Desire

Passages

Every passage tagged with this emotion in the Vela corpus. Search the body text, narrow by source or register, click through to a book’s profile to see how the passage sits with the rest of the work.

Page 17 of 344 · 20 per page

• From The Decameron (1353)

  Accordingly, with the aim of discovering how the King was dressed and what procedure he followed when paying the Queen a visit, the groom concealed himself for several nights running in the King’s palace, in a spacious hall situated between the respective royal bedchambers. And during one of these nocturnal vigils, he saw the King emerge from his room in an enormous cloak, with a flaming torch in one hand and a stick in the other.3 Walking over to the Queen’s room, the King knocked once or twice on the door with his stick, whereupon he was instantly admitted and the torch was removed from his hand. Some time later, the King retired in like fashion to his own quarters, and the groom, who had been keeping a careful watch, decided that he too would have to adopt this same ritual. He therefore procured a torch and a stick, and a cloak similar to the one he had seen the King wearing, and having soaked himself thoroughly in a hot bath so that there should be no possibility of his giving offence to the Queen or arousing her suspicions by smelling of the stable, he transported these articles to the great hall and concealed himself in his usual place. When he sensed that everyone was asleep, and that the time had finally come for him to gratify his longing or perish nobly in the attempt, he kindled a small flame with the aid of a flint and steel that he had brought along for the purpose, lit his torch, and, wrapping himself carefully up in the folds of the cloak, walked over to the door of the bedchamber and knocked twice with his stick. The door was opened by a chambermaid, still half asleep, who took the light and put it aside, whereupon without uttering a sound he stepped inside the curtain, divested himself of his cloak, and clambered into the bed where the Queen was sleeping. Knowing that the King, whenever he was angry about anything, was in the habit of refusing all discourse, he drew the Queen lustfully into his arms with a show of gruff impatience, and without a single word passing between them, he repeatedly made her carnal acquaintance. He was most reluctant to depart, but nevertheless he eventually arose, fearing lest by over-staying his welcome the delight he had experienced should be turned into sorrow, and having donned his cloak and retrieved his torch, he stole wordlessly away and returned as swiftly as possible to his own bed. He could hardly have reached his destination when, to the Queen’s utter amazement, the King himself turned up in her room, climbed into bed, and offered her a cheerful greeting. ‘Heavens!’ she said, emboldened to speak by his affable manner. ‘Whatever has come over you tonight, my lord? You no sooner leave me, after enjoying me more passionately than usual, than you come back and start all over again! Do take care of your health!’

• From The Decameron (1353)

  ‘I wonder,’ she said, ‘whether you have ever considered what a strict life we have to lead, and how the only men who ever dare set foot in this place are the steward, who is elderly, and this dumb gardener of ours. Yet I have often heard it said, by several of the ladies who have come to visit us, that all other pleasures in the world are mere trifles by comparison with the one experienced by a woman when she goes with a man. I have thus been thinking, since I have nobody else to hand, that I would like to discover with the aid of this dumb fellow whether they are telling the truth. As it happens, there couldn’t be a better man for the purpose, because even if he wanted to let the cat out of the bag, he wouldn’t be able to. He wouldn’t even know how to explain, for you can see for yourself what a mentally retarded, dim-witted hulk of a youth the fellow is. I would be glad to know what you think of the idea.’ ‘Dear me!’ said the other. ‘Don’t you realize that we have promised God to preserve our virginity?’ ‘Pah!’ she said. ‘We are constantly making Him promises that we never keep! What does it matter if we fail to keep this one? He can always find other girls to preserve their virginity for Him.’ ‘But what if we become pregnant?’ said her companion. ‘What’s going to happen then?’ ‘You’re beginning to worry about things before they’ve even happened. We can cross that bridge if and when we come to it. There’ll be scores of different ways to keep it a secret, provided we control our own tongues.’ ‘Very well, then,’ said the other, who was already more eager than the first to discover what sort of stuff a man was made of. ‘How do we set about it?’ ‘As you see,’ she replied, ‘it is getting on for nones, and I expect all our companions are asleep. Let’s make sure there’s nobody else in the garden. And then, if the coast is clear, all we have to do is to take him by the hand and steer him across to that hut over there, where he shelters from the rain. Then one of us can go inside with him while the other keeps watch. He’s such a born idiot that he’ll do whatever we suggest.’

