The Decameron, Volume II

it anignominious thing to love his gossip, and was ashamed to let any one knowit. Meuccio was on his guard for a very different reason, to wit, that hewas already ware that the lady was in Tingoccio's good graces. Whereforehe said to himself:--If I avow my love to him, he will be jealous of me,and as, being her gossip, he can speak with her as often as he pleases,he will do all he can to make her hate me, and so I shall never have anyfavour of her.

  Now, the two young men being thus, as I have said, on terms of mostfamiliar friendship, it befell that Tingoccio, being the better able toopen his heart to the lady, did so order his demeanour and discourse thathe had from her all that he desired. Nor was his friend's success hiddenfrom Meuccio; though, much as it vexed him, yet still cherishing the hopeof eventually attaining his end, and fearing to give Tingoccio occasionto baulk or hamper him in some way, he feigned to know nought of thematter. So Tingoccio, more fortunate than his comrade, and rival in love,did with such assiduity till his gossip's good land that he got thereby amalady, which in the course of some days waxed so grievous that hesuccumbed thereto, and departed this life. And on the night of the thirdday after his decease (perchance because earlier he might not) he madehis appearance, according to his promise, in Meuccio's chamber, andcalled Meuccio, who was fast asleep, by his name. Whereupon:--"Who artthou?" quoth Meuccio, as he awoke. "'Tis I, Tingoccio," replied he, "comeback, in fulfilment of the pledge I gave thee, to give thee tidings ofthe other world." For a while Meuccio saw him not without terror: then,his courage reviving:--"Welcome, my brother," quoth he: and proceeded toask him if he were lost. "Nought is lost but what is irrecoverable,"replied Tingoccio: "how then should I be here, if I were lost?" "Nay,"quoth then Meuccio; "I mean it not so: I would know of thee, whether thouart of the number of the souls that are condemned to the penal fire ofhell." "Why no," returned Tingoccio, "not just that; but still for thesins that I did I am in most sore and grievous torment." Meuccio thenquestioned Tingoccio in detail of the pains there meted out for each ofthe sins done here; and Tingoccio enumerated them all. Whereupon Meuccioasked if there were aught he might do for him here on earth. Tingoccioanswered in the affirmative; to wit, that he might have masses andprayers said and alms-deeds done for him, for that such things were ofgreat service to the souls there. "That gladly will I," replied Meuccio;and then, as Tingoccio was about to take his leave, he bethought him ofthe gossip, and raising his head a little, he said:--"I mind me,Tingoccio, of the gossip, with whom thou wast wont to lie when thou wasthere. Now what is thy punishment for that?" "My brother," returnedTingoccio, "as soon as I got down there, I met one that seemed to knowall my sins by heart, who bade me betake me to a place, where, while indirest torment I bewept my sins, I found comrades not a few condemned tothe same pains; and so, standing there among them, and calling to mindwhat I had done with the gossip, and foreboding in requital thereof amuch greater torment than had yet been allotted me, albeit I was in agreat and most vehement flame, I quaked for fear in every part of me.Which one that was beside me observing:--'What,' quoth he, 'hast thoudone more than the rest of us that are here, that thou quakest thus asthou standest in the fire?' 'My friend,' quoth I, 'I am in mortal fear ofthe doom that I expect for a great sin that I once committed.' He thenasked what sin it might be. ''Twas on this wise,' replied I: 'I lay withmy gossip, and that so much that I died thereof.' Whereat, he did butlaugh, saying:--'Go to, fool, make thy mind easy; for here there is noaccount taken of gossips.' Which completely revived my drooping spirits."

  'Twas now near daybreak: wherefore:--"Adieu! Meuccio," quoth his friend:"for longer tarry with thee I may not;" and so he vanished. As forMeuccio, having learned that no account was taken of gossips in the otherworld, he began to laugh at his own folly in that he had already spareddivers such; and so, being quit of his ignorance, he in that respect incourse of time waxed wise. Which matters had Fra Rinaldo but known, hewould not have needed to go about syllogizing in order to bring his fairgossip to pleasure him.

