A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P R S T U V W Z

The Decameron, Volume I

G >> Giovanni Boccaccio >> The Decameron, Volume I

Pages:
1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20 | 21 | 22 | 23 | 24 | 25 | 26 | 27 | 28 | 29



Landolfo could not recall the chest, but took it when she brought it to him,
thinking that, however slight its value, it must suffice for a few days'
charges. He found it very light, and quite lost hope; but when the good
woman was out of doors, he opened it to see what was inside, and found there
a great number of precious stones, some set, others unset. Having some
knowledge of such matters, he saw at a glance that the stones were of great
value; wherefore, feeling that he was still not forsaken by God, he praised
His name, and quite recovered heart. But, having in a brief space of time
been twice shrewdly hit by the bolts of Fortune, he was apprehensive of a
third blow, and deemed it meet to use much circumspection in conveying his
treasure home; so he wrapped it up in rags as best he could, telling the
good woman that he had no more use for the chest, but she might keep it if
she wished, and give him a sack in exchange. This the good woman readily
did; and he, thanking her as heartily as he could for the service she had
rendered him, threw his sack over his shoulders, and, taking ship, crossed
to Brindisi. Thence he made his way by the coast as far as Trani, where he
found some of his townsfolk that were drapers, to whom he narrated all his
adventures except that of the chest. They in charity gave him a suit of
clothes, and lent him a horse and their escort as far as Ravello, whither,
he said, he was minded to return. There, thanking God for bringing him safe
home, he opened his sack, and examining its contents with more care than
before, found the number, and fashion of the stones to be such that the sale
of them at a moderate price, or even less, would leave him twice as rich as
when he left Ravello. So, having disposed of his stones, he sent a large sum
of money to Corfu in recompense of the service done him by the good woman
who had rescued him from the sea, and also to his friends at Trani who had
furnished him with the clothes; the residue he retained, and, making no more
ventures in trade, lived and died in honourable estate.


NOVEL V.

--
Andreuccio da Perugia comes to Naples to buy horses, meets with three
serious adventures in one night, comes safe out of them all, and returns
home with a ruby.
--

Landolfo's find of stones, began Fiammetta, on whom the narration now fell,
has brought to my mind a story in which there are scarce fewer perilous
scapes than in Lauretta's story, but with this difference: that, instead of
a course of perhaps several years, a single night, as you shall hear,
sufficed for their occurrence.

In Perugia, by what I once gathered, there lived a young man, Andreuccio di
Pietro by name, a horse-dealer, who, having learnt that horses were to be
had cheap at Naples, put five hundred florins of gold in his purse, and in
company with some other merchants went thither, never having been away from
home before. On his arrival at Naples, which was on a Sunday evening, about
vespers, he learnt from his host that the fair would be held on the
following morning. Thither accordingly he then repaired, and looked at many
horses which pleased him much, and cheapening them more and more, and
failing to strike a bargain with any one, he from time to time, being raw
and unwary, drew out his purse of florins in view of all that came and went,
to shew that he meant business.

While he was thus chaffering, and after he had shewn his purse, there
chanced to come by a Sicilian girl, fair as fair could be, but ready to
pleasure any man for a small consideration. He did not see her, but she saw
him and his purse, and forthwith said to herself:--"Who would be in better
luck than I if all those florins were mine?" and so she passed on. With the
girl was an old woman, also a Sicilian, who, when she saw Andreuccio,
dropped behind the girl, and ran towards him, making as if she would
tenderly embrace him. The girl observing this said nothing, but stopped and
waited a little way off for the old woman to rejoin her. Andreuccio turned
as the old woman came up, recognised her, and greeted her very cordially;
but time and place not permitting much converse, she left him, promising to
visit him at his inn; and he resumed his chaffering, but bought nothing that
morning.

