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.

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• From The Decameron (1353)

  chose him anachronistically as the tutor of Titus and Gisippus because in the story their altruistic actions reflect some of the philosopher’s teachings, for instance that the infliction as well as the suffering of pain should be avoided.Ninth Story1. Saladin The most powerful and most generous ruler in the Muslim world, Saladin died in 1193. See also the story of the three rings (I, 3).2. the Emperor Frederick I Frederick I (‘Barbarossa’) was German king and Holy Roman Emperor from 1152 to 1190, the year in which he drowned while trying to cross the Saleph River during the Third Crusade, launched in the spring of 1189.3. Messer Torello, of Strà in the province of Pavia The thirteenth-century chronicler Salimbene da Parma records that a ‘Torellus de Strata de Papia’ served as governor (podestà) for Frederick II in several cities of northern Italy and southern France between 1221 and 1237. B. frequently applies the names of known historical figures to his characters, at times anachronistically, to lend an air of authenticity to his narratives. Pavia, the ancient capital of Lombardy, lies on the left bank of the Ticino River, some twenty miles south of Milan.4. which never closed its gates Torello had earlier implied that Saladin could not arrive in Pavia before the city’s gates were closed for the night, his intention being to mislead him into accepting his hospitality.5. Acre The last Christian stronghold in the Holy Land, lying on the Mediterranean coast, Acre was conquered in 1104 by the Crusaders, who named the city Saint Jean d’Acre. B.’s claim that the Christian armies were defeated there in 1189 through being weakened by illness reflects accounts of the battle found in Giovanni Villani’s chronicle, but is unsupported by later historical evidence.6. San Pietro in Ciel d’Oro The famous cathedral in the centre of Pavia.7. Digne A town in the Alpes de Haute Provence, once feudatory to the Angevins of Naples.8. one of his magicians In general (see II, 1, III, 8, VI, 10, VIII, 3, VIII, 7 and VIII, 9) B. adopts a sceptical or derisive attitude towards all forms of magic and superstition, but both in the present story and in X, 5 the resolution of the plot depends on the successful application of the magical arts. The explanation for this apparent inconsistency lies in his treatment of the theme of the Tenth Day’s stories. In their attempts to surpass the previous speaker with their own version of a magnanimous deed, the narrators resort to increasingly improbable examples, culminating in the wholly implausible tale of Griselda.9. Adalieta A name used in patrician families as an affectionate alternative to Adelaide.Tenth Story1. the werewolf’s tail Dioneo is referring back to the formula used by Lotteringhi’s wife for exorcizing the werewolf (VIII, 1). After telling his story, he uses another scurrilous expression (‘scuotere il pilliccione’, ‘to shake one’s skin-coat’) that had appeared earlier in the tale of the scholar and the widow (VIII, 7).

• From Apprenticed to Venus: My Secret Life with Anaïs Nin (2017)

  As they arrived at the top floor, she started to unbutton her coat. He leapt to help her. Expertly removing it, he said, “My name is Rupert Pole.” His exhaled breath shot a current from her neck down between her thighs. They entered the party together and found Hazel, who had grown more plump since Anaïs had last seen her, and blowsier. Hazel tilted her cigarette holder upward as she took in Rupert standing next to Anaïs. When he went to get drinks, Anaïs quickly made disclaimers to Hazel. “Hugo wished he could be here. He’s in Cuba on business for another week.” Rupert returned, handed Anaïs a vodka gimlet, and settled with her on a divan. “Are you French?” he asked her. She noticed flecks of gold in his blue eyes. “I was born in Cuba, but my father moved us to France, where I lived until I was eleven. Then my parents divorced, and Mother brought us to New York.” “But your accent seems too pronounced for you to have lived here since you were eleven.” She noticed his ascetic temples. “When I was twenty, the man I was married to was transferred to a bank in Paris. In France my accent came back and now doesn’t want to leave.” “The man I was married to” wasn’t a lie, though it was something she said when she didn’t want to discourage a man romantically. She kept Hugo hidden. She kept the fact that she’d been married for twenty-four years hidden. They talked about Rupert growing up among Native Americans in a Palm Springs adobe, about her Spanish blood and her famous Cuban musician father, Joaquin Nin, about Rupert having studied music at Harvard, his belief in pacifism and interest in Eastern spirituality. They talked about typefaces and makes of standing presses. All the while her eyes spoke another language: I want you, do you want me? Do you desire me? Would you hurt me? Rupert told her earnestly that he was giving up the theater and returning home to Los Angeles to study to become a forest ranger. “So we’re both leaving New York for gentler pastures,” Anaïs said. “You’re leaving, too? Where are you going?” “I want to move back to Paris. I don’t find the United States hospitable to the kind of writing I do.” “Where have you been in the States besides New York?” “Brooklyn.” “That’s New York.” “And I’ve been to Boston. I gave talks at Amherst and Dartmouth.” “Have you ever been west of the Mississippi? Have you ever seen the mountains in Utah or the Indian lands in New Mexico? Ever been to California?” “No.” She sighed. “All the publishers are in New York.” “But Anaïs, you haven’t seen the United States yet! You’re going to leave this magnificent land before you’ve seen it? The US isn’t just the East Coast, you know.” “You sound like my friend Henry Miller. He recently moved to Big Sur in California.”