• From The Decameron (1353)

  And one day, around noon, having emerged from the bedroom in a flimsy white shift, her hair tied up in a bun, she happened to be washing her hands and face at a well in the courtyard when Calandrino came to the well for some water. He gave her a friendly greeting, which she acknowledged, then she began to stare at him, not because she found him the least bit attractive, but because she was fascinated by his odd appearance. Calandrino returned her gaze, and on seeing how beautiful she was, began to think of various excuses for not returning with the water to his companions. However, not knowing who she was, he was afraid to address her, and the girl, perceiving that he was still staring at her, mischievously rolled her eyes at him a couple of times and fetched a few little sighs, so that Calandrino instantly fell in love with her and stood rooted to the spot till she was called inside by Filippo. On returning to his work, Calandrino did nothing but heave one huge sigh after another; and Bruno, who always kept an eye on him because he found him so entertaining, noticed this and said: ‘What the devil’s the matter, comrade Calandrino? You do nothing but sigh the whole time.’ ‘Comrade,’ said Calandrino, ‘if only I had someone to help me, I could be the happiest man alive.’ ‘What do you mean?’ said Bruno. ‘Don’t tell a soul,’ said Calandrino, ‘but there’s a girl down there who’s lovelier than a nymph, and she’s so much in love with me that you’d be astonished. I came across her just now when I went to fetch the water.’ ‘Good heavens!’ said Bruno. ‘You’d better be careful, in case it’s Filippo’s wife.’ ‘That’s exactly who I think she is,’ said Calandrino, ‘for he called to her from the bedroom, and she went in to him. But anyway, what does it matter? For a girl like that, I’d slip one over on Jesus Christ, let alone Filippo. The truth is, comrade, that I’m so wild about her that I can’t begin to tell you how I feel.’ Then Bruno said: ‘I’ll make one or two inquiries for you, comrade, and find out who she is. If she turns out to be Filippo’s wife, I’ll fix things up for you in a trice, because she happens to be a very close friend of mine. But how are we to prevent Buffalmacco from finding out? I never get a chance to speak to her except when he is with me.’ ‘I’m not worried about Buffalmacco,’ said Calandrino, ‘but we must keep it a secret from Nello, because Tessa 4 is a kinswoman of his and he would ruin everything.’ ‘That’s true,’ said Bruno. Now, Bruno knew perfectly well who she was, for he had seen her arriving at the house, and Filippo had told him in any case.

• From The Decameron (1353)

  Whereas men, if they are very wise, will always seek to love ladies of higher station than their own, women, if they are very discerning, will know how to guard against accepting the advances of a man who is of more exalted rank. For which reason, and also because of the pleasure I feel at our having, through our stories, begun to demonstrate the power of good repartee, I have been prompted to show you, fair ladies, in the story that I have to tell, how through her words and actions a gentlewoman avoided this pitfall and guided her suitor clear of its dangers. The Marquis of Montferrat1 was a man of outstanding worth, who had sailed as Gonfalonier of the Church with a Christian host on a Crusade to the Holy Land.2 And one day, during a conversation about his merits at the court of King Philippe Le Borgne,3 who was also preparing to leave France to join the Crusade, a courtier observed that there was not a wedded couple under the sun to compare with the Marquis and his lady; for just as the Marquis was a paragon of all the knightly virtues, so the lady was more beautiful and worthy of esteem than any other woman in the world. These words left such a deep impression on the French king’s mind, that without having ever seen the lady, he at once became fervently enamoured of her, and decided that under no circumstances would he embark for the Crusade at any other port but Genoa, so that, by travelling overland, he would have a plausible pretext for paying the Marchioness a visit. In this way he thought he would succeed, since the Marquis would be absent, in bringing his desires to fruition.

• From Available: The unfiltered and empowering new memoir for women about sex, dating and divorce after 40 (2021)

  What should I do with it?” “Let me see what’s underneath it,” I say, my fingers already undoing the top button. When I finish with the bottom button, I let my hand linger on his stomach. His ab muscles are rock-hard, his six-pack defined and angular. He stands still, watching me eye him, not making a move closer to me but not moving away either. “I think we should have sex before we leave,” I state matter-of-factly. “Oh really?” he says, laughing. “You can’t wait, huh?” “Of course I can wait,” I say. “I just don’t want to.” I put my hands on his shoulders so that I can push the shirt down his arms and off. He has the firefighter body of my dreams, each muscle distinct and firm without being excessively bulky. I unsnap the narrow belt cinching my dress in and then pull down the flimsy straps so that I can shimmy out of it. I have at long last replaced my unwieldy strapless bra with a black lace bandeau, which has laughable support but is way sexier and I don’t have to hide it away before it’s seen. He seems hesitant, so I stand motionless in my bra and black lace thong, daring him to turn away. He doesn’t. Sex with him is quick and physical, like a sprint that leaves you breathless and not totally sure what just happened but nonetheless glad you ran. We have barely caught our breath when he pats my thigh and says we should go out before it gets too late. Within minutes, we are dressed again and he hands me a baseball hat to contain my hair while we drive in his sporty little convertible. I decline it and instead take my cotton scarf and wrap it around my head, attempting a chic Audrey Hepburn look, but I guess ending up more like a Russian grandma with a babushka because he frowns, shakes his head and offers me the hat a second time. The bar he takes me to is packed, clearly the town’s hotspot. We find an open barstool on the deck overlooking the water. Scott gets me a Margarita and stands next to me, moving around as he speaks. He is a man who does not like to sit still and it’s easy to picture the athletic, energetic teenage boy he must have been. He is easy to talk to – though we have very little in common, he is curious to know what makes me tick and what my post-marriage life has been like. As we talk, his hand rests on my thigh along the hem of my dress and then his fingers slip under the hem and inch their way up further toward my inner thigh.

