NOVEL IV.
Signor Gentil de’ Carisendi takes a lady out of her grave, whom he had loved, and who was buried for dead. She recovers, and is brought to bed of a son, which he presents along with the lady to her husband.
It seemed strange to them all for a man to be so lavish of his blood, and it was agreed that Nathan had outdone both the king of Spain and the abbot of Cligni. The king then signified his will to Lauretta that she should begin, which she did to this effect: – Great, as well as beautiful, most noble ladies, are the incidents which have been already related, nor does anything seem wanting, in my opinion, to bring our argument home to the subject, but that we take in the affair of love, which affords matter enough for discourse upon any question whatever. For this reason, then, and as it is always an agreeable topic to youth, I shall mention the generosity of an enamoured young gentleman, which, all things considered, will appear, perhaps, no way inferior to the others: if it be true that people give away their wealth, forget animosities, run a thousand risks of their lives, and, what is more, their fame and honour too, and all to come at the thing desired.
In Bologna was a knight, of great consequence and worth, called Gentil Carisendi, who was in love with Catalina, the wife of Niccoluccio Caccianimico, and meeting with no return, he went, in a kind of despair, to Modena, whither he was called as Podesta. In the meantime, Niccoluccio being absent from Bologna, and his lady at a country-house about three miles distant, where she was gone to stay, being with child, it happened she was taken with an hysteric fit, which quite extinguished all signs of life, so that her physician declared her dead. And because her acquaintance said, they had been informed by her that she was not quick with child, she was immediately buried in a vault belonging to a neighbouring church. This was soon signified by a friend to Signor Gentil, who, though, he had never received the least mark of her favour, grieved extremely, saying at last to himself, “Behold, my dear Catalina, you are dead! living you would never deign me one kind look; now, however, that you cannot prevent it, I will please myself even with a kiss.”
So, giving orders that his departure should be a secret, towards evening he mounted his horse, and taking a servant along with him, he rode directly to the vault where she was buried, which he opened, and lying down by her, he put his cheek to hers, and wept. At length, laying his hands for some time upon her bosom, he thought he felt something beat, when, throwing all fear aside, and attending more nicely to the circumstance, he was convinced she had a small spark of life remaining in her; therefore, by the help of his servant, he took her out of the vault as gently as possible, and, laying her upon the horse, he brought her privately to his house at Bologna. There his mother, a worthy good lady, having the whole account from him, by warm baths and other means, soon brought her to herself; when, after fetching a deep sigh, she said, “Alas! where am I!”The good lady replied, “Make yourself easy, you are in a very good place.” Looking then all round, and seeing Signor Gentil before her, her astonishment was great, and she desired his mother to inform her by what means she had come thither. He then related everything to her, at which she was greatly affected, and, after giving due thanks, she requested of him, by his love and generous deportment, to attempt nothing contrary to her honour and that of her husband, and that, when it was daylight, he would suffer her to go home. “Madam,” he replied, “whatever my love has been heretofore, I promise both now and hereafter, seeing I have been so fortunate to bring you to life, to use you with the same regard as I would do my sister: but, as I think myself entitled to some reward, I must insist upon your granting me one favour.” – “sir,” said she, “you may command anything from me consistent with modesty.” He made answer, “Madam, your relations and all the people of Bologna are assured of your being dead; therefore I insist only upon your staying here with my mother till I return from Modena, which will be very soon. My reason is, that I would then, in the presence of the principal inhabitants here, make a valuable and solemn present of you to your husband.” The lady, knowing her obligations to the knight, and that his demand was honourable, consented, and gave her word to abide by it, notwithstanding she longed extremely to gratify her relations with the news of her being alive. And whilst they were talking, she felt labour-pains come upon her, when she was soon delivered of a son, which added greatly to their joy. Signor Gentil ordered that she should have the same care taken of her as if she had been his own wife, and then returned privately to Modena. There he continued till the expiration of his office, and the morning he was to come home, he ordered a great entertainment to be made at his house, to which Niccoluccio Caccianimico, with many of the principal citizens were invited; and after he had dismounted, and found the company waiting for him, understanding too that the lady and child were both very well, he received them all with a great deal of joy, and dinner was immediately served up in the most magnificent manner possible.
Towards the end, having concerted everything beforehand with the lady, he addressed himself to his guests in the following manner: “Gentlemen, I remember to have heard of a pretty custom in Persia, that when any one has a mind to show the greatest respect in his power to any of his friends, that he invites them to his house, and produces that thing, be it what it will, wife, mistress, or daughter, that is most dear to him, declaring thereby that he would, if he was able, lay his very heart before them. This custom I mean to introduce at Bologna. You do me honour with your company at this feast, and I will return it, by showing that thing which is the most dear to me of all that I have now in the world, or ever shall possess. But I must beg your solution of a difficulty which I am going to start to you. A certain person had a very honest and trusty servant, who was taken extremely ill, whom, without more to do, he sent out into the street in that condition, when a stranger, out of mere compassion, took him into his house, and with a great deal of trouble and expense, had him restored to his former health.
