— Master Simone, at the instance of Bruno
and Buffalmacco and Nello, makes Calandrino believe
that he is with child. Calandrino, accordingly,
gives them capons and money for medicines, and is
cured without being delivered.
—
When Elisa had ended her story, and all had given
thanks to God that He had vouchsafed the young nun
a happy escape from the fangs of her envious companions,
the queen bade Filostrato follow suit; and without
expecting a second command, thus Filostrato began:—Fairest
my ladies, the uncouth judge from the Marches, of
whom I told you yesterday, took from the tip of my
tongue a story of Calandrino, which I was on the point
of narrating: and as nought can be said of him
without mightily enhancing our jollity, albeit not
a little has already been said touching him and his
comrades, I will now give you the story which I had
meant yesterday to give you. Who they were, this
Calandrino and the others that I am to tell of in
this story, has already been sufficiently explained;
wherefore, without more ado, I say that one of Calandrino’s
aunts having died, leaving him two hundred pounds
in petty cash, Calandrino gave out that he was minded
to purchase an estate, and, as if he had had ten thousand
florins of gold to invest, engaged every broker in
Florence to treat for him, the negotiation always
falling through, as soon as the price was named.
Bruno and Buffalmacco, knowing what was afoot, told
him again and again that he had better give himself
a jolly time with them than go about buying earth
as if he must needs make pellets;(1) but so far were
they from effecting their purpose, that they could
not even prevail upon him to give them a single meal.
Whereat as one day they grumbled, being joined by
a comrade of theirs, one Nello, also a painter, they
all three took counsel how they might wet their whistle
at Calandrino’s expense; and, their plan being
soon concerted, the next morning Calandrino was scarce
gone out, when Nello met him, saying:—“Good
day, Calandrino:” whereto Calandrino replied:—“God
give thee a good day and a good year.”
Nello then drew back a little, and looked him steadily
in the face, until:—“What seest thou
to stare at?” quoth Calandrino. “Hadst
thou no pain in the night?” returned Nello;
“thou seemest not thyself to me.”
Which Calandrino no sooner heard, than he began to
be disquieted, and:—“Alas! How
sayst thou?” quoth he. “What tak’st
thou to be the matter with me?” “Why, as
to that I have nothing to say,” returned Nello;
“but thou seemest to be quite changed: perchance
’tis not what I suppose;” and with that
he left him.