• From Apprenticed to Venus: My Secret Life with Anaïs Nin (2017)

  The theme of our first night was first arousal. What were the earliest erogenous zones we were aware of? Mine were related to tickling. At what age did we discover masturbation? One woman never had! How did we pleasure ourselves? A teddy bear, the edge of the bed. To everyone’s surprise, our memories of first arousal had little to do with men—or women, for that matter. Horses, dogs, cats, and cartoon characters were more primary. One woman made us laugh by saying she first masturbated to the vision of turds falling into a toilet, and another described how she got off to the imagined advances of an ugly boy with pimples whom she hated. Another remembered her fantasy of a girl with a broken arm, which later morphed into men missing an arm, a leg, an eye. The dirties, the nasties, the ugly, for some reason, were prevalent in their earliest fantasies. Only mine were stereotypically romantic, a knight on a white horse in the forest. Even in my conveyor belt fantasies, I got rescued by a heroic boy. Over the following weeks, we explored what pleased us in the lantern light, what we endured, as well as our fantasies during intercourse. One woman imagined while having sex that she would be caught and punished for it. Another confessed she found the physical act of intercourse so funny that she giggled during it, which made her boyfriend furious. To my surprise and chagrin, I was the only one who didn’t have fantasies during sex about anything or anyone other than the man I was with. The other women’s reports were filled with a mad and colorful array of characters and creatures, and I was awed by the amazing variety within just our small group. Unlike our larger consciousness-raising group, in which there had been several lesbians, all the women here preferred guys. Nevertheless, I found myself listening carefully to hear if Clara had ever fantasized about women, as I had been having fantasies about her. She dismissed the question offhandedly, denying any interest. The narrow door through which I might have known Sapphic love closed that evening, sealing off a realm of pleasures. When Anaïs wanted something, she was anything but passive, and I had never experienced her lobbying me so intently as she did for those tent tapes. Upon her return from a European trip, she immediately phoned me to bring over the tapes. Our group had spoken with such unexpected openness that I regretted having convinced them to share the tapes with her. If we’d taken a vote again, I would have sided with Clara. She was right; we didn’t know what Anaïs would do with the tapes. Anaïs had recently asked me if I, or my students, had any erotic stories to sell; she said she was in touch again with “the Collector” for whom she and Henry Miller and other struggling Village artists had written pornography.

• From Apprenticed to Venus: My Secret Life with Anaïs Nin (2017)

  He carefully folded his slacks and laid them on one of Lenore’s worktables. He unbuttoned his shirt so it fell open but he did not remove it. He stood over me, shorts still on, and lowered himself so he was sitting next to me on the rollaway bed. He attempted to raise my slip again, and this time I helped him by lifting my weightless arms, inhaling my own bouquet of sweat and deodorant. He deftly unfastened and removed my bra, watching me in the light of the streetlamp shining through the high loft windows. He touched my breasts with a kind of reverence, then kissed them. I was floating, enjoying, without the fear I’d always felt when boys I made out with wanted to go farther. The nuns had indoctrinated me so well that I was terrified of sex, yet that night I could not find my fear and didn’t want to. I still had on the light girdle with garters that held up the nylons I’d ruined by dancing holes in the feet. “Why do you wear a girdle?” Jean-Jacques asked. “You have no need.” I couldn’t answer because I didn’t know why; my mother was fat and wore a girdle, and I thought that’s what all women did. I allowed him to unfasten the nylons and skillfully roll them down. Then he pulled down the girdle, expertly, as if he’d done it many times. I felt so much better with it off, and I was still safe because I still had on my panties, and he did not try to touch them, as he covered my body with his. The totem gods hanging above us swayed, nodding in approval as he pushed his pelvis against mine. I had never experienced a man moving his body on mine like that before, and it seemed so natural, so right. He raised himself with one arm and ran his fingertips from my nipples down my abdomen, sending shivers of pleasure through me. Then he lowered his frame over mine again on the cot. I could feel the satin of his shorts protruding against the nylon of my crotch. I looked down and caught sight of his penis coming through the opening in his shorts. I had the impulse to touch it, because a girlfriend had told me that touching a penis felt like petting a horse’s nose, and I loved the soft nose of a horse. I slipped one hand between us as he rose up and let my fingers brush against it. I was surprised by its heat and pulled my hand away. The great totems were watching from above, saying yes, touch it, feel it, do it; it is right, it is nature. I closed my hand over it. He stopped moving then. “What do you want?”

