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From "The Italian Novelists" translated from the originals with Critical and Biographical Notices by Thomas Roscoe; Frederick Warne and Co.; London; [undated edition, <1900>, first published c. 1824]; pp. 37-51.

[37]



[Part 2]

Novels of Giovanni Boccaccio.



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TENTH DAY, NOVELLA III.

IN the country of Cathay, if we may give faith to the relation of certain Genoese mariners, and other persons who have visited those parts, there once lived a man of the name of Nathan, of noble extraction, and rich beyond belief. Having his residence near to a great road, all people who travelled from the West to the East, or departed from the East to the West, were of necessity obliged to pass his abode, and possessing a noble and liberal mind, and desirous that his name should be famous for hospitality, with the assistance of some of the first architects of the country, he built in a short space of time one of the most magnificent palaces ever beheld, and furnished it in a most sumptuous manner with everything becoming a man of his high rank; and having moreover a numerous and beautiful family, his house became the seat of mirth and festivity, all persons both on their arrival and on their departure being treated with singular honour and respect. He persevered so long in this laudable course of conduct that his name was deservedly spread through the West as well as the East, and being now full of years, but nothing abated in his noble style of living, it happened that the fame of his hospitality reached the ears of a young man called Mitridanes, living in a country not very distant from his own. This young man finding himself not less rich than Nathan, and becoming envious of his fame, resolved within himself, by his superior hospitality, to eclipse the liberality of Nathan. Having therefore erected a palace similar to that of Nathan, he opened his gates with the most unbounded hospitality to all comers, and in a short time became justly renowned for his generosity. It happened one day as Mitridanes sate all alone in the court of his palace, that a poor woman entering at one of the gates, asked alms from him and received them, and returning by the second gate, again asked and again received, and so successively to the twelfth gate; but returning for the thirteenth time, Mitridanes accosting her, said, “Good woman, methinks you are extremely urgent in your request,” at the same time, however, bestowing his alms as before. When the old woman heard these words, she exclaimed, “Oh, boundless charity of Nathan! I entered at the two-and-thirty gates of his palace, asking alms, and was never recognised by him, but received at each of them, and I am here arrived only at the thirteenth, and I am recognised and reproved;” and thus speaking, without again returning, she departed. Mitridanes, when he had reflected on the words of the old woman, which added to the fame of 38 Nathan and so much diminished his own, was seized with a sudden passion, and exclaimed, “Alas! when shall I only attain to the liberality of Nathan, for to surpass him I have no hope, when I am so far behind him in such trifling matters? Truly all my endeavours will be vain unless he be removed, which if his great age does not speedily effect, I must perform with my own hands;” and rising in this frame of mind, without communicating his intentions to any one, he departed with a few attendants on horseback, and on the third day, arriving in the neighbourhood of Nathan’s palace, he desired his attendants not to make him known, and to procure themselves lodgings and wait for his return. The evening now drawing on, he proceeded forwards alone, and happened to meet Nathan himself near his own palace, who, in a plain dress, was indulging in a solitary walk for his recreation. Mitridanes, not knowing him, asked him if he could direct him to the residence of Nathan. Nathan cheerfully answered, “My son, there is no one in this country who can instruct you better on that head than myself, and, if it be agreeable to you, I will show you the way.” Mitridanes replied that he would in that do him a great kindness, but that he wished neither to be known nor seen of Nathan. To this Nathan answered, “Your request in this respect shall be observed, since such is your wish.” Mitridanes then dismounting from his horse, and entering into agreeable conversation with Nathan, they proceeded together towards the palace. They were no sooner arrived there, than Nathan made signs of one of his servants to take the young man’s horse, and, whispering at the same time in his ear, directed that neither he nor any of his household should discover him to the young man. As soon as they entered the palace, he placed Mitridanes in a sumptuous chamber, where none saw him except the servants who were appointed to wait on him, and, paying him the greatest possible respect, he himself remained to keep him company. Mitridanes being thus left alone with Nathan, although he held him in great reverence for his age, at length asked him who he was; to which Nathan replied, “I am, as you see, but a poor servant of Nathan, who have grown up with him from infancy, and am now like him well stricken in years; yet hath he never bestowed any other advancement upon me than what you see, in which respect, how much soever other men may commend him, yet have I no cause to do it.” These words afforded some hope to Mitridanes that he might be enabled, by a proper degree of caution, to put in execution his wicked determination. Nathan now in a courteous manner asked him in return who he was, and the business which led him to the palace, offering his advice and assistance to the utmost of his power. Mitridanes for some time debated within himself what to reply; but resolving at last to confide his intentions, with great circumlocution he entreated his secrecy, and after that his counsel and aid, and then informed him who he was and the object of his visit, and communicated his whole design to him. When Nathan had heard this explanation, and saw the evil intentions of Mitridanes, he was sensibly moved, but with great presence of mind and an unaltered countenance replied, “Your father, Mitridanes, was an honourable man, and I perceive that you are determined not to 39 degenerate from him, having adopted so noble a system of hospitality, and I very much commend you for the envy you bear to the virtues of Nathan, for if there were sufficient of such noble deeds, the world, which is now most miserable, would soon become good and happy. The proposition which you have made known to me shall assuredly be kept secret, in which, though I cannot give you any great aid, I will yet communicate a piece of intelligence that may be of service to you. You must