– Now I would gladly know whether the first master has any right to complain of the second, for keeping him in his service, and refusing to restore him.” This occasioned a great deal of argument, and all agreed at last in opinion, leaving Niccoluccio Caccianimico, who was an elegant speaker, to report it. He, therefore, after commending the Persian custom, said, “they were all persuaded that the first master had no farther right, after he had not only abandoned his servant, but thrown him away as it were; and that, on account of the kindness done to him, he justly belonged to the second, who offered no violence or injury to the first in detaining him.” The rest of the company, being all wise and worthy persons, declared that they joined in opinion with Niccoluccio. The knight, pleased with the answer, and having it too from Niccoluccio, declared that those were his own sentiments, adding, “It is now time for me to honour you according to promise.”
He then sent two servants to the lady, whom he had taken care to have very gaily dressed, desiring her to favour his guests with her company. Accordingly, she came into the hall, followed by the two servants, with the little infant in her arms. And after she had seated herself, he said, “Behold, this is what I value beyond everything else; see if you think I am in the right.” The gentlemen all praised her extremely, pronouncing her worthy of his esteem; and, after looking more nicely at her, many of them were going to have owned her, had it not been that they thought her dead. But none gazed upon her so much as Niccoluccio, who (the knight having stepped a little aside) grew impatient to know who she was, and, unable any longer to contain himself, demanded of her if she was a citizen or a stranger? The lady, hearing this from her husband, could scarcely refrain from giving him an answer, yet, in regard to her injunctions, she held her peace. Another inquired whether that was her child; and a third, whether she was wife, or any relation, to Signor Gentil. Stili she made no reply to any. So when the knight returned, one of the company said, “sir, this is really a pretty creature, but she appears to be dumb: is she actually so?” – “Gentlemen,” he replied, “her silence is no small argument of her virtue.” – “Tell us then,” quoth one, “who she is.” – “That I will,” said the knight, “with all my heart, if you will promise me in the meantime that none of you stir from your places till I have made an end.”
This being agreed, and the tables all removed, he went and sat down by her, saying, “Gentlemen, this lady is that good and faithful servant, about whom I proposed the question: who, being set at nought by her friends, and thrown into the street, as it were, as a thing of no account, was by me with great care taken up, and redeemed from death; and from so terrible an object as she once was, brought to what you now see. But, for your more perfect understanding of what has happened, I will make it plain to you in few words.” So he began from his being first enamoured, and related everything particularly that had happened, to the great amazement of the hearers; adding, at last, “For these reasons, if you stick to what you said just now, and Niccoluccio especially, the lady is mine, and nobody has any right to demand her from me.” No reply was made to this, but all stood expecting to hear what he had farther to say. In the meantime, Niccoluccio and the rest of the company, as well as the lady, were so affected, that they all wept. But Signor Gentil arose, and taking the child in his arms, and the lady by the hand, he went towards Niccoluccio, and said, “Rise, my friend, behold, I do not give you your wife, whom you and your relations had thrown away, but I bestow this lady upon you, as an acquaintance of mine, along with her little son, which is yours, and whom I have called by my own name; and I entreat you not to have the worse opinion of her, for having been three months in my house; for I call Heaven to witness, that though my love was the cause of her being preserved, she has lived with the same honour in my house, along with my mother, as she could have done with her own parent.” Then, turning to the lady, he said, “Madam, I now acquit you of your promise, and give you up freely to your husband. So giving him the lady and the child into his arms, he returned, and sat down. Niccoluccio received them with joy, the greater, as it was the more unexpected, loading the knight with infinite thanks, whilst the company, who could not refrain from weeping, highly commended his generosity, as did every one also that heard it. The lady now was brought to her own house with great demonstrations of joy, and the people all beheld her with the same wonder as if she had been raised from the dead. Moreover, the knight was in the greatest esteem ever after, both with her and Niccoluccio, as well as all their relations and friends.
What will you say, then, ladies? Is a king’s giving away his crown and sceptre, an abbot’s reconciling a malefactor to the pope, or an old man’s offering his throat to an enemy’s dagger, anything like this action of Signor Gentile, who, being in the bloom and heat of youth, and seeming to have a good title to that which other people’s carelessness had thrown away, and he by good fortune happened to pick up, not only restrained his desire, much to his honour, but generously resigned what he had entirely coveted, and sought at all events to possess. To me they seem no way comparable.