• From The Decameron (1353)

  ‘My good woman, you have repeatedly assured me that Messer Ansaldo loves me above all else, and offered me sumptuous gifts on his behalf, all of which I prefer that he should keep, for they could never induce me to love him or submit to his pleasure. If only I could be certain, however, that he loved me as much as you claim, I should undoubtedly bring myself to love him and do his bidding. So if he will offer me proof of his love by doing what I intend to ask of him, I shall be only too ready to obey his commands.’ ‘And what is it, ma’am,’ the good woman asked, ‘that you want him to do?’ ‘What I want is this,’ replied the lady. ‘In the month of January that is now approaching, I want a garden, somewhere near the town, that is full of green plants, flowers, and leafy trees, exactly as though it were the month of May. And if he fails to provide it, let him take good care never to send you or anyone else to me again. For if he should provoke me any further, I shall no longer keep this matter a secret as I have until now, but I shall seek to rid myself of his attentions by complaining to my husband and kinsfolk.’ On hearing about the lady’s proposition, the gentleman naturally felt that she was asking him to do something very difficult, or rather well-nigh impossible, and realized that her only reason for demanding such a thing was to dash his hopes; but nevertheless he resolved that he would explore every possible means of furnishing her request. He therefore set inquiries afoot in various parts of the world to see whether anyone could be found to advise and assist him in the matter, and eventually got hold of a man who offered to do it by magic, provided he was well-enough paid. So Messer Ansaldo agreed to pay him a huge sum of money, and waited contentedly for the time the lady had appointed. And during the night preceding the calends of January, when the cold was very intense and everything was covered in snow and ice, the magician employed his skills to such good effect that in a beautiful meadow not far from the town, there appeared next morning, as all those who saw it bore witness, one of the fairest gardens that anyone had ever seen, with plants and trees and fruits of every conceivable kind. No sooner did Messer Ansaldo feast his eyes upon this spectacle than he caused a quantity of the finest fruits and flowers to be gathered and secretly presented to his lady, inviting her to come and see the garden she had asked for, so that she would not only realize how much he loved her, but recall the solemn pledge she had given and take steps to keep her word in the manner of a true gentlewoman.

• From The Decameron (1353)

  So saying and having altogether changed purpose from that wherewith he came, he drew near to the girl and began gently to comfort her, praying her not to weep, and passing from one word to another, he ended by discovering to her his desire. The girl, who was neither iron nor adamant, readily enough lent herself to the pleasure of the abbot, who, after he had clipped and kissed her again and again, mounted upon the monk's pallet and having belike regard to the grave burden of his dignity and the girl's tender age and fearful of irking her for overmuch heaviness, bestrode not her breast, but set her upon his own and so a great while disported himself with her. Meanwhile, the monk, who had only made believe to go to the wood and had hidden himself in the dormitory, was altogether reassured, whenas he saw the abbot enter his cell alone, doubting not but his device should have effect, and when he saw him lock the door from within, he held it for certain. Accordingly, coming forth of his hiding-place, he stealthily betook himself to a crevice, through which he both heard and saw all that the abbot did and said. When it seemed to the latter that he had tarried long enough with the damsel, he locked her in the cell and returned to his own chamber, whence, after awhile, he heard the monk stirring and deeming him returned from the wood, thought to rebuke him severely and cast him into prison, so himself might alone possess the prey he had gotten; wherefore, sending for him, he very grievously rebuked him and with a stern countenance and commanded that he should be put in prison. The monk very readily answered, 'Sir, I have not yet pertained long enough to the order of St. Benedict to have been able to learn every particular thereof, and you had not yet shown me that monks should make of women a means of mortification,[49] as of fasts and vigils; but, now that you have shown it me, I promise you, so you will pardon me this default, never again to offend therein, but still to do as I have seen you do.' The abbot, who was a quick-witted man, readily understood that the monk not only knew more than himself, but had seen what he did; wherefore, his conscience pricking him for his own default, he was ashamed to inflict on the monk a punishment which he himself had merited even as he. Accordingly, pardoning him and charging him keep silence of that which he had seen, they privily put the girl out of doors and it is believed that they caused her return thither more than once thereafterward."