know, then, that about half a mile distant from hence there is a small wood, in which Nathan is accustomed to walk alone almost every morning, making it his recreation for a considerable space of time. It will then be an easy matter for you to find him there and accomplish your object. If you should succeed in slaying him, you may then return home without interruption, not indeed by the way you came, but by another road which you will find as you leave the wood, on your left hand, and though somewhat wild and overgrown with underwood, it will be a nearer and safer way to your house.” Mitridanes, when he had received this information, and Nathan had left him, secretly rejoined his attendants, and told them where to wait for him on the following day. Early the next morning, Nathan, in conformity with the counsel he gave to Mitridanes, departed alone to the wood, the place appointed for his death. Mitridanes having risen, and taken up his bow and his sword (not having any other arms with him), and mounting his horse, proceeded to the wood, where he discovered Nathan walking at some distance all alone, taking his usual recreation; and reflecting that before he slew him he should like to see him and speak with him, he rode suddenly up to him, and seizing him by the band of his bonnet, cried, “Die! wretch as thou art!” To which Nathan answered only, “It is meet that I should.” Mitridanes, when he heard his voice, looked upon his face, and immediately recognised him to be the same man who had received him with so much benignity and familiarity, and had counselled him so faithfully; and his fury instantly subsiding, and his revenge turning into shame, he cast away the sword which he had drawn for the purpose of slaying him, and dismounting from his horse, threw himself in tears at the feet of Nathan, saying, “Dearest father, I humbly confess your unbounded liberality, perceiving with what caution you have manifested your spirit to me; and God, who has had a greater regard to my duty than I have myself had, has at this moment of my utmost need opened my intellectual eyes, which wretched envy had closed, and the readier you have been to favour me, the more deeply do I deplore my transgression. Revenge yourself on me, therefore, in whatever way you judge most suitable to my offence.” Nathan then raising Mitridanes from the ground, and kissing his cheek and tenderly embracing him, said, “My son, with regard to your attempt on my life, whatever you may term it, there is no need for you either to ask or receive pardon, since it was not through malice, but a desire of being reputed more estimable than me, that you did it. Be assured therefore of my good will, and believe that no other man will love you with the affection which I bear towards you, justly appreciating the magnanimity of your mind, which was bent, not on amassing heaps 40 of money, as wretched misers do, but on spending it with liberality. Nor blush at having wished to become famous by my death, nor think that it excites my surprise. The most potent emperors and kings, instigated by the same feelings as yourself, have often slain, not one man only, as you wished to have done, but countless multitudes of men, and have burnt and destroyed cities in order to extend their dominions and perpetuate their fame. Therefore, when you designed to render yourself famous by taking my life, you did not contemplate anything new or strange, but only a thing of common occurrence.” Mitridanes could not receive this apology as any excuse for his own evil designs, but thanking Nathan for the kindness he had manifested, expressed his astonishment that Nathan should have assented to his plan, and plotted and contrived his own death. To which Nathan replied, “Mitridanes, I do not wish that you should feel surprised either at my advice or my disposition of mind, for it was my object to gratify you in what you were ambitious of effecting, as no one ever came to my house whom I did not satisfy to the utmost of my power in the way most agreeable to him; and seeing that you came here with a desire to possess yourself of my life, in order that you might not be the only person who ever departed from me dissatisfied, I immediately resolved to give it to you, and I now pray and entreat you that, if you are still desirous of it, you will take it and satisfy yourself, as I know not how I could better dispose of it. I have now lived eighty years, and they have passed away in pleasure and happiness, and I know from the course of nature and the departure of my contemporaries, that I have only a short span of life remaining. I therefore consider it much better to give away that as I have been in the habit of bestowing my other treasures, than to keep it until it shall be rudely forced from me by nature. A hundred years would indeed be a poor gift; how much less then are six or eight years, which are all I can expect! Take my life, then, I entreat you, if it be agreeable to you; for whilst I have lived, I never found any one else that was desirous of having it, and I know not when any one else may ask for it, if you do not accept of it; and if I should not find any one to take it, I know that the longer I keep it, the less value it will be of, and therefore, lest it should become quite vile and useless, I pray you to accept of it.” Mitridanes, deeply blushing with shame, replied, “God forbid, sir, that I should take so dear a thing as your life, and may God pardon me for my evil designs. Rather than diminish the term of your life, I would gladly, if it were in my power, add mine own to lengthen it.” “And will you then indeed add to it,” Nathan smartly replied, “and oblige me to do that to you which as yet I never did unto any man, namely, rob you to enrich myself?” “Certainly,” said Mitridanes. “Then,” said Nathan, “you shall do as I direct. You shall remain a young man as you are here in my house, and shall have the name of Nathan, and I will go to your residence, and call myself Mitridanes.” To which Mitridanes replied, “If indeed I knew how to act like you, I would without hesitation accept your offer; but since it is very evident that my deeds would diminish the reputation of Nathan, and as I am not desirous to destroy in another that which I cannot myself 41 obtain, I will not accept your offer; but, as you have worthily taught me, will live contented with my own condition.” This and much more agreeable conversation passed between Nathan and Mitridanes as they returned to the palace, where Nathan sumptuously entertained Mitridanes for many days, and encouraged by every means in his power his noble spirit of emulation. And Mitridanes, now wishing to return to his own house with his attendants, Nathan having bade him farewell, he departed, having found by good experience that he could never hope to surpass Nathan in liberality.

