the decameron(十日谈)-第50章

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see　thee　both　kisse　and　embrace　him。　She　who　desired　nothing　more；
shewed　her　selfe　not　sloth　full　in　obeying　her　father　to　do　but　her
duty　to　her　husband。　Wherefore　being　risen；　as　all　the　rest　had
done；　but　yet　in　farre　more　effectuall　manner；　she　declared　her
unfained　love　to　Theobaldo。　These　bountifull　favours　of
Aldobrandino；　were　joyfully　accepted　by　Theobaldoes　brethren；　as
also　to　every　one　there　present；　so　that　all　former　rancour　and　hatred
which　had　caused　heavie　variances　betweene　them；　was　now　converted
to　mutuall　kindnesse　and　solemne　friendship　on　every　side。
　　When　the　feasting　dayes　were　finished；　the　garments　of　sad
mourning　were　quite　laid　aside；　and　those　（becomming　so　generall　a
joy）　put　on；　to　make　their　hearts　and　habites　suteable。　Now；
concerning　the　man　slaine；　and　supposed　to　be　Theobaldo；　hee　was
one；　that　in　all　parts　of　body；　and　truenesse　of　complexion　so　neerely
resembled　him；　as　Theobaldoes　owne　brethren　could　not　distinguish
the　one　from　the　other：　but　hee　was　of　Lunigiana；　named　Fatinolo；
and　not　Theobaldo；　whom　the　two　Brethren　Inne…keepers　maliced；　about
some　idle　suspition　conceived；　and　having　slaine　him；　layde　his　body
at　the　doore　of　Aldobrandino；　where　by　reason　of　Theobaldoes
absence；　it　was　generally　reputed　to　be　hee；　and　Aldobrandino
charged　to　doe　the　deede；　by　vehement　perswasion　of　the　brethren；
knowing　what　love　had　passed　betweene　him　and　his　daughter
Hermelina。　But　happy　was　the　Pilgrims　returne；　first　to　heare　those
words　in　the　Inne；　the　meanes　to　bring　the　murther　to　light；　and
then　the　discreet　carriage　of　the　Pilgrime；　untill　he　plainly　approved
himselfe；　to　bee　truely　Theobaldo。




　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　THE　THIRD　DAY；　THE　EIGHT　NOVELL

　　　　WHEREIN　IS　DISPLAYED；　THE　APPARANT　FOLLY　OF　JEALOUSIE：　AND　THE
　　　　　　　　　　　　SUBTILITY　OF　SOME　RELIGIOUS　CARNALL　MINDED　MEN；　TO
　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　BEGUILE　SILLY　AND　SIMPLE　MARIED　MEN

　　Ferando；　by　drinking　a　certaine　kinde　of　powder；　was　buried　dead。
And　by　the　Abbot；　who　was　enamored　of　his　Wife；　was　taken　out　of　his
Grave；　and　put　into　a　darke　prison；　where　they　made　him　beleeve；
that　hee　was　in　Purgatorie。　Afterward；　when　time　came　that　hee
should　be；　raised　to　life　againe；　he　was　made　to　keepe　a　childe
which　the　Abbot　had　got　by　his　Wife。

