prevailed with her to
bring him, in a chest wroughten after a fashion of his own, not only
into the house, but into the gentlewoman's very bedchamber, where,
according to the ordinance given her of him, the good woman commended
it to her care for some days, as if she had a mind to go somewhither.
The chest, then being left in the chamber and the night come,
Ambrogiuolo, what time he judged the lady to be asleep, opened the
chest with certain engines of his and came softly out into the
chamber, where there was a light burning, with whose aid he proceeded
to observe the ordinance of the place, the paintings and every other
notable thing that was therein and fixed them in his memory. Then,
drawing near the bed and perceiving that the lady and a little girl,
who was with her, were fast asleep, he softly altogether uncovered the
former and found that she was as fair, naked, as clad, but saw no sign
about her that he might carry away, save one, to wit, a mole which she
had under the left pap and about which were sundry little hairs as red
as gold. This noted he covered her softly up again, albeit, seeing her
so fair, he was tempted to adventure his life and lay himself by her
side; however, for that he had heard her to be so obdurate and
uncomplying in matters of this kind, he hazarded not himself, but,
abiding at his leisure in the chamber the most part of the night, took
from one of her coffers a purse and a night-rail, together with sundry
rings and girdles, and laying them all in his chest, returned thither
himself and shut himself up therein as before; and on this wise he did
two nights, without the lady being ware of aught. On the third day the
good woman came back for the chest, according to the given ordinance,
and carried it off whence she had taken it, whereupon Ambrogiuolo came
out and having rewarded her according to promise, returned, as
quickliest he might, with the things aforesaid, to Paris, where he
arrived before the term appointed. There he summoned the merchants who
had been present at the dispute and the laying of the wager and
declared, in Bernabo's presence, that he had won the wager laid
between them, for that he had accomplished that whereof he had vaunted
himself; and to prove this to be true, he first described the fashion
of the chamber and the paintings thereof and after showed the things
he had brought with him thence, avouching that he had them of herself.
Bernabo confessed the chamber to be as he had said and owned,
moreover, that he recognized the things in question as being in truth
his wife's; but said that he might have learned from one of the
servants of the house the fashion of the chamber and have gotten the
things in like manner; wherefore, an he had nought else to say,
himseemed not that this should suffice to prove him to have won.
Whereupon quoth Ambrogiuolo, 'In sooth this should suffice, but, since
thou wilt have me say more, I will say it. I tell thee that Madam
Ginevra thy wife hath under her left pap a pretty big mole, about
which are maybe half a dozen little hairs as red as gold.' When
Bernabo heard this, it was as if he had gotten a knife-thrust in the
heart, such anguish did he feel, and though he had said not a word,
his countenance, being all changed, gave very manifest token that what
Ambrogiuolo said was true. Then, after awhile, 'Gentlemen,' quoth he,
'that which Ambrogiuolo saith is true; wherefore, he having won, let
him come whenassoever it pleaseth him and he shall be paid.'
Accordingly, on the ensuing day Ambrogiuolo was paid in full and
Bernabo, departing Paris, betook himself to Genoa with fell intent
against the lady. When he drew near the city, he would not enter
therein, but lighted down a good score miles away at a country house
of his and despatched one of his servants, in whom he much trusted, to
Genoa with two horses and letters under his hand, advising his wife
that he had returned and bidding her come to him; and he privily
charged the man, whenas he should be with the lady in such place as
should seem best to him, to put her to death without pity and return
to him. The servant accordingly repaired to Genoa and delivering the
letters and doing his errand, was received with great rejoicing by the
lady, who on the morrow took horse with him and set out for their
country house. As they fared on together, discoursing of one thing and
another, they came to a very deep and lonely valley, beset with high
rocks and trees, which seeming to the servant a place wherein he
might, with assurance for himself, do his lord's commandment, he
pulled out his knife and taking the lady by the arm, said, 'Madam,
commend your soul to God, for needs must you die, without faring
farther.' The lady, seeing the knife and hearing these words, was all
dismayed and said, 'Mercy, for God's sake! Ere thou slay me, tell me
wherein I have offended thee, that thou wouldst put me to death.'
