Isotta, the wife of Lucaferro Albani of Bergamo, devises how she may
trick Travaglino the cowherd of her brother Emilliano and thereby
show him to be a liar, but she loses her husband’s farm and
returns home worsted in her attempt, and bringing with her a
bull’s head with gilded horns.
So great is the strength of truth, our infallible guide, that, according
to the testimony of Holy Writ, it would be easier for heaven and earth
to pass away than for truth to fail. And so far-reaching a charter has
truth, as is written by all the wise men of the world, that she is ever
the victor of time, and time never victor over her. Like as oil, if it
be poured in a vessel together with water, will always rise to the top,
so will truth always assert herself over falsehood. Wherefore on this
account let no one be amazed over this prologue of mine, seeing that I
have set it down, moved thereto by the malignity of a wicked woman, who,
deeming that she might, by the means of her false allurements, lead on a
young fellow to tell a lie, only induced him to speak the plain truth to
her own confusion, the which, wicked woman as she was, she well merited.
All this I propose to set before you in this story of mine, which I
hope, both as to time and place, will prove more profitable than hurtful
to all of you.
I will first tell my worthy hearers that in Bergamo, an ancient city of
Lombardy, there lived not a great time ago a man of wealth and standing
whose name was Pietromaria di Albani. To this man were born two sons, of
whom one was called Emilliano, and the other Lucaferro. He possessed
also two farms in a township not far removed, one of them known by the
name of Ghorem, and the other by that of Pedrench. The two brothers,
that is to say, Emilliano and Lucaferro, divided the farms between them
by lot after the death of Pietromaria their father, and Pedrench fell to
the share of Emilliano, and Ghorem to Lucaferro. Now Emilliano owned a
very fine flock of sheep, and a herd of lusty young bullocks, and
likewise a second herd of productive cows, and over the whole of these
cattle one Travaglino had charge as herdsman, a man of the most approved
truth and loyalty, who, however dear he held his life, would not have
told a lie to save it, and who, moreover, as a herdsman had not his
equal in all the world. With his herd of cows Travaglino kept several
very fine bulls, amongst which there was one especially beautiful in
appearance, and so great a favourite was this bull with Emilliano that
he caused its horns to be gilded over with the finest gold. And as often
as Travaglino might go to Bergamo after his affairs, Emilliano would
never fail to question him as to the welfare of his favourite bull with
the gilded horns.
It happened one day that while Emilliano was entertaining and holding
converse with his brother Lucaferro and with divers other of his
friends, Travaglino came anigh the company and made a sign to Emilliano
his master that he wanted to speak with him. Whereupon the latter
forthwith withdrew from the presence of his brother and his friends,
and, having gone apart with Travaglino, held him there some long time in
conversation. And after this it would happen full often that Emilliano
would do the like, and leave his friends and family who might be about
him, and betake himself aside to confer with his herdsman; so that at
last Lucaferro, his brother, lost patience at such doings, and could
endure them no longer. On one occasion, therefore, hot with wrath and
indignation, he spake to Emilliano in these words: ‘Emilliano, I am
astonished beyond measure at your behaviour, that you make more account
of this rascally cowherd of yours than you make of your own brother and
of your many trusted friends; because, forsooth, not once, but a
thousand times, if I may so express myself, you have gone away from us
when we were together in the piazza, or over our games, as if we had
been so many beasts only fit to be driven to the shambles, to go and
foregather with this lubberly ruffian of a Travaglino, your hireling,
and to have long converse with him, making believe that the affairs you
had to discuss with him were of the highest importance, while in fact
nothing you talked about mattered a single straw.’ To this Emilliano
made answer: ‘Lucaferro, my good brother, there is surely no need for
you to fly into so hot a passion with me, while you heap all these
injurious words upon poor Travaglino, who, after all, is a very worthy
young fellow, and one on whom I set great store, both on account of his
efficiency in his calling and for his staunch loyalty towards myself;
moreover, he has yet another and special good quality, inasmuch as he
would not, to gain all the wealth there is in the world, speak a word
which was not the truth. And furthermore he has many other excellent
traits on account of which I hold him in high esteem; therefore there is
no reason why you should be astonished at my fondness for him, or that I
should treat him kindly.’