Her old woman's intimate acquaintance with Andreuccio had no more escaped
the girl's notice than the contents of Andreuccio's purse; and with the view
of devising, if possible, some way to make the money, either in whole or in
part, her own, she began cautiously to ask the old woman, who and whence he
was, what he did there, and how she came to know him. The old woman gave her
almost as much and as circumstantial information touching Andreuccio and his
affairs as he might have done himself, for she had lived a great while with
his father, first in Sicily, and afterwards at Perugia. She likewise told
the girl the name of his inn, and the purpose with which he had come to
Naples. Thus fully armed with the names and all else that it was needful for
her to know touching Andreuccio's kith and kin, the girl founded thereon her
hopes of gratifying her cupidity, and forthwith devised a cunning stratagem
to effect her purpose. Home she went, and gave the old woman work enough to
occupy her all day, that she might not be able to visit Andreuccio; then,
summoning to her aid a little girl whom she had well trained for such
services, she sent her about vespers to the inn where Andreuccio lodged.
Arrived there, the little girl asked for Andreuccio of Andreuccio himself,
who chanced to be just outside the gate. On his answering that he was the
man, she took him aside, and said:--"Sir, a lady of this country, so please
you, would fain speak with you." Whereto he listened with all his ears, and
having a great conceit of his person, made up his mind that the lady was in
love with him, as if there were ne'er another handsome fellow in Naples but
himself; so forthwith he replied, that he would wait on the lady, and asked
where and when it would be her pleasure to speak with him. "Sir," replied
the little girl, "she expects you in her own house, if you be pleased to
come." "Lead on then, I follow thee," said Andreuccio promptly, vouchsafing
never a word to any in the inn. So the little girl guided him to her
mistress's house, which was situated in a quarter the character of which may
be inferred from its name, Evil Hole. Of this, however, he neither knew nor
suspected aught, but, supposing that the quarter was perfectly reputable and
that he was going to see a sweet lady, strode carelessly behind the little
girl into the house of her mistress, whom she summoned by calling out,
"Andreuccio is here;" and Andreuccio then saw her advance to the head of the
stairs to await his ascent. She was tall, still in the freshness of her
youth, very fair of face, and very richly and nobly clad. As Andreuccio
approached, she descended three steps to meet him with open arms, and
clasped him round the neck, but for a while stood silent as if from excess
of tenderness; then, bursting into a flood of tears, she kissed his brow,
and in slightly broken accents said:--"O Andreuccio, welcome, welcome, my
Andreuccio." Quite lost in wonder to be the recipient of such caresses,
Andreuccio could only answer:--"Madam, well met." Whereupon she took him by
the hand, led him up into her saloon, and thence without another word into
her chamber, which exhaled throughout the blended fragrance of roses,
orange-blossoms and other perfumes. He observed a handsome curtained bed,
dresses in plenty hanging, as is customary in that country, on pegs, and
other appointments very fair and sumptuous; which sights, being strange to
him, confirmed his belief that he was in the house of no other than a great
lady. They sate down side by side on a chest at the foot of the bed, and
thus she began to speak:--"Andreuccio, I cannot doubt that thou dost marvel
both at the caresses which I bestow upon thee, and at my tears, seeing that
thou knowest me not, and, maybe, hast never so much as heard my name; wait
but a moment and thou shalt learn what perhaps will cause thee to marvel
still, more to wit, that I am thy sister; and I tell thee, that, since of
God's especial grace it is granted me to see one, albeit I would fain see
all, of my brothers before I die, I shall not meet death, when the hour
comes, without consolation; but thou, perchance, hast never heard aught of
this; wherefore listen to what I shall say to thee. Pietro, my father and
thine, as I suppose thou mayst have heard, dwelt a long while at Palermo,
where his good heart and gracious bearing caused him to be (as he still is)
much beloved by all that knew him; but by none was he loved so much as by a
gentlewoman, afterwards my mother, then a widow, who, casting aside all
respect for her father and brothers, ay, and her honour, grew so intimate
with him that a child was born, which child am I thy sister, whom thou seest
before thee. Shortly after my birth it so befell that Pietro must needs
leave Palermo and return to Perugia, and I, his little daughter, was left
behind with my mother at Palermo; nor, so far as I have been able to learn,
did he ever again bestow a thought upon either of us. Wherefore--to say
nothing of the love which he should have borne me, his daughter by no
servant or woman of low degree--I should, were he not my father, gravely
censure the ingratitude which he shewed towards my mother, who, prompted by
a most loyal love, committed her fortune and herself to his keeping, without
so much as knowing who he was. But to what end? The wrongs of long-ago are
much more easily censured than redressed; enough that so it was. He left me
a little girl at Palermo, where, when I was grown to be almost as thou seest
me, my mother, who was a rich lady, gave me in marriage to an honest
gentleman of the Girgenti family, who for love of my mother and myself
settled in Palermo, and there, being a staunch Guelf, entered into
correspondence with our King Charles;(1) which being discovered by King
Frederic (2) before the time was ripe for action, we had perforce to flee
from Sicily just when I was expecting to become the greatest lady that ever
was in the island. So, taking with us such few things as we could, few, I
say, in comparison of the abundance which we possessed, we bade adieu to our
estates and palaces, and found a refuge in this country, and such favour
with King Charles that, in partial compensation for the losses which we had
sustained on his account, he has granted us estates and houses and an ample
pension, which he regularly pays to my husband and thy brother-in-law, as
thou mayst yet see. In this manner I live here but that I am blest with the
sight of thee, I ascribe entirely to the mercy of God; and no thanks to
thee, my sweet brother." So saying she embraced him again, and melting anew
into tears kissed his brow.

