Allegories; Frame stories; Plague -- Europe -- History -- Fiction; Storytelling -- Fiction
very comfortably on the beast's back; and then, still quaking in every
limb, he folded his arms as he had been bidden.
Buffalmacco now started, going on all-fours, at a very slow pace, in the
direction of Santa Maria della Scala, and so brought the Master within a
short distance of the Convent of the Ladies of Ripoli. Now, in that
quarter there were divers trenches, into which the husbandmen of those
parts were wont to discharge the Countess of Civillari, that she might
afterwards serve them to manure their land. Of one of which trenches, as
he came by, Buffalmacco skirted the edge, and seizing his opportunity,
raised a hand, and caught the doctor by one of his feet, and threw him
off his back and headforemost right into the trench, and then, making a
terrific noise and frantic gestures as before, went bounding off by Santa
Maria della Scala towards the field of Ognissanti, where he found Bruno,
who had betaken him thither that he might laugh at his ease; and there
the two men in high glee took their stand to observe from a distance how
the bemired doctor would behave. Finding himself in so loathsome a place,
the Master struggled might and main to raise himself and get out; and
though again and again he slipped back, and swallowed some drams of the
ordure, yet, bemired from head to foot, woebegone and crestfallen, he did
at last get out, leaving his hood behind him. Then, removing as much of
the filth as he might with his hands, knowing not what else to do, he got
him home, where, by dint of much knocking, he at last gained admittance;
and scarce was the door closed behind the malodorous Master, when Bruno
and Buffalmacco were at it, all agog to hear after what manner he would
be received by his wife. They were rewarded by hearing her give him the
soundest rating that ever bad husband got. "Ah!" quoth she, "fine doings,
these! Thou hast been with some other woman, and wast minded to make a
brave shew in thy scarlet gown. So I was not enough for thee! not enough
for thee forsooth, I that might content a crowd! Would they had choked
thee with the filth in which they have soused thee; 'twas thy fit
resting-place. Now, to think that a physician of repute, and a married
man, should go by night after strange women!" Thus, and with much more to
the like effect, while the doctor was busy washing himself, she ceased
not to torment him until midnight.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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