--
Bernabo of Genoa, deceived by Ambrogiuolo, loses his money and commands his
innocent wife to be put to death. She escapes, habits herself as a man, and
serves the Soldan. She discovers the deceiver, and brings Bernabo to
Alexandria, where the deceiver is punished. She then resumes the garb of a
woman, and with her husband returns wealthy to Genoa.
--
When Elisa had performed her part, and brought her touching story to a
close, Queen Philomena, a damsel no less stately than fair of person, and of
a surpassingly sweet and smiling mien, having composed herself to speak,
thus began:--
Our engagements with Dioneo shall be faithfully observed; wherefore, as he
and I alone remain to complete the day's narration, I will tell my story
first, and he shall have the grace he craved, and be the last to speak.
After which prelude she thus began her story:--'Tis a proverb current among
the vulgar that the deceived has the better of the deceiver; a proverb
which, were it not exemplified by events, might hardly in any manner be
justified. Wherefore, while adhering to our theme, I am minded at the same
time dearest ladies to shew you that there is truth in this proverb; the
proof whereof should be none the less welcome to you that it may put you on
your guard against deceivers.
Know then that certain very great merchants of Italy, being met, as
merchants use, for divers reasons proper to each, at a hostelry in Paris,
and having one evening jovially supped together, fell a talking of divers
matters, and so, passing from one topic to another, they came at last to
discuss the ladies whom they had left at home, and one jocosely said:--"I
cannot answer for my wife; but for myself I own, that, whenever a girl that
is to my mind comes in my way, I give the go-by to the love that I bear my
wife, and take my pleasure of the new-comer to the best of my power." "And
so do I," said another, "because I know that, whether I suspect her or no,
my wife tries her fortune, and so 'tis do as you are done by; the ass and
the wall are quits." A third added his testimony to the same effect; and in
short all seemed to concur in the opinion that the ladies they had left
behind them were not likely to neglect their opportunities, when one, a
Genoese, Bernabo Lomellin by name, dissociated himself from the rest,
affirming that by especial grace of God he was blessed with a wife who was,
perhaps, the most perfect paragon to be found in Italy of all the virtues
proper to a lady, ay, and in great measure, to a knight or squire; inasmuch
as she was fair, still quite young, handy, hardy, and clever beyond all
other women in embroidery work and all other forms of lady's handicraft.
Moreover so well-mannered, discreet and sensible was she that she was as fit
to wait at a lord's table as any squire or manservant or such like, the best
and most adroit that could be found. To which encomium he added that she
knew how to manage a horse, fly a hawk, read, write and cast up accounts
better than as if she were a merchant; and after much more in the same
strain of commendation he came at length to the topic of their conversation,
asseverating with an oath that 'twas not possible to find a woman more
honest, more chaste than she: nay, he verily believed that, if he remained
from home for ten years, or indeed for the rest of his days, she would never
think of any of these casual amours with any other man.
Among the merchants who thus gossiped was a young man, Ambrogiuolo da
Piacenza, by name, who, when Bernabo thus concluded his eulogy of his wife,
broke out into a mighty laugh, and asked him with a leer, whether he of all
men had this privilege by special patent of the Emperor. Bernabo replied,
somewhat angrily, that 'twas a boon conferred upon him by God, who was
rather more powerful than the Emperor. To which Ambrogiuolo rejoined:--"I
make no doubt, Bernabo, that thou believest that what thou sayst is true;
but, methinks, thou hast been but a careless observer of the nature of
things; otherwise, I do not take thee to be of so gross understanding but
that thou must have discerned therein reasons for speaking more judiciously
of this matter. And that thou mayst not think that we, who have spoken with
much freedom about our wives, deem them to be of another nature and mould
than thine, but mayst know that we have but uttered what common sense
dictates, I am minded to go a little further into this matter with thee. I
have always understood, that of all mortal beings created by God man is the
most noble, and next after him woman: man, then, being, as is universally
believed, and is indeed apparent by his works, more perfect than woman, must
without doubt be endowed with more firmness and constancy, women being one
and all more mobile, for reasons not a few and founded in nature, which I
might adduce, but mean for the present to pass over. And yet, for all his
greater firmness, man cannot withstand--I do not say a woman's
supplications, but--the mere lust of the eye which she unwittingly excites,
and that in such sort that he will do all that is in his power to induce her
to pleasure him, not once, perhaps, in the course of a month, but a thousand
times a day. How, then, shouldst thou expect a woman, mobile by nature, to
resist the supplications, the flatteries, the gifts, and all the other modes
of attack that an accomplished seducer will employ? Thou thinkest that she
may hold out! Nay verily, affirm it as thou mayst, I doubt thou dost not
really so think. Thou dost not deny that thy wife is a woman, a creature of
flesh and blood like the rest; and if so, she must have the same cravings,
the same natural propensities as they, and no more force to withstand them;
wherefore 'tis at least possible, that, however honest she be, she will do
as others do; and nought that is possible admits such peremptory denial or
affirmation of its contrary as this of thine."
