Part 12

After having cut her hair, and dressed her up as well as they could with their own clothes, and giving her what trifle of money they had about them, they directed her on the way to Naples, and left her with tears; and having returned home with her clothes, they asserted, that with a large stone tied to her neck, they had plunged her into the sea about ten miles off. The noble lady, who had never before been out of the city, felt herself nearly fainting at every step she took; the thoughts of leaving her poor Antonio without the hope of ever seeing him again, together with many other tender thoughts, nearly induced her to turn back; but recollecting the kindness she experienced, and the solemn promise she had made to them, gratitude, that blossom of every virtue, had such power over her feelings, that every such thought was dismissed. She therefore went on, not knowing where, and praying to heaven to help her, she walked the remaining part of the night. About dawn, being near Nocera, she was overtaken by a party who were going on to Naples, and joined company with them; among these was a Calabrian gentleman, who was taking some sparrow hawks to the Duke of Calabria. The youth (for so the lady appeared) seeming to him a pleasant young man, he asked her what countryman he was, and whether he wanted employment? Veronica, who in sport had learned in her youth to imitate the language of an old woman of Apulia, who was in her father’s house, thought she would make use of those Pugliese words which she recollected, as often as she could in the course of her conversation with him, and answered, “I am a native of Apulia, and came forth from home only to get a situation, but, as I am the son of a noble father, I would not wish to undertake too menial a place.” To which the Calabrian said, “would you like to be keeper of the hawks?” This question highly delighted Veronica, having at her father’s house had the care of several; she answered, that from her infancy she had been accustomed to the care of them. After some conversation as they went along, she took the care of one, and being arrived at Naples, and clad so that she appeared a very neat and elegant little squire, whether fate had so decreed it, or that her likely appearance captivated him, the duke would have both the hawks and the young Pugliese keeper who managed them so well, and, consequently, he was installed in the family with a young Neapolitan. She so carefully fulfilled her duty, and was so exact in her attendance, that in a short time she became the greatest favourite, and was much valued by the duke; insomuch that she remained with him till fortune directed another course for her.

Her old father, meanwhile, torn with grief and remorse, for the fatal story had got wind, remained mostly shut up in his house or at his country villa, secluded from all society. Antonio, after bitterly sorrowing for the death of his dear Veronica, and finding that the old man had never discovered who the cavalier was who had escaped on that fatal night, determined after a few days, as well to prevent suspicion, as moved by compassion, to visit the old man; he generally accompanied him to his villa, and shewed himself as kind, obedient, and dutiful, as if he had been his own son, the which Mazzeo felt the more sensibly, as the youth seemed to be the only one who had not forsaken him in his dire calamity, and therefore loved him as he would have done his own, and could not rest one hour without his dear Antonio. As the latter persevered in his kindness and attentions to him, it occurred to the old man, that since his ill fortune had deprived him of an heir, he would adopt him as such. Full of this thought he made his will, and left Antonio heir to every thing he possessed, and died shortly after. Antonio having thus acquired immense property, and occupying the house of the deceased, met with numberless objects that recalled to his mind the tender and heroic affection of his dear Veronica, who rather met her death, than reveal his name. His grief and gratitude were such, that he vowed he never would marry. Meanwhile the duke determined to go to Calabria, which thing enraptured the Pugliese (Veronica), as she would not only see her dear country again, but might perchance hear of her lover, and of her father, whom she still loved, in spite of his cruelty, and of whom she had made no enquiry lest her secret should be known. Being arrived at Salerno, and the duke’s retinue accommodated with lodgings according to their rank, it happened, as it pleased fortune to ordain, in order to put an end to their long sufferings, and finally make Antonio happy, that it fell to the lot of Antonio Marcello to accommodate the Pugliese and his companions with lodgings, which circumstance we may naturally suppose was no small joy to Veronica. They were honorably and courteously entertained by Antonio; at night he provided an elegant supper, and in the very apartment where he was wont to spend such happy moments with Veronica. As these two were looking anxiously on each other, Antonio thought he traced in the countenance of the Pugliese some of the features of his beloved, and recollecting her death, every word he uttered was broken by the deepest sighs. Veronica, seeing herself in her own house, though delighted at beholding her lover in possession of all the property, yet not seeing her father nor any of the family she had left, felt much afflicted and became very desirous of hearing something about him. While she remained thus agitated, in the course of the supper, her companion asked Antonio whether those painted arms in the hall were his, to which Antonio answered in the negative, and said they were those of a noble lord, named Messer Mazzeo, first judge, who having died in old age without children, had bequeathed all his property to him, for which reason having been adopted by him, he had taken possession, not only of the property, but assumed the name, as if he had been his own father. When Veronica heard this, her heart leaped with joy, and she could scarcely refrain from shedding tears; she, however, calmed herself till supper was over, when she thought it was high time she should fold her beloved to her arms, whom fortune had so kindly preserved to her; and taking Antonio by the hand, leaving her friends with the rest of the company, they entered an adjoining room, where she wished to say something to him by which he might recognise her. She attempted to speak, but could not utter a syllable from excess of joy and tears. Thus exhausted by contending feelings, she fell into his arms, exclaiming; “Oh! Antonio, my love, is it possible thou dost not know me?” He, who as I have said before, thought he recognized some features of his dear Veronica, upon hearing those words, immediately became convinced of what he only at first surmised, and overcome with the ten-derest feelings, said, “my soul, art thou really living?” So saying he swooned in her arms. After caressing each other for a time with endearments, and relating their adventures, Antonio considering it fit to divulge the whole circumstances, and herself being of the same mind, they went out of the room to her companions, and although it was late, Antonio sent to all his own friends and Veronica’s, desiring them to attend directly at his house, on business of the greatest importance. They being arrived, he requested them to attend him as far as the palace of the duke, as he meant to request him to put him in possession of an estate formerly belonging to Messer Mazzeo, from which no fruit or advantage had been derived for many years past. The whole group having willingly agreed so to do, when before the duke, Antonio, taking his Veronica by the hand, in the presence of all, related every circumstance that had happened, without concealing the least particular; declaring afterwards how, from the very beginning of their love, they had pledged their faith as man and wife, and meant, with their lord’s approbation, to celebrate publicly this marriage. The duke, barons, relations, and strangers present, hearing these extraordinary events were much surprised, and heartily rejoiced at the happy issue. The conduct and constancy of Antonio and Veronica were highly praised; they took leave of the duke, and next day high mass was celebrated in the presence of his highness, and Antonio and Veronica were both married; noble presents were sent by the duke, and they in love, and with many beautiful children, lived, and terminated this life at a very old age.

