_Assunta._ I could hardly lift up my apron to my eyes with it in my hand. Luca, who brought it all the way from the Padule, could scarcely be entreated to eat a morsel of bread or sit down. _Boccaccio._ Give him a flask or two of our wine; he will like it better than the sour puddle of the plain. _Assunta._ He is gone back. _Boccaccio._ Gone! who is he, pray? _Assunta._ Luca, to be sure. _Boccaccio._ What Luca? _Assunta._ Dominedio! O Riverenza! how sadly must Ser Giovanni, my poor Padrone, have lost his memory in this cruel long illness! he cannot recollect young Luca of the Bientola, who married Maria. _Boccaccio._ I never heard of either, to the best of my knowledge. _Assunta._ Be pleased to mention this in your prayers to-night, Ser Canonico! May Our Lady soon give him back his memory! and everything else she has been pleased (only in play, I hope) to take away from him! Ser Francesco, you must have heard all over the world how Maria Gargarelli, who lived in the service of our paroco, somehow was outwitted by Satanasso. Monsignore thought the paroco had not done all he might have done against his wiles and craftiness, and sent his Reverence over to the monastery in the mountains, Laverna yonder, to make him look sharp; and there he is yet. And now does Signor Padrone recollect? _Boccaccio._ Rather more distinctly. _Assunta._ Ah me! Rather more distinctly! have patience, Signor Padrone! I am too venturous, God help me! But, Riverenza, when Maria was the scorn or the abhorrence of everybody else, excepting poor Luca Sabbatini, who had always cherished her, and excepting Signor Padrone, who had never seen her in his lifetime ... for paroco Snello said he desired no visits from any who took liberties with Holy Church ... as if Padrone did! Luca one day came to me out of breath, with money in his hand for our duck. Now it so happened that the duck, stuffed with noble chestnuts, was going to table at that instant. I told Signor Padrone.... _Boccaccio._ Assunta, I never heard thee repeat so long and tiresome a story before, nor put thyself out of breath so. Come, we have had enough of it. _Petrarca._ She is mortified: pray let her proceed. _Boccaccio._ As you will. _Assunta._ I told Signor Padrone how Luca was lamenting that Maria was seized with an _imagination_. _Petrarca._ No wonder then she fell into misfortune, and her neighbours and friends avoided her. _Assunta._ Riverenza! how can you smile? Signor Padrone! and you too? You shook your head and sighed at it when it happened. The Demonio, who had caused all the first mischief, was not contented until he had given her the _imagination_. _Petrarca._ He could not have finished his work more effectually. _Assunta._ He was balked, however. Luca said: 'She shall not die under her wrongs, please God!'