This answer given by Emilliano only served to stir yet deeper his
brother’s bile, and they straightway began to bandy angry words from one
to the other, so that they narrowly escaped coming to blows. In the end
Lucaferro, on account of the high commendation pronounced by Emilliano
over Travaglino’s good qualities—the which is written above—thus spake:
‘You speak loud enough to-day of the efficiency, and the good faith, and
the truthfulness of this cowherd of yours, but I tell you that he is the
most bungling, the most disloyal loon in the world, as well as the
biggest liar that nature ever made. And moreover I will pledge myself to
bring all this to your notice, and to let you hear him tell a falsehood
before your very face.’ After they had spent much time in wrangling,
they ended by wagering their respective farms over the question,
settling the affair in this fashion, namely, that if Travaglino should
be proved to be a liar, the farm of Emilliano should pass to Lucaferro;
but if, on the other hand, he should be found truthful, Emilliano should
become the owner of Lucaferro’s. And over this matter, having called in
a notary, they caused to be drawn up a legal instrument ratified by all
the forms which are required in such cases.
After the brothers had parted one from the other, and after their wrath
and indignation had gone down somewhat, Lucaferro began to be sore
repentant of the wager he had made, and of the legal instrument he had
requested to be enacted under the seal of the notary. Wherefore he found
himself mightily troubled over the affair, and haunted by the fear lest
at the end of it he might find himself deprived of his farm, out of
which alone he had to find sustenance for himself and for his family.
One day, when he was in his house, his wife, whose name was Isotta,
remarked that he was in a very melancholy mood, and, not knowing the
reason thereof, she said to him: ‘Heigho, my good husband! what can be
the matter with you that you are so dismal and woebegone?’ And Lucaferro
made answer to her: ‘Wife, hold your tongue, for goodness sake, and do
not heap any fresh trouble upon me in addition to what I am plagued with
already.’ Whereupon Isotta began to be very curious to know what this
trouble might be, and she plied her husband so skilfully with questions
that in the end he told her everything. Then she said to him, with her
face all radiant with joy and satisfaction: ‘And is it really on account
of this apprehension that you have got into such a taking of fear and
agitation? Keep up a good heart, for you will see that I have wit enough
in me to make this lout Travaglino tell to his master’s face, not one
lie, but a thousand.’ And Lucaferro, when he heard these words, was much
comforted.
Isotta, knowing perfectly well that the beautiful bull with the gilded
horns was an especial favourite of Emilliano, her brother-in-law,
determined, first of all, to lay out her lures in that direction. So,
having dressed herself after a fashion calculated to kindle a man’s
desire, and daintily painted her face, she took her way by herself out
of Bergamo and went to Pedrench, where was situated the farm of
Emilliano, and, having gone into the farmhouse, she found therein
Travaglino, who was busy making cheese and curds of butter-milk, and
greeted him, saying: ‘Travaglino, my good fellow, you see I am come to
pay you a visit, to take a draught of milk and to eat some of your fine
curds.’ ‘Indeed, I am very glad to see you, my mistress,’ Travaglino
replied, and, having made her sit down, he began to get ready the table,
and to place thereon his cheese of ewe’s milk and divers other good
cheer, to do the lady honour. And after a while the youth, seeing her
there all alone and very fair to look upon, was somewhat taken aback,
forasmuch as it was in no way her wont thus to visit him, and could
hardly persuade himself that she could be in truth Isotta, the wife of
his master’s brother. However, because he had often before seen her, he
did his best to please her and to pay her such honour as would have been
due to any lady, let her be whosoever she might.