　　When　the　long　discourse　of　Madame　Emilia　was　ended；　not
displeasing　to　any；　in　regard　of　the　length；　but　rather　held　too
short；　because　no　exceptions　could　bee　taken　against　it；　comparing　the
raritie　of　the　accidents；　and　changes　together：　the　Queene　turned　to
Madame　Lauretto；　giving　her　such　a　manifest　signe；　as　she　knew；　that
it　was　her　turne　to　follow　next；　and　therefore　shee　tooke　occasion
to　begin　thus。　Faire　Ladies；　I　intend　to　tell　you　a　Tale　of　trueth；
which　（perhaps）　in　your　opinions；　will　seeme　to　sound　like　a　lye：
and　yet　I　heard　by　the　very　last　relation；　that　a　dead　man　was　wept
and　mournd　for；　in　sted　of　another　being　then　alive。　In　which　respect；
I　am　now　to　let　you　know；　how　a　living　man　was　buried　for　dead；　and
being　raised　againe；　yet　not　as　living；　himselfe；　and　divers　more
beside；　did　beleeve　that　he　came　forth　of　his　grave；　and　adored　him　as
a　Saint；　who　was　the　occasion　thereof；　and　who　（as　a　bad　man。）
deserved　justly　to　be　condemned。
　　In　Tuscanie　there　was　sometime　an　Abbey；　seated；　as　now　we　see
commonly　they　are；　in　a　place　not　much　frequented　with　people；　and
thereof　a　Monke　was　Abbot；　very　holy　and　curious　in　all　things　else；
save　onely　a　wanton　appetite　to　women：　which　yet　he　kept　so　cleanly　to
himselfe；　that　though　some　did　suspect　it；　yet　it　was　knowne　to　very
few。　It　came　to　passe；　that　a　rich　Country　Franklin；　named　Ferando；
dwelt　as　neere　neighbour　to　the　said　Abby；　he　being　a　man　materiall；
of　simple　and　grosse　understanding；　yet　he　fell　into　great　familiarity
with　the　Abbot；　who　made　use　of　this　friendly　conversation　to　no　other
end；　but　for　divers　times　of　recreation；　when　he　delighted　to　smile　at
his　silly　and　sottish　behaviour。
　　Upon　this　his　private　frequentation　with　the　Abbot；　at　last　he
observed；　that　Ferando　had　a　very　beautifull　woman　to　his　Wife；　with
whom　he　grew　so　deeply　in　love；　as　he　had　no　other　meditations
either　by　day　or　night；　but　how　to　become　acceptable　in　her　favour。
Neverthelesse；　he　concealed　his　amorous　passions　privately　to
himselfe；　and　could　plainely　perceive；　that　although　Ferando　（in　all
things　else）　was　meerely　a　simple　fellow；　and　more　like　an　Idiot；　then
of　any　sensible　apprehension：　yet　was　he　wise　enough　in　loving　his
Wife；　keeping　her　carfully　out　of　all　company；　as　one　（indeede）　very
jealous；　least　any　should　kisse　her；　but　onely　himselfe；　which　drove
the　Abbot　into　despaire；　for　ever　attaining　the　issue　of　his　desire。
Yet　being　subtill；　crafty；　and　cautelous；　he　wrought　so　on　the
flexible　nature　of　Ferando；　that　hee　brought　his　wife　with　him
divers　dayes　to　the　Monasterie；　where　they　walked　in　the　goodly
Garden；　discoursing　on　the　beatitudes　of　eternall　life；　as　also　the
most　holy　deedes　of　men　and　women；　long　since　departed　out　of　this
life；　in　mervailous　civill　and　modest　manner。　Yet　all　these　were　but
traines　to　a　further　intention；　for　the　Abbot　must　needes　be　her
ghostly　Father；　and　she　come　to　be　confessed　by　him；　which　the　foole
Ferando　tooke　as　an　especiall　favour；　and　therefore　he　gave　his
consent　the　sooner。
　　At　the　appointed　time；　when　the　woman　came　to　confession　to　the
Abbot；　and　was　on　her　knees　before　him；　to　his　no　small　contentment；
before　she　would　say　any　thing　else；　thus　she　began：　Sacred　Father；　if
God　had　not　given　me　such　an　husband　as　I　have；　or　else　had　bestowed
on　me　none　at　all；　I　might　have　beene　so　happy；　by　the　meanes　of
your　holy　doctrine；　very　easily　to　have　entred　into　the　way；　whereof
you　spake　the　other　day；　which　leadeth　to　eternall　life。　But　when　I
consider　with　my　selfe；　what　manner　of　man　Ferando　is；　and　thinke　upon
his　folly　withall；　I　may　well　terme　my　selfe　to　be　a　widow；　although　I
am　a　maried　wife；　because　while　he　liveth；　I　cannot　have　any　other
husband。　And　yet　（as　sottish　as　you　see　him）　he　is　（without　any
occasion　given　him）　so　extreamely　jealous　of　me；　as　I　am　not　able　to
live　with　him；　but　only　in　continuall　tribulation　and　hearts　griefe。
In　which　respect；　before　I　enter　into　confession；　I　most　humbly
beseech　you；　that　you　would　vouchsafe　（in　this　distresse）　to　assist　me
with　your　fatherly　advice　and　counsell；　because；　if　thereby　I　cannot
attaine　to　a　more　pleasing　kinde　of　happinesse；　neither　confessior；　or
any　thing　else；　is　able　to　doe　me　any　good　at　all。
　　These　words　were　not　a　little　welcome　to　my　Lord　Abbot；　because
（thereby）　he　halfe　assured　himselfe；　that　Fortune　had　laid　open　the
path　to　his　hoped　pleasures。　Whereupon　he　said。　Deare　daughter；　I　make
