=Biancabella, the daughter of Lamberico, Marquis of Monferrato, is
sent away by the stepmother of Ferrandino, King of Naples, in
order that she may be put to death; but the assassins only cut off
her hands and put out her eyes. Afterwards she, her hurts having
been healed by a snake, returns happily to Ferrandino.=
It is praiseworthy, or even absolutely necessary, that a woman, of
whatever state or condition she may be, should bear herself with
prudence in each and every undertaking she may essay, for without
prudence nothing will bring itself to a commendable issue. And if a
certain stepmother, of whom I am about to tell you, had used it with due
moderation when she plotted wickedly to take another’s life, she would
not herself have been cut off by divine judgment in such fashion as I
will now relate to you.
Once upon a time, now many years ago, there reigned in Monferrato a
marquis called Lamberico, very puissant, both on account of his
lordships and his great wealth, but wanting in children to carry on his
name. He was, forsooth, mighty anxious for progeny, but this bounty of
heaven was denied to him. Now one day it chanced that the marchioness
his wife was walking for her pleasure in the palace garden, and, being
suddenly overcome by sleep, she sat down at the foot of a tree and
slumber fell upon her. While she slept gently there crept up to her side
a very small snake, which, having passed stealthily under her clothes
without arousing her by its presence, made its way into her body, and by
subtle windings penetrated even into her womb, and there lay quiet.
Before long time had elapsed the marchioness, with no small pleasure to
herself, and with the highest delight of all the state, proved to be
with child, and, when the season of her lying-in came, she was delivered
of a female child, round the neck of which there was coiled three times
something in the similitude of a serpent. When the midwives, who were in
attendance upon the marchioness, saw this, they were much affrighted;
but the snake, without causing any hurt whatsoever, untwined itself from
the infant’s neck, and, winding itself along the floor and stretching
itself out, made its way into the garden.
Now when the child had been duly cared for and clothed, the nurses
having washed it clean in a bath of clear water and swathed it in
snow-white linen, they began to see, little by little, that round about
its neck was a collar of gold, fashioned with the most subtle handiwork.
So fine was it, and so lovely, that it seemed to shed its lustre from
between the skin and the flesh, just as the most precious jewels are
wont to shine out from a closure of transparent crystal, and, moreover,
it encircled the neck of the infant just as many times as the little
serpent had cast its folds thereabout. The little girl, to whom, on
account of her exceeding loveliness, the name of Biancabella was given,
grew up in such goodliness and beauty that it seemed as if she must be
sprung from divine and not from human stock. When she had come to the
age of ten years it chanced that one day she went with her nurse upon a
terrace, from whence she observed a fair garden full of roses and all
manner of other lovely flowers. Then, turning towards the nurse who had
her in charge, she demanded of her what garden that was which she had
never seen before. To this the nurse replied that it was a place which
her mother called her own garden, and one, moreover, in which she was
wont often to take her recreation. Then said the child to her: ‘I have
never seen anything so fair before, and I had fain go into it and walk
there.’ Then the nurse, taking Biancabella by the hand, led her into the
garden, and, having suffered the child to go a little distance apart
from her, she sat down under the shade of a leafy beech-tree and settled
herself to sleep, letting the little girl take her pleasure the while in
roaming about the garden. Biancabella, who was altogether charmed with
the loveliness of the place, ran about, now here and now there,
gathering flowers, and, at last, when she felt somewhat tired, she sat
down under the shadow of a tree. Now scarcely had the child seated
herself upon the ground when there appeared a little snake, which crept
up close to her side. Biancabella, as soon as she saw the beast, was
mightily alarmed, and was about to cry out, when the snake thus
addressed her: ‘Cry not, I beg you, neither disturb yourself, nor have
any fear, for know that I am your sister, born on the same day as
yourself and at the same birth, and that Samaritana is my name. And I
now tell you that, if you will be obedient to what I shall command you,
I will make you happy in your life; but if, on the other hand, you
disobey me, you will come to be the most luckless, the most wretched
woman the world has ever yet seen. Wherefore, go your way now, without
fear of any sort, and to-morrow cause to be brought into this garden two
vessels, of which let one be filled with pure milk, and the other with
the finest water of roses. Then you must come to me by yourself without
companions.’
