NOVEL VII.
Teodoro is in love with Violante, his master’s daughter; she proves with child, for which he is condemned to be hanged: when being led out to execution, he is recognised by his father, set at liberty, and afterwards marries her.
The ladies were some time in suspense, through fear lest the two lovers should be burnt, and thanked Heaven at last to hear of their deliverance. Then the queen gave the next command to Lauretta, who began cheerfully as follows:
When good King Guiglielmo ruled over Sicily, there lived in that island a gentleman named Amerigo, abbot of Trapani, who amongst other temporal goods, was well stored with children. Having occasion for servants, and meeting with some Genoese pirates from the Levant, who had been coasting along Armenia, and taken several children, supposing them to be Turks, he bought some, and, amongst the rest, in appearance chiefly peasants, one of a more generous aspect, called Teodoro. This boy, as he grew up, though he was treated as a servant, was educated with Amerigo’s own children; and his natural disposition was so good and agreeable to his master, that he had him baptized, and called him Pietro, making him overseer of his affairs.
Amongst Amerigo’s children was a daughter, named Violante, a most beautiful young lady, who, having been kept from marrying longer than was agreeable to her, cast her eye at last upon Pietro, being charmed with his behaviour, though she was ashamed to make such a discovery. But love spared her this trouble; for he, by often looking cautiously at her, was so far captivated, that he was always uneasy unless he saw her: at the same time he was fearful lest any one should perceive it, as thinking it a sort of crime. This she soon took notice of; and, to give him a little more assurance, let him understand that it was not displeasing to her. Thus they went on together, neither venturing to speak to the other, though it was what they both desired. But whilst they thus mutually languished, fortune, as if purposely, found means to banish this bashfulness, which had hitherto been in the way.
Amerigo had a country house about a mile from Trapani, whither his wife and daughter, together with other ladies, used to go sometimes, by way of pastime. One day when they were there, having taken Pietro along with them, it happened that the sky was overcast all at once with clouds, on which account the lady and her friends made all possible haste home again, before they should be caught in the storm. But Pietro and the young lady, being more nimble than the rest, had got considerably the start of them, as much perhaps through love, as fear of the weather; and when they were out of sight, there came such claps of thunder, attended with a violent storm of hail, that the mother and her company were glad to get into a labourer’s house, whilst Pietro and the young lady, having no other place of refuge, went into an old uninhabited cottage, which had just cover enough remaining to keep them dry; and there they were obliged to stand pretty close together. This event encouraged him to open his heart, and he said, ” Would to Heaven the storm would never cease, that I might continue here always in this manner! ” – “I should like it,” she replied, “well enough.” These words brought on some little acts of fondness, which were followed by others, till at last they grew very familiar together, had their fill of pleasure, and made arrangements for the continuance of an intercourse so happily begun.
The shower being over, they went on towards the city, waiting by the way for the mother, who having joined them, they came with her home. They had frequent meetings from that time, conducted always with great secrecy, till at length, she proved with child, which terribly alarmed them both. On this, Pietro, being in fear for his life, resolved to fly, and told her so. She replied, “If you do that, I will certainly murder myself.” Pietro, then, who loved her most affectionately, said, “Why would you have me stay?” There must soon be a discovery; for your part, you will be easily forgiven, and I shall have to bear the punishment of both.”
– “Pietro,” she replied, “my crime must be known; but as for yours, be assured, unless you tell it yourself, it never shall.” – “Then,” quoth he, “if you promise me that, I will stay; but be sure you observe it.” The young lady, who had concealed as long as possible her being with child, finding it could be kept a secret no longer, let her mother at last into the truth, entreating her protection with abundance of tears. The mother was very harsh with her, and insisted upon knowing how it happened: when she, to keep her word with Pietro, feigned a long story about it, to which the other easily gave credit, and, to keep it private, sent her away to one of their farm-houses.
When the time of her labour was at hand, the mother, never suspecting anything of her husband’s coming, it chanced that Amerigo, returning that way from hawking, thought, as he passed under the window, that he heard something of a noise and bustle above, and when he came in he inquired what was the matter? The lady told her husband, with a great deal of concern, what had happened to their daughter. But he, not quite so credulous as herself, said it was impossible that she should be with child, and not know by whom, and he insisted upon knowing it: by that means she might regain his favour, otherwise he would put her to death without the least mercy. The lady tried all she could to make him satisfied with her story, but to no purpose. He ran with his sword drawn to his daughter, who, whilst they had been in discourse together, had brought forth a boy, and said, “Either declare the father, or thou shalt die instantly.” She, terrified to death, broke her promise to Pietro, and made a full discovery. He was so enraged at this, that he could scarcely forbear murdering her, till having vented something of his passion, he remounted his horse, and returned to Trapani, when, making his complaint to one Signor Currado, who was governor there for the king, of the injury Pietro had done him, he had him apprehended, and he confessed the whole affair.
