=Messer Simplicio di Rossi is enamoured of Giliola, the wife of
Ghirotto Scanferla, a peasant, and having been caught in her
company is ill-handled by her husband therefor.=
One cannot deny, dear ladies, the gentle nature of love, but love rarely
accords a happy issue to the enterprises it inflames us to undertake.
And thus it fell out in the case of the lovesick Messer Simplicio di
Rossi, who, when he flattered himself that he was about to enjoy the
person of the woman he desired so ardently, had to fly from her laden
with as many buffets as he well could carry. All this history I will
duly set forth, if, as is your gracious custom, you will lend your ears
to the fable I purpose to relate to you.
In the village of Santa Eufemia, situated just below the plain of San
Pietro, in the territory of the famous and illustrious city of Padua,
there lived, some years ago, one Ghirotto Scanferla, a man rich and
influential enough for a man in his station, but at the same time a
factious, wrangling fellow, and he had for a wife a young woman named
Giliola, who, albeit that she was peasant born, was very fair and
graceful. With her Simplicio di Rossi, a citizen of Padua, fell
violently in love. Now it happened that he had a house which stood not
far removed from that of Ghirotto, and he was accustomed frequently to
roam about the neighbouring fields with his wife, a very beautiful lady,
whom however he held in but little esteem, although she had many good
qualities which ought to have bound him to her. So great was his passion
for Giliola that he got no rest day or night, but he let this passion
lie closely hidden in his heart, partly because he feared lest he might
in any way arouse the husband’s wrath, partly on account of Giliola’s
good name, and partly for fear of giving offence to his own wife. Now
close to Messer Simplicio’s house there was a fountain from which gushed
forth a stream of water, much sought by all the people round, and so
clear and delicious that even a dead man might have been tempted to
drink thereof; and hither every morning and evening Giliola would
repair, with a copper pail, to fetch water for her household needs.
Love, who of a truth spares nobody, spurred on Messer Simplicio in his
passion; but he, knowing what her life was and the good name she bore,
did not venture to manifest his love by any sign, and simply sustained
himself and comforted his heart by gazing now and then upon her beauty.
For her part she knew nothing of all this, nor was she cognizant at all
of his admiration; for, as became a woman of honest life, she gave heed
to nothing else but to her husband and her household affairs.
Now one day it happened that Giliola, when she went according to her
custom to fetch water, met Messer Simplicio, to whom she said, in her
simple, courteous way, as any woman might, ‘Good morrow, Signor,’ and to
this he replied by uttering the word ‘Ticco.’ His thought was to divert
her somewhat by a jest of this sort, and to make her familiar with his
humour. She, however, took no heed thereof, nor said another word, but
went straightway about her business. And as time went on the same thing
happened over and over again, Simplicio always giving back the same word
to Giliola’s greeting. She had no suspicion of Simplicio’s craftiness,
and always went back to her home with her eyes cast down upon the
ground; but after a time she determined that she would tell her husband
what had befallen her. So one day, when they were conversing pleasantly
together, she said to him, ‘Oh! my husband, there is something I should
like to tell you, something that perhaps will make you laugh.’ ‘And what
may this thing be?’ inquired Ghirotto. ‘Every time I go to the well to
draw water,’ said Giliola, ‘I meet Messer Simplicio, and when I give him
the good morning he answers to me “Ticco.” Over and over again I have
pondered over this word, but I cannot get at the meaning thereof.’ ‘And
what answer did you give him?’ said Ghirotto, and Giliola replied that
she had answered him nothing ‘Well,’ said Ghirotto, ‘take care that when
he next says “Ticco” to you you answer him “Tacco.” See that you give
good heed to this thing I tell you, and be sure not to say another word
to him, but come home according to your wont.’ Giliola went at the usual
time to the well to fetch the water, and met Messer Simplicio and gave
him good day, and he, as hitherto, answered her ‘Ticco.’ Then Giliola,
according to her husband’s directions, replied ‘Tacco,’ whereupon Messer
Simplicio, suddenly inflamed, and deeming that he had at last made his
passion known to her, and that he might now have his will of her, took
further courage and said, ‘And when shall I come?’ But Giliola, as her
husband had instructed her, answered nothing, but made her way home
forthwith, and being questioned by him how the affair had gone, she told
him how she had carried out everything he had directed her to do; how
Messer Simplicio had asked her when he might come, and how she had given
him no reply.
