Accordingly, ardently enamoured as he was, he betook himself to Paris
and there, being still put off from one day to another, he was kept
two years; at the end of which time, returning, more in love than
ever, he found his Salvestra married to an honest youth, a tent maker.
At this he was beyond measure woebegone; but, seeing no help for it,
he studied to console himself therefor and having spied out where she
dwelt, began, after the wont of young men in love, to pass before
her, expecting she should no more have forgotten him than he her. But
the case was otherwise; she had no more remembrance of him than if she
had never seen him; or, if indeed she remembered aught of him, she
feigned the contrary; and of this, in a very brief space of time,
Girolamo became aware, to his no small chagrin. Nevertheless, he did
all he might to bring himself to her mind; but, himseeming he wrought
nothing, he resolved to speak with her, face to face, though he should
die for it.

Accordingly, having learned from a neighbour how her house stood, one
evening that she and her husband were gone to keep wake with their
neighbours, he entered therein by stealth and hiding himself behind
certain tent cloths that were spread there, waited till, the twain
having returned and gotten them to bed, he knew her husband to be
asleep; whereupon he came whereas he had seen Salvestra lay herself
and putting his hand upon her breast, said softly, 'Sleepest thou yet,
O my soul?' The girl, who was awake, would have cried out; but he said
hastily, 'For God's sake, cry not, for I am thy Girolamo.' She,
hearing this, said, all trembling, 'Alack, for God's sake, Girolamo,
get thee gone; the time is past when it was not forbidden unto our
childishness to be lovers. I am, as thou seest, married and it
beseemeth me no more to have regard to any man other than my husband;
wherefore I beseech thee, by God the Only, to begone, for that, if my
husband heard thee, even should no other harm ensue thereof, yet would
it follow that I might never more avail to live with him in peace or
quiet, whereas now I am beloved of him and abide with him in weal and
in tranquility.'

The youth, hearing these words, was grievously endoloured and recalled
to her the time past and his love no whit grown less for absence,
mingling many prayers and many great promises, but obtained nothing;
wherefore, desiring to die, he prayed her at last that, in requital of
so much love, she would