• From The Decameron (1353)

  So as soon as Calandrino downed tools for a moment to go and see whether he could catch a glimpse of the girl, Bruno told Nello and Buffalmacco all about Calandrino’s sudden infatuation, and together they agreed what they should do about it. As soon as Calandrino returned, Bruno whispered in his ear: ‘Did you see her?’ ‘Ah, that I did!’ Calandrino replied. ‘She’s struck me all of a heap.’ ‘I’ll just go and see whether she’s the one I think she is,’ said Bruno, ‘in which case you can safely leave everything to me.’ So Bruno went downstairs, and finding Filippo and the girl together, he carefully explained the sort of man that Calandrino was, and told them what he had said. He then arranged with each of them what they should do and say so that they could all have a merry time at Calandrino’s expense over this little love-affair of his. And returning to Calandrino, he said: ‘Just as I thought: it’s Filippo’s wife. So we shall have to tread very warily, because if Filippo gets wind of this affair, he’ll spill so much of our blood that all the water in the Arno won’t wash it away. But what message would you like me to give her, if I should have a chance to speak to her?’ ‘Faith!’ replied Calandrino. ‘You’re to tell her first and foremost that I wish her a thousand bushels of the sort of love that fattens a girl; then you’re to say that I’m her obedient servant, and if there’s anything she needs… Do you follow me?’ ‘Indeed I do,’ said Bruno. ‘Leave everything to me.’ When suppertime came, they all abandoned work for the day and made their way downstairs to the courtyard, where Filippo and Niccolosa stood loitering about for Calandrino’s benefit. Fixing his gaze on Niccolosa, Calandrino began to perform a whole series of curious antics, so blatantly obvious that even a blind man would have noticed. As for Niccolosa, in view of what Bruno had told her, she gave Calandrino every encouragement, and took the greatest delight in his eccentricities. And whilst all this was going on, Filippo was deep in conversation with Buffalmacco and the others, pretending not to notice. After a while, however, much to Calandrino’s annoyance, Filippo and the girl went away; and as they were on their way back to Florence, Bruno said to him: ‘There’s no doubt about it, Calandrino, you’ve got her in the palm of your hand. Holy Mother of God, if you were to bring along your rebeck 5 and serenade her with one or two of those love-songs of yours, she’d be so eager to come to you that she’d hurl herself bodily through the window.’ ‘Do you really think so, comrade?’ said Calandrino. ‘Do you think I ought to fetch it?’ ‘I certainly do,’ Bruno replied. Whereupon Calandrino said: ‘You wouldn’t believe me today, when I told you.

• From Apprenticed to Venus: My Secret Life with Anaïs Nin (2017)

  She knew that he might see evidence of Hugo’s things. She heard herself say, “My husband and I have been using the apartment alternately until I move to France and the divorce is final.” It wasn’t really a lie. She wanted a divorce from Hugo; it had been on her mind repeatedly. “What about you?” she asked. “There must be a special person in your life. Do you live with anyone?” “I have a girlfriend.” The bite of veal on her fork turned to lint in her mouth. She pulled herself away, erect in her chair. “Oh, I’m surprised. Actually, you surprise me altogether. I had assumed you were homosexual.” “Why would you assume that?” “Maybe it was the long, dramatic leather coat.” He laughed. “It belonged to my stepfather’s father, Frank Lloyd Wright. I thought it might improve my acting prospects. It didn’t.” That he was related to the famous architect made him even more alluring, but she decided not to pursue it; she needed to know if his love for another, younger woman meant he’d inevitably reject her. “So you’re returning to Los Angeles to be with your girl.” “No, to study at UCLA. I’ll live at my mother’s place.” Stop it, Anaïs, she warned herself. Don’t clutch. Don’t scare him off. But she had to know. “Is it serious with your girl?” “I love her, but she’s religious. We’ve never made love because she’s waiting for marriage. I think she wants someone who can offer more security than I can.” She saw the pain and confusion on his face and felt relieved. “Does that mean you haven’t had sexual experiences with women?” He laughed. “I was married. I just got divorced.” “You do surprise me. How old are you?” “Twenty-eight.” She quickly calculated. He was sixteen years younger than she. As she waited for him to ask her age, she deliberated what to say. But he didn’t ask. He sprang up from his chair to change the record. He stopped at her chair on his way back to his seat. “Listen to Wagner’s harmonic suspension in the Liebestod. It’s been rising since the prelude.” He wrapped his arms around her just under her small breasts and spoke into her ear. “Hear how it creates desire and expectation? It teases you by taking you right to the brink, expecting the musical climax, and then withholds it, building your desire, your need for resolution even higher so that when the climax of Isolde’s death finally comes, it is shattering, explosive. There is nothing like it.” Anaïs rose from her seat into Rupert’s arms, her passion rising with the repeated harmonic chord, with increased intensity, again and again, mouth on mouth, his hands moving hungrily on her back, pulling her into him.