This story, so congruous, so consistent in every detail, came trippingly and
without the least hesitancy from her tongue. Andreuccio remembered that his
father had indeed lived at Palermo; he knew by his own experience the ways
of young folk, how prone they are to love; he saw her melt into tears, he
felt her embraces and sisterly kisses; and he took all she said for gospel.
So, when she had done, he answered:--"Madam, it should not surprise you that
I marvel, seeing that, in sooth, my father, for whatever cause, said never a
word of you and your mother, or, if he did so, it came not to my knowledge,
so that I knew no more of you than if you had not been; wherefore, the
lonelier I am here, and the less hope I had of such good luck, the better
pleased I am to have found here my sister. And indeed, I know not any man,
however exalted his station, who ought not to be well pleased to have such a
sister; much more, then, I, who am but a petty merchant; but, I pray you,
resolve me of one thing: how came you to know that I was here?" Then
answered she:--"'Twas told me this morning by a poor woman who is much about
the house, because, as she tells me, she was long in the service of our
father both at Palermo and at Perugia, and, but that it seemed more fitting
that thou shouldst come to see me at home than that I should visit thee at
an inn, I had long ago sought thee out." She then began to inquire
particularly after all his kinsfolk by name, and Andreuccio, becoming ever
more firmly persuaded of that which it was least for his good to believe,
answered all her questions. Their conversation being thus prolonged and the
heat great, she had Greek wine and sweetmeats brought in, and gave
Andreuccio to drink; and when towards supper-time he made as if he would
leave, she would in no wise suffer it; but, feigning to be very much vexed,
she embraced him, saying:--"Alas! now 'tis plain how little thou carest for
me: to think that thou art with thy sister, whom thou seest for the first
time, and in her own house, where thou shouldst have alighted on thine
arrival, and thou wouldst fain depart hence to go sup at an inn! Nay but,
for certain, thou shalt sup with me; and albeit, to my great regret, my
husband is not here, thou shalt see that I can do a lady's part in shewing
thee honour." Andreuccio, not knowing what else to say, replied:--"Sister, I
care for you with all a brother's affection; but if I go not, supper will
await me all the evening at the inn, and I shall justly be taxed with
discourtesy." Then said she:--"Blessed be God, there is even now in the
house one by whom I can send word that they are not to expect thee at the
inn, albeit thou wouldst far better discharge the debt of courtesy by
sending word to thy friends, that they come here to sup; and then, if go
thou must, you might all go in a body." Andreuccio replied, that he would
have none of his friends that evening, but since she would have him stay, he
would even do her the pleasure. She then made a shew of sending word to the
inn that they should not expect him at dinner. Much more talk followed; and
then they sate down to a supper of many courses splendidly served, which she
cunningly protracted until nightfall; nor, when they were risen from table,
and Andreuccio was about to take his departure, would she by any means
suffer it, saying that Naples was no place to walk about in after dark,
least of all for a stranger, and that, as she had sent word to the inn that
they were not to expect him at supper, so she had done the like in regard of
his bed. Believing what she said, and being (in his false confidence)
overjoyed to be with her, he stayed. After supper there was matter enough
for talk both various and prolonged; and, when the night was in a measure
spent, she gave up her own chamber to Andreuccio, leaving him with a small
boy to shew him aught that he might have need of, while she retired with her
women to another chamber.