When the serpent was gone the little girl rose up from her seat and went
back to seek her nurse, whom she found still sleeping, and, having
aroused her, she returned with her to the palace without saying aught of
what had befallen her. And when the morrow had come Biancabella chanced
to be with her mother alone in the chamber, and the mother remarked that
the child bore upon her face a melancholy look. Whereupon she said:
‘Biancabella, what ails you that you put on so discontented a face? You
are wont to be lively and merry enough, but now you seem all sad and
woebegone.’ To this Biancabella replied: ‘There is nothing amiss with
me; it is only that I want to have taken into the garden two vessels, of
which one shall be filled with pure milk and the other of the finest
water of roses.’ The mother answered: ‘And why do you let yourself be
troubled by so small a matter as this, my child? Do you not know that
everything here belongs to you?’ Then the marchioness caused to be
brought to her two vessels, large and beautiful, filled, the one with
milk and the other with rose water, and had them carried into the
garden.
When the hour appointed by the serpent had come, Biancabella, without
taking any other damsel to bear her company, repaired to the garden,
and, having opened the door thereof, she went in and made fast the
entrance, and then seated herself upon the ground at the spot where the
two vessels had been placed. Almost as soon as she had sat down the
serpent appeared and came near her, and straightway commanded her to
strip off all her clothes, and then, naked as she was, to step into the
vessel which was filled with milk. When she had done this, the serpent
twined itself about her, thus bathing her body in every part with the
white milk and licking her all over with its tongue, rendering her pure
and perfect in every part where, peradventure, aught that was faulty
might have been found. Next, having bid her come out of the vessel of
milk, the serpent made her enter the one which was filled with rose
water, whereupon all her limbs were scented with odours so sweet and
restorative that she felt as if she were filled with fresh life. Then
the serpent bade her put on her clothes once more, giving her at the
same time express command that she should hold her peace as to what had
befallen her, and to speak no word thereanent even to her father and
mother. For the serpent willed that no other woman in all the world
should be found to equal Biancabella in beauty or in grace. And finally,
after she had bestowed upon her every good quality, the serpent crept
away to its hiding-place.
[Illustration: Biancabella and the Serpent]
When this was done Biancabella left the garden and returned to the
palace. Her mother, when she perceived how her daughter had become more
lovely and gracious than ever, and fairer than any other damsel in the
world, was astonished beyond measure and knew not what to say. Wherefore
she questioned the young girl as to what she had done to indue herself
with such surpassing loveliness; but Biancabella had no answer to give
her. Hereupon the marchioness took a comb and began to comb and dress
her daughter’s fair locks, and forthwith from the girl’s hair there fell
down pearls and all manner of precious stones, and when Biancabella went
to wash her hands roses and violets and lovely flowers of all sorts
sprang up around them, and the odours which arose from these were so
sweet that it seemed as if the place had indeed become an earthly
paradise. Her mother, when she saw this marvel, ran to find Lamberico
her husband, and, full of maternal pride, thus addressed him: ‘My lord,
heaven has bestowed upon us a daughter who is the sweetest, the
loveliest, and the most exquisite work nature ever produced. For besides
the divine beauty and grace in her, which is manifest to all eyes,
pearls and gems and all other kinds of precious stones fall from her
hair, and—to name something yet more marvellous—round about her white
hands spring up roses and violets and all manner of flowers which give
out the sweetest odours to all those who may come near her to wonder at
the sight. All this I tell to you I assuredly would never have believed
had I not looked thereon with my own eyes.’
Her husband, who was of an unbelieving nature, was at first disinclined
to put faith in his wife’s words, and treated her speech as a subject
for laughter and ridicule, but she went on plying him without ceasing
with accounts of what she had witnessed, so that he determined to see
for himself how the matter really stood. Then, having made them bring
his daughter into his presence, he found about her even more marvellous
things than his wife had described, and on account of what he saw he
rejoiced exceedingly, and in his pride swore a great oath that there was
in the whole world no man worthy to be united to her in wedlock.
