IT happened one day, close on the hours of vespers, that I had to go at
an unusual time for me from my house to my workshop; for I ought to say
that the latter was in the Banchi, while I lived behind the Banchi, and
went rarely to the shop; all my business there I left in the hands of my
partner, Felice. Having stayed a short while in the workshop, I
remembered that I had to say something to Alessandro del Bene. So I
arose, and when I reached the Banchi, I met a man called Ser Benedetto,
who was a great friend of mine. He was a notary, born in Florence, son
of a blind man who said prayers about the streets for alms, and a
Sienese by race. This Ser Benedetto had been very many years at Naples;
afterwards he had settled in Rome, where he transacted business for some
Sienese merchants of the Chigi. [1] My partner had over and over again
asked him for some moneys which were due for certain little rings
confided to Ser Benedetto. That very day, meeting him in the Banchi, he
demanded his money rather roughly, as his wont was. Benedetto was
walking with his masters, and they, annoyed by the interruption, scolded
him sharply, saying they would be served by somebody else, in order not
to have to listen to such barking. Ser Benedetto did the best he could
to excuse himself, swore that he had paid the goldsmith, and said he had
no power to curb the rage of madmen. The Sienese took his words ill, and
dismissed him on the spot. Leaving them, he ran like an arrow to my
shop, probably to take revenge upon Felice. It chanced that just in the
middle of the street we met. I, who had heard nothing of the matter,
greeted him most kindly, according to my custom, to which courtesy he
replied with insults. Then what the sorcerer had said flashed all at
once upon my mind; and bridling myself as well as I was able, in the way
he bade me, I answered: “Good brother Benedetto, don’t fly into a rage
with me, for I have done you no harm, nor do I know anything about these
affairs of yours. Please go and finish what you have to do with Felice.
He is quite capable of giving you a proper answer; but inasmuch as I
know nothing about it, you are wrong to abuse me in this way, especially
as you are well aware that I am not the man to put up with insults.” He
retorted that I knew everything, and that he was the man to make me bear
a heavier load than that, and that Felice and I were two great rascals.
By this time a crowd had gathered round to hear the quarrel. Provoked by
his ugly words, I stooped and took up a lump of mud-for it had
rained-and hurled it with a quick and unpremeditated movement at his
face. He ducked his head, so that the mud hit him in the middle of the
skull. There was a stone in it with several sharp angles, one of which
striking him, he fell stunned like a dead man: whereupon all the
bystanders, seeing the great quantity of blood, judged that he was
really dead.
Note 1. The MS. has Figi; but this is probably a mistake of the
amanuensis.