• From The Decameron (1353)

  She had no conception of the kind of horn that men do their butting with, and when she felt what was happening, it was almost as though she regretted having turned a deaf ear to Pericone’s flattery, and could not see why she had waited for an invitation before spending her nights so agreeably. For it was she herself who was now issuing the invitation, and she did so several times over, not in so many words, since she was unable to make herself understood, but by way of her gestures. Great indeed was their mutual delight. But Fortune, not content with converting her from a king’s bride into a baron’s mistress, thrust a more terrible friendship upon her. Pericone had a twenty-five-year-old brother, fair and fresh as a garden rose, whose name was Marato. He had already seen the lady and taken an enormous liking to her, and as far as he could judge from her reactions, she seemed to be very fond of him also. Thus the only thing that appeared to be standing between him and the conquest he desired to make of her was the strict watch maintained by Pericone. He therefore devised a nefarious scheme which he lost no time in pursuing to its dreadful conclusion. In the port of the town, there happened at that time to be a ship commanded by two young Genoese, with a full cargo for Corinth in the Peloponnese. 6 She was already under canvas, ready to put to sea with the first favourable wind, and Marato made an arrangement with her masters for himself and the lady to be taken aboard the following night. This done, he decided how he would have to proceed, and when it was dark he wandered unobtrusively into his brother’s house, to which he had open access, and concealed himself inside. He had meanwhile enlisted the aid of some trusted companions for his enterprise, and in the dead of night, having let them into the house, he led them to the place where Pericone and the woman were sleeping. Entering the room, they killed Pericone in his sleep and seized the lady, who woke up and started to cry, threatening her with death if she made any noise. Then, taking with them a considerable quantity of Pericone’s most precious possessions, they departed without being heard and made their way to the quayside, where Marato boarded the ship with the lady, leaving his companions to go their separate ways. The ship’s crew, taking advantage of a strong and favourable wind, cast off and sailed swiftly away. The lady was sorely distressed by this second catastrophe, coming as it did so soon after the first. But Marato, with the Heaven-sent assistance of Saint Stiffen-in-the-Hand, 7 began consoling her to such good effect that she soon returned his affection and forgot all about Pericone. She had hardly begun to feel settled, however, before Fortune, not content, it seemed, with her previous handiwork, engineered yet another calamity.

• From The Decameron (1353)

  A few days later, having completed all his business in Rhodes and being desirous of taking ship on a Catalan carrack that was about to sail for Cyprus, the Cypriot merchant inquired of the fair lady what she was proposing to do, telling her that for his part, he was compelled to return to Cyprus. The lady said that if he had no objection, she would gladly accompany him, because she had hoped that out of his affection for Antioco, he would treat and regard her as a sister. The merchant assured her of his willingness to do whatever she asked, and with the object of protecting her from any harm that might befall her before they reached Cyprus, he passed her off as his wife. Having embarked on the ship, therefore, they were assigned to a small cabin on the poop-deck, and in order to maintain appearances, he bedded down with her in the same narrow little bunk. What happened next was something that neither of them had bargained for when leaving Rhodes, because what with the darkness, the enforced idleness, and the warmth of the bed, all of which are powerful stimulants, they were each consumed with an almost equally intense longing, and without sparing a thought for the love and friendship they owed to the dead Antioco, they began to excite each other, with the result that by the time they reached the Cypriot’s home-port of Paphos, they had become husband and wife in good earnest. And for some time after their arrival in Paphos, they lived together in the merchant’s house. Now it so happened that there came to Paphos, on some business or other, a gentleman called Antigono, who was old in years and even older in wisdom. He was not a very rich man, because although he had undertaken numerous commissions in the service of the King of Cyprus, Fortune had never been particularly kind to him. One day, as he was walking past the house where the fair lady was living, at a time when the Cypriot merchant was away on a trading mission in Armenia, this Antigono happened to catch sight of the lady at one of the windows. Since she was very beautiful, he began to stare at her, and it occurred to him that he had seen her on some previous occasion, but try as he would he could not remember where.

