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the one from the other： but hee was of Lunigiana； named Fatinolo；
and not Theobaldo； whom the two Brethren Inne…keepers maliced； about
some idle suspition conceived； and having slaine him； layde his body
at the doore of Aldobrandino； where by reason of Theobaldoes
absence； it was generally reputed to be hee； and Aldobrandino
charged to doe the deede； by vehement perswasion of the brethren；
knowing what love had passed betweene him and his daughter
Hermelina。 But happy was the Pilgrims returne； first to heare those
words in the Inne； the meanes to bring the murther to light； and
then the discreet carriage of the Pilgrime； untill he plainly approved
himselfe； to bee truely Theobaldo。
THE THIRD DAY； THE EIGHT NOVELL
WHEREIN IS DISPLAYED； THE APPARANT FOLLY OF JEALOUSIE： AND THE
SUBTILITY OF SOME RELIGIOUS CARNALL MINDED MEN； TO
BEGUILE SILLY AND SIMPLE MARIED MEN
Ferando； by drinking a certaine kinde of powder； was buried dead。
And by the Abbot； who was enamored of his Wife； was taken out of his
Grave； and put into a darke prison； where they made him beleeve；
that hee was in Purgatorie。 Afterward； when time came that hee
should be； raised to life againe； he was made to keepe a childe
which the Abbot had got by his Wife。
When the long discourse of Madame Emilia was ended； not
displeasing to any； in regard of the length； but rather held too
short； because no exceptions could bee taken against it； comparing the
raritie of the accidents； and changes together： the Queene turned to
Madame Lauretto； giving her such a manifest signe； as she knew； that
it was her turne to follow next； and therefore shee tooke occasion
to begin thus。 Faire Ladies； I intend to tell you a Tale of trueth；
which （perhaps） in your opinions； will seeme to sound like a lye：
and yet I heard by the very last relation； that a dead man was wept
and mournd for； in sted of another being then alive。 In which respect；
I am now to let you know； how a living man was buried for dead； and
being raised againe； yet not as living； himselfe； and divers more
beside； did beleeve that he came forth of his grave； and adored him as
a Saint； who was the occasion thereof； and who （as a bad man。）
deserved justly to be condemned。
In Tuscanie there was sometime an Abbey； seated； as now we see
commonly they are； in a place not much frequented with people； and
thereof a Monke was Abbot； very holy and curious in all things else；
save onely a wanton appetite to women： which yet he kept so cleanly to
himselfe； that though some did suspect it； yet it was knowne to very
few。 It came to passe； that a rich Country Franklin； named Ferando；
dwelt as neere neighbour to the said Abby； he being a man materiall；
of simple and grosse understanding； yet he fell into great familiarity
with the Abbot； who made use of this friendly conversation to no other
end； but for divers times of recreation； when he delighted to smile at
his silly and sottish behaviour。
Upon this his private frequentation with the Abbot； at last he
observed； that Ferando had a very beautifull woman to his Wife； with
whom he grew so deeply in love； as he had no other meditations
either by day or night； but how to become acceptable in her favour。
Neverthelesse； he concealed his amorous passions privately to
himselfe； and could plainely perceive； that although Ferando （in all
things else） was meerely a simple fellow； and more like an Idiot； then
of any sensible apprehension： yet was he wise enough in loving his
Wife； keeping her carfully out of all company； as one （indeede） very
jealous； least any should kisse her； but onely himselfe； which drove
the Abbot into despaire； for ever attaining the issue of his desire。
Yet being subtill； crafty； and cautelous； he wrought so on the
flexible nature of Ferando； that hee brought his wife with him
divers dayes to the Monasterie； where they walked in the goodly
Garden； discoursing on the beatitudes of eternall life； as also the
most holy deedes of men and women； long since departed out of this
life； in mervailous civill and modest manner。 Yet all these were but
traines to a further intention； for the Abbot must needes be her
ghostly Father； and she come to be confessed by him； which the foole
Ferando tooke as an especiall favour； and therefore he gave his
consent the sooner。
At the appointed time； when the woman came to confession to the
Abbot； and was on her knees before him； to his no small contentment；
before she would say any thing else； thus she began： Sacred Father； if
