shiny leaves of the wild arum, and rank grass which is plentifully starred
with tall-stemmed crimson-petalled daisies and the mauve wind-flowers that
are drowsily closing their cups at the approach of night. The little
goat-herd eyes us solemnly, but--strange and welcome to relate--shows no
inclination to pester the _signori_. The soft murmuring of the distant
sea, the subdued hum of the city far below us and the drowsy buzzing of
the bees in the almond and ivy bloom close at hand combine to strengthen
the golden chain of imagination. As we sit basking in the peaceful beauty
of the scene around us and serenely conscious of its glorious past, one of
our party suddenly remembers in a welcome flash of inspiration that this
deserted courtyard has been made the scene of one of Boccaccio's most
famous tales. It is a story that many writers of succeeding ages have
endeavoured to imitate in prose or verse, but this fictitious love-tragedy
between a princess and a page at Salerno has a simple charm and dignity in
its original setting that only the master-hand of the Tuscan author could
impart. The scene of the novel of Guiscard and Ghismonda is laid, as we
have said, at this very spot, and as the hero, the heroine and the villain
of the tale have Norman names, we may be allowed to conjecture that this
graceful story, which Boccaccio puts into the mouth of the lady Fiammetta,
was founded upon some actual but half-forgotten family scandal in the
annals of the mighty but self-made House of Hauteville.

* * * * * *

Once upon a time there reigned in Salerno the Prince Tancred, who was a
widower, and the father of an only daughter, Ghismonda, Duchess of Capua.
The Duchess, who was considered one of the most beautiful, accomplished
and virtuous princesses of her day, had been early married to the Duke of
Capua, but on his death after a very few years of matrimony had been left
a childless widow. Being still very young, the Princess Ghismonda was now
taken back to his court by her father, who jealously guarded her and
seemed unwilling for her to be remarried. Living in rooms that over-looked
the courtyard of the palace, the Duchess, who found time hang on her hands
somewhat heavily, used to spend hours daily in watching the lords and
pages of her father's household passing and repassing the quadrangle
below, and amongst the many well-favoured youths a certain page named
Guiscard found most favour in he