• From Available: The unfiltered and empowering new memoir for women about sex, dating and divorce after 40 (2021)

  The windows are open and it sounds like pouring rain outside, but he says it is the river rushing by, one on his property that I could not see in the dark. It’s hard for me to imagine a more romantic spot than the one I am standing in. I have a flash of the hugely bestselling book The Bridges of Madison County: at the time I read it I thought it was absurd, the idea of a lonely housewife on a farm having a brief affair with a stranger she stays in love with forever and never sees again, but now it comes back to me and makes sense. I don’t expect this night to be my great reprisal and for #3 to become the keeper of my soul, but I can see how these just-right conditions could create a backdrop for an affair that encapsulates the essence of a love that was meant to be. Slipping off the thin straps of my dress, I let it fall down into a dark heap, step out of it onto the creaky wooden floorboards and stand in my strapless bra (yes, that one) and thong. I see the dog standing politely in the hallway as if waiting for an invitation and think oh boy, here we go again, but #3 gently kicks the door closed and tells me to ignore the dog when she starts whining. Progress, I think. We lie naked on his bed and I take note of his body. This is the third man I’ve been with in the past few weeks and, naïve as it may sound, it genuinely surprises me to find each one so different from the one before, and so different from the one I knew as my own for the past few decades. I haven’t thought about men’s bodies for so many years, as if the mere notion of what lay under their clothes had been completely erased from my brain with marriage. This man is tall, sturdy and fit, with hair on his chest and a well-endowed penis embedded in a mess of hair. The men I’ve been with so far have manscaped and I’ve liked it – how it makes them clean and smooth. It strikes me as ironic that women’s pubic hair is slangily called a bush as if offensively uncultivated and in need of landscaping, while men seem to have avoided any kind of moniker associated with nature and flora even though theirs are probably more like overgrown hedges unwinding over a larger region. He reaches over me for a condom in the night table drawer, but once he has it opened, he hesitates. “I’m sorry, I’m nervous,” he says. “It’s really strange to be here with you. I thought my girlfriend and I were going to get married and our breakup has been rough. I haven’t even thought about being with someone else for the past few months.

• From The Decameron (1353)

  He lost no time in putting his deep-laid scheme into effect. Having sent all his men on ahead, he set out with a small retinue of nobles, and as they approached the territory of the Marquis, he sent word to the lady, a day in advance, that she was to expect him for breakfast on the following morning. Being an intelligent and judicious woman, she sent back a message to say that she was glad to have been singled out for this uniquely great favour, and that the King would be very welcome. She then began to wonder why such a great king should be calling upon her in her husband’s absence. Nor was she wrong in the conclusion that she reached, namely, that he was being drawn thither by the fame of her beauty. Nevertheless, with her habitual nobility of spirit she made ready to entertain him; and after summoning all the few remaining gentlemen of rank, acting upon their advice she issued instructions for the necessary preparations to be made, at the same time insisting that she alone would arrange the banquet and devise its menu. Without a moment’s delay, she collected together all the hens that could be found in the neighbourhood, and ordered her cooks to prepare a series of dishes, using these alone, for the royal banquet. The King arrived on the day he had appointed, and was warmly and honourably received by the lady. On meeting her for the first time, he was greatly amazed to find that she was even more beautiful, intelligent and gentle-mannered than he had been led to expect from the words of the courtier, and he was lavish with his compliments, for he had become all the more inflamed with passion on finding that the lady exceeded his expectations. After he had rested for a while in rooms that had been richly appointed with all the furnishings appropriate to the reception of so great a king, it was time for the banquet, and the King sat with the Marchioness at one table, whilst the remaining guests were entertained at other tables according to their rank and quality.

• From Available: The unfiltered and empowering new memoir for women about sex, dating and divorce after 40 (2021)

  From the very beginning, while our babies are still gestating, we earnestly and optimistically create our ideal birth plans. Despite the fact that few of us end up with a birth that works out as we had methodically outlined, we continue to make plans for our unpredictable and fickle babies that require surgical precision and an ability to juggle ten competing needs into a one-hour time slot. As the kids grow older, planning takes on a new level of finesse and magnitude – after-school activities, play dates, tutors, school interviews and orthodonture appointments and meals. My God, do kids really need three meals a day AND snacks? And no two children ever seem to have the same palate, which means with three kids eating three meals, you could conceivably be planning meals a whopping nine times a day or 63 times a week. So when Alan texts me during the week to let me know that he’s planned our Saturday evening – having made a reservation at a Japanese restaurant in Harlem to be followed by a jazz club down the block – I am awestruck that he has taken this responsibility out of my hands and relieved me of the pressure of having to figure out what he might like and what the right atmosphere is – quiet and romantic, noisy and fun, upscale, a dive? He picks me up at my apartment again, but this time Hudson is home so I meet him in the lobby. I suggest we take the subway and we disagree about which one to take so I follow his lead. When we get off the train, he has no idea where we are, and after hopping in a cab, he agrees that maybe my route had been the right one after all. He is getting a tiny glimpse of how much I love to be right when I raise my eyebrows and give a small smile. The restaurant is fairly empty, which seems odd as he had told me this was a hard reservation to get. We opt for seats at the sushi bar and he runs through the menu to see what I like, then orders a plethora of dishes for us to share. Even more than I love how he plans our evenings, I love how he orders. What joy it brings me to cede decision-making to another person, even if it is something as inconsequential as where and on what we’ll dine! There are so many decisions to be made every day, for myself and my marriage and my kids, so the way he takes over with a menu brings me a momentary reprieve. I am pleasantly surprised when he remembers all the particulars of my culinary preferences – to be listened to like this, to actually be heard and for someone to care about what I like and don’t like, feels like a true wonder.