'Madam,' answered the man, 'me you have nowise offended; but wherein
you have offended your husband I know not, save that he hath commanded
me slay you by the way, without having any pity upon you, threatening
me, an I did it not, to have me hanged by the neck. You know well how
much I am beholden to him and how I may not gainsay him in aught that
he may impose upon me; God knoweth it irketh me for you, but I can no
otherwise.' Whereupon quoth the lady, weeping, 'Alack, for God's sake,
consent not to become the murderer of one who hath never wronged thee,
to serve another! God who knoweth all knoweth that I never did aught
for which I should receive such a recompense from my husband. But let
that be; thou mayst, an thou wilt, at once content God and thy master
and me, on this wise; to wit, that thou take these my clothes and give
me but thy doublet and a hood and with the former return to my lord
and thine and tell him that thou hast slain me; and I swear to thee,
by that life which thou wilt have bestowed on me, that I will remove
hence and get me gone into a country whence never shall any news of me
win either to him or to thee or into these parts.' The servant, who
was loath to slay her, was lightly moved to compassion; wherefore he
took her clothes and give her a sorry doublet of his and a hood,
leaving her sundry monies she had with her. Then praying her depart
the country, he left her in the valley and afoot and betook himself to
his master, to whom he avouched that not only was his commandment
accomplished, but that he had left the lady's dead body among a pack
of wolves, and Bernabo presently returned to Genoa, where the thing
becoming known, he was much blamed. As for the lady, she abode alone
and disconsolate till nightfall, when she disguised herself as most
she might and repaired to a village hard by, where, having gotten from
an old woman that which she needed, she fitted the doublet to her
shape and shortening it, made a pair of linen breeches of her shift;
then, having cut her hair and altogether transformed herself in the
guise of a sailor, she betook herself to the sea-shore, where, as
chance would have it, she found a Catalan gentleman, by name Senor
Encararch, who had landed at Alba from a ship he had in the offing, to
refresh himself at a spring there. With him she entered into parley
and engaging with him as a servant, embarked on board the ship, under
the name of Sicurano da Finale. There, being furnished by the
gentleman with better clothes, she proceeded to serve him so well and
so aptly that she became in the utmost favour with him. No great while
after it befell that the Catalan made a voyage to Alexandria with a
lading of his and carrying thither certain peregrine falcons for the
Soldan, presented them to him. The Soldan, having once and again
entertained him at meat and noting with approof the fashions of
Sicurano, who still went serving him, begged him[133] of his master,
who yielded him to him, although it irked him to do it, and Sicurano,
in a little while, by his good behaviour, gained the love and favour
of the Soldan, even as he had gained that of the Catalan. Wherefore,
in process of time, it befell that,--the time coming for a great
assemblage, in the guise of a fair, of merchants, both Christian and
Saracen, which was wont at a certain season of the year to be held in
Acre, a town under the seignory of the Soldan, and to which, in order
that the merchants and their merchandise might rest secure, the latter
was still used to despatch, besides other his officers, some one of
his chief men, with troops, to look to the guard,--he bethought
himself to send Sicurano, who was by this well versed in the language
of the country, on this service; and so he did. Sicurano accordingly
came to Acre as governor and captain of the guard of the merchants and
their merchandise and there well and diligently doing that which
pertained to his office and going round looking about him, saw many
merchants there, Sicilians and Pisans and Genoese and Venetians and
other Italians, with whom he was fain to make acquaintance, in
remembrance of his country. It befell, one time amongst others, that,
having lighted down at the shop of certain Venetian merchants, he
espied among other trinkets, a purse and a girdle, which he
straightway knew for having been his and marvelled thereat; but,
without making any sign, he carelessly asked to whom they pertained
and if they were for sale. Now Ambrogiuolo of Piacenza was come
thither with much merchandise on board a Venetian ship and hearing the
captain of the guard ask whose the trinkets were, came forward and