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TENTH DAY, NOVELLA IX.

IT is well known that in the time of the Emperor Frederic I. there was a general confederacy throughout Christendom for the purpose of recovering the Holy Land from the infidels. Of which circumstance, Saladin, a noble lord, and at that time Soldan of Babylon, having early intelligence, resolved in his own mind to obtain a personal view of the preparations the Christians were making for their crusade, in order the better to provide for his own defence. Having therefore put in order all his affairs in Egypt, and giving out that he was going on a pilgrimage, and accompanied by three of his principal lords and counsellors, and with three attendants only, he set off on his journey under the disguise of a merchant. After having gone through many Christian countries, and travelling through Lombardy in order to pass the mountains, it happened that in going between Milan and Pavia, and evening coming on, they fell in with a gentleman, Messer Torello d’Istria of Pavia, who, with his attendants, and dogs, and falcons, was then passing his time at a beautiful seat which he possessed on the Tesino. As soon as Messer Torello observed the travellers, and saw that they were gentlemen and strangers, he was desirous of paying respect to them; and on Saladin asking one of his attendants how far it was to Pavia, and whether or not they could reach the city in good time, Messer Torello did not allow his servant to reply, but accosting them himself, said, “You cannot, gentlemen, reach Pavia this evening in time to pass the gates.” “Then,” said Saladin, “have the kindness to inform us (as we are strangers) where we may obtain a lodging for the night.” Messer Torello answered, “This I will cheerfully do. I was just on the eve of sending one of my people to the neighbourhood of Pavia on an errand. I will therefore send him with you, and he will conduct you to a place where I hope you will find good entertainment.” Then addressing himself to one of the most discreet of his servants, he directed him how to act, and sent him with the strangers; and hastening himself with all despatch to his own house, he ordered as elegant a supper as the time would allow to be prepared, and the tables to be laid in the garden; and having done this, he returned to the door to receive his guests. 42 The servant engaging the travellers in conversation on various subjects, led them a little way round through the country to his master’s house, without informing them to what place he was conducting them. As soon as Messer Torello saw them approach, he advanced to them on foot, and receiving them with a smile, said, “Gentlemen, you are very welcome.” Saladin, who was a polite man, saw that this gentleman, being in doubt whether or not they might have accepted an invitation for the night, had thus by a friendly stratagem conducted them to his own house, and said, “Sir, if it were possible to chide a gentleman for his hospitality, we might chide you, who (to say nothing of our having interrupted you on your journey) have thus brought us to share your noble courtesy when we had no claim on you but from our inquiry on the road.” Messer Torello discreetly and eloquently replied, “Gentlemen, this reception which I have given you is, I know, in respect of your rank, a poor one indeed, but in truth you could not find any eligible place out of Pavia this evening, and I beg you therefore not to murmur that you have been thus brought somewhat out of your way to obtain a less uncomfortable lodging.” Whilst he was thus speaking, his servants came up, and received the travellers’ horses as they dismounted. Messer Torello then led the three gentlemen to the chambers prepared for them, where their boots were pulled off, where they were refreshed with some cool wine, and where they were detained in agreeable conversation until the hour of supper. Saladin and his companions being acquainted with the Latin tongue, were enabled to understand Messer Torello, and they all agreed amongst themselves that he was the most accomplished and agreeable cavalier, both in manners and in conversation, that they had ever met with. Messer Torello on his part rightly judged the travellers to be men of high birth, and deeply regretted that it was not in his power to invite suitable company to meet them, and give them a more honourable reception. He however determined to make amends the next day, and acquainting one of his servants with his wishes, he despatched him with his orders to Pavia, the gates of which were not yet shut, to his wife, a lady of a discreet and noble mind. He then led the travellers into his garden, and politely inquired their country. To which Saladin replied, “We are merchants of Cyprus, travelling thence on our own affairs to Paris.” Upon which Messer Torello said, “Would to God that our country produced such gentlemen as your Cyprus produceth merchants!” and whilst they were thus conversing, supper was announced, and they were honourably served with all that the house afforded. As soon as the tables were withdrawn, Messer Torello judging that the travellers would be fatigued, conducted them to their chambers, where comfortable beds were prepared for them, and he himself also retired to rest. The serving-man who was despatched to Pavia communicated his message to his mistress, who with true magnanimity of mind immediately called together all the friends and servants of Messer Torello, and provided everything suitable for a grand entertainment, sending by torchlight to invite many of the most noble citizens to the feast, and arranging everything agreeably to the commands she received from 43 her husband. The next morning the travellers prepared for their departure, and Messer Torello accompanied them on horseback, taking his falcons with him, and leading