• From The Decameron (1353)

  Arriving by night with a squadron of light warships, Uzbek quietly entered the town with his men, took numerous people captive from their beds before they were aware of their enemies’ arrival, and slaughtered those who had woken up in time to seize their arms. The invaders then set the whole town on fire, and having loaded their booty and prisoners on to the ships, they returned to Smyrna. On reviewing the spoils of the expedition immediately after their return, Uzbek, who was a young man, was delighted to discover the fair lady, whom he recognized as the one who had been taken, along with Constant, as she was lying asleep in her bed. So he promptly married her, and after celebrating the nuptials he happily devoted himself, for the next few months, to the pleasures of the marriage-bed. Now, during the period immediately preceding these happenings, the Emperor had been negotiating a pact with the King of Cappadocia, Basano, 13 whereby the latter was to descend with his forces on Uzbek from one direction whilst the Emperor attacked him with his own troops from the other. He had not yet been able to bring the negotiations to a successful conclusion, however, because of his unwillingness to concede some of the more outrageous of Basano’s demands. But on hearing what had happened to his son, he was so incensed that he immediately agreed to the King of Cappadocia’s terms, and urged him to attack Uzbek as soon as he possibly could, meanwhile making his own preparations for marching against him from the opposite direction. When he heard about this, rather than allow himself to be sandwiched between two mighty rulers, Uzbek assembled his army and marched against the King of Cappadocia, leaving his fair lady at Smyrna under the close supervision of a faithful retainer and friend. Some time later, he confronted and engaged the King of Cappadocia, and in the ensuing battle he was killed, whilst his army was defeated and put to flight. Flushed with victory, Basano began to advance unopposed on Smyrna, and all the people on his route did homage to him as their conqueror. Meanwhile, the retainer in whose care Uzbek had left his fair lady, Antioco by name, had been so overwhelmed by her beauty that he had betrayed the trust of his friend and master, and although he was getting on in years, he had fallen in love with her. He was familiar with her language, and this pleased her immensely because for several years she had been more or less forced to lead the life of a deaf-mute as she could neither understand what anybody was saying nor make herself understood. With love spurring him on, Antioco began in the first few days to take so many liberties with her that before long they ceased to care about their lord and master who had gone off soldiering to the wars, and not only did they become good friends, they also became lovers.

• From Available: The unfiltered and empowering new memoir for women about sex, dating and divorce after 40 (2021)

  We don’t attempt small talk, he simply takes my hand and together we walk up the stairs to his room. He nods toward the bed, telling me he washed his bedding in anticipation of my arrival. I love that he considered this, overcoming his bachelor ways to present me with a clean duvet. He takes his robe off and underneath it his body ripples with finely tuned muscles that thrill me all over again. I am wearing a maxi dress with a halter top that miraculously does not require a bra, so I simply roll it from the top all the way down my body, revealing that all I have on underneath is a pale pink lace thong, which I step out of. “Cool dress,” he says. “Easy access,” I say. “You’ve had a tough couple of weeks,” he says. “You need some TLC. Roll over.” I do as instructed, settling on my stomach and hoping my bare ass is smooth and not sporting the unsightly bumpy rashes I often get from the Peloton bike that is otherwise keeping my ass in tip-top shape. He straddles my legs while his strong hands knead my shoulders and work their way down my back. A good massage may be the only physical pleasure that I still think is better than sex, and I allow my body to sink down under the pressure of his hands. He takes his time, rubbing and pressing my muscles all the way down to my feet and then working his way back up again, the movements turning into strokes as his hands arrive between my legs. He teases me, touching my upper thighs and getting close to my lips and then pulling away again. My breath turns shallow, and finally, when I think I may come just like this, I wriggle myself forward until I can flip over and then tell him that I need him inside of me right away. When he enters me, I dig my nails into his butt cheeks, pulling him into me as deeply as he can go, and I sigh with gratitude that my urgent need to be filled up has been met. We come together and I am in awe that we can get our timing just right. He slides to the side of me and we lie holding each other. “Thank you,” I whisper. “I really needed that.” We are quiet for a few minutes, neither fully awake nor asleep, and then a Cure song from the ’80s comes on the radio, which I say I love, and soon we have gone into our phones to play each other some of our most beloved ’80s songs, from Yaz and Bon Jovi and The Clash and R.E.M.