Whereto Bernabo returned--"I am a merchant and no philosopher, and I will
give thee a merchant's answer. I acknowledge that what thou sayst is true of
vain and foolish women who have no modesty, but such as are discreet are so
sensitive in regard of their honour that they become better able to preserve
it than men, who have no such solicitude; and my wife is one of this sort."
"Doubtless," observed Ambrogiuolo, "few would be found to indulge in these
casual amours, if every time they did so a horn grew out on the brow to
attest the fact; but not only does no horn make its appearance but not so
much as a trace or vestige of a horn, so only they be but prudent; and the
shame and dishonour consist only in the discovery: wherefore, if they can do
it secretly, they do it, or are fools to refrain. Hold it for certain that
she alone is chaste who either had never suit made to her, or, suing
herself, was repulsed. And albeit I know that for reasons true and founded
in nature this must needs be, yet I should not speak so positively thereof
as I do, had I not many a time with many a woman verified it by experience.
And I assure thee that, had I but access to this most saintly wife of thine,
I should confidently expect very soon to have the same success with her as
with others." Then Bernabo angrily:--"'Twere long and tedious to continue
this discussion. I should have my say, and thou thine, and in the end
'twould come to nothing. But, as thou sayst that they are all so compliant,
and that thou art so accomplished a seducer, I give thee this pledge of the
honour of my wife: I consent to forfeit my head, if thou shouldst succeed in
bringing her to pleasure thee in such a sort; and shouldst thou fail, thou
shalt forfeit to me no more than one thousand florins of gold."
Elated by this unexpected offer, Ambrogiuolo replied:--"I know not what I
should do with thy blood, Bernabo, if I won the wager; but, if thou wouldst
have proof of what I have told thee, lay five thousand florins of gold,
which must be worth less to thee than thy head, against a thousand of mine,
and, whereas thou makest no stipulation as to time, I will bind myself to go
to Genoa, and within three months from my departure hence to have had my
pleasure of thy wife, and in witness thereof to bring back with me, of the
things which she prizes most dearly, evidence of her compliance so weighty
and conclusive that thou thyself shalt admit the fact; nor do I require
ought of thee but that thou pledge thy faith neither to come to Genoa nor to
write word to her of this matter during the said three months." Bernabo
professed himself well content; and though the rest of the company, seeing
that the compact might well have very evil consequences, did all that they
could to frustrate it, yet the two men were now so heated that, against the
will of the others, they set it down fairly in writing, and signed it each
with his own hand. This done, Ambrogiuolo, leaving Bernabo at Paris, posted
with all speed for Genoa. Arrived there, he set to work with great caution;
and having found out the quarter in which the lady resided, he learned in
the course of a few days enough about her habits of life and her character
to know that what Bernabo had told him was rather less than the truth. So,
recognising that his enterprise was hopeless, he cast about for some device
whereby he might cover his defeat; and having got speech of a poor woman,
who was much in the lady's house, as also in her favour, he bribed her
(other means failing) to convey him in a chest, which he had had made for
the purpose, not only into the house but into the bedroom of the lady, whom
the good woman, following Bernabo's instructions, induced to take charge of
it for some days, during which, she said, she would be away.
So the lady suffered the chest to remain in the room; and when the night was
so far spent that Bernabo thought she must be asleep, he opened it with some
tools with which he had provided himself, and stole softly out. There was a
light in the room, so that he was able to form an idea of its situation, to
take note of the pictures and everything else of consequence that it
contained, and to commit the whole to memory. This done, he approached the
bed; and observing that the lady, and a little girl that was with her, were
fast asleep, he gently uncovered her, and saw that nude she was not a whit
less lovely than when dressed: he looked about for some mark that might
serve him as evidence that he had seen her in this state, but found nothing
except a mole, which she had under the left breast, and which was fringed
with a few fair hairs that shone like gold. So beautiful was she that he was
tempted at the hazard of his life to take his place by her side in the bed;
but, remembering what he had heard of her inflexible obduracy in such
affairs, he did not venture; but quietly replaced the bedclothes; and having
passed the best part of the night very much at his ease in her room, he took
from one of the lady's boxes a purse, a gown, a ring and a girdle, and with
these tokens returned to the chest, and locked himself in as before. In this
manner he passed two nights, nor did the lady in the least suspect his
presence. On the third day the good woman came by preconcert to fetch her
chest, and took it back to the place whence she had brought it. So
Ambrogiuolo got out, paid her the stipulated sum, and hied him back with all
speed to Paris, where he arrived within the appointed time. Then, in
presence of the merchants who were witnesses of his altercation with
Bernabo, and the wager to which it had given occasion, he told Bernabo that
he had won the bet, having done what he had boasted that he would do; and in
proof thereof he first of all described the appearance of the room and the
pictures, and then displayed the articles belonging to the lady which he had
brought away with him, averring that she had given them to him. Bernabo
acknowledged the accuracy of his description of the room, and that the
articles did really belong to his wife, but objected that Ambrogiuolo might
have learned characteristic features of the room from one of the servants,
and have come by the things in a similar way, and therefore, unless he had
something more to say, he could not justly claim to have won the bet.