them towards the river, where they for some time partook of his sport. But Saladin now requesting that he might have some person to direct him to Pavia, and to the best inn in the city, Messer Torello replied, “I will myself have the pleasure to conduct you, as my affairs lead me thither to-day.” They, believing him, remained satisfied, and proceeded with him on the road, and it being now the third hour when they reached the city, and supposing they were going to one of the principal hotels, they arrived with Messer Torello at his own gates, where there were nearly fifty of the chief citizens already in attendance to receive them as they dismounted from their horses. Saladin and his companions were immediately aware of the true state of the case, and said, “Messer Torello, this is not what we requested of you. You have done more than we wished the last night, when you would not allow us to proceed on our journey.” To which Messer Torello replied, “Gentlemen, for the pleasure of your company last night I was indebted rather to chance than to yourselves, which, as the hour was late, compelled you to take shelter in my poor house; but to-day I hope to be beholden to your bounty, and these gentlemen with me whom you see around you, to whom your courtesy, I feel assured, will not allow you to deny the honour of your company to dinner.” Saladin and his companions being thus overcome, dismounted and were received by the gentlemen, and politely conducted to their chambers, which were sumptuously prepared for them, and having thrown off their travelling dresses and refreshed themselves, they entered the dining-room, which was most splendidly furnished, and water being offered for their hands, they were seated at table, and magnificently served with a profusion of viands, insomuch that the emperor himself could not have been entertained with greater honour. Although Saladin and his companions were men of high birth, and accustomed to the display of great magnificence, they were nevertheless astonished, and their surprise was increased the more when they considered the rank of their host, who they knew was not a nobleman, but a simple citizen. When dinner was ended and the tables withdrawn, after some conversation, the heat being very great, the gentlemen of Pavia retired to repose, and Messer Torello remained alone with the travellers, and entering with them into a chamber, in order that nothing of all his treasures might remain unseen by them, he ordered his lady to be called, who being very beautiful and of a noble presence, and attired in the richest dress, accompanied by two beautiful boys, her sons, advanced and gracefully saluted the strangers. On seeing her, they rose from their seats and received her with becoming respect; and requesting her to sit down, showed great kindness to her two sons. The lady, after she had conversed with them for some little time, and Messer Torello going out of the room, politely inquired what country they were of and whither they were bound. To which inquiries the travellers replied as they had done to Messer Torello. The lady then with a gracious smile said, “I see then that my womanly prudence may be of service, and I trust you will not be 44 so ungracious as to refuse my humble request, nor to consider as unworthy of acceptance a humble gift which I mean to offer to you; but bearing in mind that ladies can only give in conformity with their limited means, you will, I hope, rather regard the intention of the donor than the quality of the gift.” She then ordered to be brought in two robes for each of the travellers, the one lined with cloth of gold, and the other with costly fur, more beseeming lords than citizens and merchants, and three light vestments of satin richly embroidered. “I beg you,” she then said, “to accept these robes, such as my husband wears, more especially as you are so far from your wives, and have already come a great distance, and have yet far to travel; and not forgetting that merchants are men of delicate habits, and although these are of slender value, they may yet do you service.” The strangers were not a little amazed, and plainly saw that Messer Torello was determined to leave no instance of courtesy unperformed, and almost doubted, when they considered the costliness of these noble robes, whether they were not discovered by Messer Torello; but one of them thus addressing the lady said, “These are indeed, madam, valuable gifts, nor should we think it right in us to accept of them did you not make it a particular request, to which we cannot give a denial.” Messer Torello now returning, the lady recommended them to the protection of God, and retired. Their servants were at the same time provided with suitable dresses. Messer Torello by his entreaties prevailed on them to stay over the day with him; and having reposed a while, and clothed themselves in their new robes, they rode with Messer Torello through the city, and when the hour of supper approached they were again magnificently entertained. At a late hour they retired to rest, and the next day, when they came to depart, they found in the place of their horses, which were overwearied with travel, three beautiful palfreys and fresh horses for their attendants; which, when Saladin observed, he turned to his companions and said, “By Allah! I never met with a more accomplished, courteous, and affable man than this Torello; and if all the Christian kings bear their offices as nobly as this gentleman his knighthood, the Sultan of Babylon will not be able to resist the approach of one of them, much less so many as we see preparing for war;” and thus, after an interchange of much kind language, returning their grateful thanks, they mounted their horses. Messer Torello, with many gentlemen, his friends, accompanied them for a considerable distance out of the city, and entreating