• From The Decameron (1353)

  And without allowing him to bring his face close to hers, she gazed at him rapturously, saying: ‘Oh, my sweet Calandrino, heart of my body, my dearest, my darling, my angel, how long I have been yearning to have you all to myself and hold you in my arms! You’ve swept me off my feet with your winning ways! You’ve captured my heart with that rebeck of yours! Is it really possible that I am holding you in my embrace?’ ‘Alas, my dearest,’ said Calandrino, who was scarcely able to move. ‘Let me up, so that I may kiss you.’ ‘Oh, but you are too hasty,’ said Niccolosa. ‘First let me have a good look at you. Let me feast my eyes upon your dear, sweet face.’ Bruno and Buffalmacco saw and heard everything that passed between them, having meanwhile joined Filippo in his hiding place. And just as Calandrino had freed his arms, and was on the point of kissing Niccolosa, along came Nello with Monna Tessa. ‘I swear to God they are in there together,’ he said, as they came up to the door of the barn. Fuming with rage, Calandrino’s wife applied both her hands to the door and pushed it open. On entering the barn, she saw Calandrino lying there on his back, straddled by Niccolosa, who no sooner caught sight of Monna Tessa than she leapt to her feet and ran off to join Filippo. Before Calandrino could get up, Monna Tessa pounced upon him and attacked him with her nails, clawing his face all over before seizing him by the hair and dragging him round the floor of the barn, saying: ‘You filthy, despicable dog, so you’d do this to me, would you? A curse on all the love I ever bore you, demented old fool that you are. Don’t you think you have enough to do, keeping the home fires burning, without going off to stoke up other people’s? A fine lover you would make for anyone! Don’t you know yourself, villain? Don’t you realize, scoundrel, that if they were to squeeze you from head to toe, there wouldn’t be enough juice to make a sauce? God’s faith, it wasn’t your wife who was getting you with child 7 this time. May the Lord make her suffer, whoever she is, for she must surely be a depraved little hussy to take a fancy to a precious jewel like you.’ When he first saw his wife coming in, Calandrino was unsure whether he was dead or alive, and hadn’t the courage to defend himself against her furious onslaught. But in the end, all torn and bleeding and dishevelled, he picked up his cape, staggered to his feet, and humbly entreated Monna Tessa not to shout unless she wanted him to be torn to pieces, for the woman who was with him was none other than the wife of the master of the house. ’I don’t care who she is,’ bawled Monna Tessa.

• From The Decameron (1353)

  Feeling somewhat galled by the answer that Pyrrhus had given her, she returned to her mistress, who, on hearing the result of her mission, simply wanted to lie down and die. However, a few days later she raised the subject once more with her maidservant, and said: ‘Lusca, as you know, an oak is not felled by a single blow of the axe. So it seems to me that you should return to this man, who has such a curious way of proving his loyalty at my expense, and, choosing a suitable moment, make a full declaration of my passion and do everything you can to bring this affair to a happy conclusion. For if things are left in their present state, I shall pine away and he will think I was putting his fidelity to the test, so that, whereas I want him to love me, he will end up by hating me.’ The maidservant comforted her mistress, and when she found Pyrrhus in a cheerful and agreeable mood, she said to him: ‘Pyrrhus, a few days ago I told you of the ardent flames of love with which my mistress is consumed on your account, and I now assure you for the second time that if you persist in treating her so cruelly, she cannot go on living for much longer. I therefore appeal to you to lay aside your scruples, and grant her the solace she desires. I have always thought you very sensible, but if you carry this stubbornness of yours any further, I shall begin to think you’re a blockhead. What greater honour could you have than to be loved above all else by so noble and beautiful and wealthy a lady as this? Don’t you realize how fortunate you are, to be offered so pleasant a remedy to the cravings of your youth, and so secure a refuge from all your material needs? Which of your equals will lead a more blissful life than your own, if only you will see reason? Which of them will you find so abundantly supplied with arms and horses, or with clothes and money, if only you will grant her your love?