It was a very hot night , so, no sooner was Andreuccio alone than he
stripped himself to his doublet, and drew off his stockings and laid them on
the bed's head; and nature demanding a discharge of the surplus weight which
he carried within him, he asked the lad where this might be done, and was
shewn a door in a corner of the room, and told to go in there. Andreuccio,
nothing doubting, did so, but, by ill luck, set his foot on a plank which
was detached from the joist at the further end, whereby down it went, and he
with it. By God's grace he took no hurt by the fall, though it was from some
height, beyond sousing himself from head to foot in the ordure which filled
the whole place, which, that you may the better understand what has been
said, and that which is to follow, I will describe to you. A narrow and
blind alley, such as we commonly see between two houses, was spanned by
planks supported by joists on either side, and on the planks was the stool;
of which planks that which fell with Andreuccio was one. Now Andreuccio,
finding himself down there in the alley, fell to calling on the lad, who, as
soon as he heard him fall, had run off, and promptly let the lady know what
had happened. She hied forthwith to her chamber, and after a hasty search
found Andreuccio's clothes and the money in them, for he foolishly thought
to secure himself against risk by carrying it always on his person, and thus
being possessed of the prize for which she had played her ruse, passing
herself off as the sister of a man of Perugia, whereas she was really of
Palermo, she concerned herself no further with Andreuccio except to close
with all speed the door by which he had gone out when he fell. As the lad
did not answer, Andreuccio began to shout more loudly; but all to no
purpose. Whereby his suspicions were aroused, and he began at last to
perceive the trick that had been played upon him; so he climbed over a low
wall that divided the alley from the street, and hied him to the door of the
house, which he knew very well. There for a long while he stood shouting and
battering the door till it shook on its hinges; but all again to no purpose.
No doubt of his misadventure now lurking in his mind, he fell to bewailing
himself, saying:--"Alas! in how brief a time have I lost five hundred
florins and a sister!" with much more of the like sort. Then he recommenced
battering the door and shouting, to such a tune that not a few of the
neighbours were roused, and finding the nuisance intolerable, got up; and
one of the lady's servant-girls presented herself at the window with a very
sleepy air, and said angrily:--"Who knocks below there?" "Oh!" said
Andreuccio, "dost not know me? I am Andreuccio, Madam Fiordaliso's brother."
"Good man," she rejoined, "if thou hast had too much to drink, go, sleep it
off, and come back to-morrow. I know not Andreuccio, nor aught of the
fantastic stuff thou pratest; prithee begone and be so good as to let us
sleep in peace." "How?" said Andreuccio, "dost not understand what I say?
For sure thou dost understand; but if Sicilian kinships are of such a sort
that folk forget them so soon, at least return me my clothes, which I left
within, and right glad shall I be to be off." Half laughing, she rejoined:--
"Good man, methinks thou dost dream;" and, so saying, she withdrew and
closed the window. Andreuccio by this time needed no further evidence of his
wrongs; his wrath knew no bounds, and mortification well-nigh converted it
into frenzy; he was minded to exact by force what he had failed to obtain by
entreaties; and so, arming himself with a large stone, he renewed his attack
upon the door with fury, dealing much heavier blows than at first.
Wherefore, not a few of the neighbours, whom he had already roused from
their beds, set him down as an ill-conditioned rogue, and his story as a
mere fiction intended to annoy the good woman, (3) and resenting the din
which he now made, came to their windows, just as, when a stranger dog makes
his appearance, all the dogs of the quarter will run to bark at him, and
called out in chorus:--"'Tis a gross affront to come at this time of night
to the house of the good woman with this silly story. Prithee, good man, let
us sleep in peace; begone in God's name; and if thou hast a score to settle
with her, come to-morrow, but a truce to thy pestering to-night."