Saladin to visit him on his return, said, “I know not, gentlemen, who you are, nor against your will do I desire it, but whether you be merchants or not, I beg you to hold me in your remembrance, and so I commend you to God.” Saladin now having taken leave of all the friends of Torello, answered him in these words, “Sir, I wish that fortune may one day put it in our power to let you see some of our merchandises for the better confirmation of your belief.” Saladin then departed with his companions, resolving in his noble mind, if his life should be spared in the war which was likely to ensue, to make a due return to Messer Torello for the honour thus shown to him. He then discoursed at large with his companions of Torello and his lady, and his entertainments and 45 presents, and spoke of them with deserved commendation. Saladin, after visiting all the West, in which he endured great fatigues, at length embarked on board a ship and returned to Alexandria, in order to avail himself of the information he had received for his defence. Messer Torello, on his return to Pavia, often troubled himself with conjectures who these three travellers could be, but never made any correct surmise. The time of the Crusades now approaching, and great preparations making on all sides, Messer Torello, notwithstanding the tears and entreaties of his wife, resolved to share in the honour of the enterprise; and having provided all requisites, and being now ready to mount his horse and take his departure, he thus addressed his lady, whom he dearly loved: “I now depart, dearest wife, as thou seest, on this holy enterprise, as well for the honour of the body as the salvation of the soul. I therefore commend to thy care all our possessions, and as a thousand accidents may intervene to prevent my return, I have to ask you one favour, which is, that if you have not certain intelligence of my death, you will wait a year, and a month, and a day, commencing from this day of my departure, before you marry again.” The lady, bitterly weeping, replied, “I know not how I shall surmount the sorrow in which your departure will involve me, but if I should survive, believe that whatever may happen to you, life or death, I shall live and die the wife of Messer Torello, and shall ever cherish his memory.” To which Messer Torello answered, “Certain I am, lady, that you will keep this promise as far as lies in your own power; but you are young and beautiful, and of high parentage, and held in universal esteem; on which account I doubt not that many noble suitors, if there be a rumour of my death, may ask you from your brothers and relations, from whose entreaties you will not be able to defend yourself, and will perhaps be forced to submit to their wishes, and this is the reason why I beg this delay, and no longer, from you.” The lady then said, “I will conform myself to your wishes to the utmost of my power, and will obey you in all things you may command me, praying that Heaven will return you safe home before the time you have fixed;” and with these words, the lady, weeping, embraced her husband, and taking a ring from her finger, said, “If I chance to die before I see you again, remember me when you look upon this ring.” Receiving the ring, he mounted on horseback, and bidding all his friends adieu, departed on his way. When he reached Genoa he embarked on board a galley, and in a short time arrived at Acre, where he joined the Christian army. At this period a violent distemper broke out in the camp, and such was the good fortune or prudence of Saladin, that all the Christians who escaped from the pestilence were made his prisoners without a struggle, and were distributed and imprisoned in various cities, and amongst other persons, Messer Torello was made captive and carried into Alexandria. Fearing to be discovered, he there took upon himself the keeping of falcons, of which science he was a thorough master, and through this circumstance attracted the notice of Saladin, who released him from prison, and retained him as his falconer. Messer Torello, who was only known to the Sultan by the name of the Christian (as they did not 46 recognise each other), often considered how he might effect his escape home to Pavia, and was about to attempt it, when there arrived certain ambassadors from Genoa for the redemption of their fellow-citizens. To the care of these men he intrusted a letter to his beloved wife, informing her that he was living, and would return to her by the first opportunity, and earnestly entreated one of the ambassadors to deliver it into the hands of the Abbot of San Pietro in Ciel d’Oro, who was his uncle. At this time it happened one day that Saladin was conversing with Messer Torello respecting his falcons, when Messer Torello chanced to smile, and used a certain gesture and motion of the lips, which Saladin had frequently observed in his house at Pavia. This incident brought Messer Torello to the recollection of the Sultan, and regarding him attentively, and abandoning the former subject of his discourse, he said, “Tell me, Christian, of what country of the West are you?” “My lord,” answered Messer Torello, “I am a Lombard, of a city called Pavia, a poor man of humble condition.” When Saladin heard this, feeling assured that his surmises were true, he said within himself, “God hath now happily given me an opportunity of testifying to this man my sense of his courtesy,” and without more words he ordered his wardrobe to be opened in his chamber, and carrying Messer Torello with him, said, “Look on these robes, Christian, and tell me if you have ever seen any of them before.” Messer Torello inspected them, and observed those which his wife had given to Saladin, but not thinking it possible they could be the same, said, “My lord, I do not know them. It is indeed true that they resemble some robes