=Fortunio, on account of an injury done to him by his supposed father
and mother, leaves them, and after much wandering, comes to a
wood, where he finds three animals, who do him good service.
Afterwards he goes to Polonia, where he gets to wife Doralice, the
king’s daughter, as a reward for his prowess.=
There is a saying, very frequent in the mouths of common people, that it
is not seemly to jest at affliction nor to make a mock at the truth;
forasmuch as he who keeps his eyes and ears open, and holds his tongue,
is not likely to injure his fellows, and may hope himself to live in
peace.
Once upon a time there lived in one of the remoter districts of Lombardy
a man called Bernio, who, although he was not over well endowed with the
gifts of fortune, was held to be in no way wanting with respect to good
qualities of head and heart. This man took to wife a worthy and amiable
woman named Alchia, who, though she chanced to be of low origin, was
nevertheless of good parts and exemplary conduct, and loved her husband
as dearly as any woman could. This married pair greatly desired to have
children, but such a gift of God was not granted to them, peradventure
for the reason that man often, in his ignorance, asks for those things
which would not be to his advantage. Now, forasmuch as this desire for
offspring still continued to possess them, and as fortune obstinately
refused to grant their prayer, they determined at last to adopt a child
whom they would nurture and treat in every way as if he were their own
legitimate son. So one morning early they betook themselves to a certain
spot where young children who had been cast off by their parents were
often left, and, having seen there one who appeared to them more seemly
and attractive than the rest, they took him home with them, and brought
him up with the utmost care and good governance. Now after a time it
came to pass (according to the good pleasure of Him who rules the
universe and tempers and modifies everything according to His will) that
Alchia became with child, and when her time of delivery was come, was
brought to bed with a boy who resembled his father exactly. On this
account both father and mother rejoiced exceedingly, and called their
son by the name of Valentino.
The infant was well nurtured, and grew up strong and healthy and
well-mannered; moreover, he loved so dearly his brother—to whom the name
of Fortunio had been given—that he was inclined almost to fret himself
to death whenever they chanced to be separated the one from the other.
But the genius of discord, the foe of everything that is good, becoming
aware of their warm and loving friendship, and being able no longer to
suffer their good understanding to continue, one day interposed between
them, and worked her evil will so effectively that before long the two
friends began to taste her bitter fruits. Wherefore as they were
sporting together one day (after the manner of boys) they grew somewhat
excited over their game, and Valentino, who could not bear that Fortunio
should get any advantage over him in their play, became inflamed with
violent anger, and more than once called his companion a bastard and the
son of a vile woman. Fortunio, when he heard these words, was much
astonished, and perturbed as well, and turning to Valentino, he said to
him, ‘And why am I a bastard?’ In reply, Valentino, muttering angrily
between his teeth, repeated what he had already said, and even more.
Whereupon Fortunio, greatly grieved and disturbed in mind, gave over
playing and went forthwith to his so-called mother, and asked her
whether he was in sooth the son of Bernio and herself. Alchia answered
that he was, and, having learned that Fortunio had been insulted by
Valentino, she rated the latter soundly, and declared that she would
give him heavy chastisement if he should repeat his offence. But the
words which Alchia had spoken roused fresh suspicion in Fortunio, and
made him wellnigh certain that he was not her legitimate son; indeed,
there often came upon him the desire to put her to the test, to see
whether she really was his mother or not, and thus discover the truth.
In the end he questioned and importuned her so closely that she
acknowledged he was not born of her, but that he had been adopted and
brought up in their house for the love of God and for the alleviation of
the misfortune which had been sent upon herself and her husband. These
words were as so many dagger-thrusts in the young man’s heart, piling up
one sorrow upon another, and at last his grief grew beyond endurance;
but, seeing that he could not bring himself to seek refuge from his
trouble by a violent death, he determined to depart from Bernio’s roof,
and, in wandering up and down the world, to seek a better fortune.