Very soon the fame and glory of the supreme and immortal beauty of
Biancabella began to spread itself through the whole world, and many
kings and princes and nobles came together from all parts in order to
win her love and favour and have her to wife, but not one of all these
suitors was counted worthy to enjoy her, inasmuch as each one of them
proved to be lacking in respect of one thing or another. But at last one
day there came a-wooing Ferrandino, King of Naples, who by his prowess
and by his illustrious name blazed out resplendent like the sun in the
midst of the smaller luminaries, and, having presented himself to the
marquis, demanded of him the hand of his daughter in marriage. The
marquis, seeing that the suitor was seemly of countenance, and well knit
in person, and full of grace, besides being a prince of great power and
possessions and wealth, gave his consent to the nuptials at once, and,
having summoned his daughter, without further parleying the two were
betrothed by joining of hands and by kissing one another.
Scarcely were the rites of betrothal completed, when Biancabella called
back to mind the words which her sister Samaritana had so lovingly
spoken to her, wherefore she withdrew herself from the presence of her
spouse under the pretext that she had certain business of her own to see
to, and, having gone to her own chamber, made fast the door thereof from
within, and then passed by a secret thoroughfare into the garden. When
she had come into the garden, she began to call upon Samaritana in a low
voice. But the serpent no more manifested herself as heretofore, and
Biancabella, when she perceived this, was mightily astonished, and,
after she had searched through every part of the garden without finding
a trace of Samaritana, a deep grief fell upon her, for she knew that
this thing had happened to her because she had not given due attention
and obedience to the commands which her sister had laid upon her.
Wherefore, grieving and bewailing heavily on account of the mischance
that had befallen her, she returned into her chamber, and having opened
the door, she went to rejoin her spouse, who had been waiting a long
time for her, and sat down beside him. When the marriage ceremonies were
completed, Ferrandino led his bride away with him to Naples, where, with
sumptuous state and magnificent festivities and the sound of trumpets,
they were welcomed by the whole city with the highest honour.
It happened that there was living at Naples Ferrandino’s stepmother, who
had two daughters of her own, both of them deformed and ugly; but,
notwithstanding this, she had set her heart on marrying one of them to
the king. But now, when all hope was taken from her of ever
accomplishing this design of hers, her rage and anger against
Biancabella became so savage that she could scarcely endure to look upon
her. But she was careful to conceal her animosity, feigning the while to
hold Biancabella in all love and affection. Now by a certain freak of
fortune the King of Tunis at this time began to set in array a mighty
force of armed men for service by land and likewise on sea, in order
that he might incite Ferrandino to make war (whether he did this because
Ferrandino had won Biancabella to wife, or for some other reason I know
not), and at the head of a very powerful army he had already passed the
bounds of the kingdom of Naples. On this account it was necessary that
Ferrandino should straightway take up arms for the defence of his realm,
and hurry to the field to confront his foe. Therefore, having settled
his affairs, and made provision of all things necessary for Biancabella
(she being now with child), he gave her over to the care of his
stepmother and set forth with his army.
Ferrandino had not long departed when this malevolent and froward-minded
woman made a wicked design on Biancabella’s life, and, having summoned
into her presence certain retainers who were entirely devoted to her,
she charged them to conduct Biancabella with them to some place or
other—feigning that what they were doing was done for her recreation—and
that they should not leave her until they had taken her life. Moreover,
in order that she might be fully assured that they had discharged their
duty, they were to bring back to her some sign of Biancabella’s death.
These ruffians, prompt for any sort of ill-doing, at once prepared to
carry out the commands of their mistress, and making pretence of
conducting Biancabella to some place where she might recreate herself,
they carried her away into a wood, and forthwith began to make
preparation to kill her. But when they perceived how lovely she was, and
gracious, they were moved to pity and had not the heart to take her
life. So they cut off both her hands and tore her eyes out of her head,
and these they carried back to the stepmother as certain proofs that
Biancabella had been killed by them. When this impious and cruel woman
saw what they brought in their hands, her joy and satisfaction were
unbounded, and, scheming still in her wicked heart to carry out her
nefarious designs, she spread through all the kingdom a report that both
her own daughters were dead, the one of a continued fever, and the other
of an imposthume of the heart, which had caused her death by
suffocation. Moreover, she went on to declare that Biancabella,
disordered by grief at the king’s departure, had miscarried of a child,
and had likewise been seized with a tertian fever which had wasted her
so cruelly that there was more cause to fear her death than to hope for
her recovery. But the scheme of this wicked cunning woman was to keep
one of her own daughters in the king’s bed, maintaining the while that
she was Biancabella, shrunken and distempered by the fever.
