Allegories; Frame stories; Plague -- Europe -- History -- Fiction; Storytelling -- Fiction
Now Peronella knew by his knock that 'twas her husband;
wherefore:--"Alas, Giannello mine," quoth she, "I am a dead woman, for
lo, here is my husband, foul fall him! come back! What it may import, I
know not, for he is never wont to come back at this hour; perchance he
caught sight of thee as thou camest in. However, for the love of God, be
it as it may, get thee into this tun that thou seest here, and I will go
open to him, and we shall see what is the occasion of this sudden return
this morning." So Giannello forthwith got into the tun, and Peronella
went to the door, and let in her husband, and gave him black looks,
saying:--"This is indeed a surprise that thou art back so soon this
morning! By what I see thou hast a mind to make this a holiday, that thou
returnest tools in hand; if so, what are we to live on? whence shall we
get bread to eat? Thinkest thou I will let thee pawn my gown and other
bits of clothes? Day and night I do nought else but spin, insomuch that
the flesh is fallen away from my nails, that at least I may have oil
enough to keep our lamp alight. Husband, husband, there is never a woman
in the neighbourhood but marvels and mocks at me, that I am at such
labour and pains; and thou comest home to me with thy hands hanging idle,
when thou shouldst be at work." Which said, she fell a weeping and
repeating:--"Alas, alas, woe 's me, in what evil hour was I born? in what
luckless moment came I hither, I, that might have had so goodly a young
man, and I would not, to take up with one that bestows never a thought on
her whom he has made his wife? Other women have a good time with their
lovers, and never a one have we here but has two or three; they take
their pleasure, and make their husbands believe that the moon is the sun;
and I, alas! for that I am an honest woman, and have no such casual
amours, I suffer, and am hard bested. I know not why I provide not myself
with one of these lovers, as others do. Give good heed, husband, to what
I say: were I disposed to dishonour thee, I were at no loss to find the
man: for here are gallants enough, that love me, and court me, and have
sent me many an offer of money--no stint--or dresses or jewels, should I
prefer them; but my pride would never suffer it, because I was not born
of a woman of that sort: and now thou comest home to me when thou
oughtest to be at work."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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