Alchia, when she perceived that Fortunio’s desire to quit the house grew
stronger every day, was greatly incensed against him, and, as she found
herself powerless to dissuade him from his purpose, she heaped all sorts
of curses upon him, praying that if ever he should venture upon the sea
he might be engulfed in the waves and swallowed up by the sirens, as
ships are often swallowed up by storms. Fortunio, driven on by a
headlong access of rage, took no heed of Alchia’s malediction, and,
without saying any further words of farewell, either to her or to
Bernio, departed, and took his way towards the east. He journeyed on,
passing by marshes, by valleys, by rocks, and all kinds of wild and
desert spots, and at last, one day between sext and none, he came upon a
thick and densely-tangled forest, in the midst of which, by strange
chance, he found a wolf and an eagle and an ant, who were engaged in a
long and sharp contention over the body of a stag which they had lately
captured, without being able to agree as to how the venison should be
divided amongst themselves. When Fortunio came upon the three animals
they were in the midst of their stubborn dispute, and not one was
disposed in any way to yield to the others; but after a while they
agreed that this young man, who had thus unexpectedly come amongst them,
should adjudicate the matter in question, and assign to each one of them
such part of the spoil as he might deem most fitting. Then, when they
had assented to these preliminaries, and had promised that they would be
satisfied with and observe the terms of any award he might make, even
though it might seem to be unjust, Fortunio readily undertook the task,
and after he had carefully considered the case, he divided the prey
amongst them in the following manner. To the wolf, as to a voracious
animal and one very handy with his sharp teeth, he gave, as the guerdon
of his toil in the chase, all the bones of the deer and all the lean
flesh. To the eagle, a rapacious fowl, but furnished with no teeth, he
gave the entrails, and all the fat lying round the lean parts and the
bones. To the provident and industrious ant, which had none of that
strength which nature had bestowed upon the wolf and the eagle, he gave
the soft brains as her share of reward for the labour she had undergone.
When the three animals understood the terms of this just and
carefully-considered decision, they were fully satisfied, and thanked
Fortunio as well as they could for the courtesy he had shown them.
Now these three animals held—and with justice—that, of all the vices,
ingratitude was the most reprehensible; so with one accord they insisted
that the young man should not depart until they should have fully
rewarded him for the great service he had done them. Wherefore the wolf,
speaking first, said: ‘My brother, I give you the power, if at any time
the desire should come upon you to be a wolf instead of a man, to become
one forthwith, merely by saying the words, “Would that I were a wolf!”
At the same time you will be able to return to your former shape
whenever you may desire.’ And in like manner both the eagle and the ant
endowed him with power to take upon him their form and similitude.
Then Fortunio, rejoicing greatly at the potent virtues thus given to
him, and rendering to all three of the animals the warmest gratitude for
their boon, took his leave and wandered far abroad, until at last he
came to Polonia, a populous city of great renown, which was at that time
under the rule of Odescalco, a powerful and valorous sovereign, who had
but one child, a daughter called Doralice. Now the king was ambitious to
find a noble mate for this princess, and it chanced that, at the time
when Fortunio arrived in Polonia, he had proclaimed throughout his
kingdom that a grand tournament should be held in the city, and that the
Princess Doralice should be given in marriage to the man who should be
the victor in the jousts. And already many dukes and marquises and other
powerful nobles had come together from all parts to contend for this
noble prize, and on the first day of the tournament, which had already
passed, the honours of the tilting were borne off by a foul Saracen of
hideous aspect and ungainly form, and with a face as black as pitch. The
king’s daughter, when she viewed the deformed and unseemly figure of the
conqueror of the day, was overwhelmed with grief that fate should have
awarded to such a one the victory in the joust, and, burying her face,
which was crimson with shame, in her tender delicate hands, she wept and
lamented sore, execrating her cruel and malignant destiny, and begging
that death might take her rather than that she should become the wife of
this misshapen barbarian. Fortunio, when he entered the city gate, noted
the festal array on all sides and the great concourse of people about
the streets, and when he learned the cause of all this magnificent
display he was straightway possessed with an ardent desire to prove his
valour by contending in the tournament, but when he came to consider
that he was lacking in all the apparel needful in such honourable
contests, his heart fell and heavy sorrow came over him. While he was in
this doleful mood it chanced that his steps led him past the palace of
the king, and raising his eyes from the ground he espied Doralice, the
daughter of the king, who was leaning out of one of the windows of her
apartment. She was surrounded by a group of lovely and highborn dames
and maidens, but she shone out amongst them all on account of her
beauty, as the radiant glorious sun shines out amidst the lesser lights
of heaven.