God had not given me such an husband as I have； or else had bestowed
on me none at all； I might have beene so happy； by the meanes of
your holy doctrine； very easily to have entred into the way； whereof
you spake the other day； which leadeth to eternall life。 But when I
consider with my selfe； what manner of man Ferando is； and thinke upon
his folly withall； I may well terme my selfe to be a widow； although I
am a maried wife； because while he liveth； I cannot have any other
husband。 And yet （as sottish as you see him） he is （without any
occasion given him） so extreamely jealous of me； as I am not able to
live with him； but only in continuall tribulation and hearts griefe。
In which respect； before I enter into confession； I most humbly
beseech you； that you would vouchsafe （in this distresse） to assist me
with your fatherly advice and counsell； because； if thereby I cannot
attaine to a more pleasing kinde of happinesse； neither confessior； or
any thing else； is able to doe me any good at all。
These words were not a little welcome to my Lord Abbot； because
（thereby） he halfe assured himselfe； that Fortune had laid open the
path to his hoped pleasures。 Whereupon he said。 Deare daughter； I make
no question to the contrary； but it must needes be an exceeding
infelicity； to so faire and goodly a young woman as you are； to be
plagued with so sottish an husband； brainsick； and without the use
of common understanding； but yet subject to a more hellish
affliction then all these； namely jealousie； and therefore you being
in this wofull manner tormented； your tribulations are not only so
much the more credited； but also as amply grieved for； and pittied。 In
which heavy and irksome perturbations； I see not any meanes of remedy；
but onely one； being a kinde of physicke （beyond all other） to cure
him of his foolish jealousie； which medicine is very familiar to me；
because I know best how to compound it； alwayes provided； that you can
be of so strong a capacity； as to be secret in what I shall say unto
you。
Good Father （answered the Woman） never make you any doubt thereof；
for I would rather endure death it selfe； then disclose any thing
which you enjoyne me to keepe secret： wherefore； I beseech you Sir
to tell me； how； and by what meanes it may be done。 If （quoth the
Abbot） you desire to have him perfectly cured； of disease so dangerous
and offensive； of necessity he Must be sent into Purgatory。 How may
that be done； saide the woman； he being alive？ He must needs die；
answered the Abbot； for his more speedy passage thither； and when he
hath endured so much punishment； as may expiate the quality of his
jealousie； we have certaine devoute and zealous prayers； whereby to
bring him backe againe to life； in as able manner as ever he was。
Why then； replyed the woman； I must remaine in the state of a
Widdow？ Very true； saide the Abbot； for a certaine time； in all
which space； you may not （by no meanes） marrie againe； because the
heavens will therewith be highly offended： but Ferando being
returned to life againe； you must repossesse him as your Husband；
but never to be jealous any more。 Alas Sir （quoth the woman） so that
he may be cured of his wicked jealousie； and I no longer live in
such an hellish imprisonment； do as you please。
Now was the Abbot （well neere） on the highest step of his hope；
making her constant promise； to accomplish it： But （quoth he） what
shall be my recompence when I have done it？ Father； saide she；
whatsoever you please to aske； if it remaine within the compasse of my
power： but you being such a vertuous and sanctified man； and I a woman
of so meane worth or merit； what sufficient recompence can I be able
to make you？ Whereunto the Abbot thus replyed。 Faire woman； you are
able to do as much for me； as I am for you； because I doe dispose my
selfe； to performe a matter for your comfort and consolation； even
so ought you to be as mindfull of me； in any action concerning my life
and welfare。 In any such matter Sir （quoth she） depending on your
benefit so strictly； you may safely presume to command me。 You must
then （saide the Abbot） grant me your love； and the kinde embracing
of your person； because so violent are mine affections； as I pine
and consume away daily； till I enjoy the fruition of my desires； and
none can helpe me therein but you。
When the woman heard these words； as one confounded with much
amazement； thus shee replied。 Alas； holy Father！ What a strange motion
have you made to me？ I beleeved very faithfully； that you were no
lesse then a Saint； and is it convenient； that when silly women come
to ask counsel