Calandrino went stealing before the other two, and verilie perswaded
himselfe, that he was borne to finde the Helitropium, and looking on
every side about him, hee rejected all other Stones but the blacke,
whereof first he filled his bosome, and afterwards, both his
Pockets. Then he tooke off his large painting Apron, which he fastened
with his girdle in the manner of a sacke, and that he filled full of
stones likewise. Yet not so satisfied, he spred abroad his Cloake,
which being also full of stones, hee bound it up carefully, for
feare of loosing the very least of them. All which Buffalmaco and
Bruno well observing (the day growing on, and hardly they could
reach home by dinner time) according as merrily they had concluded,
and pretending not to see Calandrino, albeit he was not farre from
them: What is become of Calandrino? saide Buffalmaco. Bruno gazing
strangely every where about him, as if hee were desirous to finde him,
replyed. I saw him not long since, for then he was hard by before
us; questionlesse, he hath given us the slippe, is privilie gone
home to dinner, and making starke fooles of us, hath lefte us to picke
up blacke stones, upon the parching plaines of Mugnone. Well (quoth
Buffalmaco) this is but the tricke of an hollow-hearted friend, and
not such as he protested himselfe to be, to us. Could any but wee have
bin so sottish, to credit his frivolous perswasions, hoping to finde
any stones of such vertue, and here on the fruitlesse plains of
Mugnone? No, no, none but we would have beleeved him.
Calandrino (who was close by them) hearing these wordes, and
seeing the whole manner of their wondering behaviour: became
constantly perswaded, that hee had not onely found the precious stone;
but also had some store of them about him, by reason he was so neere
to them, and yet they could not see him, therefore he walked before
them. Now was his joy beyond all compasse of expression, and being
exceedingly proud of so happy an adventure: did not meane to speake
one word to them, but (heavily laden as hee was) to steale home
faire and softly before them, which indeede he did, leaving them to
follow after, if they would. Bruno perceiving his intent, said to
Buffalmaco: What remaineth now for us to doe? Why should not we go
home, as well as hee? And reason too, replyed Bruno. It is in vaine to
tarry any longer heere: but I solemnly protest, Calandrino shall no
more make an Asse of me: and were I now as neere him, as not long
since I was, I would give him such a remembrance on the heele with
this Flint stone, as should sticke by him this moneth, to teach him
a lesson for abusing his friends.
Hee threw the stone, and hit him shrewdly on the heele therewith;
but all was one to Calandrino, whatsoever they saide, or did, as
thus they still followed after him. And although the blow of the stone
was painfull to him; yet he mended his pace so wel as he was able,
in regard of beeing over-loaden with stones, and gave them not one
word all the way, because he tooke himselfe to bee invisible, and
utterly unseene of them. Buffalmaco taking uppe another Flintstone,
which was indifferent heavie and sharp, said to Bruno. Seest thou this
Flint? Casting it from him, he smote Calandrino just in the backe
therewith, saying that Calandrino had bin so neere as I might have hit
him on the backe with the stone. And thus all the way on the plaine of
Mugnone, they did nothing else but pelt him with stones, even so farre
as the Port of S. Gall, where they threwe downe what other stones they
had gathered, meaning not to molest him any more, because they had
done enough already.
There they stept before him unto the Port, and acquainted the
Warders with the whole matter, who laughing heartily at the jest,
the better to upholde it; would seeme not to see Calandrino in his
passage by them, but suffered him to go on, sore wearied with his
burthen, and sweating extreamly. Without resting himselfe in any
place, he came home to his house, which was neere to the corner of the
Milles, Fortune being so favourable to him in the course of this
mockery, that as he passed along the Rivers side, and afterward
through part of the City; he was neither met nor seen by any, in
regard they were all in their houses at dinner.