After the meal was despatched and the table cleared, Isotta, observing
that Travaglino was about to go to his cheese-making and to strain his
whey, said to him: ‘Travaglino, my good fellow, I would fain lend you a
hand in making your cheese.’ And he answered her: ‘Yes, if it would
please you, signora.’ Then, without saying another word, she tucked up
her sleeves as far as her elbows, thus laying bare her fair, wanton,
well-rounded arms, which shone out as white as snow, and set to work
with a will to help Travaglino to make his cheese, letting him now and
again get a peep at her swelling bosom, where he might also see her
breasts, which seemed as round and firm as two fair globes. And, besides
this, she artfully brought her own rosy cheek mighty close to
Travaglino’s face, so that occasionally one touched the other. Now
Travaglino, notwithstanding that he was only a simple countryman and a
cowherd, was by no means wanting in wit, and, although he understood
well enough from the looks and the demeanour of the lady that she was
fired by lecherous passion, he did nothing more in the way of a return
than beguile her by ordinary speech and glances, making believe the
while to wot nothing of making love. But Isotta, who began to persuade
herself that the young man was all on fire with love for her, felt
herself straightway so mightily inflamed with amorous desire towards him
that she could with difficulty hold herself within bounds. Although
Travaglino perceived well enough what was the drift of the lady’s
lascivious wishes, he did not dare to say a word to her thereanent,
fearing lest he might unduly trouble her and perhaps give offence.
Wherefore the lovesick dame, by way of making an end of Travaglino’s
bashful dallying, said to him: ‘Travaglino, what is the reason that you
stand there so mum and thoughtful, and do not venture to say a word to
me? Peradventure there has come into your head the wish to ask some
favour of me. Take good care and do not keep your desire a secret,
whatever it may be, since by so doing you will work an injury to
yourself, and not me, seeing that I am completely at your pleasure and
wish.’ Travaglino, when he heard these words, put on a more sprightly
manner and made a pretence of being greatly wishful to enjoy her. The
besotted dame, when she saw that the young man at last gave signs of
being moved to amorous intent, determined that the time had come to set
about the business on which she was bent, so she spake to him thus:
‘Travaglino, I am going to ask you to do me a great favour, and, if you
should be churlish enough to refuse to grant it, I tell you plainly that
it will look as if you held very light the love I bear you; moreover,
your refusal will perchance be the cause of my ruin, or even of my
death.’
[Illustration: Isotta and Travaglino]
To this speech Travaglino answered: ‘Signora, for the love I have for
you I am ready to devote my life and all I possess in the world to your
service, and if it should chance that you demand of me to carry out some
enterprise of great difficulty, nevertheless, on account of my own love
and of the love which you have shown for me, I will easily accomplish
it.’ Then Isotta, taking courage from these words of Travaglino, said:
‘If indeed you are my friend, as I well believe you to be, I shall know
full soon.’ ‘Lay what command on me you will, signora,’ replied
Travaglino, ‘and you will see clearly enough whether I am your friend or
not.’ ‘All that I want of you,’ said Isotta, ‘is the head of that bull
of yours which has his horns gilded. Give me this, and you may do with
me what you please.’ Travaglino, when he heard this request, was
wellnigh overcome with amazement; but, inflamed by the pricks of fleshly
desire, and by the allurements of the lustful woman before him, he made
answer to her: ‘Signora, can it be that this is all you want of me? You
shall have, not only the head of the bull, but the body as well; nay, I
will hand over my own self into your keeping.’ And after he had thus
spoken, Travaglino plucked up heart and folded the lady in his arms, and
they together took part in the sweetest delights of love. When this was
done, Travaglino cut off the bull’s head, and, having put it in a sack,
handed it over to Isotta, who, well satisfied that she had accomplished
her purpose and got much pleasure and delight besides, made her way back
to her house, bearing with her more horns than farms in her sack.
Now Travaglino, as soon as the lady had taken her departure, began to
feel somewhat troubled in mind and to cast about for some excuse which
he might bring forward to his master when he should be called upon to
account for the death of the bull with the gilded horns, which was so
greatly beloved by Emilliano. While the wretched Travaglino was held by
these torments of his mind, knowing neither what to say or to do, it
came into his head at last to take a branch of one of the pruned trees
which grew about, and to dress this up with some of his own poor
garments, and to make believe that it was Emilliano. Then, standing
before this scarecrow, he proposed to make trial of what he should do
and say when he should be brought face to face with his master.