• From Apprenticed to Venus: My Secret Life with Anaïs Nin (2017)

  From what I could pick up, they were asking for a son they’d danced to in Cuba. When it began, without separating our clasped torsos, Jean-Jacques and I began to move in a slow dance. When I pulled back to look into his face, his mouth was closed in an ironic smile, though his dark eyes were kind. I had assumed that Jean-Jacques’s age and sophistication put him out of my league. The creases in his cheeks and the hardness of his mouth had frightened me, but now I was flowing with the feelings in my body. I was scared and excited, yet my muscles were relaxed and melded to his. He put his mouth to my ear and blew softly, giving me a shiver. He whispered, “I can tell how firm your breasts are under that schoolgirl dress.” I knew he was being fresh, but liquid pleasure coursed through me. We danced to Mongo’s Afro-Cuban rhythms and boogaloo riffs until the club closed. At one point, everyone started dancing with everyone, changing partners, then gyrating in a circle. I danced with Hugo, with Anaïs, with the men and women from Harlem, whirling, the floor vibrating under our feet. Caresse couldn’t dance because she had a bad leg, but she clapped and danced with her hands, and whatever tension may have remained between her and Anaïs, or me, dissolved. Though I had missed dinner and drunk too many bourbon and ginger ales, the music held me up. When it stopped, I would have fallen like a puppet from cut strings were it not for Jean-Jacques’s supportive arms. Without knowing how I’d gotten there, I found myself nuzzled next to him in the limo, my head on his shoulder, drifting out of a stupor only when the chattering between Anaïs and Caresse rose to laughter. When we arrived back at the Guilers’ brownstone, I roused myself. I heard Hugo say to Jean-Jacques, “Why don’t you take the car and see her home.” I mumbled my godmother’s address and fell back into oblivion. [image file=image_rsrc3R3.jpg] The next thing I knew, Jean-Jacques was pulling gently on my arm to encourage me to leave the limo. “I don’t feel good,” I complained as he helped me out onto the street. “I’m dizzy.” “Keys,” he said. Not getting a response from me, he took my purse from over my shoulder and found Lenore’s key ring while supporting me against his trim frame. “Walk. Just to the door.” “I can’t.” “I won’t let you fall.” He skillfully negotiated the keys. We made it into the freight elevator, and he held the cage doors as we stumbled out into Lenore’s foyer. We removed our shoes, and he unlocked the door to my godmother’s huge work space, which had once been a sailmaker’s loft.

• From The Decameron (1353)

  FIFTH STORY Calandrino falls in love with a young woman, and Bruno provides him with a magic scroll, with which he no sooner touches her than she goes off with him. But on being discovered with the girl by his wife, he finds himself in very serious trouble . Neifile’s story was of no great length, and when it drew to a close it was passed off by the company without much laughter or comment. The queen now turned to Fiammetta, ordering her to follow. Fiammetta gaily replied that she would do so with pleasure, and began: Noble ladies, as you will doubtless be aware, the more one returns to any given subject, the greater the pleasure it brings, provided the person by whom it is broached selects the appropriate time and place. And since we are assembled here for no other purpose than to rejoice and be merry, I consider this a suitable time and a proper place for any subject that will promote our joy and pleasure; for even if it had been aired a thousand times already, we could return to it as many times again, and it would still afford delight to us all. Hence, albeit we have referred many times to the doings of Calandrino, they are invariably so amusing, as Filostrato pointed out a little earlier, that I shall venture to add a further tale to those we have already heard about him. I could easily have told it in some other way, using fictitious names, had I wished to do so; but since by departing from the truth of what actually happened, the storyteller greatly diminishes the pleasure of his listeners, I shall turn for support to my opening remarks, and tell it in its proper form. Niccolò Cornacchini, 1 a wealthy fellow citizen of ours, owned various lands including a beautiful estate at Camerata, 2 on which he caused a fine and splendid mansion to be built, commissioning Bruno and Buffalmacco to paint it throughout with frescoes. So enormous was the task with which they were confronted that they first enlisted the aid of Nello and Calandrino, then they all got down to work. Now, albeit one of the rooms contained a bed and other pieces of furniture, nobody was living on the premises except for an elderly housekeeper, and accordingly every so often one of Niccolò’s sons, a young bachelor whose name was Filippo, was in the habit of turning up with some young lady or other, who would minister to his pleasures for a day or two and then be sent away. On one of these visits, he arrived at the mansion with a girl, Niccolosa by name, who was kept by a scoundrelly fellow called Mangione at a house in Camaldoli, 3 whence he let her out on hire. This girl had a beautiful figure, dressed well, and, for a woman of her sort, was very polite and well spoken.