Pietro was condemned to be whipped, and afterwards hanged; and that the same hour might put an end to the lives of both the lovers and of their child, Amerigo, whose anger was not to be appeased by Pietro’s death, sent a cup of poison, and a naked sword, by one of his servants, to his daughter, saying, “Go carry these two things to Violante, and tell her from me, that she must take her choice, whether to die by poison, or the sword; and if she refuse, I will have her burnt publicly as she deserves: when you have done this, take her child and dash his brains out, and then throw him to the dogs.”
The fellow, more disposed to such wickedness than to anything that was good, went readily enough about his errand.
Pietro was whipped in pursuance of his sentence, and as he was led along to the gallows, he chanced to pass by an inn, where lodged three noblemen of Armenia, who were sent as ambassadors by their king to the pope, to treat of some weighty affairs with regard to an expedition which he was going to make. There they stayed to repose themselves after their journey, and had great honour shown them by the nobility of Trapani, and especially by Amerigo. Observing the people pass by who were leading Pietro, they went to the window to see what was the matter. Pietro stood stripped to the waist, with his hands tied behind him; when one of the ambassadors, named Fineo, an ancient person, and one of great authority, looking at him, saw a red spot on his breast, which children are sometimes born with, and immediately was put in mind of a son who had been stolen from him by some pirates, fifteen years before, ot whom he could never since learn any tidings. Judging by Pietro’s looks that he must be about the same age as his lost boy, he began to suspect, from the mark, that he was the very person, and if so, he supposed he would remember his own name, and his father’s, as also something of the Armenian language: therefore, being near him, he called out “Teodoro! “Hearing that, Pietro lifted up his head. Fineo then spoke to him in the Armenian language, saying, “Whence do you come, and whose son are you?” The officers who had charge of him, stopped, wit of respect to that worshipful person, and Pietro replied, “I am of Armenia, the son of one Fineo, and was brought hither by I know not whom.”
Fineo, now convinced that he was his son, came down with his friends, full of tears, and ran to embrace him among all the officers; then throwing a rich mantle over his shoulders, he desired the person who led him to wait till orders should come to take him back; which the other replied he should do very willingly. Fineo had learned the cause of his sentence, as fame had noised it everywhere. Taking his friends with him, therefore, and their retinue, he went to Currado, and said, “sir, the person whom you have condemned is no slave, he is a freeman, and my son: he is ready also to marry the woman: then please to defer the execution, till it be known whether she be willing to have him, that nothing be done contrary to law.” Currado was greatly surprised, hearing that he was Fineo’s son, and being ashamed of their mistake, confessed that what he required was reasonable, and sent for Amerigo, and acquainted him with these things.
Nothing could exceed Amerigo’s miserable anxiety, lest his daughter and her child should have been put to death before that time, knowing that if she was alive, everything might be fairly accommodated; therefore he sent in all haste to her, to prevent his orders being obeyed, if they were not already performed. The messenger found the servant who had carried the sword and poison, standing before her, and as she was in no haste to make her choice, he was abusing her, and would have forced her to have taken one. But hearing his master’s command, he returned, and told him how it was: at which he was thoroughly satisfied, and went to Fineo to beg his pardon for what had been done, declaring that if Teodoro married his daughter he should be perfectly contented. Fineo accepted his apology, and assured him, that he should either marry her, or else the law should take its course. This being agreed, they went to Teodoro (who, though rejoiced to find his father, was yet under apprehensions of dying), and asked him if he consented. Teodoro, hearing that he had it at his option to marry his Violante, was as much rejoiced as if he had gone directly from hell to heaven, and replied that he mould esteem it as the greatest favour in the world. Then he sent to know the young lady’s mind, and she hearing of what happened to Teodoro, began to receive a little comfort after all her affliction. Nothing in the world could be more pleasing to her, she said, than to be the wife of Teodoro; but yet she should always wait her father’s commands, Everything being thus settled, the wedding was celebrated to the great joy of the whole city. In a little time the bride began to recover her looks, and having taken care of the infant, she went to pay her respects to Fineo, who, being returned from this embassy, received her as his daughter, with the utmost joy and respect. Soon after they embarked all together for Laiazzo, where the two lovers lived peaceably and happily together all their lives.
[Indifferent in itself, this tale is chiefly curious as being the foundation of the plot of Beaumont and Fletcher‘s “Triumph of Love,” the second and best of their “Four Plays in One.”]