  The sun was westering, and a light breeze blew, when the king, his storyended, and none else being left to speak, arose, and taking off thecrown, set it on Lauretta's head, saying:--"Madam, I crown you withyourself(1) queen of our company: 'tis now for you, as our sovereignlady, to make such ordinances as you shall deem meet for our commonsolace and delectation;" and having so said, he sat him down again. QueenLauretta sent for the seneschal, and bade him have a care that the tablesshould be set in the pleasant vale somewhat earlier than had been theirwont, that their return to the palace might be more leisurely; afterwhich she gave him to know what else he had to do during her sovereignty.Then turning to the company:--"Yesterday," quoth she, "Dioneo would haveit that to-day we should discourse of the tricks that wives play theirhusbands; and but that I am minded not to shew as of the breed of yelpingcurs, that are ever prompt to retaliate, I would ordain that to-morrow wediscourse of the tricks that husbands play their wives. However, in lieuthereof, I will have every one take thought to tell of those tricks that,daily, woman plays man, or man woman, or one man another; wherein, Idoubt not, there will be matter of discourse no less agreeable than hasbeen that of to-day." So saying, she rose and dismissed the company untilsupper-time. So the ladies and the men being risen, some bared their feetand betook them to the clear water, there to disport them, while otherstook their pleasure upon the green lawn amid the trees that there grewgoodly and straight. For no brief while Dioneo and Fiammetta sang inconcert of Arcite and Palamon. And so, each and all taking their severalpastimes, they sped the hours with exceeding great delight untilsupper-time. Which being come, they sat them down at table beside thelittle lake, and there, while a thousand songsters charmed their ears,and a gentle breeze, that blew from the environing hills, fanned them,and never a fly annoyed them, reposefully and joyously they supped. Thetables removed, they roved a while about the pleasant vale, and then, thesun being still high, for 'twas but half vespers, the queen gave theword, and they wended their way back to their wonted abode, and goingslowly, and beguiling the way with quips and quirks without number upondivers matters, nor those alone of which they had that day discoursed,they arrived, hard upon nightfall, at the goodly palace. There, the shortwalk's fatigue dispelled by wines most cool and comfits, they presentlygathered for the dance about the fair fountain, and now they footed it tothe strains of Tindaro's cornemuse, and now to other music. Which done,the queen bade Filomena give them a song; and thus Filomena sang:--

  Ah! woe is me, my soul! Ah! shall I ever thither fare again Whence I was parted to my grievous dole?

  Full sure I know not; but within my breast Throbs ever the same fire Of yearning there where erst I was to be. O thou in whom is all my weal, my rest, Lord of my heart's desire, Ah! tell me thou! for none to ask save thee Neither dare I, nor see. Ah! dear my Lord, this wasted heart disdain Thou wilt not, but with hope at length console.

  Kindled the flame I know not what delight, Which me doth so devour, That day and night alike I find no ease; For whether it was by hearing, touch, or sight, Unwonted was the power, And fresh the fire that me each way did seize; Wherein without release I languish still, and of thee, Lord, am fain, For thou alone canst comfort and make whole.

  Ah! tell me if it shall be, and how soon, That I again thee meet Where those death-dealing eyes I kissed. Thou, chief Weal of my soul, my very soul, this boon Deny not; say that fleet Thou hiest hither: comfort thus my grief. Ah! let the time be brief Till thou art here, and then long time remain; For I, Love-stricken, crave but Love's control.

  Let me but once again mine own thee call, No more so indiscreet As erst, I'll be, to let thee from me part: Nay, I'll still hold thee, let what may befall, And of thy mouth so sweet Such solace take as may content my heart So this be all my art, Thee to entice, me with thine arms to enchain: Whereon but musing inly chants my soul.

  This song set all the company conjecturing what new and delightsome lovemight now hold Filomena in its sway; and as its words imported that shehad had more joyance ther
eof than sight alone might yield, some that werethere grew envious of her excess of happiness. However, the song beingended, the queen, bethinking her that the morrow was Friday, thusgraciously addressed them all:--"Ye wot, noble ladies, and ye also, mygallants, that to-morrow is the day that is sacred to the passion of ourLord, which, if ye remember, we kept devoutly when Neifile was queen,intermitting delectable discourse, as we did also on the ensuingSaturday. Wherefore, being minded to follow Neifile's excellent example,I deem that now, as then, 'twere a seemly thing to surcease from this ourpastime of story-telling for those two days, and compose our minds tomeditation on what was at