By-and-by, when the dark night had fallen, and all the ladies of the
court had retired to their apartments, Doralice, restless and sad at
heart, betook herself alone to a small and exquisitely ornamented
chamber and gazed once more out into the night, and there below, as luck
would have it, was Fortunio. When the youth saw her standing solitary at
the open window, he was so overcome by the charms of her beauty that he
forthwith whispered to himself in an amorous sigh: ‘Ah! wherefore am I
not an eagle?’ Scarcely had these words issued from his lips when he
found himself transformed into an eagle, whereupon he flew at once into
the window of the chamber, and, having willed to become a man again, was
restored to his own shape. He went forward with a light and joyful air
to greet the princess, but she, as soon as she saw him, was filled with
terror and began to cry out in a loud voice, just as if she were being
attacked and torn by savage dogs. The king, who happened to be in an
apartment not far distant from his daughter’s, heard her cries of alarm
and ran immediately to seek the cause thereof, and, having heard from
her that there was a young man in the room, he at once ordered it to be
searched in every part. But nothing of the sort was found, because
Fortunio had once more changed himself into an eagle and had flown out
of the window. Hardly, however, had the father gone back to his chamber
when the maiden began to cry aloud just the same as before, because,
forsooth, Fortunio had once more come into her presence.
But Fortunio, when he again heard the terrified cries of the maiden,
began to fear for his life, and straightway changed himself into an ant,
and crept into hiding beneath the blond tresses of the lovely damsel’s
hair. Odescalco, hearing the loud outcries of his daughter, ran to her
succour, but when he found nothing more this second time than he had
found before, he was greatly incensed against her, and threatened her
harshly that if she should cry out again and disturb him he would play
her some trick which would not please her, and thus he left her with
angry words, suspecting that what had caused her trouble was some vision
of one or other of the youths who for love of her had met their deaths
in the tournament. Fortunio listened attentively to what the king said
to his daughter, and, as soon as he had left the apartment, once more
put off the shape of an ant and stood revealed in his own form.
Doralice, who in the meanwhile had gone to bed, was so terror-stricken
when she saw him that she tried to spring from her couch and to give the
alarm, but she was not able to do this, because Fortunio placed one of
his hands on her lips, and thus spake: ‘Signora, fear not that I have
come here to despoil you of your honour, or to steal aught that belongs
to you. I am come rather to succour you to the best of my power, and to
proclaim myself your most humble servant. If you cry out, one or other
of two misfortunes will befall us, either your honour and fair name will
be tarnished, or you will be the cause of your death and of my own.
Therefore, dear lady of my heart, take care lest at the same time you
cast a stain upon your reputation and imperil the lives of us both.’
While Fortunio was thus speaking, Doralice was weeping bitterly, her
presence of mind being completely overthrown by this unexpected
declaration on his part, and the young man, when he perceived how
powerfully agitated she was, went on addressing her in words gentle and
persuasive enough to have melted the heart of a stone. At last,
conquered by his words and tender manner, she softened towards him, and
consented to let him make his peace with her. And after a little, when
she saw how handsome the youth was in face, and how strong and well knit
in body and limb, she fell a-thinking about the ugliness and deformity
of the Saracen, who, as the conqueror in the jousts, must before long be
the master of her person. While these thoughts were passing through her
mind the young man said to her: ‘Dear lady, if I had the fitting
equipment, how willingly would I enter the jousts to tilt on your
behalf, and my heart tells me that, were I to contend, I should surely
conquer.’ Whereupon the damsel in reply said: ‘If this, indeed, were to
come to pass, if you should prove victorious in the lists, I would give
myself to you alone.’ And when she saw what a well-disposed youth he
was, and how ardent in her cause, she brought forth a great quantity of
gems and a heavy purse of gold, and bade him take them. Fortunio
accepted them with his heart full of joy, and inquired of her what garb
she wished him to wear in the lists to-morrow. And she bade him array
himself in white satin, and in this matter he did as she commanded him.
