[Day the Fourth]
GIROLAMO LOVETH SALVESTRA AND BEING CONSTRAINED BY HIS
MOTHER'S PRAYERS TO GO TO PARIS, RETURNETH AND FINDETH HIS
MISTRESS MARRIED; WHEREUPON HE ENTERETH HER HOUSE BY STEALTH
AND DIETH BY HER SIDE; AND HE BEING CARRIED TO A CHURCH,
SALVESTRA DIETH BESIDE HIM
Emilia's story come to an end, Neifile, by the king's commandment,
began thus: "There are some, noble ladies, who believe themselves to
know more than other folk, albeit, to my thinking, they know less, and
who, by reason thereof, presume to oppose their judgment not only to
the counsels of men, but even to set it up against the very nature of
things; of which presumption very grave ills have befallen aforetime,
nor ever was any good known to come thereof. And for that of all
natural things love is that which least brooketh contrary counsel or
opposition and whose nature is such that it may lightlier consume of
itself than be done away by advisement, it hath come to my mind to
narrate to you a story of a lady, who, seeking to be wiser than
pertained unto her and than she was, nay, than the matter comported in
which she studied to show her wit, thought to tear out from an
enamoured heart a love which had belike been set there of the stars,
and so doing, succeeded in expelling at once love and life from her
son's body.
There was, then, in our city, according to that which the ancients
relate, a very great and rich merchant, whose name was Lionardo
Sighieri and who had by his wife a son called Girolamo, after whose
birth, having duly set his affairs in order, he departed this life.
The guardians of the boy, together with his mother, well and loyally
ordered his affairs, and he, growing up with his neighbour's children,
became familiar with a girl of his own age, the daughter of the
tailor, more than with any other of the quarter. As he waxed in age,
use turned to love so great and so ardent that he was never easy save
what time he saw her, and certes she loved him no less than she was
loved of him. The boy's mother, observing this, many a time chid and
rebuked him therefor and after, Girolamo availing not to desist
therefrom, complained thereof to his guardians, saying to them, as if
she thought, thanks to her son's great wealth, to make an orange-tree
of a bramble, 'This boy of ours, albeit he is yet scarce fourteen
years old, is so enamoured of the daughter of a tailor our neighbour,
by name Salvestra, that, except we remove her from his sight, he will
peradventure one day take her to wife, without any one's knowledge,
and I shall never after be glad; or else he will pine away from her,
if he see her married to another; wherefore meseemeth, to avoid this,
you were best send him somewhither far from here, about the business
of the warehouse; for that, he being removed from seeing her, she will
pass out of his mind and we may after avail to give him some well-born
damsel to wife.'
The guardians answered that the lady said well and that they would do
this to the best of their power; wherefore, calling the boy into the
warehouse, one of them began very lovingly to bespeak him thus, 'My
son, thou art now somewhat waxen in years and it were well that thou
shouldst begin to look for thyself to thine affairs; wherefore it
would much content us that thou shouldst go sojourn awhile at Paris,
where thou wilt see how great part of thy wealth is employed, more by
token that thou wilt there become far better bred and mannered and
more of worth than thou couldst here, seeing the lords and barons and
gentlemen who are there in plenty and learning their usances; after
which thou mayst return hither.' The youth hearkened diligently and
answered curtly that he was nowise disposed to do this, for that he
believed himself able to fare as well at Florence as another. The
worthy men, hearing this, essayed him again with sundry discourse,
but, failing to get other answer of him, told his mother, who, sore
provoked thereat, gave him a sound rating, not because of his
unwillingness to go to Paris, but of his enamourment; after which, she
fell to cajoling him with fair words, coaxing him and praying him
softly be pleased to do what his guardians wished; brief, she
contrived to bespeak him to such purpose that he consented to go to
France and there abide a year and no more.
Accordingly, ardently enamoured as he was, he betook himself to Paris
and there, being still put off from one day to another, he was kept
two years; at the end of which time, returning, more in love than
ever, he found his Salvestra married to an honest youth, a tent maker.
At this he was beyond measure woebegone; but, seeing no help for it,
he studied to console himself therefor and having spied out where she
dwelt, began, after the wont of young men in love, to pass before
her, expecting she should no more have forgotten him than he her. But
the case was otherwise; she had no more remembrance of him than if she
had never seen him; or, if indeed she remembered aught of him, she
feigned the contrary; and of this, in a very brief space of time,
Girolamo became aware, to his no small chagrin. Nevertheless, he did
all he might to bring himself to her mind; but, himseeming he wrought
nothing, he resolved to speak with her, face to face, though he should
die for it.
Accordingly, having learned from a neighbour how her house stood, one
evening that she and her husband were gone to keep wake with their
neighbours, he entered therein by stealth and hiding himself behind
certain tent cloths that were spread there, waited till, the twain
having returned and gotten them to bed, he knew her husband to be
asleep; whereupon he came whereas he had seen Salvestra lay herself
and putting his hand upon her breast, said softly, 'Sleepest thou yet,
O my soul?' The girl, who was awake, would have cried out; but he said
hastily, 'For God's sake, cry not, for I am thy Girolamo.' She,
hearing this, said, all trembling, 'Alack, for God's sake, Girolamo,
get thee gone; the time is past when it was not forbidden unto our
childishness to be lovers. I am, as thou seest, married and it
beseemeth me no more to have regard to any man other than my husband;
wherefore I beseech thee, by God the Only, to begone, for that, if my
husband heard thee, even should no other harm ensue thereof, yet would
it follow that I might never more avail to live with him in peace or
quiet, whereas now I am beloved of him and abide with him in weal and
in tranquility.'