"Verily," rejoined Ambrogiuolo, "this should suffice; but, as thou requirest
that I say somewhat further, I will satisfy thee. I say, then, that Madam
Zinevra, thy wife, has under her left breast a mole of some size, around
which are, perhaps, six hairs of a golden hue." As Bernabo heard this, it
was as if a knife pierced his heart, so poignant was his suffering; and,
though no word escaped him, the complete alteration of his mien bore
unmistakable witness to the truth of Ambrogiuolo's words. After a while he
said:--"Gentlemen, 'tis even as Ambrogiuolo says; he has won the bet; he has
but to come when he will, and he shall be paid." And so the very next day
Ambrogiuolo was paid in full, and Bernabo, intent on wreaking vengeance on
his wife, left Paris and set his face towards Genoa. He had no mind,
however, to go home, and accordingly halted at an estate which he had some
twenty miles from the city, whither he sent forward a servant, in whom he
reposed much trust, with two horses and a letter advising the lady of his
return, and bidding her come out to meet him. At the same time he gave the
servant secret instructions to choose some convenient place, and ruthlessly
put the lady to death, and so return to him. On his arrival at Genoa the
servant delivered his message and the letter to the lady, who received him
with great cheer, and next morning got on horseback and set forth with him
for her husband's estate. So they rode on, talking of divers matters, until
they came to a deep gorge, very lonely, and shut in by high rocks and trees.
The servant, deeming this just the place in which he might without risk of
discovery fulfil his lord's behest, whipped out a knife, and seizing the
lady by the arm, said:--"Madam, commend your soul to God, for here must end
at once your journey and your life." Terror-stricken by what she saw and
heard, the lady cried out:--"Mercy for God's sake; before thou slay me, tell
me at least wherein I have wronged thee, that thou art thus minded to put me
to death." "Madam," said the servant, "me you have in no wise wronged; but
your husband--how you may have wronged him I know not--charged me shew you
no mercy, but to slay you on this journey, and threatened to have me hanged
by the neck, should I not do so. You know well how bound I am to him, and
that I may not disobey any of his commands: God knows I pity you, but yet I
can no otherwise." Whereat the lady burst into tears, saying:--"Mercy for
God's sake; make not thyself the murderer of one that has done thee no
wrong, at the behest of another. The all-seeing God knows that I never did
aught to merit such requital at my husband's hands. But enough of this for
the present: there is a way in which thou canst serve at once God and thy
master and myself, if thou wilt do as I bid thee: take, then, these clothes
of mine and give me in exchange just thy doublet and a hood; and carry the
clothes with thee to my lord and thine, and tell him that thou hast slain
me; and I swear to thee by the life which I shall have received at thy
hands, that I will get me gone, and there abide whence news of me shall
never reach either him or thee or these parts." The servant, being loath to
put her to death, soon yielded to pity; and so he took her clothes, allowing
her to retain a little money that she had, and gave her one of his worser
doublets and a hood; then, praying her to depart the country, he left her
afoot in the gorge, and returned to his master, whom he gave to understand
that he had not only carried out his orders but had left the lady's body a
prey to wolves. Bernabo after a while returned to Genoa, where, the supposed
murder being bruited abroad, he was severely censured.
Alone and disconsolate, the lady, as night fell, disguised herself as best
she could, and hied her to a neighbouring village, where, having procured
what was needful from an old woman, she shortened the doublet and fitted it
to her figure, converted her chemise into a pair of breeches, cut her hair
close, and, in short, completely disguised herself as a sailor. She then
made her way to the coast, where by chance she encountered a Catalan
gentleman, by name Segner Encararch, who had landed from one of his ships,
which lay in the offing, to recreate himself at Alba, where there was a
fountain. So she made overture to him of her services, was engaged and taken
aboard the ship, assuming the name Sicurano da Finale. The gentleman put her
in better trim as to clothes, and found her so apt and handy at service that
he was exceeding well pleased with her.