On the following day Fortunio, encased in polished armour, over which he
wore a surcoat of white satin richly embroidered with the finest gold,
and studded with jewels most delicately carven, rode into the piazza
unknown to anybody there present. He was mounted on a powerful and fiery
charger, which was caparisoned and decked in the same colours as its
rider. The crowd, which had already come together to witness the grand
spectacle of the tournament, no sooner caught sight of the gallant
unknown champion, with lance in hand all ready for the fray, than every
person was lost in wonderment at so brave a sight, and each one, gazing
fixedly at Fortunio, and astonished at his grace, began to inquire of
his neighbour: ‘Ah! who can this knight be who rides so gallantly and
splendidly arrayed into the lists? Know you not what is his name?’ In
the meantime Fortunio, having entered the lists, called upon some rival
to advance, and for the first course the Saracen presented himself,
whereupon the two champions, keeping low the points of their trusty
lances, rushed one upon the other like two lions loosened from their
bonds, and so shrewd was the stroke dealt by Fortunio upon the head of
the Saracen, that the latter was driven right over the crupper of his
horse, and fell dead upon the bare earth, mangled and broken up as a
fragile glass is broken when it is thrown against a wall. And Fortunio
ran his course just as victoriously in encountering every other champion
who ventured to oppose him in the lists. The damsel, when she saw how
the fortune of the day was going, was greatly rejoiced, and kept her
eyes steadily fixed on Fortunio in deepest admiration, and, thanking God
in her heart for having thus graciously delivered her from the bondage
of the Saracen, prayed to Him that this brave youth might be the final
victor.
When the night had come they bade Doralice come to supper with the rest
of the court; but to this bidding she made demur, and commanded them
bring her certain rich viands and delicate wines to her chamber,
feigning that she had not yet any desire for food, but would eat,
perchance, later on if any appetite should come upon her. Then, having
locked herself in her chamber and opened the window thereof, she watched
with ardent desire for the coming of her lover, and when he had gained
admittance to the chamber by the same means as he had used the previous
day, they supped joyfully together. Then Fortunio demanded of her in
what fashion she would that he should array himself for the morrow, and
she made answer that he must bear a badge of green satin all embroidered
with the finest thread of silver and gold, and that his horse should be
caparisoned in like manner. On the following morning Fortunio appeared,
attired as Doralice had directed, and, having duly presented himself in
the piazza at the appointed time, he entered the lists and proved
himself again as valiant a champion as he had proved to be on the day
before. So great was the admiration of the people of his prowess, that
the shout went up with one voice that he had worthily won the gracious
princess for his bride.
On the evening of that day the princess, full of merriment and happiness
and joyous expectations, made the same pretext for absenting herself
from supper as she had made the day before, and, having locked the door
of her chamber, awaited there the coming of her lover, and supped
pleasantly with him. And when he asked her once more with what vestments
he should clothe himself on the following day, she answered that she
wished him to wear a surcoat of crimson satin, all worked and
embroidered with gold and pearls, and to see that the trappings of his
horse were made in the same fashion; adding that she herself would, on
the morrow, be clad in similar wise. ‘Lady,’ replied Fortunio, ‘if by
any chance I should tarry somewhat in making my entry into the lists, be
not astonished, for I shall not be late without good cause.’
When the morning of the third day had come, the spectators awaited the
issue of the momentous strife with the most earnest expectation, but, on
account of the inexhaustible valour of the gallant unknown champion,
there was no opponent found who dared to enter the lists against him,
and he himself for some hidden reason did not appear. After a time the
spectators began to grow impatient at his non-appearance, and injurious
words were dropped. Even Doralice herself was assailed by suspicions as
to his worth, although she had been warned by Fortunio himself that
probably his coming would be delayed; so, overcome by this hidden
trouble of hers—concerning which no one else knew anything—she wellnigh
swooned with grief. At last, when it was told to her that the unknown
knight was advancing into the piazza, her failing senses began to
revive. Fortunio was clad in a rich and sumptuous dress, and the
trappings of his horse were of the finest cloth of gold, all embroidered
with shining rubies and emeralds and sapphires and great pearls. When
the people saw these they affirmed that the price of them would be equal
to a great kingdom, and when Fortunio came into the piazza, every one
cried out in a loud voice: ‘Long live the unknown knight!’ and after
this they all applauded vigorously and clapped their hands. Then the
jousting began, and Fortunio once more carried himself so valiantly that
he bore to earth all those who dared to oppose him, and in the end was
hailed as the victor in the tournament. And when he had dismounted from
his noble horse, the chief magnates and the wealthy citizens of the town
bore him aloft on their shoulders, and to the sound of trumpets and all
other kinds of musical instruments, and with loud shouts which went up
to the heavens, they carried him into the presence of the king. When
they had taken off his helmet and his shining armour the king perceived
what a seemly graceful youth he was, and, having called his daughter
into his presence, he betrothed them forthwith, and celebrated the
nuptials with the greatest pomp, keeping open table at the court for the
space of a month.
