Page 94 - THE DECAMERON: A Visionary Journey in 100 Stories and 100 Etchings by Petru Russu

The Decameron deceived, it was by you. Will you say that I have consorted with see you with my eyes. You have run your course and reached
your goal, leaving behind the woes of the world. Your enemy
a man of low condition? If so, you will not speak the truth. If you
has given you a fitting burial. The only thing missing from your
say he is poor, the fault is yours for not rewarding a good man
obsequies were the tears of the one you loved, which my father
and true. Poverty takes away all else but does not deprive a man
has now provided. Though I resolved to die without tears, I will
of gentility. Many kings and princes were once poor, and many
shed them for you. After that, I will join my soul with yours. Is
a ditcher or herdsman is now wealthy.
As for how you should deal with me, banish the thought. If in
waiting for me, and I will join her."
your old age you wish to show a harshness you did not in your there any company more joyful and peaceful than hers? She is
youth, direct it at me. I will not beg for mercy, as I am the prime She bowed over the cup, and a flood of tears gushed from her
cause of this sin, if sin it be. Whatever you do to Guiscardo, do eyes as she kissed the heart repeatedly. Her damsels, not knowing
the same to me, or I will do it myself. Now go shed your tears with whose heart it was or what her words meant, wept in sympathy
the women, and when your sorrow is over, destroy Guiscardo and and tried to comfort her. When she had wept enough, she raised
me with one blow if you deem it our deserved fate." her head and dried her eyes. She said, "O cherished heart, I have
done my duty to you. Now I will join my soul with yours." She
The loftiness of his daughter's spirit was not unknown to the poured the poison into the cup, drank it, and lay on her bed,
Prince, but he did not believe her resolve was as firm as her placing the heart on her own. She awaited death in silence.
words implied. So, parting from her without any intention of
using harshness towards her, he decided to quench her love by The damsels, seeing and hearing what happened but not knowing
taking vengeance on her lover. He ordered the two men guarding what the poison was, sent word to Tancred. He rushed to his
Guiscardo to strangle him quietly that night, remove his heart, daughter's room, arriving just as she lay on her bed. Too late,
and send it to him. The men did as instructed, and the next day, he tried to comfort her with soft words and burst into tears.
the Prince placed Guiscardo's heart in a large, beautiful gold cup Ghismonda said, "Save your tears, Tancred, for a more fitting
and sent it to his daughter with a trusted servant. The servant was occasion. Do not waste them on me. Who else but you would
to say, "Your father sends you this to give you joy of what you mourn the fulfillment of their desire? If any love remains in you
love best, just as you have given him joy of what he loved best." for me, grant me this last grace: let my body be united with
Guiscardo's, wherever you have cast it." Overcome with grief,
When her father left, Ghismonda, unwavering in her resolve, Tancred could not reply. Ghismonda, feeling her end near,
had already prepared a poisonous concoction. When the pressed the heart to her bosom and said, "Farewell; I take my
servant arrived with the Prince's gift and message, she took leave of you." With that, she died.
the cup without flinching. Seeing the heart and understanding
the message, she said, "A heart like this deserves no less than Such was the tragic end of Guiscardo and Ghismonda's love.
a golden sepulcher. My father has done wisely." She kissed the Tancred, repentant of his harshness, mourned them deeply, as
heart and said, "In all things, even to this last hour, my father did all the people of Salerno. They were honorably buried side
has shown his love for me. I now give him my final thanks for by side in the same tomb.
this gift." She then bowed over the cup, gazing at the heart, and
said, "Sweet abode of all my joys, cursed be he who made me

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The Decameron