effect. I see that your daughter is beautifull, and of sufficient
yeeres for marriage; and is debarred thereof (as I have heard) onely
by lack of a competent dowry. Wherefore Madame, in recompence of the
favour I expect from you, I will enrich her with so much ready money
as you shall thinke sufficient to match her in the degree of honour.
Poverty made the poore Lady, very well to like of such a bountifull
offer, and having a noble heart shee said: Great Countesse say,
wherein am I able to do you any service, as can deserve such a
gracious offer? If the action be honest; without blame or scandall
to my poore, yet undetected reputation, gladly I will do it; and it
being accomplished, let the requitall rest in your owne noble nature.
Observe me then Madame, replied the Countesse. It is most convenient
for my purpose, that by some trusty and faithfull messenger, you
should advertise the Count my husband, that your daughter is, and
shall be at his command: but that she may remaine absolutely
assured, that his love is constant to her, and above all other: shee
must entreat him, to send her (as a testimony thereof) the Ring
which he weareth upon his little finger, albeit shee hath heard,
that he loveth it deerly. If he send the Ring, you shall give it me,
and afterward send him word, that your daughter is ready to accomplish
his pleasure; but, for the more safety and secrecie, he must repaire
hither to your house, where I being in bed insteed of your daughter,
faire Fortune may so favour mee, that (unknowne to him) I may conceive
with childe. Upon which good successe, when time shall serve, having
the Ring on my finger, and a childe in my armes begotten by him, his
love and liking may be recovered, and (by your meanes) I continue with
my Husband, as every vertuous Wife ought to doe.
The good old Lady imagined, that this was a matter somewhat
difficult, and might lay a blamefull imputation on her daughter.
Neverthelesse, considering, what an honest office it was in her, to
bee the meanes, whereby so worthy a Countesse should recover an
unkinde husband, led altogether by lust, and not a jot of cordiall
love; she knew the intent to be honest, the Countesse vertuous, and
her promise religious, and therefore undertooke to effect it. Within
few dayes after, verie ingeniously, and according to the instructed
order, the Ring was obtayned, albeit much against the Counts will; and
the Countesse, in sted of the Ladies vertuous daughter, was embraced
by him in bed: the houre proving so auspicious, and juno being Lady of
the ascendent, conjoyned with the witty Mercury, shee conceived of two
goodly Sonnes, and her deliverance agreed correspondently with the
just time.
Thus the old Lady, not at this time onely, but at many other meetings
besides; gave the Countesse free possession of her husbands pleasures,
yet alwayes in such darke and concealed secrecie, as it was never
suspected, nor knowne by any but themselves, the Count lying with
his owne wife, and disappointed of her whom he more deerely loved.
Alwayes at his uprising in the mornings (which usually was before
the break of day, for preventing the least scruple of suspicion)
many familiar conferences passed betweene them, with the gifts of
divers faire: and costly jewels; all which the Countesse carefully
kept, and perceiving assuredly, that shee was conceived with childe,
shee would no longer bee troublesome to the good old Lady; but calling
her aside, spake thus to her. Madame, I must needes give thankes to
heaven and you, because my desires are amply accomplished, and both
time and your deserts doe justly challenge, that I should
accordingly quite you before my departure. It remaineth now in your
owne power, to make what demand you please of me, which yet I will not
give you by way of reward, because that would seeme to bee base and
mercenary: but onely whatsoever you shall receive of me, is in
honourable recompence of faire and vertuous deservings, such as any
honest and well-minded Lady in the like distresse, may with good
credit allow, and yet no prejudice to her reputation.
Although poverty might well have tutored the Ladies tongue,
to-demand a liberall recompence for her paines; yet shee requested but
an 100 pounds, as a friendly helpe towards her daughters marriage, and
that with a bashfull blushing was uttered too; yet the Countesse
gave her five hundred pounds, besides so many rich and costly
jewels, as amounted to a farre greater summe. So shee returned to
her wonted lodging, at the aged widdowes house, where first shee was
entertained at her comming to Florence; and the good old Lady, to
avoyde the Counts repairing to her house any more, departed thence
sodainly with her daughter, to divers friends of hers that dwelt in
the Country, whereat the Count was much discontented; albeit
afterward, he did never heare any more tidings of hir or her daughter,
who was worthily married, to her Mothers great comfort.