Ferrandino, after he had attacked and put to rout the army of his foe,
marched homeward in all the triumph of victory, hoping to find his
beloved Biancabella full of joy and happiness, but in lieu of this he
found her (as he believed) lying in bed shrivelled, pale, and
disfigured. Then he went up to the bed and gazed closely at her face,
and was overcome with astonishment when he looked upon the wreck she had
become, and could hardly persuade himself that the woman he saw there
could really be Biancabella. Afterwards he bade her attendants comb her
hair, and, in place of the gems and the precious jewels which were wont
to fall from the fair locks of his wife, there came forth great worms
which had been feeding on the wretched woman’s flesh, and from the hands
there came forth, not the roses and the sweet-smelling flowers which
ever sprang up around Biancabella’s, but a foulness and filth which
caused a nauseous sickness to all who came near her. But the wicked old
stepmother kept on speaking words of consolation to him, declaring that
all this distemper sprang from nothing else than the lengthened course
of the ailment which possessed her.
In the meantime the ill-fated Biancabella, bereft of her hands and blind
in both her eyes, was left alone in that solitary place, and, finding
herself in such cruel affliction, she called over and over again upon
her sister Samaritana, beseeching her to come to her rescue; but no
answer came to her except from the resounding voice of Echo, who cried
aloud through all the place. And while the unhappy Biancabella was left
in the agony of despair, conscious that she was cut off from all human
aid, there came into the wood a venerable old man, kindly of aspect and
no less kindly in his heart. And he, when he listened to the sad and
mournful voice which smote upon his hearing, made his way step by step
towards the place whence it came, and stopped when he found there a
blind lady with her hands cut off who was bitterly mourning the sad fate
which had overtaken her. When the good old man looked upon her, and saw
how sad was her condition, he could not bear to leave her thus in this
wilderness of broken trees and thorns and brambles, but, overcome by the
fatherly pity within him, he led her home with him to his house, and
gave her into the charge of his wife, commanding her very strictly to
take good care of the sufferer. Then he turned towards his three
daughters, who verily were as beautiful as three of the brightest stars
of heaven, and exhorted them earnestly to keep her company, and to
render to her continually any loving service she might require, and to
take care that she wanted for nothing. But the wife, who had a hard
heart, and none of the old man’s pity, was violently moved to anger by
these words of her husband, and, turning towards him, cried out:
‘Husband, what is this you would have us do with this woman, all blind
and maimed as she is? Doubtless she has been thus treated as a
punishment for her sins, and for no good behaviour.’ In reply to this
speech the old man spake in an angry tone: ‘You will carry out all the
commands I give you. If you should do aught else, you need not look to
see me here again.’
It happened that while the unhappy Biancabella was left in charge of the
wife and the three daughters, conversing with them of various things,
and meditating over her own great misfortunes, she besought one of the
maidens to do her a favour and comb her hair a little. But when the
mother heard this she was much angered, forasmuch as she would not allow
either of her children to minister in any way to the unfortunate
sufferer. But the daughter’s heart was more given to pity than was her
mother’s, and moreover she called to mind what her father’s commands had
been, and was conscious of some subtle air of dignity and high breeding
which seemed to emanate from Biancabella as a token of her lofty estate.
So she straightway unfastened the apron from her waist, and, having
spread it on the floor beside Biancabella, began to comb her hair softly
and carefully. Scarcely had she passed the comb thrice through the blond
tresses before there fell out of them pearls and rubies and diamonds and
all sorts of precious stones. Now the mother, when she saw what had
happened, was seized with dread, and stood as one struck with amazement;
moreover, the great dislike which at first she had harboured towards
Biancabella, now gave way to a feeling of kindly affection. And when the
old man had come back to the house they all ran to embrace him,
rejoicing with him greatly over the stroke of good fortune which had
come to deliver them from the bitter poverty which had hitherto
oppressed them. Then Biancabella asked them to bring her a bucket of
clear water, and bade them wash therewith her face and her maimed arms,
and from these, while all were standing by, roses and violets and other
flowers in great plenty fell down; whereupon they all deemed she must be
some divine personage, and no mortal woman.