BELPHAGOR.

We find in the ancient records of Florence, that a most holy man, whose life was, in after years, celebrated for sanctity, being one night deeply engaged in meditation, fell into a dream and saw numbers of the souls of wretched mortals, who had died under the displeasure of the gods, and inhabited the dark regions of Pluto; complaining, at least most part of them, of having been driven to such misery by marriage; the which greatly surprised Minos, Radamanthus, and other infernal judges, as they did not credit those falsehoods against the sex. But these complaints increasing daily, after informing Pluto of it, it was resolved to hold a council of all the infernal deities upon the subject, and ultimately determine upon what might be best to do, in order to ascertain the whole truth of the case. These being called to council, Pluto spoke in the following manner:--“Although, my dearly beloved, by celestial power and irrevocable fate, I possess this realm, and am wholly unaccountable to any celestial or mortal being, yet as it is more wise to listen to the opinions of others, I have resolved to take your advice in a case that might eventually be of great dishonour to our empire; all the souls of men that come into our infernal kingdom, say that their wives are the cause of it; this appearing impossible to us, we therefore fear that in passing sentence on this subject, we may, perhaps, be accused of too much cruelty, or of not being sufficiently severe, and unfriendly to justice; being desirous to avoid both these charges, we have called upon you for your advice and assistance, in order that this realm may remain, as it ever hath been, without disgrace.”

It appeared to all the infernal lords that it was a most momentous case, and they unanimously agreed that it ought to be sifted to the very bottom, but disagreed about the means and manner of carrying the investigation into effect; some were of opinion that one of them should be sent into the world, in the shape of a man, to ascertain personally the truth; others thought it might be done with less difficulty, by compelling several souls, by various torments, to tell the truth; but the majority decreeing that some one should be sent, they decided upon the former opinion. No one being inclined to take this business upon himself, it was settled that chance should determine, the which fell to the lot of the arch-devil Belphagor, who, before he was kicked out of heaven, was called archangel; he, though against his will, was compelled by Pluto’s power to accept the office, and prepared to do that which the council should determine, and bound himself to such compacts as had solemnly been stipulated between them; the which were, that he who should be deputed should immediately receive a hundred thousand ducats, with which he was to come into the world with the features of man--take to him a wife--live ten years with her--then, feigning death, should return; and, by his own experience, prove to his superiors, what are the sorrows and comforts of the married state. It was moreover fixed, that he should be subject to all the misfortunes, and all the evils incident to man--that of poverty, imprisonment, diseases, and other calamities which men draw on themselves, unless he could extricate himself from them by deceit or cunning. Belphagor, having assumed the man, and taken the cash, came to the world, and after having ordered his horses and attendants, he made cheerfully towards Florence, the which city he chose in preference to any other, as the one where roguery and usury were most likely to thrive; and, taking the name of Roderigo, he hired a house in the Borgo d’Ogrissanti. In order that they might not enquire who he was, he gave out that he had quitted Spain, when very young, and going to Syria, had gained all his wealth at Aleppo, and that his object in coming to Italy was to take a wife, as being a more civilized country, and more congenial to his feelings. Roderigo was a very handsome man, about thirty, and being in a very few days known to possess immense riches, and it appearing that he was liberal and humane, many noble citizens who had plenty of daughters, and a scarcity of money, made offers to him; out of the number, Roderigo selected a most beautiful young lady called Onesta, daughter of Amerigo Donati, who had three other daughters almost marriageable, and three sons grown to man’s estate. Although he was of a noble family, and greatly esteemed in Florence, yet, in consequence of a style of living suited to his rank, he was very poor.