no　question　to　the　contrary；　but　it　must　needes　be　an　exceeding
infelicity；　to　so　faire　and　goodly　a　young　woman　as　you　are；　to　be
plagued　with　so　sottish　an　husband；　brainsick；　and　without　the　use
of　common　understanding；　but　yet　subject　to　a　more　hellish
affliction　then　all　these；　namely　jealousie；　and　therefore　you　being
in　this　wofull　manner　tormented；　your　tribulations　are　not　only　so
much　the　more　credited；　but　also　as　amply　grieved　for；　and　pittied。　In
which　heavy　and　irksome　perturbations；　I　see　not　any　meanes　of　remedy；
but　onely　one；　being　a　kinde　of　physicke　（beyond　all　other）　to　cure
him　of　his　foolish　jealousie；　which　medicine　is　very　familiar　to　me；
because　I　know　best　how　to　compound　it；　alwayes　provided；　that　you　can
be　of　so　strong　a　capacity；　as　to　be　secret　in　what　I　shall　say　unto
you。
　　Good　Father　（answered　the　Woman）　never　make　you　any　doubt　thereof；
for　I　would　rather　endure　death　it　selfe；　then　disclose　any　thing
which　you　enjoyne　me　to　keepe　secret：　wherefore；　I　beseech　you　Sir
to　tell　me；　how；　and　by　what　meanes　it　may　be　done。　If　（quoth　the
Abbot）　you　desire　to　have　him　perfectly　cured；　of　disease　so　dangerous
and　offensive；　of　necessity　he　Must　be　sent　into　Purgatory。　How　may
that　be　done；　saide　the　woman；　he　being　alive？　He　must　needs　die；
answered　the　Abbot；　for　his　more　speedy　passage　thither；　and　when　he
hath　endured　so　much　punishment；　as　may　expiate　the　quality　of　his
jealousie；　we　have　certaine　devoute　and　zealous　prayers；　whereby　to
bring　him　backe　againe　to　life；　in　as　able　manner　as　ever　he　was。
Why　then；　replyed　the　woman；　I　must　remaine　in　the　state　of　a
Widdow？　Very　true；　saide　the　Abbot；　for　a　certaine　time；　in　all
which　space；　you　may　not　（by　no　meanes）　marrie　againe；　because　the
heavens　will　therewith　be　highly　offended：　but　Ferando　being
returned　to　life　againe；　you　must　repossesse　him　as　your　Husband；
but　never　to　be　jealous　any　more。　Alas　Sir　（quoth　the　woman）　so　that
he　may　be　cured　of　his　wicked　jealousie；　and　I　no　longer　live　in
such　an　hellish　imprisonment；　do　as　you　please。
　　Now　was　the　Abbot　（well　neere）　on　the　highest　step　of　his　hope；
making　her　constant　promise；　to　accomplish　it：　But　（quoth　he）　what
shall　be　my　recompence　when　I　have　done　it？　Father；　saide　she；
whatsoever　you　please　to　aske；　if　it　remaine　within　the　compasse　of　my
power：　but　you　being　such　a　vertuous　and　sanctified　man；　and　I　a　woman
of　so　meane　worth　or　merit；　what　sufficient　recompence　can　I　be　able
to　make　you？　Whereunto　the　Abbot　thus　replyed。　Faire　woman；　you　are
able　to　do　as　much　for　me；　as　I　am　for　you；　because　I　doe　dispose　my
selfe；　to　performe　a　matter　for　your　comfort　and　consolation；　even
so　ought　you　to　be　as　mindfull　of　me；　in　any　action　concerning　my　life
and　welfare。　In　any　such　matter　Sir　（quoth　she）　depending　on　your
benefit　so　strictly；　you　may　safely　presume　to　command　me。　You　must
then　（saide　the　Abbot）　grant　me　your　love；　and　the　kinde　embracing
of　your　person；　because　so　violent　are　mine　affections；　as　I　pine
and　consume　away　daily；　till　I　enjoy　the　fruition　of　my　desires；　and
none　can　helpe　me　therein　but　you。
　When　the　woman　heard　these　words；　as　one　confounded　with　much
amazement；　thus　shee　replied。　Alas；　holy　Father！　What　a　strange　motion
have　you　made　to　me？　I　beleeved　very　faithfully；　that　you　were　no
lesse　then　a　Saint；　and　is　it　convenient；　that　when　silly　women　come
to　ask　counsell　of　such　sanctified　men；　they　should　returne　them
such　unfitting　answeres？　Be　not　amazed　good　woman；　saide　the　Abbot；　at
the　motion　which　I　have　made　unto　you；　because　holinesse　is　not
thereby　impaired　a　jot　in　me；　for　it　is　the　inhabitant　of　the　soule；
the　other　is　an　imperfection　attending　on　the　body：　but　be　it
whatsoever；　your　beauty　hath　so　powerfully　prevailed　on　me；　that
entire　love　hath　compelld　me　to　let　you　know　it。　And　more　may　you
boast　of　your　beauty；　then　any　that　ever　I　beheld　before；　considering；
it　is　so　pleasing　to　a　sanctified　man；　that　it　can　draw　him　from
divine　contemplations；　to　regard　a　matter　of　so　humble　an　equalitie。
　　Let　me　tell　you　moreover；　woorthy　Woman；　that　see　me　reverenced　here
as　Lord　Abbot；　yet　am　I　but　as　other　men　are；　and　in　regard　I　am
neither　aged；　nor　mishapen；　me　thinkes　the　motion　I　have　made；
should　be　the　lesse　offensive　to　you；　and　therefore　the　sooner
granted。　For；　all　the　while　as　Ferando　remaineth　in　Purgatory；　doe　you
but　imagine　him　to　be　present　with　you；　and　your　perswasion