Imaginary Conversations and Poems Part 59

_a.s.sunta._ Ah, sir! it must have been long ago then.

_Petrarca._ Thou hast just entered upon life.

_a.s.sunta._ I am no child.

_Petrarca._ What then art thou?

_a.s.sunta._ I know not: I have lost both father and mother; there is a name for such as I am.

_Petrarca._ And a place in heaven.

_Boccaccio._ Who brought us that fish, a.s.sunta? hast paid for it?

there must be seven pounds: I never saw the like.

_a.s.sunta._ I could hardly lift up my ap.r.o.n to my eyes with it in my hand. Luca, who brought it all the way from the Padule, could scarcely be entreated to eat a morsel of bread or sit down.

_Boccaccio._ Give him a flask or two of our wine; he will like it better than the sour puddle of the plain.

_a.s.sunta._ He is gone back.

_Boccaccio._ Gone! who is he, pray?

_a.s.sunta._ Luca, to be sure.

_Boccaccio._ What Luca?

_a.s.sunta._ Dominedio! O Riverenza! how sadly must Ser Giovanni, my poor Padrone, have lost his memory in this cruel long illness! he cannot recollect young Luca of the Bientola, who married Maria.

_Boccaccio._ I never heard of either, to the best of my knowledge.

_a.s.sunta._ Be pleased to mention this in your prayers to-night, Ser Canonico! May Our Lady soon give him back his memory! and everything else she has been pleased (only in play, I hope) to take away from him! Ser Francesco, you must have heard all over the world how Maria Gargarelli, who lived in the service of our paroco, somehow was outwitted by Satana.s.so. Monsignore thought the paroco had not done all he might have done against his wiles and craftiness, and sent his Reverence over to the monastery in the mountains, Laverna yonder, to make him look sharp; and there he is yet.

And now does Signor Padrone recollect?

_Boccaccio._ Rather more distinctly.

_a.s.sunta._ Ah me! Rather more distinctly! have patience, Signor Padrone! I am too venturous, G.o.d help me! But, Riverenza, when Maria was the scorn or the abhorrence of everybody else, excepting poor Luca Sabbatini, who had always cherished her, and excepting Signor Padrone, who had never seen her in his lifetime ... for paroco Snello said he desired no visits from any who took liberties with Holy Church ... as if Padrone did! Luca one day came to me out of breath, with money in his hand for our duck. Now it so happened that the duck, stuffed with n.o.ble chestnuts, was going to table at that instant. I told Signor Padrone....

_Boccaccio._ a.s.sunta, I never heard thee repeat so long and tiresome a story before, nor put thyself out of breath so. Come, we have had enough of it.

_Petrarca._ She is mortified: pray let her proceed.

_Boccaccio._ As you will.

_a.s.sunta._ I told Signor Padrone how Luca was lamenting that Maria was seized with an _imagination_.

_Petrarca._ No wonder then she fell into misfortune, and her neighbours and friends avoided her.

_a.s.sunta._ Riverenza! how can you smile? Signor Padrone! and you too?

You shook your head and sighed at it when it happened. The Demonio, who had caused all the first mischief, was not contented until he had given her the _imagination_.

_Petrarca._ He could not have finished his work more effectually.

_a.s.sunta._ He was balked, however. Luca said:

'She shall not die under her wrongs, please G.o.d!'

I repeated the words to Signor Padrone.... He seems to listen, Riverenza! and will remember presently ... and Signor Padrone cut away one leg for himself, clean forgetting all the chestnuts inside, and said sharply, 'Give the bird to Luca; and, hark ye, bring back the minestra.'

Maria loved Luca with all her heart, and Luca loved Maria with all his: but they both hated paroco Snello for such neglect about the evil one. And even Monsignore, who sent for Luca on purpose, had some difficulty in persuading him to forbear from choler and discourse. For Luca, who never swears, swore bitterly that the devil should play no such tricks again, nor alight on girls napping in the parsonage.

Monsignore thought he intended to take violent possession, and to keep watch there himself without consent of the inc.u.mbent. 'I will have no scandal,' said Monsignore; so there was none. Maria, though she did indeed, as I told your Reverence, love her Luca dearly, yet she long refused to marry him, and cried very much at last on the wedding day, and said, as she entered the porch:

'Luca! it is not yet too late to leave me.'

He would have kissed her, but her face was upon his shoulder.

Pievano Locatelli married them, and gave them his blessing: and going down from the altar, he said before the people, as he stood on the last step: 'Be comforted, child! be comforted! G.o.d above knows that thy husband is honest, and that thou art innocent.' Pievano's voice trembled, for he was an aged and holy man, and had walked two miles on the occasion. Pulcheria, his governante, eighty years old, carried an ap.r.o.nful of lilies to bestrew the altar; and partly from the lilies, and partly from the blessed angels who (although invisible) were present, the church was filled with fragrance. Many who heretofore had been frightened at hearing the mention of Maria's name, ventured now to walk up toward her; and some gave her needles, and some offered skeins of thread, and some ran home again for pots of honey.

_Boccaccio._ And why didst not thou take her some trifle?

_a.s.sunta._ I had none.

_Boccaccio._ Surely there are always such about the premises.

_a.s.sunta._ Not mine to give away.

_Boccaccio._ So then at thy hands, a.s.sunta, she went off not overladen. Ne'er a bone-bodkin out of thy bravery, ay?

_a.s.sunta._ I ran out knitting, with the woodbine and syringa in the basket for the parlour. I made the basket ... I and ... but myself chiefly, for boys are loiterers.

_Boccaccio._ Well, well: why not bestow the basket, together with its rich contents?

_a.s.sunta._ I am ashamed to say it ... I covered my half-stocking with them as quickly as I could, and ran after her, and presented it. Not knowing what was under the flowers, and never minding the liberty I had taken, being a stranger to her, she accepted it as graciously as possible, and bade me be happy.

_Petrarca._ I hope you have always kept her command.

_a.s.sunta._ n.o.body is ever unhappy here, except Fra Biagio, who frets sometimes: but that may be the walk; or he may fancy Ser Giovanni to be worse than he really is.

... Having now performed her mission and concluded her narrative, she bowed, and said:

'Excuse me, Riverenza! excuse me, Signor Padrone! my arm aches with this great fish.'

Then, bowing again, and moving her eyes modestly toward each, she added, 'with permission!' and left the chamber.

'About the sposina,' after a pause began Ser Francesco: 'about the sposina, I do not see the matter clearly.'

'You have studied too much for seeing all things clearly,' answered Ser Giovanni; 'you see only the greatest. In fine, the devil, on this count, is acquitted by acclamation; and the paroco Snello eats lettuce and chicory up yonder at Laverna. He has mendicant friars for his society every day; and snails, as pure as water can wash and boil them, for his repast on festivals. Under this discipline, if they keep it up, surely one devil out of legion will depart from him.'