Part 57 (1/2)

Ser Francesco was delighted with the graceful animation of this ingenuous girl, and asked her, with a little curiosity, how she could afford to make him a present.

'I do not intend to make him a present,' she replied: 'but it is better he should be rewarded by me,' she blushed and hesitated, 'or by Signor Padrone,' she added, 'than by your reverence. He has not done half his duty yet; not half. I will teach him: he is quite a child; four months younger than me.'

Ser Francesco went into the house, saying to himself at the doorway:

'Truth, innocence, and gentle manners have not yet left the earth.

There are sermons that never make the ears weary. I have heard but few of them, and come from church for this.'

Whether Simplizio had obeyed some private signal from a.s.sunta, or whether his own delicacy had prompted him to disappear, he was now again in the stable, and the manger was replenished with hay. A bucket was soon after heard ascending from the well; and then two words: 'Thanks, Simplizio.'

When Petrarca entered the chamber, he found Boccaccio with his breviary in his hand, not looking into it indeed, but repeating a thanksgiving in an audible and impa.s.sioned tone of voice. Seeing Ser Francesco, he laid the book down beside him, and welcomed him.

'I hope you have an appet.i.te after your ride,' said he, 'for you have sent home a good dinner before you.'

Ser Francesco did not comprehend him, and expressed it not in words but in looks.

'I am afraid you will dine sadly late to-day: noon has struck this half-hour, and you must wait another, I doubt. However, by good luck, I had a couple of citrons in the house, intended to a.s.suage my thirst if the fever had continued. This being over, by G.o.d's mercy, I will try (please G.o.d!) whether we two greyhounds cannot be a match for a leveret.'

'How is this?' said Ser Francesco.

'Young Marc-Antonio Grilli, the cleverest lad in the parish at noosing any wild animal, is our patron of the feast. He has wanted for many a day to say something in the ear of Matilda Vercelli. Bringing up the leveret to my bedside, and opening the lips, and cracking the knuckles, and turning the foot round to show the quality and quant.i.ty of the hair upon it, and to prove that it really and truly was a leveret, and might be eaten without offence to my teeth, he informed me that he had left his mother in the yard, ready to dress it for me; she having been cook to the prior. He protested he owed the _crowned martyr_ a forest of leverets, boars, deers, and everything else within them, for having commanded the most backward girls to dance directly.

Whereupon he darted forth at Matilda, saying, ”The _crowned martyr_ orders it,” seizing both her hands, and swinging her round before she knew what she was about. He soon had an opportunity of applying a word, no doubt as dexterously as hand or foot; and she said submissively, but seriously, and almost sadly, ”Marc-Antonio, now all the people have seen it, they will think it.”

'And after a pause:

'”I am quite ashamed: and so should you be: are not you now?”

'The others had run into the church. Matilda, who scarcely had noticed it, cried suddenly:

'”O Santissima! we are quite alone.”

'”Will you be mine?” cried he, enthusiastically.

'”Oh! they will hear you in the church,” replied she.

'”They shall, they shall,” cried he again, as loudly.

'”If you will only go away.”

'”And then?”

'”Yes, yes, indeed.”

'”The Virgin hears you: fifty saints are witnesses.”

'”Ah! they know you made me: they will look kindly on us.”

'He released her hand: she ran into the church, doubling her veil (I will answer for her) at the door, and kneeling as near it as she could find a place.