THE SIXTH STORY

[Day the Third]

RICCIARDO MINUTOLO, BEING ENAMOURED OF THE WIFE OF

FILIPPELLO FIGHINOLFI AND KNOWING HER JEALOUSY OF HER

HUSBAND, CONTRIVETH, BY REPRESENTING THAT FILIPPELLO WAS ON

THE ENSUING DAY TO BE WITH HIS OWN WIFE IN A BAGNIO, TO

BRING HER TO THE LATTER PLACE, WHERE, THINKING TO BE WITH

HER HUSBAND, SHE FINDETH THAT SHE HATH ABIDDEN WITH

RICCIARDO

Elisa having no more to say, the queen, after commending the sagacity

of Il Zima, bade Fiammetta proceed with a story, who answered, all

smilingly, "Willingly, Madam," and began thus: "It behoveth somedele

to depart our city (which, like as it aboundeth in all things else, is

fruitful in instances of every subject) and as Elisa hath done, to

recount somewhat of the things that have befallen in other parts of

the world; wherefore, passing over to Naples, I shall tell how one of

those she-saints, who feign themselves so shy of love, was by the

ingenuity of a lover of hers brought to taste the fruits of love, ere

she had known its flowers; the which will at once teach you

circumspection in the things that may hap and afford you diversion of

those already befallen.

In Naples, a very ancient city and as delightful as any in Italy or

maybe more so, there was once a young man, illustrious for nobility of

blood and noted for his much wealth, whose name was Ricciardo

Minutolo. Albeit he had to wife a very fair and lovesome young lady,

he fell in love with one who, according to general opinion, far

overpassed in beauty all the other ladies of Naples. Her name was

Catella and she was the wife of another young gentleman of like

condition, hight Filippello Fighinolfi, whom, like a very virtuous

woman as she was, she loved and cherished over all. Ricciardo, then,

loving this Catella and doing all those things whereby the love and

favour of a lady are commonly to be won, yet for all that availing not

to compass aught of his desire, was like to despair; and unknowing or

unable to rid him of his passion, he neither knew how to die nor did

it profit him to live.

Abiding in this mind, it befell that he was one day urgently exhorted

by certain ladies of his kinsfolk to renounce this passion of his,

seeing he did but weary himself in vain, for that Catella had none

other good than Filippello, of whom she lived in such jealousy that

she fancied every bird that flew through the air would take him from

her. Ricciardo, hearing of Catella's jealousy, forthright bethought

himself how he might compass his wishes and accordingly proceeded to

feign himself in despair of her love and to have therefore set his

mind upon another lady, for whose love he began to make a show of

jousting and tourneying and doing all those things which he had been

used to do for Catella; nor did he do this long before well nigh all

the Neapolitans, and among the rest the lady herself, were persuaded

that he no longer loved Catella, but was ardently enamoured of this

second lady; and on this wise he persisted until it was so firmly

believed not only of others, but of Catella herself, that the latter

laid aside a certain reserve with which she was wont to entreat him,

by reason of the love he bore her, and coming and going, saluted him

familiarly, neighbourwise, as she did others.

It presently befell that, the weather being warm, many companies of

ladies and gentlemen went, according to the usance of the Neapolitans,

to divert themselves on the banks of the sea and there to dine and

sup, and Ricciardo, knowing Catella to be gone thither with her

company, betook himself to the same place with his friends and was

received into Catella's party of ladies, after allowing himself to be

much pressed, as if he had no great mind to abide there. The ladies

and Catella fell to rallying him upon his new love, and he, feigning

himself sore inflamed therewith, gave them the more occasion for

discourse. Presently, one lady going hither and thither, as commonly

happeneth in such places, and Catella being left with a few whereas

Ricciardo was, the latter cast at her a hint of a certain amour of

Filippello her husband, whereupon she fell into a sudden passion of

jealousy and began to be inwardly all afire with impatience to know

what he meant. At last, having contained herself awhile and being

unable to hold out longer, she besought Ricciardo, for that lady's

sake whom he most loved, to be pleased to make her clear[175] of that

which he had said of Filippello; whereupon quoth he, 'You conjure me

by such a person that I dare not deny aught you ask me; wherefore I am

ready to tell it you, so but you promise me that you will never say a

word thereof either to him or to any other, save whenas you shall by

experience have seen that which I shall tell you to be true; for that,

when you please, I will teach you how you may see it.'

