Page 199 - THE DECAMERON: A Visionary Journey in 100 Stories and 100 Etchings by Petru Russu

and I will fetch them and bring you down." The lady, believing him, was death rather than anything else, until half none had come and gone. When
somewhat comforted and told him where she had laid her clothes. The his siesta ended, the scholar thought of his lady and, wanting to see how
scholar then left the tower, instructing his servant to stay close and bar she fared, returned to the tower and sent his servant away to break his
the tower against all comers until his return. He went to his friend's house, fast. As soon as the lady saw him, she came, spent and crushed by her
where he breakfasted at his ease and then went to sleep. Left alone on sore affliction, to the aperture and addressed him: "Rinieri, the cup of your
the tower, the lady, somewhat cheered by her hope but still exceedingly vengeance is full to overflowing. If I gave you a night of freezing in my
sorrowful, found a shaded part of the wall and sat down to wait. Lost in courtyard, you have given me a day of scorching, burning, and perishing
melancholy brooding, dissolved in tears, and plunged in despair of ever of hunger and thirst on this tower. By God, I entreat you to come up
seeing the scholar return with her clothes, she never stayed in one mood here and take my life, for my heart fails me to do it myself. Death is what
for long. Spent with grief and the night's vigil, she eventually fell asleep. The I desire most, such and so grievous is my suffering. But if you will not
sun, now at its zenith, scorched her tender and delicate frame and bare grant this grace, at least bring me a cup of water to lave my mouth, for
head. Its rays not only burned but excoriated every part of her exposed my tears do not suffice, so parched and torrid is it within." The scholar,
flesh. The pain awoke her from her deep sleep. As she writhed, she felt knowing by her voice how spent she was, saw a part of her body burned
her scorched skin part and shed like singed parchment. Her head ached through by the sun. Feeling some pity for her due to her lowly entreaties,
so sorely it seemed like it would split. She could find no place to lie or he answered, "No, wicked woman, you shall not die by my hands. You
stand on the roof, so she went to and fro, weeping. There was no breath can die by your own whenever you wish. To temper your heat, you shall
of wind, and flies and gadflies swarmed in prodigious quantity, stinging have just as much water from me as I had fire from you to mitigate my
her excoriated flesh as if with javelins. She restlessly felt her sores with cold. I only regret that for my chill, the physicians had to use foul-smelling
her hands, cursing herself, her life, her lover, and the scholar. muck, whereas your burns can be treated with fragrant rose-water. While
I was likely to lose my muscles and the use of my limbs, you, despite your
Thus, harassed, goaded, and lacerated by the exorbitant heat of the sun, excoriation by the heat, will be fair again, like a snake that has shed its
the flies and gadflies, tormented by hunger, and even more by thirst, and old skin." "Alas! Woe is me!" replied the lady. "For charms acquired at
plagued by a thousand distressful thoughts, she panted herself erect on such a cost, God grant them to those who hate me. But you, most fell of
her feet and looked around, hoping to see or hear anyone to call for help. all wild beasts, how have you borne to torture me thus? What more could
But hostile Fortune had denied her even this. The husbandmen had all I expect from you or anyone else if I had done all your kin to death with
left the fields due to the heat, and none had come to work near the tower direst torments? I know not what more cruel suffering you could have
that day, as they were all threshing their corn beside their cottages. She inflicted on a traitor who had slaughtered a whole city than this, roasting
heard only the cicadas, while the sight of the Arno's waters tantalized me, devouring me with flies, and refusing me even a cup of water. Even
her, increasing rather than diminishing her thirst. Wherever she saw a murderers condemned to death by law are often allowed wine to drink as
copse, a patch of shade, or a house, it tormented her with longing. What they go to execution if they ask for it. I see now that you are inexorable
more can be said of this hapless woman? Only this: that the heat of the in your ruthlessness and unmoved by my suffering. With resignation, I
sun above and the floor beneath her, combined with the scarification of will await death, that God may have mercy on my soul. May your actions
her flesh by the flies and gadflies, had turned her once white flesh, which not escape the searching glance of His just eyes." With that, she dragged
had dispelled the night gloom, red as madder and besprent with clots of herself, sore suffering, toward the middle of the floor, despairing of ever
blood, making her the most hideous object in the world. escaping her fiery torment. She thought she would choke from thirst a
thousand times and wept bitterly, bewailing her evil fate. But at length,
Thus resourceless and hopeless, she passed the long hours, expecting the day wore to vespers, and the scholar, sated with his revenge, had

195
The Decameron