• From The Decameron (1353)

  ‘Oh, my dearest, how can you say such things? Have you lost all regard for your honour and that of your parents? Do you mean to say you prefer to stay on here, living in mortal sin as this man’s strumpet, rather than to live in Pisa as my wife? When this fellow grows tired of you, he will turn you out and make you an object of ridicule, whereas I will always cherish you, and you will always be the mistress of my house whatever happens. Do you mean to cast aside your honour and forsake one who loves you more than life itself, simply because of this immoderate and unseemly appetite of yours? Oh, my treasure, don’t say these things any more, come away with me. Now that I know what you want, I’ll make a special effort in the future. Do change your mind, my precious, and come back to me, for my life has been sheer misery ever since the day you were taken away from me.’ ‘As to my honour,’ the lady replied, ‘I mean to defend what remains of it as jealously as anyone. I only wish my parents had displayed an equal regard for it when they handed me over to you! But since they were so unconcerned about my honour then, I do not intend to worry about their honour now. And if I am living in mortar sin, it can be pestle sin7 too for all I care, so stop making such a song and dance about it. And let me tell you this, that I feel as though I am Paganino’s wife here. It was in Pisa that I felt like a strumpet, considering all that rigmarole about the moon’s phases and all those geometrical calculations that were needed before we could bring the planets into conjunction, whereas here Paganino holds me in his arms the whole night long and squeezes and bites me, and as God is my witness, he never leaves me alone.

• From The Decameron (1353)

  Not so very long ago, then, there lived in Florence a young woman called Simona, a poor man’s daughter,1 who, due allowance being made for her social condition, was exceedingly gracious and beautiful. Although she was obliged to earn every morsel that passed her lips by working with her hands, and obtained her livelihood by spinning wool, she was not so faint-hearted as to close her mind to Love, which for some time had been showing every sign of wishing to enter her thoughts via the agreeable words and deeds of a youth no more highly placed than herself, who was employed by a wool-merchant to go round and distribute wool for spinning. Having thus admitted Love to her thoughts in the pleasing shape of this young man, whose name was Pasquino, she was filled with powerful yearnings but was too timid to do anything about them. And as she sat at her spinning and recalled who had given her the wool, she heaved a thousand sighs more torrid than fire for every yard of woollen thread that she wound round her spindle. For his part, Pasquino developed a special interest in seeing that his master’s wool was properly spun, and, acting as though the finished cloth was to consist solely of the wool that Simona was spinning, and no other, he encouraged her far more assiduously than any of the other girls. The young woman responded well to Pasquino’s encouragement. She cast aside a good deal of her accustomed modesty and reserve, whilst he acquired greater daring than was usual for him, so that eventually, to their mutual pleasure and delight, their physical union was achieved. This sport they found so much to their liking that neither waited to be asked to play it by the other, but it was rather a question whenever they met of who was going to be first to suggest it. With their pleasure thus continuing from one day to the next and waxing more impassioned in the process, Pasquino chanced to say to Simona that he would dearly like her to contrive some way of meeting him in a certain garden, whither he was anxious for her to come so that they could feel more relaxed together and less apprehensive of discovery. Simona agreed to do it, and one Sunday, immediately after lunch, having given her father to understand that she was going to the pardoning at San Gallo,2 she made her way with a companion of hers called Lagina to the garden Pasquino had mentioned. When she got there, she found him with a friend of his whose name was Puccino, but who was better known as Stramba, or Dotty Joe. Stramba hit it off with Lagina from the very beginning, and so Simona and Pasquino left them together in one part of the garden and withdrew to another to pursue their own pleasures.

• From The Decameron (1353)

  ‘I have to go out to supper this evening, and I won’t be back till the morning, so take good care to lock the front door, the landing door, and the bedroom door, and go to bed when you feel like it.’ ‘Very well,’ said the lady. As soon as she had the chance, she went to the hole in the wall and gave the usual signal, which Filippo no sooner heard than he came to the spot. She then gave him an account of what she had done that morning, and told him what her husband had said to her after breakfast, then she said: ‘I’m certain he won’t leave the house: he’s just going to keep watch at the front door. So climb up on to the roof tonight and find your way in here, so that we can be together.’ The young man was delighted with this turn of events, and said: ‘My lady, leave everything to me.’ As soon as it was dark, the jealous husband crept into hiding, armed to the teeth, in one of the rooms on the ground floor, and his wife, having locked all the doors, in particular the one on the landing so that her husband could not come up, bided her time in her room. When the coast was clear, the young man picked his way carefully over the roof from his own room to hers, and they got into bed, where they had a blissful time and a merry one together until dawn next morning, when he returned to his own house. The husband, supperless, aching all over, and freezing to death, waited practically the whole night beside the front door with his weapons at the ready, to see whether the priest would turn up; and just before daybreak, being unable to keep his eyes open any longer, he dropped off to sleep in the ground-floor room. A little before tierce2 he woke up to find the front door already unlocked, and pretending that he had just arrived home he went upstairs and had his breakfast. Shortly after breakfast he sent a young servant to his wife, disguised as the seminarist of the priest who had confessed her, to ask her whether ‘that certain person’ had called upon her again. His wife, who recognized the messenger very easily, replied that he had failed to call for once, and that if he continued to absent himself she might very well forget all about him, although she would be sorry if this were to happen.