[Footnote 175: Or, in modern parlance, to enlighten her.]

The lady consented to that which he asked and swore to him never to

repeat that which he should tell her, believing it the more to be

true. Then, withdrawing apart with her, so they might not be overheard

of any, he proceeded to say thus: 'Madam, an I loved you as once I

loved, I should not dare tell you aught which I thought might vex you;

but, since that love is passed away, I shall be less chary of

discovering to you the whole truth. I know not if Filippello have ever

taken umbrage at the love I bore you or have believed that I was ever

loved of you. Be this as it may, he hath never personally shown me

aught thereof; but now, having peradventure awaited a time whenas he

deemed I should be less suspicious, it seemeth he would fain do unto

me that which I misdoubt me he feareth I have done unto him, to wit,

[he seeketh] to have my wife at his pleasure. As I find, he hath for

some little time past secretly solicited her with sundry messages, all

of which I have known from herself, and she hath made answer thereunto

according as I have enjoined her. This very day, however, ere I came

hither, I found in the house, in close conference with my wife, a

woman whom I set down incontinent for that which she was, wherefore I

called my wife and asked her what the woman wanted. Quoth she, "She is

the agent of Filippello, with whom thou hast saddled me, by dint of

making me answer him and give him hopes, and she saith that he will

e'en know once for all what I mean to do and that, an I will, he

would contrive for me to be privily at a bagnio in this city; nay, of

this he prayeth and importuneth me; and hadst thou not, I know not

why, caused me keep this traffic with him, I would have rid myself of

him after such a fashion that he should never more have looked whereas

I might be." Thereupon meseemed this was going too far and that it was

no longer to be borne; and I bethought myself to tell it to you, so

you might know how he requiteth that entire fidelity of yours, whereby

aforetime I was nigh upon death. And so you shall not believe this

that I tell you to be words and fables, but may, whenas you have a

mind thereto, openly both see and touch it, I caused my wife make this

answer to her who awaited it, that she was ready to be at the bagnio

in question to-morrow at none, whenas the folk sleep; with which the

woman took leave of her, very well pleased. Now methinketh not you

believe that I will send my wife thither; but, were I in your place, I

would contrive that he should find me there in the room of her he

thinketh to meet, and whenas I had abidden with him awhile, I would

give him to know with whom he had been and render him such honour

thereof as should beseem him; by which means methinketh you would do

him such a shame that the affront he would fain put upon yourself and

upon me would at one blow be avenged.'

Catella, hearing this, without anywise considering who it was that

said it to her or suspecting his design, forthright, after the wont of

jealous folk, gave credence to his words and fell a-fitting to his

story certain things that had already befallen; then, fired with

sudden anger, she answered that she would certainly do as he

counselled,--it was no such great matter,--and that assuredly, if

Filippello came thither, she would do him such a shame that it should

still recur to his mind, as often as he saw a woman. Ricciardo, well

pleased at this and himseeming his device was a good one and in a fair

way of success, confirmed her in her purpose with many other words and

strengthened her belief in his story, praying her, natheless, never to

say that she had heard it from him, the which she promised him on her

troth.

