Allegories; Frame stories; Plague -- Europe -- History -- Fiction; Storytelling -- Fiction
below there to get frozen?" Which said, the lady and her now partly
reassured lover got them to bed, where for a great while they disported
them right gamesomely, laughing together and making merry over the
luckless scholar.
The scholar, meanwhile, paced up and down the courtyard to keep himself
warm, nor indeed had he where to sit, or take shelter: in this plight he
bestowed many a curse upon the lady's brother for his long tarrying, and
never a sound did he hear but he thought that 'twas the lady opening the
door. But vain indeed were his hopes: the lady, having solaced herself
with her lover until hard upon midnight, then said to him:--"How ratest
thou our scholar, my soul? whether is the greater his wit, or the love I
bear him, thinkst thou? Will the cold, that, of my ordaining, he now
suffers, banish from thy breast the suspicion which my light words the
other day implanted there?" "Ay, indeed, heart of my body!" replied the
lover, "well wot I now that even as thou art to me, my weal, my
consolation, my bliss, so am I to thee." "So:" quoth the lady, "then I
must have full a thousand kisses from thee, to prove that thou sayst
sooth." The lover's answer was to strain her to his heart, and give her
not merely a thousand but a hundred thousand kisses. In such converse
they dallied a while longer, and then:--"Get we up, now," quoth the lady,
"that we may go see if 'tis quite spent, that fire, with which, as he
wrote to me daily, this new lover of mine used to burn." So up they got
and hied them to the lattice which they had used before, and peering out
into the courtyard, saw the scholar dancing a hornpipe to the music that
his own teeth made, a chattering for extremity of cold; nor had they ever
seen it footed so nimbly and at such a pace. Whereupon:--"How sayst thou,
sweet my hope?" quoth the lady. "Know I not how to make men dance without
the aid of either trumpet or cornemuse?" "Indeed thou dost my heart's
delight," replied the lover. Quoth then the lady:--"I have a mind that we
go down to the door. Thou wilt keep quiet, and I will speak to him, and
we shall hear what he says, which, peradventure, we shall find no less
diverting than the sight of him."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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