So the servant came back, and said:—“Cisti,
Messer Geri does, for sure, send me to thee.”
“Son,” answered Cisti, “Messer Geri
does, for sure, not send thee to me.” “To
whom then,” said the servant, “does he
send me?” “To Arno,” returned Cisti.
Which being reported by the servant to Messer Geri,
the eyes of his mind were straightway opened, and:—“Let
me see,” quoth he to the servant, “what
flask it is thou takest there.” And when
he had seen it:—“Cisti says sooth,”
he added; and having sharply chidden him, he caused
him take with him a suitable flask, which when Cisti
saw:—“Now know I,” quoth he,
“that ’tis indeed Messer Geri that sends
thee to me,” and blithely filled it. And
having replenished the rundlet that same day with
wine of the same quality, he had it carried with due
care to Messer Geri’s house, and followed after
himself; where finding Messer Geri he said:—“I
would not have you think, Sir, that I was appalled
by the great flask your servant brought me this morning;
’twas but that I thought you had forgotten that
which by my little beakers I gave you to understand,
when you were with me of late; to wit, that this is
no table wine; and so wished this morning to refresh
your memory. Now, however, being minded to keep
the wine no longer, I have sent you all I have of
it, to be henceforth entirely at your disposal.”
Messer Geri set great store by Cisti’s gift,
and thanked him accordingly, and ever made much of
him and entreated him as his friend.
NOVEL III.
— Monna Nonna de’ Pulci by a ready
retort silences the scarce seemly jesting of the Bishop
of Florence. —
Pampinea’s story ended, and praise not a little
bestowed on Cisti alike for his apt speech and for
his handsome present, the queen was pleased to call
forthwith for a story from Lauretta, who blithely thus
began:—
Debonair my ladies, the excellency of wit, and our
lack thereof, have been noted with no small truth
first by Pampinea and after her by Filomena.
To which topic ’twere bootless to return:
wherefore to that which has been said touching the
nature of wit I purpose but to add one word, to remind
you that its bite should be as a sheep’s bite
and not as a dog’s; for if it bite like a dog,
’tis no longer wit but discourtesy. With
which maxim the words of Madonna Oretta, and the apt
reply of Cisti, accorded excellently. True indeed
it is that if ’tis by way of retort, and one
that has received a dog’s bite gives the biter
a like bite in return, it does not seem to be reprehensible,
as otherwise it would have been. Wherefore one
must consider how and when and on whom and likewise
where one exercises one’s wit. By ill observing
which matters one of our prelates did once upon a
time receive no less shrewd a bite than he gave; as
I will shew you in a short story.