Not long afterwards the Catalan sailed one of his carracks to Alexandria. He
took with him some peregrine falcons, which he presented to the Soldan, who
feasted him once or twice; and noting with approbation the behaviour of
Sicurano, who always attended his master, he craved him of the Catalan,
which request the Catalan reluctantly granted. Sicurano proved so apt for
his new service that he was soon as high in grace and favour with the Soldan
as he had been with the Catalan. Wherefore, when the time of year came at
which there was wont to be held at Acre, then under the Soldan's sway, a
great fair, much frequented by merchants, Christian and Saracen alike, and
to which, for the security of the merchants and their goods, the Soldan
always sent one of his great officers of state with other officers and a
guard to attend upon them, he determined to send Sicurano, who by this time
knew the language very well. So Sicurano was sent to Acre as governor and
captain of the guard for the protection of the merchants and merchandise.
Arrived there, he bestirred himself with great zeal in all matters
appertaining to his office; and as he went his rounds of inspection, he
espied among the merchants not a few from Italy, Sicilians, Pisans, Genoese,
Venetians, and so forth, with whom he consorted the more readily because
they reminded him of his native land. And so it befell that, alighting once
at a shop belonging to some Venetian merchants, he saw there among other
trinkets a purse and a girdle, which he forthwith recognised as having once
been his own. Concealing his surprise, he blandly asked whose they were, and
if they were for sale. He was answered by Ambrogiuolo da Piacenza, who had
come thither with much merchandise aboard a Venetian ship, and hearing that
the captain of the guard was asking about the ownership of the purse and
girdle, came forward, and said with a smile:--"The things are mine, Sir, and
I am not disposed to sell them, but, if they take your fancy, I will gladly
give them to you." Observing the smile, Sicurano misdoubted that something
had escaped him by which Ambrogiuolo had recognised him; but he answered
with a composed air:--"Thou dost smile, perchance, to see me, a soldier,
come asking about this woman's gear?" "Not so, Sir," returned Ambrogiuolo;
"I smile to think of the manner in which I came by it." "And pray," said
Sicurano, "if thou hast no reason to conceal it, tell me, in God's name, how
thou didst come by the things." " Why, Sir," said Ambrogiuolo, "they were
given me by a Genoese lady, with whom I once spent a night, Madam Zinevra by
name, wife of Bernabo Lomellin, who prayed me to keep them as a token of her
love. I smiled just now to think of the folly of Bernabo, who was so mad as
to stake five thousand florins of gold, against my thousand that I could not
bring his wife to surrender to me; which I did. I won the bet; and he, who
should rather have been punished for his insensate folly, than she for doing
what all women do, had her put to death, as I afterwards gathered, on his
way back from Paris to Genoa."
Ambrogiuolo had not done speaking before Sicurano had discerned in him the
evident cause of her husband's animosity against her, and all her woe, and
had made up her mind that he should not escape with impunity. She therefore
feigned to be much interested by this story, consorted frequently and very
familiarly with Ambrogiuolo, and insidiously captured his confidence,
insomuch that at her suggestion, when the fair was done, he, taking with him
all his wares, accompanied her to Alexandria, where she provided him with a
shop, and put no little of her own money in his hands; so that he, finding
it very profitable, was glad enough to stay. Anxious to make her innocence
manifest to Bernabo, Sicurano did not rest until, with the help of some
great Genoese merchants that were in Alexandria, she had devised an
expedient to draw him thither. Her plan succeeded; Bernabo arrived; and, as
he was now very poor, she privily arranged that he should be entertained by
one of her friends until occasion should serve to carry out her design. She
had already induced Ambrogiuolo to tell his story to the Soldan, and the
Soldan to interest himself in the matter. So Bernabo being come, and further
delay inexpedient, she seized her opportunity, and persuaded the Soldan to
cite Ambrogiuolo and Bernabo before him, that in Bernabo's presence
Ambrogiuolo might be examined of his boast touching Bernabo's wife, and the
truth hereof, if not to be had from him by gentle means, be elicited by
torture. So the Soldan, having Ambrogiuolo and Bernabo before him, amid a
great concourse of his people questioned Ambrogiuolo of the five thousand
florins of gold that he had won from Bernabo, and sternly bade him tell the
truth. Still more harsh was the aspect of Sicurano, in whom Ambrogiuolo had
placed his chief reliance, but who now threatened him with the direst
torments if the truth were not forthcoming. Thus hard bested on this side
and on that, and in a manner coerced, Ambrogiuolo, thinking he had but to
refund, in presence of Bernabo and many others accurately recounted the
affair as it had happened. When he had done, Sicurano, as minister of the
Soldan for the time being, turned to Bernabo and said:--"And thy wife, thus
falsely accused, what treatment did she meet with at thy hands?"