Not long after, Count Bertrand was recalled home by his people:
and he having heard of his wives absence, went to Roussillion so
much the more willingly. And the Countesse knowing her husbands
departure from Florence, as also his safe arrivall at his owne
dwelling, remained still in Florence, untill the time of her
deliverance, which was of two goodly Sonnes, lively resembling the
lookes of their Father, and all the perfect lineaments of his body.
Perswade your selves, she was not a little carefull of their
nursing; and when she saw the time answerable to her determination,
she tooke her journey (unknowne to any) and arrived with them at
Montpellier, where she rested her selfe for divers dayes, after so
long and wearisome a journey.
Upon the day of all Saints, the Count kept a solemne Feastivall, for
the assembly of his Lords, Knights, Ladies, and Gentlewomen: upon
which Joviall day of generall rejoycing, the Countesse attired in
her wonted Pilgrimes weed, repaired thither, entring into the great
Hall where the Tables were readily covered for dinner. Preassing
through the throng of people, with her two children in her armes, s
presumed unto the place where the Count sate, and falling on her knees
before him, the teares trickling abundantly downe her cheekes, thus
she spake. Worthy Lord, I am thy poore, despised, and unfortunate
wife; who, that thou mightst returne home, and not be an exile from
thine owne abiding, have thus long gone begging through the world. Yet
now at length, I hope thou wilt be so honourably-minded, as to
performe thine owne too strict imposed conditions, made to the two
Knights which I sent unto thee, and which (by thy command) I was
enjoyned to do. Behold here in mine armes, not onely one Sonne by thee
begotten, but two Twins, and thy Ring beside. High time is it now,
if men of honour respect their promises, and after so long and tedious
travell, I should at last be welcommed as thy true wife.
The Count hearing this, stoode as confounded with admiration; for
full well he knew the Ring: and both the children were so perfectly
like him, as he was confirmed to be their Father by generall
judgement. Upon his urging by what possible meanes this could be
brought to passe: the Countesse in presence of the whole assembly, and
unto her eternall commendation, related the whole history, even in
such manner as you have formerly heard it. Moreover, she reported
the private speeches in bed, uttered betweene himselfe and her,
being witnessed more apparantly, by the costly jewels there openly
shewne. All which infallible proofes, proclaiming his shame, and her
most noble carriage to her husband; he confessed, that she had told
nothing but the truth in every point which she had reported.
Commending her admirable constancy, exceliency of wit, and sprightly
courage, in making such a bold adventure; he kissed the two sweete
boyes, and to keepe his promise, whereto he was earnestly
importuned, by all his best esteemed friends there present, especially
the honourable Ladies, who would have no deniall, but by forgetting
his former harsh and uncivill carriage towards her, to accept her
for ever as his lawfull wife, folding her in his armes, and sweetly
kissing her divers times together, he bad her welcome to him, as his
vertuous, loyall, and most loving wife, and so (for ever after) he
would acknowledge her. Well knew hee that she had store of better
beseeming garments in the house, and therefore requested the Ladies to
walke with her to her Chamber, to uncase her of those Pilgrimes weeds,
and cloath her in her owne more sumptuous garments, even those which
shee wore on her wedding day, because that was not the day of his
contentment, but onely this; for now he confessed her to be his wife
indeede, and now he would give the king thanks for her, and now was
Count Bertrand truly married to the faire Juliet of Narbona.
THE THIRD DAY, THE TENTH NOVELL
Alibech turns hermit, and a monk, Rustico, teaches her to put the
Devil in Hell. Afterwards she is brought home, and married to
Neerbale.
Dioneus listened attentively to the Queen's discourse, and when
she had done and he knew that only he remained to complete the day's
entertainment, without trifling away the time or awaiting a command
from the Queen, thus he began.