Now Ghirotto, though he was only a peasant, was shrewd enough, and at
once grasped the meaning of Messer Simplicio’s watchword, which
perturbed him mightily; for it struck him that this word meant more than
mere trifling.[24] So he said to his wife, ‘If the next time you go to
the well he should ask of you, “When shall I come?” you must answer him,
“This evening.” The rest you can leave to me.’
The next day, when Giliola went according to her wont to draw water at
the well, she found there Messer Simplicio, who was waiting for her with
ardent longing, and greeted him with her accustomed ‘Good morning,
Signor.’ To this the gallant answered ‘Ticco,’ and she followed suit
with ‘Tacco.’ Then he added, ‘When shall I come?’ to which she replied,
‘This evening.’ ‘Let it be so then,’ he said. And when Giliola returned
to her house she said to her husband, ‘I have done everything as you
directed.’ ‘What did he answer?’ said Ghirotto. ‘He said he would come
this evening,’ his wife replied.
Now Ghirotto, who by this time had got a bellyful of something else
besides vermicelli and maccaroni, spake thus to his wife: ‘Giliola, let
us go now and measure a dozen sacks of oats, for I will make believe
that I am going to the mill, and when Messer Simplicio shall come, you
must make him welcome and give him honourable reception. But before
this, have ready an empty sack beside those which will be full of oats,
and as soon as you hear me come into the house make him hide himself in
the sack thus prepared, and leave the rest to me.’ ‘But,’ said Giliola,
‘we have not in the house enough sacks to carry out the plan you
propose.’ ‘Then send our neighbour Cia,’ said the husband, ‘to Messer
Simplicio to beg him to lend us two, and she can also let it be known
that I have business at the mill this evening.’ And all these directions
were diligently carried out. Messer Simplicio, who had given good heed
to Giliola’s words, and had marked, moreover, that she had sent to
borrow two of his sacks, believed of a truth that the husband would be
going to the mill in the evening, and found himself at the highest pitch
of felicity and the happiest man in the world, fancying the while that
Giliola was as hotly inflamed with love for him as he was for her; but
the poor wight had no inkling of the conspiracy which was being hatched
for his undoing, otherwise he would assuredly have gone to work with
greater caution than he used.
Messer Simplicio had in his poultry yard good store of capons, and he
took two of the best of these and sent them by his body-servant to
Giliola, enjoining her to let them be ready cooked by the time when he
should be with her according to their agreement. And when night had come
he stole secretly out and betook himself to Ghirotto’s house, where
Giliola gave him a most gracious reception. But when he saw the
oat-sacks standing there he was somewhat surprised, for he expected that
the husband would have taken them to the mill; so he said to Giliola,
‘Where is Ghirotto? I thought he had gone to the mill, but I see the
sacks are still here; so I hardly know what to think.’ Then Giliola
replied, ‘Do not murmur, Messer Simplicio, or have any fear. Everything
will go well. You must know that, just at vesper-time, my husband’s
brother-in-law came to the house and brought word that his sister was
lying gravely ill of a persistent fever, and was not like to see another
day. Wherefore he mounted his horse and rode away to see her before she
dies.’ Messer Simplicio, who was indeed as simple as his name imports,
took all this for the truth and said no more.