The youth, hearing these words, was grievously endoloured and recalled
to her the time past and his love no whit grown less for absence,
mingling many prayers and many great promises, but obtained nothing;
wherefore, desiring to die, he prayed her at last that, in requital of
so much love, she would suffer him couch by her side, so he might warm
himself somewhat, for that he was grown chilled, awaiting her,
promising her that he would neither say aught to her nor touch her and
would get him gone, so soon as he should be a little warmed.
Salvestra, having some little compassion of him, granted him this he
asked, upon the conditions aforesaid, and he accordingly lay down
beside her, without touching her. Then, collecting into one thought
the long love he had borne her and her present cruelty and his lost
hope, he resolved to live no longer; wherefore, straitening in himself
his vital spirits,[252] he clenched his hands and died by her side,
without word or motion.
[Footnote 252: _Ristretti in sè gli spiriti._ An obscure passage;
perhaps "holding his breath" is meant; but in this case we should read
"_lo spirito_" instead of "_gli spiriti_."]
After a while the young woman, marvelling at his continence and
fearing lest her husband should awake, began to say, 'Alack, Girolamo,
why dost thou not get thee gone?' Hearing no answer, she concluded
that he had fallen asleep and putting out her hand to awaken him,
found him cold to the touch as ice, whereat she marvelled sore; then,
nudging him more sharply and finding that he stirred not, she felt him
again and knew that he was dead; whereat she was beyond measure
woebegone and abode a great while, unknowing what she should do. At
last she bethought herself to try, in the person of another, what her
husband should say was to do [in such a case]; wherefore, awakening
him, she told him, as having happened to another, that which had
presently betided herself and after asked him what counsel she should
take thereof,[253] if it should happen to herself. The good man
replied that himseemed the dead man should be quietly carried to his
house and there left, without bearing any ill will thereof to the
woman, who, it appeared to him, had nowise done amiss. Then said
Salvestra, 'And so it behoveth us do'; and taking his hand, made him
touch the dead youth; whereupon, all confounded, he arose, without
entering into farther parley with his wife, and kindled a light; then,
clothing the dead body in its own garments, he took it, without any
delay, on his shoulders and carried it, his innocence aiding him, to
the door of Girolamo's house, where he set it down and left it.
[Footnote 253: _i.e._ what course she should take in the matter,
_consiglio_ used as before (see notes, pp. 2 and 150) in this special
sense.]
When the day came and Girolamo was found dead before his own door,
great was outcry, especially on the part of his mother, and the
physicians having examined him and searched his body everywhere, but
finding no wound nor bruise whatsoever on him, it was generally
concluded that he had died of grief, as was indeed the case. Then was
the body carried into a church and the sad mother, repairing thither
with many other ladies, kinswomen and neighbours, began to weep
without stint and make sore moan over him, according to our usance.
What while the lamentation was at it highest, the good man, in whose
house he had died, said to Salvestra, 'Harkye, put some mantlet or
other on thy head and get thee to the church whither Girolamo hath
been carried and mingle with the women and hearken to that which is
discoursed of the matter; and I will do the like among the men, so we
may hear if aught be said against us.' The thing pleased the girl, who
was too late grown pitiful and would fain look upon him, dead, whom,
living, she had not willed to pleasure with one poor kiss, and she
went thither. A marvellous thing it is to think how uneath to search
out are the ways of love! That heart, which Girolamo's fair fortune
had not availed to open, his illhap opened and the old flames reviving
all therein, whenas she saw the dead face it[254] melted of a sudden
into such compassion that she pressed between the women, veiled as she
was in the mantlet, and stayed not till she won to the body, and
there, giving a terrible great shriek, she cast herself, face
downward, on the dead youth, whom she bathed not with many tears, for
that no sooner did she touch him than grief bereaved her of life, even
as it had bereft him.
[Footnote 254: _i.e._ her heart.]
The women would have comforted her and bidden her arise, not yet
knowing her; but after they had bespoken her awhile in vain, they
sought to lift her and finding her motionless, raised her up and knew
her at once for Salvestra and for dead; whereupon all who were there,
overcome with double pity, set up a yet greater clamour of
lamentation. The news soon spread abroad among the men without the
church and came presently to the ears of her husband, who was amongst
them and who, without lending ear to consolation or comfort from any,
wept a great while; after which he recounted to many of those who were
there the story of that which had befallen that night between the dead
youth and his wife; and so was the cause of each one's death made
everywhere manifest, the which was grievous unto all. Then, taking up
the dead girl and decking her, as they use to deck the dead, they laid
her beside Girolamo on the same bier and there long bewept her; after
which the twain were buried in one same tomb, and so these, whom love
had not availed to conjoin on life, death conjoined with an
inseparable union."