Now after a season it came to pass that Biancabella felt a desire to
return to the spot where first the old man had found her. But he and his
wife and his daughters, seeing how great were the benefits they gathered
from her presence, loaded her with endearments, and besought her very
earnestly that she would on no account depart from them, bringing
forward many reasons why she should not carry out her wish. But she,
having resolutely made up her mind on this point, determined at all
hazards to go away, promising at the same time to return to them
hereafter. The old man, when he saw how firmly she was set on her
departure, took her with him without any further delay back to the place
where he had come upon her. And when they had reached this spot she gave
directions to the old man that he should depart and leave her, bidding
him also to come back there when evening should have fallen, in order
that she might return with him to his house.
As soon as the old man had gone his way the ill-fated Biancabella began
to wander up and down the gloomy wood, calling loudly upon Samaritana,
so that her cries and lamentations rose up even to the high heavens. But
Samaritana, though she was all the while nigh to her sister, and had
never for one moment abandoned her, refused as yet to answer to her
call. Whereupon the wretched Biancabella, deeming that she was
scattering her words upon the heedless winds, cried out, ‘Alas! what
further concern have I in this world, seeing that I have been bereft of
my eyes and of my hands, and now at last all human help is denied to
me.’ And as she thus spoke there came upon her a sort of frenzy, which
took away from her all hope of deliverance from her present evil case,
and urged her, in despair, to lay hands upon her own life. But because
there was at hand no means by which she could put an end to her
miserable being, she found her way to a pool of water, which lay not far
distant, in the mind there to drown herself. But when she had come to
the shore of the pool, and stood thereon ready to cast herself down into
the water, there sounded in her ears a voice like thunder, saying:
‘Alas, alas, wretched one! keep back from self-murder, nor desire to
take your own life, which you ought to preserve for some better end.’
Whereupon Biancabella, alarmed by this mighty voice, felt as it were
every one of her hairs standing erect on her head, but after a moment it
seemed to her that she knew the voice; so, having plucked up a little
courage, she said: ‘Who are you who wander about these woods,
proclaiming your presence to me by your kindly and pitiful words?’ Then
the same voice replied: ‘I am Samaritana, your sister, for whom you have
been calling so long and painfully.’ And Biancabella, when she listened
to these words, answered in a voice all broken by agonized sobs, and
said: ‘Alas, my sister! come to my aid, I beseech you; and if at any
past time I have shown myself disregardful of your counsel, I pray you
to pardon me. Indeed I have erred, and I confess my fault, but my
misdeed was the fruit of my ignorance, and not of my wickedness; for be
sure, if it had come from wickedness, divine justice would not have
suffered me, as the author of it, so long to cumber the earth.’
Samaritana, when she heard her sister’s woes set forth in this pitiful
story, and witnessed the cruel wrongs that had been done her, spake some
comforting words, and then, having gathered divers medicinal herbs of
wonderful power and virtue, she spread these over the places where
Biancabella’s eyes had been. Then she brought to her sister two hands,
and having joined these on to the wounded wrists, at once made them
whole and sound again. And when she had wrought this marvellous feat
Samaritana threw off from herself the scaly skin of the serpent, and
stood revealed as a maiden of lovely aspect.
The sun had already begun to veil its glittering rays, and the evening
shadows were creeping around, when the old man with anxious hasty steps
returned to the wood, where he found Biancabella sitting beside a maiden
wellnigh as lovely as herself. And he gazed steadily into her beauteous
face, standing the while like to a man struck with wonder, and could
scarcely believe it was Biancabella he looked upon. But when he was sure
it was really she, he cried: ‘My daughter, were you not this morning
blind and bereft of your hands? How comes it that you have been thus
speedily made whole again?’ Biancabella answered him: ‘My cure has been
worked, not by anything I myself have done, but by the virtue and the
kind ministering of this my dear sister who sits here beside me.’