After Fortunio had lived for a certain space of time in loving dalliance
with his fair wife, he was seized one day with the thought that he was
playing the part of an unworthy sluggard in thus passing the days in
indolence, merely counting the hours as they sped by, after the manner
of foolish folk, and of those who consider not the duties of a man.
Wherefore he made up his mind to go afield into certain regions, where
there might be found due scope and recognition for his valour and
enterprise; so, having got ready a galley and taken a large treasure
which his father-in-law had given him, he embarked after taking leave of
his wife and of King Odescalco. He sailed away, wafted on by gentle and
favourable breezes, until he came into the Atlantic Ocean, but before he
had gone more than ten miles thereon, there arose from the waves the
most beautiful Siren that ever was seen, and singing softly, she began
to swim towards the ship. Fortunio, who was reclining by the side of the
galley, bent his head low down over the water to listen to her song, and
straightway fell asleep, and, while he thus slept, the Siren drew him
gently from where he lay, and, bearing him in her arms, sank with him
headlong into the depths of the sea. The mariners, after having vainly
essayed to save him, broke out into loud lamentations over his sad fate,
and, weeping and mourning, they decked the galley with black ensigns of
grief, and returned to the unfortunate Odescalco to tell him of the
terrible mischance which had befallen them during their voyage. The king
and Doralice, when the sad news was brought to them, were overwhelmed
with the deepest grief—as indeed was everyone else in the city—and all
put on garments of mourning black.
Now at the time of Fortunio’s departure Doralice was with child, and
when the season of her delivery had come she gave birth to a beautiful
boy, who was delicately and carefully nurtured until he came to be two
years of age. At this time the sad and despairing Doralice, who had
always brooded over her unhappy fate in losing the company of her
beloved husband, began to abandon all hope of ever seeing him again; so
she, like a brave and great-souled woman, resolved to put her fortune to
the test and go to seek for him upon the deep, even though the king her
father should not consent to let her depart. So she caused to be set in
order for her voyage an armed galley, well fitted for such a purpose,
and she took with her three apples, each one a masterpiece of
handicraft, of which one was fashioned out of golden bronze, another of
silver, and the last of the finest gold. Then, having taken leave of her
father the king, she embarked with her child on board the galley, and
sailed away before a prosperous wind into the open sea.
After the sad and woe-stricken lady had sailed a certain time over the
calm sea, she bade the sailors steer the ship forthwith towards the spot
where her husband had been carried off by the Siren, and this command
they immediately obeyed. And when the vessel had been brought to the
aforesaid spot, the child began to cry fretfully, and would in no wise
be pacified by his mother’s endearments; so she gave him the apple which
was made of golden bronze to appease him. While the child was thus
sporting with the apple, he was espied by the Siren, who, having come
near to the galley and lifted her head a little space out of the foaming
waves, thus spake to Doralice: ‘Lady, give me that apple, for I desire
greatly to have it.’ But the princess answered her that this thing could
not be done, inasmuch as the apple was her child’s plaything. ‘If you
will consent to give it to me,’ the Siren went on, ‘I will show you the
husband you have lost as far as his breast.’ Doralice, when she heard
these words, at once took the apple from the child and handed it
courteously to the Siren, for she longed above all things else to get
sight of her beloved husband. The Siren was faithful to her promise, and
after a little time brought Fortunio to the surface of the sea and
showed him as far as the breast to Doralice, as a reward for the gift of
the apple, and then plunged with him once more into the depths of the
ocean, and disappeared from sight.
Doralice, who had naturally feasted her eyes upon the form of her
husband what time he was above the water, only felt the desire to see
him once more grow stronger after he was gone under again, and, not
knowing what to do or to say, she sought comfort in the caresses of her
child, and when the little one began to cry once more, the mother gave
to it the silver apple to soothe its fancy. Again the Siren was on the
watch and espied the silver apple in the child’s hand, and having raised
her head above the waves, begged Doralice to give her the apple, but the
latter, shrugging her shoulders, said that the apple served to divert
the child, and could not be spared. Whereupon the Siren said: ‘If only
you will give me this apple, which is far more beautiful than the other,
I promise I will show you your husband as far as his knees.’ Poor
Doralice, who was now consumed with desire to see her beloved husband
again, put aside the satisfaction of the child’s fancy, and, having
taken away from him the silver apple, handed it eagerly to the Siren,
who, after she had once more brought Fortunio to the surface and
exhibited him to Doralice as far as his knees (according to her
promise), plunged again beneath the waves.