• From Apprenticed to Venus: My Secret Life with Anaïs Nin (2017)

  I’d enjoyed learning about the early Japanese diarists whose aesthetic was to make imperceptible the line between fact and the imagined. But now I was trying to write about boring spinster and invalid Alice James, so instead of writing, I was fantasizing about a pirate with a British accent I’d met at our annual Halloween party. Our eyes had connected over the punch bowl and in less than two hours, his pirate breeches and my Old West saloon girl gown were on the floor of my upstairs bedroom, and we were naked on my mattress. For the life of me, though, I could not recall his name. I noticed Don standing over me. “Sorry to interrupt, but there’s a guy at the front door who says he met you at our party, Philip Forester?” Right! That was his name! Don and my other commune mates were gawking from the top of the stairs when I greeted Philip. In order to get some privacy, I took him to my bedroom and shut the door. With an adorable grin Philip produced from the pocket of his slinky shirt an expertly rolled joint, lit it, and handed it to me. I knew I shouldn’t smoke because it was a weeknight, and in our house pot was reserved for socializing on weekends. But I was entranced again by Philip’s Michael Caine-in-Alfie accent, his buttery hair and blue eyes, and his beautiful face that matched Anaïs’s description of Rupert’s sensitive face when they’d met. I had decided it was high time I found my own Rupert, a lover and devoted domestic partner, whose sensuous nature would keep me connected to the earth. I saw how happy Rupert made Anaïs, and I wanted that. So, copying how she materialized what she desired by writing in her diary, I’d written a portrait of a younger, less cornball Rupert in mine, and now assumed Philip was the manifestation. However, Philip Forester, who was repping a Carnaby Street fashion line in LA, didn’t fit in with my commune. Politicos, like my commune members, and hippies, like Philip, were in opposing camps. My commune family rejected Philip as a new age capitalist. It was West Side Story all over again: my leftist-feminist Maria in love with his mercantile, joint-toking Tony; my commune as Maria’s disapproving family. It was just the sort of romantic melodrama Anaïs and Renate would have loved. When it happened, though, Anaïs was on an extended trip to Asia for Westways magazine, accompanied by Rupert as her paid photographer, and Renate had sequestered herself “incommunicado” in her last creative resurgence, painting wall-sized canvases of trompe l’oeil nature scenes. I was on my own, and when Philip asked to share my room until his commissions came in, I ignored the commune rule that overnight guests not stay longer than two weeks. At the commune’s Sunday night meeting, Don, refusing to look at me, said, “Bob, as president of the house, has something to tell you.”

• 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)

  From time to time, by recounting other tales of a similar kind, Bruno added further fuel to the flames of the physician’s longings, until, very late one evening, when Bruno was busy painting the battle between the cats and the mice by the light of a lantern being held aloft by Master Simone, the physician decided that Bruno was by now sufficiently in his debt for him to bring his feelings into the open. And since they were alone in the house, he said: ‘As God is my witness, Bruno, there isn’t anyone on earth for whom I would do all the things I would do for you. Why, even if you were to ask me to go all the way from here to Peretola,11 I almost believe I would do it. So I trust you will not take it amiss if I speak to you now as an intimate friend, and ask you a favour in strict confidence. As you know, you spoke to me not long ago about the doings of your merry company, and ever since that day, I’ve been positively dying to attend your meetings. I have good reason for wanting to come, as you’ll see for yourself if I should happen to be invited, for I assure you here and now that if I don’t get those magicians of yours to fetch the comeliest serving wench you’ve seen for many a long day, I deserve to be taken for an idiot. I fell passionately in love with the girl from the moment I clapped eyes on her, last year in Cacavincigli,12 and I swear to God that I offered her ten Bolognese groats, but she turned them down. So I implore you, from the bottom of my heart, to tell me what I have to do to become a member, and I beg you to use all your power and influence to bring it about, for I can assure you that you could never have a better or more loyal comrade, nor one who would bring you greater credit. I don’t suppose, for instance, that any of your members is a doctor of medicine, and you can see for yourself what a handsome fellow I am, with a fine pair of shanks and a face like a rose. Besides, I know lots of good stories and some excellent songs. Would you like to hear one?’ And without waiting for an answer, he burst into song. Bruno was so amused by all this that he had a job to keep a straight face; and when the song was finished, the Master said: ‘Well, Bruno, what do you think of that?’ ‘It’s fantastic,’ said Bruno. ‘With a cacophonous voice like that, you could charm the vultures out of the trees.’ ‘If you hadn’t heard it with your own ears,’ said the Master, ‘you wouldn’t have believed it possible, would you?’ ‘I certainly wouldn’t,’ said Bruno.