Whereupon both the sisters arose from the place where they were seated,
and rejoicing greatly they went together with the old man to his house,
where the wife and the three daughters gave them a most loving and
hospitable welcome.
It came to pass after the lapse of many days that Samaritana and
Biancabella, and the old man with his wife and his three daughters, left
their cottage and betook themselves to the city of Naples, purposing to
dwell there, and, when they had entered the city, they chanced to come
upon a vacant space hard by the palace of the king, where they
determined to make their resting-place. And when the dark night had
fallen around them, Samaritana took in her hand a twig of laurel and
thrice struck the earth therewith, uttering certain mystic words the
while, and almost before the sound of these words had ceased there
sprang up forthwith before them a palace, the most beautiful and
sumptuous that ever was seen. The next morning Ferrandino the king went
early to look out of the window, and when he beheld the rich and
marvellous palace standing where there had been nothing the night
before, he was altogether overcome with amazement, and called his wife
and his stepmother to come and see it; but these were greatly disturbed
in mind at the sight thereof, for a boding came upon them that some ill
was about to befall them.
While Ferrandino was standing, scanning closely the palace before him,
and examining it in all parts, he lifted his eyes to a certain window,
and there, in the chamber inside, he beheld two ladies of a beauty more
rich and dazzling than the sun. And no sooner had his eyes fallen upon
them than he felt a tempest of passion rising in his heart, for he
assuredly recognized in one of them some similitude of that loveliness
which had once been Biancabella’s. And when he asked who they were, and
from what land they had come, the answer which was given him was that
they were two ladies who had been exiled from their home, and that they
had journeyed from Persia, with all their possessions, to take up their
abode in the noble city of Naples. When he heard this, Ferrandino sent a
messenger to inquire whether he would be doing them any pleasure in
waiting upon them, accompanied by the ladies of his court, to pay them a
visit of welcome, and to this gracious message they sent an answer,
saying that it would indeed be a very precious honour to be thus visited
by him, but that it would be more decorous and respectful if they, as
subjects, should pay this duty to him, than that he, as lord and king,
should visit them.
Hereupon Ferrandino bade them summon the queen and the other ladies of
the court, and with these (although at first they refused to go, being
so greatly in fear of their impending ruin) he betook himself to the
palace of the two ladies, who, with all friendly signs of welcome and
with modest bearing, gave him the reception due to a highly honoured
guest, showing him the wide loggias, and the roomy halls, and the richly
ornamented chambers, the walls of which were lined with alabaster and
fine porphyry, while about them were to be seen on all sides carven
figures which looked like life. And when they had exhibited to the king
all parts of the sumptuous palace, the two fair young women approached
Ferrandino and besought him most gracefully that he would deign to come
one day with his queen and dine at their table. The king, whose heart
was not hard enough to remain unaffected by all he had seen, and who was
gifted moreover with a magnanimous and liberal spirit, graciously
accepted the invitation. And when he had tendered his thanks to the two
ladies for the noble welcome they had given him, he and the queen
departed together and returned to their own palace. When the day fixed
for the banquet had come, the king and the queen and the stepmother,
clad in their royal robes and accompanied by some of the ladies of the
court, went to do honour to the magnificent feast set out in the most
sumptuous fashion. And after he had given them water to wash their
hands, the seneschal bade them conduct the king and the queen to a table
apart, set somewhat higher, but at the same time near to the others, and
having done this, he caused all the rest of the guests to seat
themselves according to their rank, and in this fashion they all feasted
merrily and joyfully together.