Whilst Giliola was busy cooking the capons and getting ready the table,
lo and behold! Ghirotto her husband appeared in the courtyard, and
Giliola, as soon as she saw him, feigned to be grief-stricken and
terrified, and cried out, ‘Woe to us, wretches that we are! We are as
good as dead, both of us;’ and without a moment’s hesitation she ordered
Messer Simplicio to get into the empty sack which was lying there; and
when he had got in—and he was mightily unwilling to enter it—she set the
sack with Messer Simplicio inside it behind the others which were full
of oats, and waited till her husband should come in. And when Ghirotto
entered and saw the table duly set and the capons cooking in the pot, he
said to his wife: ‘What is the meaning of this sumptuous supper which
you have prepared for me?’ and Giliola made answer: ‘I thought that you
must needs come back weary and worn out at midnight, and, in order that
you might fortify and refresh yourself somewhat after the fatigues you
so constantly have to undergo, I wished to let you have something
succulent for your meal.’ ‘By my faith,’ said Ghirotto, ‘you have done
well, for I am somewhat sick and can hardly wait to take my supper
before I go to bed,’ and moreover I want to be astir in good time
to-morrow morning to go to the mill. But before we sit down to supper I
want to see whether the sacks we got ready for the mill are all in order
and of just weight.’ And with these words he went up to the sacks and
began to count them, and, finding there were thirteen, he feigned to
have made a miscount of them, and began to count them over again, and
still he found there were thirteen of them; so he said to his wife:
‘Giliola, what is the meaning of this? How is it that I find here
thirteen sacks while we only got ready twelve? Where does the odd one
come from?’ And Giliola answered: ‘Yes, of a certainty, when we put the
oats into the sacks there were only twelve, and how this one comes to be
here I cannot tell.’
Inside the sack, meantime, Messer Simplicio, who knew well enough that
there were thirteen sacks on account of his being there, kept silent as
a mouse and went on muttering paternosters beneath his breath, at the
same time cursing Giliola, and his passion for her, and his own folly in
having put faith in her. If he could have cleared himself from his
present trouble by flight, he would have readily taken to his heels, for
he feared the shame that might arise thereanent, rather than the loss.
But Ghirotto, who knew well enough what was inside the sack, took hold
of it and dragged it outside the door, which he had by design left open,
in order that the poor wretch inside the sack, after he should have been
well drubbed, might get out of the sack and have free field to go
whithersoever he listed. Then Ghirotto, having caught up a knotty stick
which he had duly prepared for the purpose, began to belabour him so
soundly that there was not a square inch of his carcass which was not
thrashed and beaten; indeed, a little more would have made an end of
Messer Simplicio. And if it had not happened that the wife, moved by
pity or by fear lest her husband should have the sin of murder on his
soul, wrenched the cudgel out of Ghirotto’s hand, homicide might well
have been the issue.
At last, when Ghirotto had given over his work and had gone away, Messer
Simplicio slunk out of his sack, and, aching from head to foot, made his
way home, half dreading the while that Ghirotto with his stick was close
behind him; and in the meantime Ghirotto and his wife, after eating a
good supper at Messer Simplicio’s cost, went to bed. And after a few
days had passed, Giliola, when she went to the well, saw Simplicio, who
was walking up and down the terrace in his garden, and with a merry
glance greeted him, saying, ‘Ticco, Messer Simplicio;’ but he, who still
felt the pain of the bruises he had gotten on account of this word, only
replied:
Neither for your good morning, nor for your tic nor your tac,
Will you catch me again, my lady, inside your sack.
When Giliola heard this she was struck silent, and went back to her
house with her face red for shame, and Messer Simplicio, after the sorry
usage he had received, changed his humour and gave the fullest and most
loving service to his own wife, whom he had hitherto disliked, keeping
his eyes and his hands off other men’s goods, so that he might not again
be treated to a like experience.
When Vicenza had made an end of her story, all the ladies cried out with
one voice: “If the Trevisan treated badly the women he dealt with in his
fable, Vicenza has in hers given the men yet worse measure in letting
Messer Simplicio be thus beaten and mauled in the mishandling he got.”
And while they were all laughing, one at this thing and another at that,
the Signora made a sign for silence in order that Vicenza might duly
propound her enigma; and the latter, feeling that she had more than
avenged the insult put upon her sex by the Trevisan, gave her enigma in
these terms:
I blush to tell my name aright,
Rough to touch, and rude to sight.
Wide and toothless is my mouth,
Red of hue my lips uncouth;
Black all round, and from below
Ardour oft will make me glow;
Rouse my passion closely pent,
Make me foam till I am spent.
A scullion base may e’en abuse me,
And all men at their pleasure use me.