Next morning, Ricciardo betook himself to a good woman, who kept the

bagnio he had named to Catella, and telling her what he purposed to

do, prayed her to further him therein as most she might. The good

woman, who was much beholden to him, answered that she would well and

agreed with him what she should do and say. Now in the house where the

bagnio was she had a very dark chamber, for that no window gave

thereon by which the light might enter. This chamber she made ready

and spread a bed there, as best she might, wherein Ricciardo, as soon

as he had dined, laid himself and proceeded to await Catella. The

latter, having heard Ricciardo's words and giving more credence

thereto than behoved her, returned in the evening, full of despite, to

her house, whither Filippello also returned and being by chance full

of other thought, maybe did not show her his usual fondness. When she

saw this, her suspicions rose yet higher and she said in herself,

'Forsooth, his mind is occupied with yonder lady with whom he thinketh

to take his pleasure to-morrow; but of a surety this shall not come to

pass.' An in this thought she abode well nigh all that night,

considering how she should bespeak him, whenas she should be with him

[in the bagnio].

What more [need I say?] The hour of none come, she took her

waiting-woman and without anywise changing counsel, repaired to the

bagnio that Ricciardo had named to her, and there finding the good

woman, asked her if Filippello had been there that day, whereupon

quoth the other, who had been duly lessoned by Ricciardo, 'Are you the

lady that should come to speak with him?' 'Ay am I,' answered Catella.

'Then,' said the woman, 'get you in to him.' Catella, who went seeking

that which she would fain not have found, caused herself to be brought

to the chamber where Ricciardo was and entering with covered head,

locked herself in. Ricciardo, seeing her enter, rose joyfully to his

feet and catching her in his arms, said softly, 'Welcome, my soul!'

Whilst she, the better to feign herself other than she was, clipped

him and kissed him and made much of him, without saying a word,

fearing to be known of him if she should speak. The chamber was very

dark, wherewith each of them was well pleased, nor for long abiding

there did the eyes recover more power. Ricciardo carried her to the

bed and there, without speaking, lest their voices should betray them,

they abode a long while, to the greater delight and pleasance of the

one party than the other.

But presently, it seeming to Catella time to vent the resentment she

felt, she began, all afire with rage and despite, to speak thus,

'Alas, how wretched is women's lot and how ill bestowed the love that

many of them bear their husbands! I, unhappy that I am, these eight

years have I loved thee more than my life, and thou, as I have felt,

art all afire and all consumed with love of a strange woman, wicked

and perverse man that thou art! Now with whom thinkest thou to have

been? Thou hast been with her whom thou hast too long beguiled with

thy false blandishments, making a show of love to her and being

enamoured elsewhere. I am Catella, not Ricciardo's wife, disloyal

traitor that thou art! Hearken if thou know my voice; it is indeed I;

and it seemeth to me a thousand years till we be in the light, so I

may shame thee as thou deservest, scurvy discredited cur that thou

art! Alack, woe is me! To whom have I borne so much love these many

years? To this disloyal dog, who, thinking to have a strange woman in

his arms, hath lavished on me more caresses and more fondnesses in

this little while I have been here with him than in all the rest of

the time I have been his. Thou hast been brisk enough to-day, renegade

cur that thou art, that usest at home to show thyself so feeble and

forspent and impotent; but, praised be God, thou hast tilled thine own

field and not, as thou thoughtest, that of another. No wonder thou

camest not anigh me yesternight; thou lookedst to discharge thee of

thy lading elsewhere and wouldst fain come fresh to the battle; but,

thanks to God and my own foresight, the stream hath e'en run in its

due channel. Why answerest thou not, wicked man? Why sayst thou not

somewhat? Art thou grown dumb, hearing me? Cock's faith, I know not

what hindereth me from thrusting my hands into thine eyes and tearing

them out for thee. Thou thoughtest to do this treason very secretly;

but, perdie, one knoweth as much as another; thou hast not availed to

compass thine end; I have had better beagles at thy heels than thou

thoughtest.'

