NOVEL VI.
A young lady, named Andrevuola, is in love with Gabriotto; they relate to each other their dreams, and he falls down dead in her arms. As she and her maid are carrying him out, they are apprehended by the officers of justice; she relates how the affair happened, and afterwards, the magistrate would force her, but she resists; at length her father hears of it, and as her innocence is clear, has her set at liberty. From that period she grows weary of the world, and becomes a nun.
The ladies were all pleased with Filomena’s novel, because they had often heard the song, but were unacquainted with the reason of its being made. The king laid his next commands on Pamfilo, who began thus: – The dream in the preceding story puts me in mind of another, in which mention is made of two different dreams, that shewed what was to happen, as the last did what had already come to pass; and which were no sooner related than the effect as suddenly followed. You must know, then, that it is a general passion in all people to see many things in their sleep, which appear real at that time, and when we wake we judge some of them to be so, some to be barely probable, and others to be utterly false, many of which do yet come to pass. For this reason we see many persons pay the same regard to a dream, as they would do to anything which they saw whilst they were really awake; insomuch, that they find constant matter of joy or trouble therein, according to their different hopes or fears; on the contrary, there are others who will believe nothing of that kind, until they fall into the very danger of which they have been in that manner forewarned. Of these, I commend neither the one nor the other; for, as all dreams are not true, neither are they all false. That all are not true, we may each of us have frequently observed; and yet that all are not false, appears from Filomena’s novel, and will be farther shown by mine. Therefore, I am of opinion, that in a virtuous life and a good cause you need regard no dream, so far as to forego any good intention; and, on the contrary, that in bad actions, although your dreams seem to be favourable, and to promise success, yet should you give no credit to these any more than to the others. But to proceed with my story.
In the city of Brescia there lived a gentleman, called Signor Negro da Ponte Carraro, who, besides his other children, had a daughter named Andrevuola, a young and beautiful lady. Now she had taken a fancy to a neighbour, whose name was Gabriotto, a man of mean extraction, but excellent qualities, as well as graceful person; and, by her maid’s assistance, she had managed so, that he was not only made acquainted with it, but they had frequent interviews together in her father’s garden, to- the mutual satisfaction of both parties. And, that nothing but death should part their affection, they were privately married.
Continuing their meetings in this manner, it happened one night, that she dreamed they were in the garden together, and, as she had him in her arms, she thought she saw, arising out of his body, something black and frightful, the form of which she could not well comprehend, which took him by force from her, and went with him under ground; and from that time she could neither see the one nor the other. This caused her the utmost distress, and glad she was, upon waking, to find it otherwise: yet she had some dread still upon her on account of the dream. The next night, therefore, on her husband’s desiring to meet her, she endeavoured all she could to excuse herself: but seeing him resolute, and fearing to disoblige him, she received him as usual. After they had diverted themselves with gathering flowers, and had sat down by a fountain side, he inquired the reason why she would have prevented his coming that night. She then related her dream, and the apprehensions it had occasioned; which made him laugh, and tell her that it was a folly to mind dreams, which proceeded, for the most part,- from the stomach being either too full, or too empty, and which we every day see to be of no significancy: “But,” added he, “had I showed any regard to dreams, I should not have come here, not so much for the sake of yours, as one of my own last night, which was this: I thought I was hunting in a most delightful forest, and that I had taken a beautiful young hind, as white as snow, which in a little time became so tame that it never left me; and I, fearing I might lose it, put a collar of gold about its neck, which I held by a golden chain in my hand. Afterwards, as it couched down by me, with its head in my bosom, on a sudden came rushing upon us, but whence I could not imagine, a greyhound, as black as jet, apparently half starved, and monstrously ugly. At me it made full speed, thrust its snout into my bosom, on my left side, and griped me to my very heart, which I thought it tore away from me, and which gave me such pain, that I instantly awoke, clapped my hand on my side, to feel if anything was amiss; and could not help laughing afterwards at my own weakness for doing so. What can be said, then, in such cases? I have had as bad or worse dreams, and nothing ever happened to me: then let us think of something else.”
The lady was still more dismayed at hearing this, but concealed her thoughts as much as possible, for fear of giving him uneasiness; yet every now and then would she cast her eye down the garden, to see if anything monstrous appeared.
At length her husband, fetching a deep sigh, embraced her, and said, “Alas, my life, help me, I am dying! “and, having said that, he fell upon the ground. She immediately drew him into her lap, and weeping, said, “My dearest love, what is it that you feel?”He made no answer, but gasping vehemently, and perspiring inordinately, he soon expired. It is easy to conceive how grievous this was to the lady, who loved him more than her own life. She called upon him by name, over and over again, and wept for a considerable time; but, seeing that he was certainly dead, and not knowing what to do, she ran, all in tears, to call her maid, who had been intrusted with the secret, and, after they had lamented over him for some time together, she said to her –
“Since Heaven has taken away my love from me I mean to live no longer myself; but, before I put my design into execution, I would take the most effectual means to preserve my honour, by concealing the affection that has existed between us; I desire then to have this body first interred, whose dear soul is now departed.” “My dear lady,” the maid replied, “do no talk of destroying yourself; for, by doing an act of that kind, you will lose him in the other world also: a soul like his must be happy, and you would send yours to endless misery: you had better compose yourself, and think how you may be of service, by offering up some few prayers in his behalf, if by chance he should stand in need of them, for any sin he may have committed. With regard to his interment, that may easily be done in this garden, because it was never known that he came hither; or, if you will not agree to that, we will carry him out, and leave him there: he will be found in the morning, and conveyed home, when his relations will take care to bury him.”