Calandrino, every minute ready to sinke under his weightie
burthen, entred into his owne house, where (by great ill luck) his
wife, being a comely and very honest woman, and named Monna Trista,
was standing aloft on the stayres head. She being somewhat angry for
his so long absence, and seeing him come in grunting and groaning,
frowningly said. I thought that the divell would never let thee come
home, all the whole Citie have dined, and yet wee must remaine without
our dinner. When Calandrino heard this, and perceived that he was
not invisible to his Wife: full of rage and wroth, hee began to raile,
saying. Ah thou wicked woman, where art thou? Thou hast utterly undone
me: but (as I live) I will pay thee soundly for it. Up the staires
he ascended into a small Parlour, where when he hadde spred all his
burthen of stones on the floore: he ran to his wife, catching frer
by the haire of the head, and throwing her at his feete; giving her so
many spurns and cruel blowes, as shee was not able to moove either
armes or legges, notwithstanding all her teares, and humble
submission.
Now Buffalmaco and Bruno, after they had spent an indifferent while,
with the Warders at the Port in laughter; in a faire and gentle
pace, they followed Calandrino home to his house, and being come to
the doore, they heard the harsh bickering betweene him and his Wife,
and seeming as if they were but newly arrived, they called out alowd
to him. Calandrino being in a sweate, stamping and raving still at his
Wife: looking forth of the window, entreated them to ascend up to him,
which they did, counterfetting greevous displeasure against him. Being
come into the roome, which they saw all covered over with stones,
his Wife sitting in a corner, all the haire (well-neere) torne off her
head, her face broken and bleeding, and all her body cruelly beaten;
on the other side, Calandrino standing unbraced and ungirded,
strugling and wallowing, like a man quite out of breath: after a
little pausing, Bruno thus spake.
Why how now Calandrino? What may the meaning of this matter be?
What, art thou preparing for building, that thou hast provided such
plenty of stones? How sitteth thy poore wife? How hast thou misused
her? Are these the behaviours of a wise or honest man? Calandrino,
over-spent with travalle, and carrying such an huge burthen of stones,
as also the toylesome beating of his Wife, (but much more impatient
and offended, for that high good Fortune, which he imagined to have
lost:) could not collect his spirits together, to answer them one
ready word, wherefore hee sate fretting like a mad man. Whereupon,
Buffalmaco thus began to him. Calandrino, if thou be angry with any
other, yet thou shouldest not have made such a mockery of us, as
thou hast done: in leaving us (like a couple of coxcombes) to the
plaine of Mugnone, whether thou leddest us with thee, to seeke a
precious stone called Helitropium. And couldst thou steale home, never
bidding us so much as farewell? How can we but take it in very evill
part, that thou shouldest so abuse two honest neighbours? Well, assure
thy selfe, this is the last time that ever thou shalt serve us so.
Calandrino (by this time) being somewhat better come to himselfe,
with an humble protestation of courtesie, returned them this answer.
Alas my good friends, be not you offended, the case is farre otherwise
then you immagine. Poore unfortunate man that I am, I found the rare
precious stone that you speake of: and marke me well, if I do not tell
you the truth of all. When you asked one another (the first time) what
was become of me; I was hard by you: at the most, within the
distance of two yards length; and perceiving that you saw mee not,
(being still so neere, and alwaies before you:) I went on, smiling
to my selfe, to heare you brabble and rage against me.
So, proceeding on in his discourse, he recounted every accident as
it hapned, both what they had saide and did unto him, concerning the
severall blowes, with the two Flint-stones, the one hurting him
greevously in the heele, and the other paining him as extreamly in the
backe, with their speeches used then, and his laughter,
notwithstanding hee felt the harme of them both, yet beeing proud that
he did so invisibly beguile them. Nay more (quoth he) I cannot
forbeare to tell you, that when I passed thorow the Port, I saw you
standing with the Warders; yet, by vertue of that excellent Stone,
undiscovered of you all. Beside, going along the streets, I met many
of my Gossips, friends, and familiar acquaintance, such as used daylie
to converse with me, and drinking together in every Tavern: yet not
one of them spake to me, neyther used any courtesie or salutation;
which (indeede) I did the more freely forgive them, because they
were not able to see me.
In the end of all when I was come home into mine owne house, this
divellish and accursed woman, being aloft uppon my stayres head, by
much misfortune chanced to see me; in regard (as it is not unknowne to
you) that women cause all things to lose their vertue. In which
respect, I that could have stild my selfe the onely happy man in
Florence, am now made most miserable. And therefore did I justly beate
her, so long as she was able to stand against mee, and I know no
reason to the contrary, why I should not yet teare her in a thousand
peeces: for I may well curse the day of our mariage, to hinder and
bereave me of such an invisible blessednesse.