Gracious ladies, it may be you have not heard how the Devil is put
in Hell. Therefore, and since it will not be far off the subject of
this day's discourse, I will tell it you. Perhaps, hearing it, you may
the better understand that albeit Love more affects gay palaces and
luxurious bowers than the cabins of the poor, yet he by no means
disdains to manifest his power even in the depths of the forest, on
stark mountains and in the caves of the desert; and thus we must
acknowledge that all things wheresoever they be are subject to him.
Coming, then, to my story, I must tell you that in Capsa, a city
of Barbary, there dwelt aforetime a very rich man, who had among
several children a little daughter, fair and of a docile temper, whose
name was Alibech.
This girl, a heathen in a place where many were Christian, used
often to hear her neighbours extol the Christian faith and devotion to
the service of God; wherefore she asked one of them how God could best
be served and with the least hindrance. She was told that they best
served Him who removed themselves farthest from the things of the
world, as in particular the hermits who had withdrawn from the city to
the wilds of Thebais.
The simple maiden, aged perhaps some fourteen years, moved rather by
a childish whim than any real vocation, set out on the morrow alone
and telling nobody to walk into the desert. So firmly was she resolved
that after several days of hardship she reached the wilderness of
Thebais. From afar she descried a little hut, and coming up to it,
found there a holy man. Amazed to see such a one there, he asked
what she came to seek. Her answer was that, aspiring towards God,
she came thither to serve Him, and in the hope of finding a teacher to
that end.
The pious hermit, seeing her so young and fair, was afraid lest
the Devil might ensnare him; so he praised her intent, and giving
her roots, wild apples and dates to eat and a draught of water,
said: "Daughter, not far from here there dwells a holy man such as
thou seekest: a fitter man than I. Go thou to him." And he put her
on the way.
The second hermit advised her as the first; and faring farther she
came to the cell of a young hermit, a very pious and righteous man,
whose name was Rustico. To him she repeated her mission. Willing to
put his resolution to so great a test, he forebore to send her away,
and took her into his cell. At nightfall he made her a bed of
palm-leaves, and bade her lie down to rest.
Temptations did not long delay an assault on his constancy; and
finding it much beyond his strength to withstand them, he soon gave up
the battle, and confessed himself worsted. So putting away all saintly
thoughts, prayers and mortifications, he let his mind dwell on the
freshness and beauty of his companion. From this he passed to thinking
of the best means of bringing her to his desires without giving her
cause to suspect him of lewdness.
Therefore, satisfying himself by a few questions that she had never
had carnal knowledge of a man, and was indeed as innocent as she
seemed, he thought of a plan to enjoy her under colour of serving God.
He began expounding to her the Devil's enmity to the Almighty, and
went on to impress upon her that the most acceptable service she could
render to God would be to put the Devil in Hell, whereto the Lord
had condemned him.
The little maid asked him how this might be done. "Thou shalt soon
learn," replied Rustico, "only do as thou seest me do." Thereupon he
took off what few clothes he wore, and stood stark naked; and as
soon as the girl had done likewise he fell on his knees as though to
pray, and made her kneel face to face with him.
This done, Rustico's desire was more than ever inflamed at the sight
of her beauty, and the resurrection of the flesh came to pass.
Seeing this, and not knowing what it meant, Alibech asked: "Rustico,
what is it thou hast that thrusts itself out in front, and that I have
not?" "My daughter," quoth Rustico, "it is that same Devil of whom I
have been telling thee. Dost thou mark him? Behold, he gives me such
sore trouble that I can hardly bear it."
"The Lord be praised!" said she; "for now I see that I am more
blessed than thou in that I have not this Devil."
Rustico retorted: "Thou sayest truly; but thou hast another thing
that I have not, and hast it in place of this."
"What is that?" says Alibech.
To this Rustico replied: "Thou hast Hell; and will tell thee my
belief that God gave it thee for the health of my soul. For, if thou
wilt take pity on me for the troubling of this Devil, and suffer me to
put him in Hell, thou wilt comfort me extremely, and at the same