The lady, though she was overwhelmed with grief, listened attentively to the maid’s advice; and not approving of the former part of it, she said, with regard to the latter, “Heaven forbid that I should ever suffer a youth so dearly beloved by me, and my husband too, either to be buried like a dog, or left in the street: he has had my prayers, and shall have those of his friends and relations. I am now resolved what to do.” And immediately she sent the maid for a piece of rich silk she had in her cabinet, which being brought, she spread it upon the ground, and they laid the body upon it, with the head on a pillow; and closing his eyes and mouth, with abundance of tears, putting a garland of roses on his head, and strewing others over his body, she said to her maid, “It is not far to his house, whither we can easily carry him, as he now is, and we will lay him before the door; it will soon be day, and then he will be found; and though it will be a sad sight to his friends, to me, in whose arms he died, it will be a satisfaction.” Having said this, she hung down her head over him, and wept for a considerable time; till, being reminded by her servant that daybreak was at hand, she raised herself up, and taking the ring from her finger, with which he had espoused her, she put it upon his, saying, “My dear lord, if thy soul has any knowledge of my tears, or if there be any sense or understanding left after that is departed from the body, receive this last gift from her who was once so dear to thee: “and at these words she fell down in a swoon. In some little time she came to herself, when they took up the silk, on which the body was laid, and went with it out of the garden, towards his house.
As they were going along, it happened that they were met by some of the provost’s officers, who were out upon another affair, and who seized them as they were carrying off the corpse. Andrevuola, coveting death at that time more than life, said freely to them, “I know who you are, and that it would be in vain to think of escaping; I am ready then to go before the magistrates, and to relate all I know concerning this matter; but let none of you dare to touch me, because I offer no resistance; nor touch anything belonging to this body, under pain of being accused himself.” Accordingly it was carried untouched to the provost’s hall, and, when notice of it was given to him, he arose, and she being brought before him he began to question her how, and by what means, this thing had happened. Physicians also were sent for to give their opinions, whether it was done by poison, or any such way: they all declared the contrary, affirming that some vein near the heart had burst, which had suffocated him. The provost hearing this, and perceiving her innocence, pretended to make a matter of favour of it, and told her that he would set her at liberty, upon condition that she would yield herself to his pleasure, which she refusing, he was base enough to try force. But she, fired with a noble disdain, defended herself with great courage and resolution.
It being now broad day, and the news being carried to Signor Negro, he went, full of grief, to the hall, attended by many of his friends, and, being informed of his daughter’s innocence, he demanded her from the provost, who, choosing rather to mention himself what had happened, than to allow her to accuse him, began, with great commendation of her constancy and virtue, owned his designs towards her, and offered to marry her, notwithstanding the meanness of her former marriage, if it was agreeable to her father and herself. Whilst he was speaking, Andrevuola entered, and falling down on her knees before her father, said, “My dear father, I suppose I need not tell you either of my boldness or of my misfortune, as you must certainly have heard of both: therefore I most humbly beg your forgiveness for having married without your knowledge, the person whom I most loved; and this I do with no view to a pardon, but that I may die as your daughter, and not as an enemy.”
Signor Negro was advanced in years, and, being one of a courteous and gentle disposition, could not refrain from tears at these words, and, raising her tenderly from the ground, he said, “Daughter, I should have been more glad if you had taken such a husband as I had approved of; yet, if you married to please yourself, this ought to please me. But to conceal it entirely, gives me concern for the little confidence you repose in me; especially as he died before I knew anything of the matter: but since it is so, the respect, for your sake, that I would have showed him, as my son-in-law, whilst he was living, I mean to express now he is dead.” Then, turning to his children and friends, he ordered them to get everything in readiness for a solemn and magnificent funeral.
By this time Gabriotto’s friends and relations had assembled, as well as great crowds from all parts of the city; and, the corpse being set in the middle of the court in the manner she had before adorned it, great lamentation was made over it, by all the relations and others present; and thence it was carried to the grave with the utmost honour and respect, not like that of an ordinary citizen, but as of a person of quality, upon the shoulders of some of the most eminent citizens. A few days afterwards, the provost renewed his request, and Signor Negro recommended it to his daughter, who would hear nothing of it; and he, willing to content her, sent both her and her maid into a monastery of great devotion, where after a long course of time, they ended their lives.