Allegories; Frame stories; Plague -- Europe -- History -- Fiction; Storytelling -- Fiction
The lady gone, the friar, who had still no idea of the trick that had been
played upon him, sent for his friend; who was no sooner come than he
gathered from the friar's troubled air that he had news of the lady, and
waited to hear what he would say. The friar repeated what he had said
before, and then broke out into violent and heated objurgation on the score
of the lady's latest imputation. The gallant, who did not as yet apprehend
the friar's drift, gave but a very faint denial to the charge of sending the
purse and girdle, in order that he might not discredit the lady with the
friar, if, perchance, she had given him the purse and girdle. Whereupon the
friar exclaimed with great heat:--"How canst thou deny it, thou wicked man?
Why, here they are; she brought them to me in tears with her own hand. Look
at them, and say if thou knowest them not." The gallant now feigned to be
much ashamed, and said:--"Why, yes, indeed, I do know them; I confess that I
did wrong; and I swear to you that, now I know her character, you shall
never hear word more of this matter." Many words followed; and then the
blockheadly friar gave the purse and girdle to his friend, after which he
read him a long lecture, besought him to meddle no more with such matters,
and on his promising obedience dismissed him.
Elated beyond measure by the assurance which he now had of the lady's love,
and the beautiful present, the gallant, on leaving the friar, hied him
straight to a spot whence he stealthily gave the lady to see that he had
both her gifts: whereat the lady was well content, the more so as her
intrigue seemed ever to prosper more and more. She waited now only for her
husband's departure from home to crown her enterprise with success. Nor was
it long before occasion required that her husband should go to Genoa. The
very morning that he took horse and rode away she hied her to the holy
friar, and after many a lamentation she said to him betwixt her sobs:--"My
father, now at last I tell you out and out that I can bear my suffering no
longer. I promised you some days ago to do nought in this matter without
first letting you know it; I am now come to crave release from that promise;
and that you may believe that my lamentations and complaints are not
groundless, I will tell you how this friend of yours, who should rather be
called a devil let loose from hell, treated me only this very morning, a
little before matins. As ill-luck would have it, he learned, I know not how,
that yesterday morning my husband went to Genoa, and so this morning at the
said hour he came into my garden, and got up by a tree to the window of my
bedroom, which looks out over the garden, and had already opened the
casement, and was about to enter the room, when I suddenly awoke, and got up
and uttered a cry, and should have continued to cry out, had not he, who was
still outside, implored my mercy for God's sake and yours, telling me who he
was.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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