For a while the princess sat brooding in silent grief and suspense,
trying in vain to hit upon some plan by which she might rescue her
husband from his piteous fate, and at last she caught up her child in
her arms and tried to comfort herself with him and to still his weeping.
The child, mindful of the fair apple he had been playing with, continued
to cry; so the mother, to appease him, gave him at last the apple of
fine gold. When the covetous Siren, who was still watching the galley,
saw this apple, and perceived that it was much fairer than either of the
others, she at once demanded it as a gift from Doralice, and she begged
so long and persistently, and at last made a promise to the princess
that, in return for the gift of this apple, she would bring Fortunio
once more into the light, and show him from head to foot; so Doralice
took the apple from the boy, in spite of his chiding, and gave it to the
Siren. Whereupon the latter, in order to carry out her promise, came
quite close to the galley, bearing Fortunio upon her back, and having
raised herself somewhat above the surface of the water, showed the
person of Fortunio from head to foot. Now, as soon as Fortunio felt that
he was quite clear of the water, and resting free upon the back of the
Siren, he was filled with great joy in his heart, and, without
hesitating for a moment, he cried out, ‘Ah! would that I were an eagle,’
and scarcely had he ceased speaking when he was forthwith transformed
into an eagle, and, having poised himself for flight, he flew high above
the sail yards of the galley, from whence—all the shipmen looking on the
while in wonder—he descended into the ship and returned to his proper
shape, and kissed and embraced his wife and his child and all the
sailors on the galley.
Then, all of them rejoicing at the rescue of Fortunio, they sailed back
to King Odescalco’s kingdom, and as soon as they entered the port they
began to play upon the trumpets and tabors and drums and all the other
musical instruments they had with them, so that the king, when he heard
the sound of these, was much astonished, and in the greatest suspense
waited to learn what might be the meaning thereof. And before very long
time had elapsed the herald came before him, and announced to the king
how his dear daughter, having rescued her husband from the Siren, had
come back. When they were disembarked from the galley, they all repaired
to the royal palace, where their return was celebrated by sumptuous
banquets and rejoicings. But after some days had passed, Fortunio betook
himself for a while to his old home, and there, after having transformed
himself into a wolf, he devoured Alchia, his adoptive mother, and
Valentino her son, in revenge for the injuries they had worked him.
Then, after he had returned to his rightful shape, he mounted his horse
and rode back to his father-in-law’s kingdom, where, with Doralice his
dear wife, he lived in peace for many years to the great delight of both
of them.
As soon as Alteria had brought to an end her long and interesting story
the Signora bade her at once to set forth her enigma, and she, smiling
pleasantly, obeyed the command.
Far from this our land doth dwell
One who by turns is fair or fell;
Springing from a twofold root,
One part woman, one part brute.
Now like beauty’s fairest jewel,
Now a monster fierce and cruel.
Sweetest song on vocal breath,
To lead men down to shameful death.
Alteria’s most fitting and noteworthy enigma was answered in divers
fashion by the listeners, some giving one interpretation of it and some
another, but not one of them came upon its exact meaning. Therefore,
when the fair Alteria saw there was little chance of anyone finding the
true answer, she said: “Ladies and gentlemen, the real subject of my
enigma is the fascinating Siren who is fabled to dwell in the deep sea.
She is very fair to look upon, for her head and breast and body and arms
are those of a beautiful damsel, but all the rest of her form is scaly
like a fish, and in her nature she is cunning and cruel. She sings so
sweetly that the mariners, when they hear her song, are soothed to
slumber, and while they sleep she drowns them in the sea.” When the
listeners heard this clever and subtle solution given by Alteria, they
praised it warmly with one accord, declaring the while that it was most
ingenious. And she, smiling with pleasure and gratitude, rose from her
chair and thanked them for their kindness in thus lending their
attention to her story. As soon as she had taken her seat, the Signora
made a sign to Eritrea to follow in the due order with her story, and
she, blushing like a morning rose, began it in these words.