"Mortified," said Bernabo, "by the loss of my money, and the dishonour which
I deemed to have been done me by my wife, I was so overcome by wrath that I
had her put to death by one of my servants, who brought me word that her
corpse had been instantly devoured by a pack of wolves."
Albeit the Soldan had heard and understood all that had passed, yet he did
not as yet apprehend the object for which Sicurano had pursued the
investigation. Wherefore Sicurano thus addressed him:--"My lord, what cause
this good lady has to boast of her lover and her husband you have now
abundant means of judging; seeing that the lover at one and the same time
despoils her of her honour, blasting her fair fame with slanderous
accusations, and ruins her husband; who, more prompt to trust the falsehood
of another than the verity of which his own long experience should have
assured him, devotes her to death and the devouring wolves; and, moreover,
such is the regard, such the love which both bear her that, though both
tarry a long time with her, neither recognises her. However, that you may
know full well what chastisements they have severally deserved, I will now
cause her to appear in your presence and theirs, provided you, of your
especial grace, be pleased to punish the deceiver and pardon the deceived."
The Soldan, being minded in this matter to defer entirely to Sicurano,
answered that he was well content, and bade produce the lady. Bernabo, who
had firmly believed that she was dead, was lost in wonder; likewise
Ambrogiuolo, who now divined his evil plight, and dreading something worse
than the disbursement of money, knew not whether to expect the lady's advent
with fear or with hope. His suspense was not of long duration; for, as soon
as the Soldan signified his assent, Sicurano, weeping, threw herself on her
knees at his feet, and discarding the tones, as she would fain have divested
herself of the outward semblance, of a man, said:--"My lord, that forlorn,
hapless Zinevra am I, falsely and foully slandered by this traitor
Ambrogiuolo, and by my cruel and unjust husband delivered over to his
servant to slaughter and cast out as a prey to the wolves; for which cause I
have now for six years been a wanderer on the face of the earth in the guise
of a man." Then rending her robes in front and baring her breast, she made
it manifest to the Soldan and all others who were present, that she was
indeed a woman; then turning to Ambrogiuolo she haughtily challenged him to
say when she had ever lain with him, as he had boasted. Ambrogiuolo said
never a word, for he now recognised her, and it was as if shame had reft
from him the power of speech. The Soldan, who had never doubted that
Sicurano was a man, was so wonder-struck by what he saw and heard that at
times he thought it must be all a dream. But, as wonder gave place to
conviction of the truth, he extolled in the amplest terms the constancy and
virtue and seemliness with which Zinevra, erstwhile Sicurano, had ordered
her life. He then directed that she should be most nobly arrayed in the garb
of her sex and surrounded by a bevy of ladies. Mindful of her intercession,
he granted to Bernabo the life which he had forfeited; and she, when Bernabo
threw himself at her feet and wept and craved her pardon, raised him,
unworthy though he was, to his feet and generously forgave him, and tenderly
embraced him as her husband. Ambrogiuolo the Soldan commanded to be bound to
a stake, that his bare flesh, anointed with honey, might be exposed to the
sun on one of the heights of the city, there to remain until it should fall
to pieces of its own accord: and so 'twas done. He then decreed that the
lady should have the traitor's estate, which was worth not less but rather
more than ten thousand doubloons; whereto he added, in jewels and vessels of
gold and silver and in money, the equivalent of upwards of other ten
thousand doubloons, having first entertained her and her husband with most
magnificent and ceremonious cheer, accordant with the lady's worth. Which
done, he placed a ship at their disposal, and gave them leave to return to
Genoa at their pleasure. So to Genoa they returned very rich and happy, and
were received with all honour, especially Madam Zinevra, whom all the
citizens had believed to be dead, and whom thenceforth, so long as she
lived, they held of great consequence and excellency. As for Ambrogiuolo,
the very same day that he was bound to the stake, the honey with which his
body was anointed attracted such swarms of flies, wasps and gadflies,
wherewith that country abounds, that not only was his life sucked from him
but his very bones were completely denuded of flesh; in which state, hanging
by the sinews, they remained a long time undisturbed, for a sign and a
testimony of his baseness to all that passed by. And so the deceived had the
better of the deceiver.