• From The Decameron (1353)

  ‘You must help yourself to whatever you can grab in this world, especially if you’re a woman. It’s far more important for women than for men to make the most of their opportunities, because when we’re old, as you can see for yourself, neither our husbands nor any other man can bear the sight of us, and they bundle us off into the kitchen to tell stories to the cat, and count the pots and pans. And what’s worse, they make up rhymes about us, such as “When she’s twenty give her plenty. When she’s a gammer, give her the hammer,” and a lot of other sayings in the same strain. ‘But I won’t detain you any longer with my chit-chat. You’ve told me what you have in mind, and I can assure you right away that you couldn’t have spoken to anyone in the world who was better able to help. There’s no man so refined as to deter me from telling him what’s required of him, nor is there any so raw and uncouth as to prevent me from softening him up and bending him to my will. So just point out the one you would like, and leave the rest to me. But one thing I would ask you to remember, my child, and that is to offer me some token of your esteem, for I’m a poor old woman, and from now on I want you to have a share in my indulgences and all the paternosters I recite, so that God may look with favour on the souls of your departed ones.’ Having said her piece, she came to an understanding with the young lady that if she should come across a certain young man who frequently passed through that part of the city, and of whom she was given a very full description, she would take all necessary steps. The young woman then handed over a joint of salted meat, and they took their leave of one another. Within the space of a few days, the youth designated by the lady was ushered secretly into her apartments by the beldam, and thereafter, at frequent intervals, several others who had taken the young woman’s fancy were similarly introduced to her. And although she was in constant fear of being discovered by her husband, she made the fullest possible use of her opportunities. One evening, however, her husband having been invited to supper by a friend of his called Ercolano, the young woman commissioned the beldam to fetch her one of the prettiest and most agreeable youths in Perugia, and her instructions were duly carried out. But no sooner were she and the youth seated at the supper-table than her husband, Pietro, started clamouring at the door to be let in.

• From The Decameron (1353)

  Once he had taken this step, very little time elapsed before temptation went to war against his willpower, and after the first few assaults, finding himself outmanoeuvred on all fronts, he laid down his arms and surrendered. Casting aside pious thoughts, prayers, and penitential exercises, he began to concentrate his mental faculties upon the youth and beauty of the girl, and to devise suitable ways and means for approaching her in such a fashion that she should not think it lewd of him to make the sort of proposal he had in mind. By putting certain questions to her, he soon discovered that she had never been intimate with the opposite sex and was every bit as innocent as she seemed; and he therefore thought of a possible way to persuade her, with the pretext of serving God, to grant his desires. He began by delivering a long speech in which he showed her how powerful an enemy the devil was to the Lord God, and followed this up by impressing upon her that of all the ways of serving God, the one that He most appreciated consisted in putting the devil back in Hell, to which the Almighty had consigned him in the first place. The girl asked him how this was done, and Rustico replied: ‘You will soon find out, but just do whatever you see me doing for the present.’ And so saying, he began to divest himself of the few clothes he was wearing, leaving himself completely naked. The girl followed his example, and he sank to his knees as though he were about to pray, getting her to kneel directly opposite. In this posture, the girl’s beauty was displayed to Rustico in all its glory, and his longings blazed more fiercely than ever, bringing about the resurrection of the flesh.3 Alibech stared at this in amazement, and said: ‘Rustico, what is that thing I see sticking out in front of you, which I do not possess?’ ‘Oh, my daughter,’ said Rustico, ‘this is the devil I was telling you about. Do you see what he’s doing? He’s hurting me so much that I can hardly endure it.’ ‘Oh, praise be to God,’ said the girl, ‘I can see that I am better off than you are, for I have no such devil to contend with.’ ‘You’re right there,’ said Rustico. ‘But you have something else instead, that I haven’t.’ ‘Oh?’ said Alibech. ‘And what’s that?’ ‘You have Hell,’ said Rustico. ‘And I honestly believe that God has sent you here for the salvation of my soul, because if this devil continues to plague the life out of me, and if you are prepared to take sufficient pity upon me to let me put him back into Hell, you will be giving me marvellous relief, as well as rendering incalculable service and pleasure to God, which is what you say you came here for in the first place.’

• From The Decameron (1353)