said, laughing, 'Sir, the things are mine and I do not sell them; but,
if they please you, I will gladly give them to you.' Sicurano, seeing
him laugh, misdoubted he had recognized him by some gesture of his;
but yet, keeping a steady countenance, he said, 'Belike thou laughest
to see me, a soldier, go questioning of these women's toys?' 'Sir,'
answered Ambrogiuolo, 'I laugh not at that; nay, but at the way I came
by them.' 'Marry, then,' said Sicurano, 'an it be not unspeakable,
tell me how thou gottest them, so God give thee good luck.' Quoth
Ambrogiuolo, 'Sir, a gentlewoman of Genoa, hight Madam Ginevra, wife
of Bernabo Lomellini, gave me these things, with certain others, one
night that I lay with her, and prayed me keep them for the love of
her. Now I laugh for that I mind me of the simplicity of Bernabo, who
was fool enough to lay five thousand florins to one that I would not
bring his wife to do my pleasure; the which I did and won the wager;
whereupon he, who should rather have punished himself for his
stupidity than her for doing that which all women do, returned from
Paris to Genoa and there, by what I have since heard, caused her put
to death.' Sicurano, hearing this, understood forthwith what was the
cause of Bernabo's anger against his wife[134] and manifestly
perceiving this fellow to have been the occasion of all her ills,
determined not to let him go unpunished therefor. Accordingly he
feigned to be greatly diverted with the story and artfully clapped up
a strait acquaintance with him, insomuch that, the fair being ended,
Ambrogiuolo, at his instance, accompanied him, with all his good, to
Alexandria. Here Sicurano let build him a warehouse and lodged in his
hands store of his own monies; and Ambrogiuolo, foreseeing great
advantage to himself, willingly took up his abode there. Meanwhile,
Sicurano, careful to make Bernabo clear of his[135] innocence, rested
not till, by means of certain great Genoese merchants who were then in
Alexandria, he had, on some plausible occasion of his[136] own
devising, caused him come thither, where finding him in poor enough
case, he had him privily entertained by a friend of his[137] against
it should seem to him[138] time to do that which he purposed. Now he
had already made Ambrogiuolo recount his story before the Soldan for
the latter's diversion; but seeing Bernabo there and thinking there
was no need to use farther delay in the matter, he took occasion to
procure the Soldan to have Ambrogiuolo and Bernabo brought before him
and in the latter's presence, to extort from the former, by dint of
severity, an it might not easily be done [by other means,] the truth
of that whereof he vaunted himself concerning Bernabo's wife.
Accordingly, they both being come, the Soldan, in the presence of
many, with a stern countenance commanded Ambrogiuolo to tell the truth
how he had won of Bernabo the five thousand gold florins; and Sicurano
himself, in whom he most trusted, with a yet angrier aspect,
threatened him with the most grievous torments, an he told it not;
whereupon Ambrogiuolo, affrighted on one side and another and in a
measure constrained, in the presence of Bernabo and many others,
plainly related everything, even as it passed, expecting no worse
punishment therefor than the restitution of the five thousand gold
florins and of the stolen trinkets. He having spoken, Sicurano, as he
were the Soldan's minister in the matter, turned to Bernabo and said
to him, 'And thou, what didst thou to thy lady for this lie?' Whereto
Bernabo replied, 'Overcome with wrath for the loss of my money and
with resentment for the shame which meseemed I had gotten from my
wife, I caused a servant of mine put her to death, and according to
that which he reported to me, she was straightway devoured by a
multitude of wolves,' These things said in the presence of the Soldan
and all heard and apprehended of him, albeit he knew not yet to what
end Sicurano, who had sought and ordered this, would fain come, the
latter said to him, 'My lord, you may very clearly see how much reason
yonder poor lady had to vaunt herself of her gallant and her husband,
for that the former at once bereaved her of honour, marring her fair
fame with lies, and despoiled her husband, whilst the latter more
credulous of others' falsehoods than of the truth which he might by
long experience have known, caused her to be slain and eaten of
wolves; and moreover, such is the goodwill and the love borne her by
the one and the other that, having long abidden with her, neither of
them knoweth her. But that you may the better apprehend that which
