[037]
It was a very hot night; so, no sooner was Andreuccio alone than
he stripped himself to his doublet, and drew off his stockings and laid
them on the bed's head; and nature demanding a discharge of the
surplus weight which he carried within him, he asked the lad
where this might be done, and was shewn a door in a corner of
the room, and told to go in there.
[038]
Andreuccio, nothing doubting,
did so, but, by ill luck, set his foot on a plank which was detached
from the joist at the further end, whereby down it went, and he
with it. By God's grace he took no hurt by the fall, though it
was from some height, beyond sousing himself from head to foot
in the ordure which filled the whole place, which, [039]that you may
the better understand what has been said, and that which is to
follow, I will describe to you. A narrow and blind alley, such as
we commonly see between two houses, was spanned by planks
supported by joists on either side, and on the planks was the stool;
of which planks that which fell with Andreuccio was one.
[040]
Now
Andreuccio, finding himself down there in the alley, fell to calling on
the lad, who, as soon as he heard him fall, had run off, and promptly
let the lady know what had happened. She hied forthwith to her
chamber, and after a hasty search found Andreuccio's clothes and the
money
in them, for he foolishly thought to secure himself against
risk by carrying it always on his person, and thus being possessed of
the prize for which she had played her ruse, passing herself off as the
sister of a man of Perugia, whereas she was really of Palermo, she
concerned herself no further with Andreuccio except to close with
all speed the door by which he had gone out when he fell.
[041]
As the
lad did not answer, Andreuccio began to shout more loudly; but all
to no purpose. Whereby his suspicions were aroused, and he began
at last to perceive the trick that had been played upon him; so he
climbed over a low wall that divided the alley from the street, and
hied him to the door of the house, which he knew very well. There
for a long while he stood shouting and battering the door till it shook
on its hinges; but all again to no purpose.
[042]
No doubt of his misadventure
now lurking in his mind, he fell to bewailing himself,
saying: "Alas! in how brief a time have I lost five hundred florins
and a sister!"
[043]
with much more of the like sort. Then he recommenced
battering the door and shouting, to such a tune that not a
few of the neighbours were roused, and finding the nuisance intolerable,
got up; and one of the lady's servant-girls presented herself at
the window with a very sleepy air, and said angrily: "Who knocks
below there?"
[044]
"Oh!" said Andreuccio, "dost not know me? I
am Andreuccio, Madam Fiordaliso's brother."
[045]
"Good man," she
rejoined, "if thou hast had too much to drink, go, sleep it off, and
come back to-morrow. I know not Andreuccio, nor aught of the
fantastic stuff thou pratest; prithee begone and be so good as to let
us sleep in peace."
[046]
"How?" said Andreuccio, "dost not understand
what I say? For sure thou dost understand; but if Sicilian kinships
are of such a sort that folk forget them so soon, at least return me
my clothes, which I left within, and right glad shall I be to be off."
[047]
Half laughing she rejoined: "Good man, methinks thou dost
dream:" and so saying, she withdrew and closed the window.
[048]
Andreuccio by this time needed no further evidence of his wrongs;
his wrath knew no bounds, and mortification well-nigh converted
it into frenzy; he was minded to exact by force what he had
failed to obtain by entreaties; and so, arming himself with a
large stone, he renewed his attack upon the door with fury, dealing
much heavier blows than at first.
[049]
Wherefore, not a few of the
neighbours, whom he had already roused from their beds, set him
down as an ill-conditioned rogue, and his story as a mere fiction
intended to annoy the good woman, and
resenting the din which
he now made, came to their windows, just as, when a stranger dog
makes his appearance, all the dogs of the quarter will run to bark at
him, and called out in chorus:
[050]
"'Tis a gross affront to come at this
time of night to the house of the good woman with this silly story.
Prithee, good man, let us sleep in peace; begone in God's name; and
if thou hast a score to settle with her, come to-morrow, but a truce
to thy pestering to-night."