When the stately feast had come to an end and the tables had been
cleared, Samaritana rose from her seat, and turning towards the king and
the queen, spake thus: ‘Your majesties, in order that the time may not
be irksome to us, as it may if we sit here idle, let one or other of us
propose something in the way of diversion which will let us pass the day
pleasantly.’ And when the guests heard what Samaritana said, they all
agreed that she had spoken well, but yet there was found no one bold
enough to make such a proposition as she had called for. Whereupon
Samaritana, when she perceived they were all silent, went on: ‘Since it
appears that no one of this company is prepared to put forward anything,
I, with your majesty’s leave, will bid come hither one of our own
maidens, whose singing perchance will give you no little pleasure.’ And
having summoned the damsel, whose name was Silveria, into the
banqueting-room, Samaritana commanded her to take a lyre in her hand and
to sing thereto something in honour of the king which should be worthy
of their praise. And the damsel, obedient to her lady’s command, took
her lyre, and, having placed herself before the king, sang in a soft and
pleasant voice while she touched the resounding strings with the
plectrum, telling in her chant the story of Biancabella from beginning
to end, but not mentioning her by name. When the whole of the story had
been set forth, Samaritana again rose to her feet, and demanded of the
king what would be the fitting punishment, what torture would be cruel
enough for those who had put their hands to such an execrable crime.
Then the stepmother, who deemed that she might perchance get a release
for her misdeeds by a prompt and ready reply, did not wait for the king
to give his answer, but cried out in a bold and confident tone, ‘Surely
to be cast into a furnace heated red hot would be but a light punishment
for the offences of such a one.’ Then Samaritana, with her countenance
all afire with vengeance and anger, made answer to her: ‘Thou thyself
art the very same guilty and barbarous woman, through whose nefarious
working all these cruel wrongs have been done; and thou, wicked and
accursed one, hast condemned thyself to a righteous penalty out of thine
own mouth.’ Then Samaritana, turning towards the king with a look of joy
upon her face, said to him, ‘Behold! this is your Biancabella, this is
the wife you loved so dearly, this is she without whom you could not
live.’ Then, to prove the truth of her words, Samaritana gave the word
to the three daughters of the old man that they should forthwith, in the
presence of the king, begin to comb Biancabella’s fair and wavy hair,
and scarcely had they begun when (as has been told before) there fell
out of her tresses many very precious and exquisite jewels, and from her
hands came forth roses exhaling the sweet scents of morning, and all
manner of odoriferous flowers. And for yet greater certainty she pointed
out to the king how the snow-white neck of Biancabella was encircled by
a fine chain of the most delicately wrought gold, which grew naturally
between the skin and the flesh, and shone out as through the clearest
crystal.
When the king perceived by these manifest and convincing signs that she
was indeed his own Biancabella, he began to weep for the joy he felt,
and to embrace her tenderly. But before he left that place he caused to
be heated hot a furnace, and into this he bade them cast the stepmother
and her two daughters. Thus their repentance for their crimes came too
late, and they made a miserable end to their lives. And after this the
three daughters of the old man were given honourably in marriage, and
the King Ferrandino with Biancabella and Samaritana lived long and
happily, and when Ferrandino died his son succeeded to his kingdom.
During the telling of Lauretta’s story divers of the listeners were
several times moved to tears, and, when she had brought it to an end,
the Signora bade her follow the example of those who had gone before
her, and set forth her enigma. Therefore she, not waiting for any
further command, gave it in the following words:
A proud and cruel maid I spied,
As through the flowery meads she hied.
Behind her trailed a lengthy train,
Upreared her head in high disdain.
And swiftly on her way she took,
And sharp her touch, and eke her look.
What though her tongue moves all around,
She utters neither voice nor sound.
She is long, and thin, and wise,
He can tell her name who tries.
All the company listened attentively to the enigma which Lauretta gave
to them in her sportive way, and she, when she saw there was little
likelihood that anyone would find the solution thereof, spake thus:
“Dear ladies, so as not to keep you any longer in suspense, or to weary
yet more your minds, which must needs be somewhat harassed on account of
the pathetic story I have just told you, I will tell you the answer
straightway, if such be your pleasure. The damsel I described therein is
nothing else than the serpent which, when it goes through the flowery
meadows, keeps its head erect and its tail trailing on the ground behind
it, and frightens with its sharp eye everyone who may happen to behold
it.”
As soon as Lauretta had finished her speech everyone was much astonished
that the solution of the riddle had not been guessed by some one or
other. And when she had resumed her seat the Signora made a sign to
Alteria that she should tell them her fable, and she, having risen and
made obeisance to the Signora, began it forthwith.
[Illustration: [Fleuron]]