each of these hath deserved, I will,--so but you vouchsafe me, of
special favour to punish the deceiver and pardon the dupe,--e'en cause
her come hither into your and their presence.' The Soldan, disposed in
the matter altogether to comply with Sicurano's wishes, answered that
he would well and bade him produce the lady; whereat Bernabo marvelled
exceedingly, for that he firmly believed her to be dead, whilst
Ambrogiuolo, now divining his danger, began to be in fear of worse
than paying of monies and knew not whether more to hope or to fear
from the coming of the lady, but awaited her appearance with the
utmost amazement. The Soldan, then, having accorded Sicurano his wish,
the latter threw himself, weeping, on his knees before him and putting
off, as it were at one and the same time, his manly voice and
masculine demeanour, said, 'My lord, I am the wretched misfortunate
Ginevra, who have these six years gone wandering in man's disguise
about the world, having been foully and wickedly aspersed by this
traitor Ambrogiuolo and given by yonder cruel and unjust man to one
of his servants to be slain and eaten of wolves.' Then, tearing open
the fore part of her clothes and showing her breast, she discovered
herself to the Soldan and all else who were present and after, turning
to Ambrogiuolo, indignantly demanded of him when he had ever lain with
her, according as he had aforetime boasted; but he, now knowing her
and fallen well nigh dumb for shame, said nothing. The Soldan, who had
always held her a man, seeing and hearing this, fell into such a
wonderment that he more than once misdoubted that which he saw and
heard to be rather a dream than true. However, after his amazement had
abated, apprehending the truth of the matter, he lauded to the utmost
the life and fashions of Ginevra, till then called Sicurano, and
extolled her constancy and virtue; and letting bring her very
sumptuous woman's apparel and women to attend her, he pardoned
Bernabo, in accordance with her request, the death he had merited,
whilst the latter, recognizing her, cast himself at her feet, weeping
and craving forgiveness, which she, ill worthy as he was thereof,
graciously accorded him and raising him to his feet, embraced him
tenderly, as her husband. Then the Soldan commanded that Ambrogiuolo
should incontinent be bound to a stake and smeared with honey and
exposed to the sun in some high place of the city, nor should ever be
loosed thence till such time as he should fall of himself; and so was
it done. After this he commanded that all that had belonged to him
should be given to the lady, the which was not so little but that it
outvalued ten thousand doubloons. Moreover, he let make a very goodly
banquet, wherein he entertained Bernabo with honour, as Madam
Ginevra's husband, and herself as a very valiant lady and gave her, in
jewels and vessels of gold and silver and monies, that which amounted
to better[139] than other ten thousand doubloons. Then, the banquet
over, he caused equip them a ship and gave them leave to return at
their pleasure to Genoa, whither accordingly they returned with great
joyance and exceeding rich; and there they were received with the
utmost honour, especially Madam Ginevra, who was of all believed to be
dead and who, while she lived, was still reputed of great worth and
virtue. As for Ambrogiuolo, being that same day bounded to the stake
and anointed with honey, he was, to his exceeding torment, not only
slain, but devoured, of the flies and wasps and gadflies, wherewith
that country aboundeth, even to the bones, which latter, waxed white
and hanging by the sinews, being left unremoved, long bore witness of
his villainy to all who saw them. And on this wise did the deceiver
abide at the feet of the deceived."
[Footnote 132: Lit. Whatsoever an ass giveth against a wall, such he
receiveth (_Quale asino da in parete, tal riceve_). I cannot find any
satisfactory explanation of this proverbial saying, which may be
rendered in two ways, according as _quale_ and _tale_ are taken as
relative to a thing or a person. The probable reference seems to be to
the circumstance of an ass making water against a wall, so that his
urine returns to him.]
[Footnote 133: From this point until the final discovery of her true
sex, the heroine is spoken of in the masculine gender, as became her
assumed name and habit.]
[Footnote 134: Here Boccaccio uses the feminine pronoun, immediately
afterward resuming the masculine form in speaking of Sicurano.]
[Footnote 135: _i.e._ her.]
[Footnote 136: _i.e._ her.]
[Footnote 137: _i.e._ hers.]
[Footnote 138: _i.e._ her.]
[Footnote 139: Sic (_meglio_).]