The men were hard pressed to keep from laughing when they saw the ladies
cast down their eyes into their laps, smiling somewhat the while. But
the Signora, to whom modest speech was more pleasing than aught that
savoured of ribaldry, bent a stern and troubled glance upon Vicenza and
thus addressed her: “If I had not too much respect for these gentlemen,
I would tell you to your face what really is the meaning of this lewd
and immodest riddle of yours; but I will forgive you this once, only
take good heed that you offend not again in such fashion; for, if you
should, I will let you feel and know what my power over you really is.”
Then Vicenza, blushing like a morning rosebud at hearing herself thus
shamefully reproved, plucked up her courage and gave answer in these
terms: “Signora, if I have uttered a single word which has offended your
ears, or the ears of any of the modest gentlewomen I see around me, I
should assuredly deserve not only your reproof, but severe chastisement
to boot. But, seeing that my words were in themselves simple and
blameless, they scarcely merited so bitter a censure; for the
interpretation of my riddle, which has been apprehended by you in a
mistaken sense, will show my words to be true and prove my innocence at
the same time. The thing which my enigma describes is a stockpot, which
is black all round, and when fiercely heated by the fire boils over and
scatters foam on all sides. It has a wide mouth and no teeth, and takes
everything that may be thrown into it, and any scullion may take out
what he will when the dinner is being prepared for his master.”
When they heard from Vicenza this modest solution of her riddle, all the
listeners, men as well as women, gave her hearty praise, deeming the
while that she had been wrongfully reproved by the Signora. And now,
because the hour was late, and the rosy tints of morning already visible
in the sky, the Signora, without excusing herself in any way for the
scolding she had given Vicenza, dismissed the company, bidding them all
under pain of her displeasure to assemble in good time the following
evening.
=The End of the Second Night.=
[Illustration: [Fleuron]]
[Illustration: [Fleuron]]
=Night the Third.=
[Illustration: [Fleuron]]
[Illustration: [Fleuron]]
=The Fables and Enigmas of Messer Giovanni Francesco Straparola da
Caravaggio.=
=Night the Third.=
Already the sister of the sun had begun her reign in the sky over the
forests and the gloomy gorges of the hills, and showed her golden circle
over the half of heaven; already the car of Phœbus had sunk beneath the
western wave, the moving stars had lighted their lamps, and the pretty
birds, ceasing their pleasant songs and bickerings, sought repose in
their nests set amongst the green boughs, when the ladies and the
gallant youths as well met on the third evening in the accustomed spot
to renew their story-telling. And as soon as they were all seated
according to their rank, the Signora Lucretia commanded that the vase
should be brought forth as before, and in it she caused to be placed the
names of five damsels, who, according to the order determined by lot,
should that evening tell in turn their stories. The first name which was
drawn from the vase was that of Cateruzza, the second that of Arianna,
the third that of Lauretta, the fourth that of Alteria, and the fifth
that of Eritrea. Then the Signora gave the word for the Trevisan to take
his lute, and Molino his viol, and for all the rest to tread a measure
to Bembo’s leading. And when the dance had come to an end, and the sweet
lyre and the divine strings of the hollow lute were silent, the Signora
directed Lauretta to begin her song, and she, anxious to obey the
Signora in everything, took hands with her companions, and having made
respectful salutation, sang in clear and mellow tone the following song:
SONG.
Lady, while thy face I scan,
Where love smiling holds his court,
Lo! from out your beauteous eyes
Light so radiant doth arise,
That it shows us Paradise.
All my sighs and all my tears,
Which I foolish shed in vain;
All the anguish of my heart,
All my hidden woe and smart,
With my faint desire have part.
Then to love’s last mood I fly,
Recking nought that earth and sky
Stand beneath me and above;
So my soul is drawn by love
To the heights of passion free,
And I learn that fate’s decree
Binds me, whatsoe’er betide,
Dead or living, to thy side.
After Lauretta and her companions had given sign by their silence that
their song had come to an end, the Signora, bending her gaze upon the
fair and open countenance of Cateruzza, said that the task of making a
beginning of the story-telling of that third evening fell upon her, and
Cateruzza, with a becoming blush upon her cheek and laughing lightly,
began in these terms.