which I wore when three travelling merchants once arrived at my house.” Saladin then being no longer able to restrain himself, tenderly embraced him, and said, “You are Messer Torello d’Istria, and I am one of the three merchants to whom your lady gave these robes, and now the time is arrived to show you my merchandise, as, on my departure, I said might possibly happen.” Messer Torello on hearing these words was at the same moment delighted and abashed; delighted at having received so noble a guest in his house, and abashed at not having entertained him with more honour. To which Saladin replied, “Messer Torello, since it has pleased God to send you to me, account yourself sole lord here, and consider me as a private person,” and immediately causing Messer Torello to be clothed in royal robes, he introduced him at a great feast to the chief of his nobility, and relating many things in his praise, he commanded all who wished to share his favour to show Messer Torello equal honour with himself, a command which they all cheerfully complied with, but much more so than all the rest the two lords who had accompanied Saladin on his travels. The good fortune to which Messer Torello thus suddenly found himself elevated in some degree banished his grief and the thoughts of home, more particularly so as he fully relied on his letter reaching the hands of his uncle. Now it happened that on the day on which the Christian army was made captive by Saladin, there died and was buried a certain Provençal knight called Messer Torello di Dignes, and Messer Torello d’Istria being known throughout the army as a man of family, and it 47 being said that Messer Torello was dead, every one imagined it to be Messer Torello d’Istria, and the circumstance of his being made prisoner happening at the same moment, prevented the truth from being known, and many Italians returning home, several of them asserted that they had seen Messer Torello dead, and had assisted at his funeral. The report reached the ears of his lady and his kindred, and was the cause of unspeakable grief, not only to them, but to every one who had known him. It would be vain to attempt to describe the lamentations, sighs, and tears of his wife, who, after some months of mourning, was interrupted in her sorrow by many of the greatest men in Lombardy becoming her suitors, and by her brother and relations entreating her to make choice of a second husband. She strongly resisted these solicitations, but was at length compelled to assent to the urgent wishes of her friends, under condition that she should be permitted to wait the time prescribed to her by Messer Torello. While matters were thus passing in Pavia, and the day drawing nigh in which she would be claimed by her new husband, it happened that Messer Torello recognised in Alexandria one of the persons whom he had seen with the Genoese ambassadors on board the galley which had sailed, and calling to him, he inquired whether or not they had had a prosperous voyage, and when they had arrived at Genoa. To which the person replied, “My lord, our vessel made a most disastrous voyage, as is known in Crete, where I remained for some time; for when we were near to Sicily, there arose a violent north wind, which drove us on the shoals of Barbary, where all but myself perished, and amongst the rest my two brothers.” Messer Torello placing implicit belief in this intelligence, which was indeed true, and remembering that the time he had required from his wife would terminate in a few days, and being now sensible that his situation could not be known in Pavia, believed to a certainty that his lady would be married again, the thoughts of which threw him into such grief that he could neither eat nor sleep, but lay in his bed a prey to despair. Saladin, hearing of his illness, and bearing him the greatest affection, at length learned the cause of his grief, and blamed him exceedingly that he had not previously informed him of it; but at the same time entreated him to be comforted, as he would engage that Messer Torello should be in Pavia before the time had expired. Messer Torello was in some degree comforted with this promise, having often heard that such things were practicable, and entreated Saladin that he would not delay his preparations. Saladin immediately requested one of his magicians, of whose powers he had already made trial, to contrive some mode by which Messer Torello should be transported on a bed in one night to Pavia. To which the magician replied, that it should be done; but that, for his own sake, Messer Torello should take a sleeping draught. Having thus arranged matters, Saladin turned to Messer Torello, and finding him to persist in his wishes to be in Pavia at a certain day, alive or dead, thus addressed him: “Messer Torello, if you love your lady with so much devotion, and fear lest she may become the wife of another, Heaven is my witness that I cannot blame you, since of all the women I have ever seen, she is the one 48 whose appearance, manners, and address (not to mention beauty, which is a perishable quality), have won my admiration above all others. It would indeed have been my pride, since fortune has sent you here, that we might together have enjoyed the term of life prescribed to us in reigning together over this kingdom which I possess, as joint rulers; but as Heaven denies me this favour, and you are resolved to return to Pavia or to die, I should have wished to have known the time, that I might have accompanied you to your own house with a suitable retinue of my nobility, in order to pay a just tribute to your virtues. But as this too is denied me, and as you desire to be there immediately, I will fulfil your wishes in the manner I have related.” To which Messer Torello said, “My lord, your deeds have sufficiently testified your affection to me without words, and