Emboldened, perhaps, by these words, a man who lurked within the house, the
good woman's bully, whom Andreuccio had as yet neither seen nor heard,
shewed himself at the window, and said in a gruff voice and savage, menacing
tone:--"Who is below there?" Andreuccio looked up in the direction of the
voice, and saw standing at the window, yawning and rubbing his eyes as if he
had just been roused from his bed, or at any rate from deep sleep, a fellow
with a black and matted beard, who, as far as Andreuccio's means of judging
went, bade fair to prove a most redoubtable champion. It was not without
fear, therefore, that he replied:--"I am a brother of the lady who is
within." The bully did not wait for him to finish his sentence, but,
addressing him in a much sterner tone than before, called out:--"I know not
why I come not down and give thee play with my cudgel, whilst thou givest me
sign of life, ass, tedious driveller that thou must needs be, and drunken
sot, thus to disturb our night's rest." Which said, he withdrew, and closed
the window. Some of the neighbours who best knew the bully's quality gave
Andreuccio fair words. "For God's sake," said they, "good man, take thyself
off, stay not here to be murdered. 'Twere best for thee to go." These
counsels, which seemed to be dictated by charity, reinforced the fear which
the voice and aspect of the bully had inspired in Andreuccio, who, thus
despairing of recovering his money and in the deepest of dumps, set his face
towards the quarter whence in the daytime he had blindly followed the little
girl, and began to make his way back to the inn. But so noisome was the
stench which he emitted that he resolved to turn aside and take a bath in
the sea. So he bore leftward up a street called Ruga Catalana, and was on
his way towards the steep of the city, when by chance he saw two men coming
towards him, bearing a lantern, and fearing that they might be patrols or
other men who might do him a mischief, he stole away and hid himself in a
dismantled house to avoid them. The house, however, was presently entered by
the two men, just as if they had been guided thither; and one of them having
disburdened himself of some iron tools which he carried on his shoulder,
they both began to examine them, passing meanwhile divers comments upon
them. While they were thus occupied, "What," said one, means this? Such a
stench as never before did I smell the like. "So saying, he raised the
lantern a little; whereby they had a view of hapless Andreuccio, and asked
in amazement:--"Who is there?" Whereupon Andreuccio was at first silent, but
when they flashed the light close upon him, and asked him what he did there
in such a filthy state, he told them all that had befallen him. Casting
about to fix the place where it occurred, they said one to another:--"Of a
surety 'twas in the house of Scarabone Buttafuoco." Then said one, turning
to Andreuccio:--"Good man, albeit thou hast lost thy money, thou hast cause
enough to praise God that thou hadst the luck to fall; for hadst thou not
fallen, be sure that, no sooner wert thou asleep, than thou hadst been
knocked on the head, and lost not only thy money but thy life. But what
boots it now to bewail thee? Thou mightest as soon pluck a star from the
firmament as recover a single denier; nay, 'tis as much as thy life is worth
if he do but hear that thou breathest a word of the affair."