Buffalmaco and Bruno hearing this, made shew of verie much
mervailing thereat, and many times maintained what Calandrino had
said; being well neere ready to burst with laughter; considering,
how confidently he stood upon it, that he had found the wonderful
stone, and lost it by his wives speaking onely to him. But when they
saw him rise in fury once more, with intent to beat her againe: then
they stept betweene them; affirming, That the woman had no way
offended in this case, but rather he himself: who knowing that women
cause all things to lose their vertue, had not therefore expresly
commanded her, not to be seene in his presence all that day, untill he
had made full proofe of the stones vertue. And questionles, the
consideration of a matter so availeable and important, was quite taken
from him, because such an especiall happinesse, should not belong to
him only; but (in part) to his friends, whom he had acquainted
therewith, drew them to the plaine with him in companie, where they
tooke as much paines in serch of the stone, as possibly he did, or
could; and yet (dishonestly) he would deceive them, and beare it
away covetously, for his owne private benefit.
After many other, as wise and wholesome perswasions, which he
constantly credited, because they spake them, they reconciled him to
his wife, and she to him: but not without some difficulty in him;
who falling into wonderfull greefe and melancholy, for losse of such
an admirable precious stone, was in danger to have dyed, within
lesse then a month after.
THE EIGHT DAY, THE FOURTH NOVELL
WHEREIN IS DECLARED, HOW LOVE OFTENTIMES IS SO POWERFULL IN AGED
MEN, AND DRIVETH THEM TO SUCH DOATING, THAT IT
REDOUNDETH TO THEIR GREAT DISGRACE AND PUNISHMENT
The Provost belonging to the Cathedrall Church of Fiesola, fell in
love with a Gentlewoman, being a widdow, and named Piccarda, who hated
him as much as he loved her. He imagining, that he lay with her: by
the Gentlewomans Bretheren, and the Byshop under whom he served, was
taken in bed with her Mayde, an ugly, foule, deformed Slut.
Ladie Eliza having concluded her Novell, not without infinite
commendations of the whole company: the Queen turning her lookes to
Madame Aimillia, gave her such an expresse signe, as she must needs
follow next after Madame Eliza, whereupon she began in this manner.
Vertuous Ladies, I very well remember (by divers Novels formerly
related) that sufficient hath beene sayde, concerning Priests and
Religious persons, and all other carrying shaven Crownes, in their
luxurious appetites and desires. But because no one can at any time
say so much, as thereto no more may be added: beside them alreadie
spoken of, I wil tel you another concerning the Provost of a Cathedral
Church, who would needes (in despight of all the world) love a
Gentlewoman whether she would or no: and therefore, in due
chastisement both unto his age and folly, she gave him such
entertainment as he justly deserved.
It is not unknowne unto you all, that the Cittie of Fieosola, the
mountaine whereof we may very easily hither discerne, hath bene (in
times past) a very great and most ancient City: although at this day
it is wellneere all ruined: yet neverthelesse, it alwaies was, and yet
is a Byshops See, albeit not of the wealthiest. In the same Citie, and
no long while since, neere unto the Cathedrall Church, there dwelt a
Gentlewoman, being a Widdow, and commonlie there stiled by the name of
Madame Piccarda, whose house and inheritance was but small,
wherewith yet she lived very contentedly (having no wandering eye,
or wanton desires) and no company but her two Brethren, Gentlemen of
especiall honest and gracious disposition.
This Gentlewoman, being yet in the flourishing condition of her
time, did ordinarily resort to the Cathedrall Church in holie zeale,
and religious devotion; where the Provost of the place, became so
enamored of her, as nothing (but the sight of her) yeelded him any
contentment. Which fond affection of his, was forwarded with such an
audacious and bold carriage, as hee dared to acquaint her with his
love, requiring her enterchange of affection, and the like opinion
of him, as he had of her. True it is, that he was very farre entred
into yeares, but yong and lustie in his own proud conceite,
presuming strangely beyond his capacity, and thinking as well of his