Wherefore, after he had set up the tree branch thus bedizened in a
chamber of the house with his own cap on its head and with certain of
his garments upon its back, Travaglino went out from the chamber for a
short space of time, and then came back and entered, saluting the branch
as he went in, and saying, ‘Good day, my master!’ and then, making
answer out of his own mouth, he replied, ‘I am glad to see you,
Travaglino. How do you find yourself, and how are things going on at the
farm? It is a long time since I have seen anything of you.’ ‘I am very
well,’ replied Travaglino, ‘but I have been so busy of late that I have
not been able to find time to come and see you.’ ‘How did you leave the
bull with the gilded horns?’ asked Emilliano, and then Travaglino made
as if he would answer: ‘Master, I have to tell you that your favourite
bull has been eaten of wolves while he was straying in the woods.’ ‘Then
where are his skin and his gilded horns?’ Emilliano inquired. And when
he had come to this point poor Travaglino could not hit upon any answer
he could possibly give; so, wellnigh overcome with grief, he left the
chamber. After a little he came in again and recommenced his discourse
by saying, ‘God keep us all, good master!’ ‘And you also, Travaglino,’
said Emilliano, ‘and how prosper things at the farm? how is the bull
with the gilded horns?’ ‘I am very well,’ said Travaglino, ‘but one day
lately the bull broke out of the yard, and having fallen a-fighting with
some of the other bulls, was so heavily mauled by them that he died of
his injuries straightway.’ ‘Then where are his skin and his gilded
horns?’ asked Emilliano. Whereupon Travaglino knew no better what answer
he should give to this question than before. Finally, having gone
through the same discourse several times, he had to give up the matter
in despair, through not being able to devise any reply which sounded at
all reasonable.
Now Isotta, as soon as she had returned to her house, said to her
husband: ‘What will that poor lout Travaglino do when he shall set about
excusing himself to Emilliano with regard to the death of that bull with
the gilded horns which was such a pet with his master? How will he clear
himself of such a trouble as this without telling a lie or two? See,
here is the head of the bull, which I have brought back with me to use
as a testimony against him when he shall begin with his false tales.’
But the dame said not a word to her husband as to how she had made for
his own benefit two fine horns, bigger than those of a hart royal.
Lucaferro, when he saw the bull’s head, was overjoyed and could hardly
contain himself for glee, making sure that he would now win his wager,
but the issue of the affair fell out in mighty different fashion, as you
will learn later on.
Travaglino, after he had essayed divers bouts of questions and answers
with his scarecrow man, discoursing just as if he were in conversation
with the master himself, and finding in the end that they none of them
would serve the end he had in view, made up his mind without further ado
to go and seek his master forthwith, no matter what might happen.
Wherefore, having set forth towards Bergamo, he presented himself before
his master, to whom he gave a hearty salute. Emilliano, after he had
greeted his herdsman in return, said to him, ‘And what business has been
taking up all your time and thoughts of late, Travaglino, that you have
let so many days pass without coming here or without letting us have any
news of you?’ Travaglino replied, ‘Master, the many jobs I have had in
hand have kept me fully occupied.’ Then said Emilliano, ‘And how goes on
my bull with the gilded horns?’
When he heard these words, poor Travaglino was overcome with the direst
confusion, and his face flushed with shame as red as a burning furnace,
and he was fain to find some excuse for his fault and to hide the truth.
But in the end the fear of saying aught which might sully his honour
stood him in good stead, and made him take heart of grace and tell his
master the whole story from beginning to end: how Isotta had beguiled
him, and how his dealings with her had ensued in the death of the bull.
Emilliano was amazed beyond measure as he listened to this story, which,
however great his fault might have been, at least proved Travaglino to
be a truthful fellow and one of good character. So in the end Emilliano
won the wager with regard to the farm, and Lucaferro gained nothing but
a pair of horns for his own head, while his good-for-nothing wife
Isotta, in trying to dupe another, was finely duped herself, and got
nothing but shame for her trouble.
When this instructive fable was finished, every one of the worthy
company of listeners was loud in blame of the dissolute Isotta, and
equally loud in commendation of Travaglino, holding up to ridicule the
silly loose-minded woman, who had in such vile manner given herself away
to a herdsman, of which ill-doing the real cause was her innate and
pestilential avarice. And seeing that Eritrea had not as yet propounded
her enigma, the Signora, glancing at her, made a sign that she must not
interrupt the procedure they had followed so far. Whereupon Eritrea,
without any farther delay, gave her enigma:
I saw one day in fine spring weather,
A head and a breech full close together.