The two men then held a short consultation, at the close of which they
said:--"Lo now; we are sorry for thee, and so we make thee a fair offer. If
thou wilt join with us in a little matter which we have in hand, we doubt
not but thy share of the gain will greatly exceed what thou hast lost."
Andreuccio, being now desperate, answered that he was ready to join them.
Now Messer Filippo Minutolo, Archbishop of Naples, had that day been buried
with a ruby on his finger, worth over five hundred florins of gold, besides
other ornaments of extreme value. The two men were minded to despoil the
Archbishop of his fine trappings, and imparted their design to Andreuccio,
who, cupidity getting the better of caution, approved it; and so they all
three set forth. But as they were on their way to the cathedral, Andreuccio
gave out so rank an odour that one said to the other:--"Can we not contrive
that he somehow wash himself a little, that he stink not so shrewdly?" "Why
yes," said the other, "we are now close to a well, which is never without
the pulley and a large bucket; 'tis but a step thither, and we will wash him
out of hand." Arrived at the well, they found that the rope was still there,
but the bucket had been removed; so they determined to attach him to the
rope, and lower him into the well, there to wash himself, which done, he was
to jerk the rope, and they would draw him up. Lowered accordingly he was;
but just as, now washen, he jerked the rope, it so happened that a company
of patrols, being thirsty because 'twas a hot night and some rogue had led
them a pretty dance, came to the well to drink. The two men fled,
unobserved, as soon as they caught sight of the newcomers, who, parched with
thirst, laid aside their bucklers, arms and surcoats, and fell to hauling on
the rope, that it bore the bucket, full of water. When, therefore, they saw
Andreuccio, as he neared the brink of the well, loose the rope and clutch
the brink with his hands, they were stricken with a sudden terror, and
without uttering a word let go the rope, and took to flight with all the
speed they could make. Whereat Andreuccio marvelled mightily, and had he not
kept a tight grip on the brink of the well, he would certainly have gone
back to the bottom and hardly have escaped grievous hurt, or death. Still
greater was his astonishment, when, fairly landed on terra firma, he found
the patrols' arms lying there, which he knew had not been carried by his
comrades. He felt a vague dread, he knew not why; he bewailed once more his
evil fortune; and without venturing to touch the arms, he left the well and
wandered he knew not whither. As he went, however, he fell in with his two
comrades, now returning to draw him out of the well; who no sooner saw him
than in utter amazement they demanded who had hauled him up. Andreuccio
answered that he knew not, and then told them in detail how it had come
about, and what he had found beside the well. They laughed as they
apprehended the circumstances, and told him why they had fled, and who they
were that had hauled him up. Then without further parley, for it was now
midnight, they hied them to the cathedral. They had no difficulty in
entering and finding the tomb, which was a magnificent structure of marble,
and with their iron implements they raised the lid, albeit it was very
heavy, to a height sufficient to allow a man to enter, and propped it up.
This done, a dialogue ensued. "Who shall go in?" said one. "Not I," said the
other. "Nor I," rejoined his companion; "let Andreuccio go in." "That will
not I," said Andreuccio. Whereupon both turned upon him and said:--"How?
thou wilt not go in? By God, if thou goest not in, we will give thee that
over the pate with one of these iron crowbars that thou shalt drop down
dead." Terror-stricken, into the tomb Andreuccio went, saying to himself as
he did so:--"These men will have me go in, that they may play a trick upon
me: when I have handed everything up to them, and am sweating myself to get
out of the tomb, they will be off about their business, and I shall be left,
with nothing for my pains." So he determined to make sure of his own part
first; and bethinking him of the precious ring of which he had heard them
speak, as soon as he had completed the descent, he drew the ring off the
Archbishop's finger, and put it on his own: he then handed up one by one the
crosier, mitre and gloves, and other of the Archbishop's trappings,
stripping him to his shirt; which done, he told his comrades that there was
nothing more. They insisted that the ring must be there, and bade him search
everywhere. This he feigned to do, ejaculating from time to time that he
found it not; and thus he kept them a little while in suspense. But they,
who, were in their way as cunning as he, kept on exhorting him to make a
careful search, and, seizing their opportunity, withdrew the prop that
supported the lid of the tomb, and took to their heels, leaving him there a
close prisoner. You will readily conceive how Andreuccio behaved when he
understood his situation. More than once he applied his head and shoulders
to the lid and sought with might and main to heave it up; but all his
efforts were fruitless; so that at last, overwhelmed with anguish he fell in
a swoon on the corpse of the Archbishop, and whether of the twain were the
more lifeless, Andreuccio or the Archbishop, 'twould have puzzled an
observer to determine.

Pages:
1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20 | 21 | 22 | 23 | 24 | 25 | 26 | 27 | 28 | 29
Copyright (c) 2007. topbookz.net. All rights reserved.