far beyond my merits; but I now entreat you that this last act of your kindness may be speedily effected, since to-morrow is the latest day that will be allowed me.” Saladin assured him it should be done; and on the next day, intending to send Messer Torello away in the evening, he ordered a magnificent bed to be set up in the great hall of the palace, the mattress formed of velvet and cloth of gold, and the quilts, counterpoints, and coverings sumptuously embroidered with orient pearls and precious stones of inestimable value, with two richly wrought pillows, befitting so noble a bed; and having ordered this, he commanded that Messer Torello, who was now recovered, should be clothed in the richest dress, after the fashion of the Saracens, that ever was seen, and placed on his head one of the largest of his own turbans; and the hour being now late, Saladin, accompanied by many of his lords, entered the chamber where Messer Torello was, and seated himself at his bedside, almost in tears thus spoke: “Messer Torello, the hour which is to separate us approaches, and as I cannot possibly accompany you, from the nature of the journey you have to undertake, I must bid you adieu in this chamber, and am now come for that purpose; but before I recommend you to God, I entreat you, by that affection and friendship which subsists between us, that you will often think of me, and ere our lives end that you will, after having arranged all your affairs in Lombardy, return to visit me once more, and make atonement for this sudden departure; and to this end do not fear to trouble me with your letters, and to ask anything that may be in my power, which I would certainly rather grant to you than to any man living.” On this, Messer Torello could not refrain from weeping, and in a few words answered, that it was impossible his benefits and favours could ever be effaced from his remembrance, and that he would without fail execute his commands as soon as an opportunity should be afforded him; on which Saladin affectionately embraced and kissed him, and bade him adieu with many tears. He then left the chamber, his barons accompanying him, and passed into the hall where the bed was prepared, and it waxing late, and the magician waiting, a physician came in, and presented a beverage to Messer Torello, who considering it a cordial, drank it off, and became immediately entranced. He was then placed in his sleep, by command of Saladin, upon the sumptuous bed, on which was affixed a 49 large and beautiful crown of great value, and an inscription which denoted it to be sent by Saladin to the wife of Messer Torello; and he further placed on the finger of Messer Torello a ring, in which was enchased a carbuncle of such dazzling brightness, that it shone like a flaming torch, and the value of which it was impossible to estimate. He also girded round him a rich sword, highly decorated, with a clasp in front, in which were set the finest pearls ever seen, and many precious stones; and at each side of him he place two large basons of gold filled with ducats, and many ropes of pearls, and rings and girdles; and other treasures, which it would be too tedious to enumerate, were strewed around him. Saladin then once again kissed Messer Torello, and commanded the magician to despatch, upon which the bed, with Messer Torello, was invisibly carried thence, and was transported and set down in the Church of San Pietro, in Ciel d’Or in Pavia, as had been agreed on. When the bell rang for matins, one of the monks, who was the sexton, entering the church with a light in his hand, and suddenly coming upon this sumptuous bed, was seized with a panic and fled instantly out of the church. The abbot and the monks seeing him thus terrified, were surprised, and demanded the cause of his fright. The monk then informed him what he had seen. “How is this?” said the abbot; “thou art not a child, nor a new-comer to the church, that thou shouldst be thus terrified; wherefore return with us, and let us see the cause of thy fears.” Having therefore lighted their torches, the abbot and his monks entered the church, where, to their amazement, they found the magnificent bed, and Messer Torello lain upon it in a recumbent posture in a deep sleep. Whilst they stood around in astonishment, contemplating the costliness of the bed and the rich jewels, it happened that Messer Torello awoke and heaved a deep sigh. The abbot and monks seeing him stir, all ran out of the church, crying aloud, “God and St. Peter save us!” Messer Torello, opening his eyes and looking around him, found himself on the spot to which Saladin had promised to transport him, and was thereon greatly rejoiced; and sitting up in bed, and regarding all the riches around him though, he before well knew the munificence of Saladin, he found it now tenfold increased; but seeing the monks flying, and guessing the cause, he called upon the abbot by name and entreated him to return without fear, as he was no other than his nephew Torello. The abbot, when he heard this, became more terrified than before, as he considered his nephew to have been dead for many months past; but after some pause and consideration, and hearing himself still called on, and blessing himself with the sign of the cross, he advanced somewhat nearer to the bed, when Messer Torello said,” Holy father, of what are you afraid? I am living, thanks be to God, and am thus returned from beyond sea.” The abbot attentively regarded him, and although his beard was grown, and he was dressed in the Arabian costume, he yet recognised his features, and taking him by the hand said, “Son, thou art happily returned, but thou needest not wonder at my alarm, since in all this country there is not a person who does not believe thee to be dead; in proof of which I may inform thee that thy 50 wife, overcome by the entreaties of her