As Sir Calidore followed the chase of the Blatant Beast he came upon a
group of shepherds piping to their flocks. In reply to his questions
they answered they had never seen the creature, and if there were any
such they prayed heaven to keep him far from them. Then one of them,
seeing that Calidore was travel-worn and weary, offered him such simple
food and drink as they had with them, and the Knight, who was courteous
to all men alike, both the lowly and the high-born, accepted their
gentle offer.
[Illustration:
“=Upon a little hillocke she was placed
Higher than all the rest, and round about
Environ’d with a girland, goodly graced
Of lovely lasses.=”
]
As he sat amongst these rustics he saw seated on a little hillock,
higher than all the rest, a beautiful maiden, wearing a crown of flowers
tied with silken ribbons. She was surrounded by the other shepherdesses,
as with a lovely garland, but her beauty far excelled theirs, and all
united in singing the praises and carolling the name of the “fairest
Pastorella.” Not one of all the shepherds but honoured her, and many
also loved her, but most of all the shepherd Coridon. Yet neither for
him nor for any one else did she care a whit; her lot was humble, but
her mind was high above it.
As Sir Calidore gazed at her and marked her rare demeanour, which seemed
to him far to excel the rank of a shepherd, and to be worthy of a
Prince’s paragon, all unawares he was caught in the toils of love, from
which no skill of his own could deliver him. So there he sat still, with
no desire to move, although his quest had gone far before him. He stayed
until the flying day was far spent, and the dews of night warned the
shepherds to hasten home with their flocks.
Then came to them an aged sire, with silver beard and locks, and
carrying a shepherd’s crook. He was always supposed to be the father of
Pastorella, and she indeed thought it herself. But he was not so, having
found her by chance in the open field as an infant. He took her home,
and cherished her as his own child, for he had none other, and in course
of time she came to be accounted so.
Melibee, for so the good old man was called, seeing Calidore left all
alone and night at hand, invited him to his simple home, which, although
only a mud cottage, with everything very humble, was yet better to lodge
in than the open fields. The Knight full gladly agreed, this being his
heart’s own wish, and went home with Melibee. There he was made heartily
welcome by the honest shepherd and his aged wife, and after the frugal
supper, which they ate with much contentment, Sir Calidore listened
half-entranced while Melibee discoursed on all the joys of a pastoral
life. So tempting was the picture he painted that Calidore resolved to
lay aside for awhile his toilsome quest and the pursuit of glory, and
take a little rest in this peaceful spot. If he were allowed to share
the cabin and the scanty fare he promised to reward Melibee well, but
the good old man refused the offered gift of gold.
“If you really wish to try this simple sort of life that shepherds
lead,” he said, “make it your own, and learn our rustic ways for
yourself.”
So Sir Calidore dwelt there that night, and many days after, as long as
it pleased him, daily beholding the fair Pastorella, and all the while
growing more deeply in love with her. He tried to please her by all the
kindly courtesies he could invent, but she, who had never been
accustomed to such strange fashions, fit for kings and queens, nor had
ever seen such knightly service, paid small heed to them, and cared more
for the shepherds’ rustic civility than for anything he did.
Sir Calidore, seeing this, thought it best to change the manner of his
appearance. Doffing his bright armour, he dressed himself in shepherd’s
attire, taking in his hand a crook instead of a steel-headed spear. Clad
thus, he went every day to the fields with Pastorella, and kept her
flocks diligently, watching to drive away the ravenous wolf, so that she
could sport and play as it pleased her.
Coridon, who for a long time had loved her, and hoped to gain her love,
was greatly troubled, and very jealous of this stranger. He often
complained scowlingly of Pastorella to all the other shepherds, and
whenever he came near Calidore, would frown and bite his lips, and was
ready to devour his own heart with jealousy. The Knight, on the other
hand, was utterly free from malice or grudging, never showing any sign
of rancour, and often taking an opportunity to praise Coridon to
Pastorella. But the maiden, if ever she had cared for her uncouth
admirer, certainly did so no longer now that she had seen Calidore.
Once when Calidore was asked to lead the dance with Pastorella, in his
courtesy he took Coridon, and set him in his place; and when Pastorella
gave him her own flowery garland, he soon took it off and put it on the
head of Coridon.
Another time Coridon challenged Calidore to a wrestling match, thinking
he would surely avenge his grudge, and easily put his foe to shame, for
he was well practised in this game. But he greatly mistook Calidore, for
the Knight was strong and mightily tough in sinew, and with one fall he
almost broke Coridon’s neck. Then Pastorella gave the oaken crown to
Calidore as his due right, but he who excelled in courtesy gave it to
Coridon, saying he had won it well.
Thus did that gentle Knight bear himself amidst that rustic throng, so
that even they who were his rivals could not malign him, but must needs
praise him; for courtesy breeds goodwill and favour even amongst the
rudest. So it surely wrought with this fair maiden, and in her mind
sowed the seeds of perfect love, which at last, after long trial,
brought forth the fruit of joy and happiness.
But whatever Sir Calidore did to please Pastorella, Coridon immediately
strove to emulate; and if the Knight succeeded in winning favour, he was
frozen with jealousy.
One day, as they all three went together to the greenwood to gather
strawberries, a dangerous adventure befell them. A tiger rose up out of
the wood and rushed with greedy jaws at Pastorella. Hearing her cry for
help, Coridon ran in haste to rescue her; but when he saw the fiend he
fled away just as fast in cowardly fear, holding his own life dearer
than his friend. But Calidore, quickly coming to her aid when he saw the
beast ready to rend his dear lady, ran at him enraged, instead of being
afraid. He had no weapon but his shepherd’s crook, but with that he
struck the monster so sternly that he fell stunned to the ground, and
then, before he could recover, Sir Calidore cut off his head, and laid
it at the feet of the terrified maiden.
From that day forth Pastorella grew more and more fond of the Knight,
but Coridon she despised, because of his cowardice. Then for a long time
Sir Calidore dwelt happily among these shepherd folk, forgetting his
former quest, so full of toil and pain, and rejoicing in the happy peace
of rustic bliss.
But at last malicious fortune, which envies the long prosperity of
lovers, blew up a bitter storm of adversity.