  On seeing this, Pericone felt that he would soon obtain what he wanted, and calling for further large quantities of food and drink, he caused the banquet to continue until the small hours of the morning. Finally, when the guests had departed, he accompanied the lady, alone, into her room. Without the least show of embarrassment, being rather more flushed with wine than tempered by virtue, she then undressed in Pericone’s presence as though he were one of her maidservants, and got into bed. Pericone lost no time in following her example. Having snuffed out all the lights, he quickly scrambled in from the other side and lay down beside her, and taking her into his arms without meeting any resistance on her part, he began making amorous sport with her. She had no conception of the kind of horn that men do their butting with, and when she felt what was happening, it was almost as though she regretted having turned a deaf ear to Pericone’s flattery, and could not see why she had waited for an invitation before spending her nights so agreeably. For it was she herself who was now issuing the invitation, and she did so several times over, not in so many words, since she was unable to make herself understood, but by way of her gestures. Great indeed was their mutual delight. But Fortune, not content with converting her from a king’s bride into a baron’s mistress, thrust a more terrible friendship upon her. Pericone had a twenty-five-year-old brother, fair and fresh as a garden rose, whose name was Marato. He had already seen the lady and taken an enormous liking to her, and as far as he could judge from her reactions, she seemed to be very fond of him also. Thus the only thing that appeared to be standing between him and the conquest he desired to make of her was the strict watch maintained by Pericone. He therefore devised a nefarious scheme which he lost no time in pursuing to its dreadful conclusion. In the port of the town, there happened at that time to be a ship commanded by two young Genoese, with a full cargo for Corinth in the Peloponnese.6 She was already under canvas, ready to put to sea with the first favourable wind, and Marato made an arrangement with her masters for himself and the lady to be taken aboard the following night. This done, he decided how he would have to proceed, and when it was dark he wandered unobtrusively into his brother’s house, to which he had open access, and concealed himself inside.

• From The Decameron (1353)

  The lady had already heard bits of the story after the arrival of Rinaldo’s servant at the castle, and so she fully believed everything he told her. She in turn told him what she knew about his servant, adding that it would be easy enough to find him next morning. But by now the table was laid for supper, and Rinaldo, after washing his hands with the lady, accepted her invitation to sit down and eat at her side. He was a fine, tall, handsome fellow in the prime of manhood, with impeccably good manners, and the lady cast many an appreciative glance in his direction. As she had been expecting to sleep with the Marquis, her carnal instincts were already aroused, and after supper she got up from the table and consulted with her maid to find out whether she thought it a good idea, since the Marquis had let her down, to make use of this unexpected gift of Fortune. The maid, knowing what her mistress had in mind, encouraged her for all she was worth, with the result that the lady returned to Rinaldo, whom she had left standing alone by the fire, and began to ogle him, saying: ‘Come, Rinaldo, why are you looking so unhappy? What’s the good of worrying about the loss of a horse and a few clothes? Do relax and cheer up. I want you to feel completely at home here. In fact, I will go so far as to say that seeing you in those clothes, I keep thinking you are my late husband, and I’ve been wanting to take you in my arms and kiss you the whole evening. I would certainly have done so, but I was afraid you might take it amiss.’ On hearing these words and perceiving the gleam in the lady’s eyes, Rinaldo, who was no fool, advanced towards her with open arms, saying: ‘My lady, I shall always have you to thank for the fact that I am alive, and when I consider the fate from which you delivered me, it would be highly discourteous of me if I did not attempt to further your inclinations to the best of my ability. Kiss and embrace me, therefore, to your heart’s content, and I shall be more than happy to return the compliment.’ There was no need for any further preliminaries. The lady, who was all aflame with amorous desire, promptly rushed into his arms. Clasping him to her bosom, she smothered him with a thousand eager kisses and received as many in return, then they both retired into her bedroom, where they lost no time in getting into bed, and before the night was over they satisfied their longings repeatedly and in full measure.

• From The Decameron (1353)

  The two youths were exceedingly lovesick, and once they had heard that they were to have their ladies, they had no difficulty in making up their minds, telling Restagnone that if things turned out in the manner he had described, they were ready to do as he asked. A few days after receiving this answer from the two young men, Restagnone found himself alone with Ninetta, with whom every so often he was able to consort, but only at great inconvenience. Having dallied with her for a while, he told her about the discussion he had had with the young men, and plied her with numerous arguments in an effort to win her over to his scheme. This, however, was a relatively easy matter, for she was even more anxious than he was that they should be able to meet freely, without the constant fear of being discovered. And after pledging him her full support and assuring him that her sisters would follow her advice, especially in this particular matter, she asked him to make all necessary preparations as quickly as possible. Restagnone returned to the two youths, who pressed him a great deal on the subject of their earlier discussion, and he told them that as far as their ladies were concerned the whole thing was settled. Having chosen Crete as the place to which they should go, they sold certain properties of theirs under the pretext of using the proceeds for a trading expedition, converted everything else they possessed into hard cash, purchased a brigantine, which they provisioned in secret on a lavish scale, and waited for the appointed day to come. For her part, Ninetta, who had a very clear notion of the wishes of her two sisters, described the scheme to them in such glowing colours and fired them with so much enthusiasm that they thought they would never live long enough to see it carried out. When the night finally arrived for them to go aboard the brigantine, the three sisters opened up a huge chest belonging to their father and took a large amount of money and jewellery from it, which they carried quietly away from the house according to plan. Their three lovers were waiting for them, and all six hurried aboard the brigantine, which immediately weighed anchor and put out to sea. After an unbroken voyage, they arrived next evening in Genoa, where the new lovers enjoyed the first delectable fruits of their love.