friends, and against her own wishes, is this morning to be married to a new husband, and a marriage feast is prepared in honour of these her second nuptials.” Messer Torello, rising from his bed, and giving the abbot and monks a gracious reception, earnestly entreated that none of them would divulge his return until he had made all his arrangements. He then placed his jewels in safety and recounted his adventures to the abbot. The abbot, rejoicing in his good fortune, united with him in returning thanks to God for his safe return. Messer Torello next inquired from the abbot who was the intended new husband of the lady. The abbot then informed him; and Messer Torello said, “Before my return be known, I wish to see how my wife is disposed with respect to these intended nuptials, and although it is not customary for religious persons to attend on such occasions, yet I entreat you, out of regard to me, to carry me to the marriage feast, as a guest under your protection.” The abbot willingly consented; and the next day sent to the intended bridegroom to beg his permission to be present at the marriage with a stranger newly arrived. To which the gentleman replied that he should receive them both with infinite pleasure. The dinner house being now come, Messer Torello, in the same dress which he wore when the abbot found him in the church, went to the house of the bridegroom, where he excited the attention of all the guests, but was not recognised by any of them, as the abbot represented him to be a Saracen of rank, sent by the Sultan on an embassy to the King of France. Messer Torello was then placed at a table directly opposite his lady, where he sate regarding her with great delight, and observed, to his joy, the trouble visible in her countenance on this second marriage. She in return gazed on him for some time; not that she at all recollected him, as his beard and foreign dress, and the firm belief of his death, prevented any suspicion of the kind. Messer Torello thought the time was now come when he should make proof of her constancy, and ascertain whether or not she would recognise him; so taking in his hand the ring which he had received from her on his departure, he called to him a young page who was waiting on her, and said to him, “Go to the bride, and saluting her from me, inform her that it is a custom in my country, than when any stranger is invited to the marriage-feast, the bride, in sign that he is welcome, offers to him the same cup in which she drinks herself, filled with the best wine, and when the stranger has drunk as much as is agreeable to him, the bride pledges him in the rest.” The page delivered the message to the bride, who being alike courteous and affable, and considering Messer Torello to be a foreigner of rank, in order to convince him that his presence was acceptable to her, ordered a large cup of gold (which stood directly before her), to be washed, and when it was filled with the choicest wine, to be carried to the stranger, which was done accordingly. Messer Torello having drunk to the bride, conveyed the ring into the cup without any person perceiving it; and again covering the cup, returned it to the bride, who graciously received it, and, to honour the stranger, drank up the remainder of the wine, and seeing the ring, took it out unobserved by any of the company. She immediately recognised it to 51 be the ring which she had given to Messer Torello on his departure, and fixing her eyes steadfastly on the stranger, the cheerful blood mounting up into her cheeks, and returning again with remembrance to her heart, assured her that, however disguised, he was no other than her husband. She then suddenly started up like one possessed, and overthrew all before her, exclaiming, “My lord and husband! Messer Torello!” and flying to the table at which Messer Torello sate, without paying regard to the riches thereon, she cast it aside as much as her strength would allow, and throwing herself on her husband’s neck, clasped him with such force, weeping and sobbing, that she could not be separated from him; nor did she show any moderation in this excess of passion until Messer Torello spoke, and entreated her to be patient and composed. Thus strangely was the solemnity disturbed; yet was every one glad and joyful at the return of so worthy a cavalier, who, entreating them all to vouchsafe him silence, related all his adventures to the company, from the time of his departure to the present hour, concluding that he was in no manner offended with the intended new bridegroom, who, from the assured report of his death, deserved no blame in making choice of his lady as his wife. The bridegroom, though his countenance was somewhat overcast, generously replied, that he relinquished his claim, being convinced that the lady was Torello’s wife. The lady then resigned the ring and the crown she had received from her intended husband, and placed on her finger the ring she had found in the cup, and on her head the rich crown sent to her by Saladin, and departing with such pomp and magnificence as had never before been seen in Pavia, they came to Messer Torello’s house, the citizens considering it a miracle thus to recover Signor Torello again. Messer Torello then distributed his rich jewels, giving a part of them to the intended bridegroom, and another part to the abbot and others, and then despatched a messenger to Saladin with letters, to acquaint him with his happy return to his native country, and confessing his friendship and his obligations, and then lived many years with his noble lady, exercising greater courtesies to strangers than he had ever before done. Such was the happy termination of the misfortunes of Messer Torello and the sorrows of his lady, and such the reward of their courteous hospitality.






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