Another breech I likewise found
Squatting at ease upon the ground.
And one, as strong as any mule,
Stood quiet, subject to the rule
Of two, who in the head shone bright,
And looked with pleasure on the sight.
Meantime the head pressed closer still,
And ten there were who worked with will,
With dexterous grasp, now up, now down.
No prettier sight in all the town.
Though the ladies made merry enough over the fable, they held the enigma
to be no less of a jest. And, because there was not one of them who
seemed likely to be able to solve it, Eritrea spake as follows: “My
enigma, ladies and gentlemen, is intended to describe one who sits down
under a cow and sets to work to milk her. And for the same reason he who
milks the cow must keep his head close to the cow’s breech, and the
milker, for his good convenience, sits with his breech on the ground.
She is very patient, and is kept in restraint by one, namely, he who
milks her, and is watched by two eyes, and is stroked by two hands and
the ten fingers, which draw from her the milk.” This very clever enigma
pleased them all mightily, as well as the interpretation thereof; but,
seeing that every star had now disappeared from the heaven, save only a
certain one which still shone in the whitening dawn, the Signora gave
order that every one of the company should depart whithersoever he
would, and take rest until the coming evening, commanding at the same
time that each one should duly appear again at the appointed place under
pain of her displeasure.
=The End of the Third Night=
[Illustration: [Fleuron]]
[Illustration: [Fleuron]]
=Night the Fourth.=
[Illustration: [Fleuron]]
[Illustration: [Fleuron]]
=The Fables and Enigmas of Messer Giovanni Francesco Straparola da
Caravaggio.=
=Night the Fourth.=
Already the golden-haired Apollo in his radiant chariot had sped away
from this hemisphere of ours, and, having sunk beyond the distant line
of sea, had betaken himself to the antipodes, and all those who had been
labouring in the fields, now weary with their hard toil, felt no desire
for aught save to repose quietly in their beds, when the worshipful and
highborn company assembled themselves joyfully once more in the
accustomed spot. And after the ladies and gentlemen had spent a short
time in mirthful converse, the Signora Lucretia, when silence had been
restored, bade them bring forth the golden vase. Then, having written
with her own hand the names of five of the ladies and cast them into the
vase, she called to the Signor Vangelista and directed him to draw out
of the vase the names one by one, in order that they might clearly know
to which of their companions the duty of story-telling on that same
night would be assigned. Then Signor Vangelista, rising from his seat
and breaking off the pleasant discourse he was holding with Lodovica,
went obediently towards the Signora, and, having sunk down upon his
knees reverently at her feet, he put his hand in the vase and drew out
first the name of Fiordiana, then that of Vicenza, then that of
Lodovica, next that of Isabella, and last the name of Lionora. But
before they made a beginning of their story-telling the Signora gave the
word to Molino and to the Trevisan that they should take their lutes and
sing a ballad. The two gentlemen did not wait for any further command,
but forthwith tuned their instruments and sang to a joyous strain the
following verse:
SONG.
There is a face which is my sun of love,
In whose kind warmth I breathe and move,
Or faint beneath its scorching ray;
And when it shines amongst the fairest fair,
My lady reigns beyond compare,
And all around her bend beneath her sway.
Happy, thrice happy, is that favoured one,
Who sees no face but hers alone,
And passion’s nectar eager sips,
Who listens to the music of her tongue,
More sweet than lay by seraphs sung,
In words that fall like jewels from her lips.
But happier still were I if she benign
Would place her lily hand in mine,
And mark me worthy such a prize to claim.
Dull clod of earth although I be,
Then should I full fruition see
Of every hope, and end of every aim.
The song was attentively listened to and warmly commended by every one
of the company. And when the Signora saw that it had come to an end she
directed Fiordiana, to whom had been assigned the first turn of
story-telling on this the fourth night, that she should begin hers
straightway, and follow the order which had been observed since the
beginning of their entertainment; and the damsel, who was no less eager
to speak than the rest of the company were to listen, thus began her
fable.