Ricciardo inwardly rejoiced at these words and without making any

reply, clipped her and kissed her and fondled her more than ever;

whereupon quoth she, following on her speech, 'Ay, thou thinkest to

cajole me with thy feigned caresses, fashious dog that thou art, and

to appease and console me; but thou art mistaken; I shall never be

comforted for this till I have put thee to shame therefor in the

presence of all our friends and kinsmen and neighbours. Am I not as

fair as Ricciardo's wife, thou villain? Am I not as good a

gentlewoman? Why dost thou not answer, thou sorry dog? What hath she

more than I? Keep thy distance; touch me not; thou hast done enough

feats of arms for to-day. Now thou knowest who I am, I am well assured

that all thou couldst do would be perforce; but, so God grant me

grace, I will yet cause thee suffer want thereof, and I know not what

hindereth me from sending for Ricciardo, who hath loved me more than

himself and could never boast that I once even looked at him; nor know

I what harm it were to do it. Thou thoughtest to have his wife here

and it is as if thou hadst had her, inasmuch as it is none of thy

fault that the thing hath miscarried; wherefore, were I to have

himself, thou couldst not with reason blame me.'

Brief, many were the lady's words and sore her complaining. However,

at last, Ricciardo, bethinking himself that, an he let her go in that

belief, much ill might ensue thereof, determined to discover himself

and undeceive her; wherefore, catching her in his arms and holding her

fast, so she might not get away, he said, 'Sweet my soul, be not

angered; that which I could not have of you by simply loving you, Love

hath taught me to obtain by practice; and I am your Ricciardo.'

Catella, hearing this and knowing him by the voice, would have thrown

herself incontinent out of bed, but could not; whereupon she offered

to cry out; but Ricciardo stopped her mouth with one hand and said,

'Madam, this that hath been may henceforth on nowise be undone, though

you should cry all the days of your life; and if you cry out or cause

this ever anywise to be known of any one, two things will come

thereof; the one (which should no little concern you) will be that

your honour and fair fame will be marred, for that, albeit you may

avouch that I brought you hither by practice, I shall say that it is

not true, nay, that I caused you come hither for monies and gifts that

I promised you, whereof for that I gave you not so largely as you

hoped, you waxed angry and made all this talk and this outcry; and you

know that folk are more apt to credit ill than good, wherefore I shall

more readily be believed than you. Secondly, there will ensue thereof

a mortal enmity between your husband and myself, and it may as well

happen that I shall kill him as he me, in which case you are never

after like to be happy or content. Wherefore, heart of my body, go not

about at once to dishonour yourself and to cast your husband and

myself into strife and peril. You are not the first woman, nor will

you be the last, who hath been deceived, nor have I in this practised

upon you to bereave you of your own, but for the exceeding love that

I bear you and am minded ever to bear you and to be your most humble

servant. And although it is long since I and all that I possess or can

or am worth have been yours and at your service, henceforward I

purpose that they shall be more than ever so. Now, you are well

advised in other things and so I am certain you will be in this.'

Catella, what while Ricciardo spoke thus, wept sore, but, albeit she

was sore provoked and complained grievously, nevertheless, her reason

allowed so much force to his true words that she knew it to be

possible that it should happen as he said; wherefore quoth she,

'Ricciardo, I know not how God will vouchsafe me strength to suffer

the affront and the cheat thou hast put upon me; I will well to make

no outcry here whither my simplicity and overmuch jealousy have

brought me; but of this be assured that I shall never be content till

one way or another I see myself avenged of this thou hast done to me.

Wherefore, leave me, hold me no longer; thou hast had that which thou

desiredst and hast tumbled me to thy heart's content; it is time to

leave me; let me go, I prithee.'

Ricciardo, seeing her mind yet overmuch disordered, had laid it to

heart never to leave her till he had gotten his pardon of her;

wherefore, studying with the softest words to appease her, he so

bespoke and so entreated and so conjured her that she was prevailed

upon to make peace with him, and of like accord they abode together a

great while thereafter in the utmost delight. Moreover, Catella,

having thus learned how much more savoury were the lover's kisses than

those of the husband and her former rigour being changed into kind

love-liking for Ricciardo, from that day forth she loved him very

tenderly and thereafter, ordering themselves with the utmost

discretion, they many a time had joyance of their loves. God grant us

to enjoy ours!"

The Decameron of Giovanni Boccaccio · 第 40 / 114 题