do but look on me a little.' The
lady began to laugh and without letting him say more, replied, 'You
may be assured that I am not so scatterbrained but that I know well
enough you are Messer Ricciardo di Chinzica, my husband; but, what
time I was with you, you showed that you knew me very ill, for that
you should have had the sense to see that I was young and lusty and
gamesome and should consequently have known that which behoveth unto
young ladies, over and above clothes and meat, albeit for
shamefastness they name it not; the which how you performed, you know.
If the study of the laws was more agreeable to you than your wife, you
should not have taken her, albeit it never appeared to me that you
were a judge; nay, you seemed to me rather a common crier of saints'
days and sacraments and fasts and vigils, so well you knew them. And I
tell you this, that, had you suffered the husbandmen who till your
lands keep as many holidays as you allowed him who had the tilling of
my poor little field, you would never have reaped the least grain of
corn. However, as God, having compassion on my youth, hath willed it,
I have happened on yonder man, with whom I abide in this chamber,
wherein it is unknown what manner of thing is a holiday (I speak of
those holidays which you, more assiduous in the service of God than in
that of the ladies, did so diligently celebrate) nor ever yet entered
in at this door Saturday nor Friday nor vigil nor Emberday nor Lent,
that is so long; nay, here swink we day and night and thump our wool;
and this very night after matinsong, I know right well how the thing
went, once he was up. Wherefore I mean to abide with him and work;
whilst I am young, and leave saints' days and jubilees and fasts for
my keeping when I am old; so get you gone about your business as
quickliest you may, good luck go with you, and keep as many holidays
as you please, without me.' Messer Ricciardo, hearing these words, was
distressed beyond endurance and said, whenas he saw she had made an
end of speaking. 'Alack, sweet my soul, what is this thou sayest? Hast
thou no regard for thy kinsfolk's honour and thine own? Wilt thou
rather abide here for this man's whore and in mortal sin than at Pisa
as my wife? He, when he is weary of thee, will turn thee away to thine
own exceeding reproach, whilst I will still hold thee dear and still
(e'en though I willed it not) thou shalt be mistress of my house. Wilt
thou for the sake of a lewd an