• From The Decameron (1353)

  Silver phials, exquisitely wrought, were then produced from the basket, some filled with rose-water, others with the water of orange flowers or jasmine blossom, with which their bodies were liberally sprinkled by the slave-girls, after which they refreshed themselves for a while with precious wines and sweetmeats. Salabaetto thought he was in Paradise, and devoured the lady a thousand times over with his eyes, for she was assuredly a very beautiful woman. Every hour that passed seemed to him a hundred years as he waited for the slave-girls to depart so that he might find himself in her embrace. Eventually, however, at the lady’s command, they withdrew from the room, leaving a lighted torch behind them, whereupon she and Salabaetto fell into one another’s arms. And there they remained together for some little time, to the immense delight of Salabaetto, who imagined her to be wasting away out of her love for him. At length the lady decided it was time for them to rise, so she summoned the slave-girls, who helped them to dress. They then took some further refreshment in the form of wine and sweetmeats, and washed their faces and hands in the flower-scented waters. And as they were on the point of leaving, the lady said to Salabaetto: ‘If it pleases you, I should consider it a very great favour if you were to come to my house for supper this evening, and spend the night with me.’ Being thoroughly taken in by her beauty and her calculated charm, and firmly believing that she loved him to distraction, Salabaetto replied: ‘Whatever pleases you, my lady, is infinitely pleasing to me. Ask of me what you will, therefore, whether this evening or at any other time, and I shall do it gladly.’ And so returning to her house, the lady arranged for an impressive array of her gowns and other paraphernalia to be put on display in her bedroom, and having given instructions for a magnificent supper to be prepared, she waited for Salabaetto to come. As soon as it was reasonably dark, he made his way to the house, where he received a rapturous welcome, and after a most convivial supper, impeccably served, she led him off into the bedroom. The air was heavy with the wondrous fragrance of eagle-wood, and looking round, he observed that the bed was profusely adorned with mechanical songbirds, and that masses of beautiful gowns were hanging from the walls on pegs. All these things together, and each in particular, led him to the firm conviction that she was a great and wealthy lady. For although he had heard one or two rumours portraying her in quite a different light, nothing in the world could persuade him that there was any truth in these reports; and even if the suspicion crossed his mind that she had beguiled men before, he could never imagine for a moment that the same thing would happen to him.

• From The Decameron (1353)

  Although, in common with many another young man in love, Cimon was inclined in some ways to carry his love for Iphigenia to extremes, nevertheless Aristippus, on reflecting that Love had turned his son from an ass into a man, not only treated him with patience and tolerance but encouraged him to go further, and taste Love’s pleasures to the full. But Cimon (who refused to be called Galesus because he recalled that Iphigenia had addressed him by his nickname) was determined to achieve the object of his yearning by honourable means, and made several attempts to persuade Iphi-genia’s father, Cypsehus, to grant him her hand in marriage, only to be told on each occasion that Cypsehus had already promised her to Pasimondas, a young nobleman of Rhodes, and had no intention of breaking his word. When the time came for Iphigenia’s marriage contract to be honoured, and her husband sent to fetch her, Cimon said to himself: ‘Ah, Iphigenia! Now is the time for me to prove how deeply I love you! Through you I have achieved manhood, and if I succeed in winning you, beyond doubt I shall achieve greater glory than any of the gods. And win you I certainly shall, or I shall perish.’ Being thus resolved, he furtively enlisted the help of certain young nobles who were friends of his, made secret arrangements to fit out a ship with everything one needed for a naval battle, and put out to sea, where he hove to and waited for the vessel which was to convey Iphigenia to her husband in Rhodes. And after her husband’s friends had been sumptuously entertained by her father, they escorted her aboard, pointed the ship’s prow in the direction of Rhodes, and departed. On the following day, Cimon, who was very much on the alert, caught up with them in his own vessel, and standing on the prow, he hailed the crew of Iphigenia’s ship in a loud voice: ‘Lower your sails and heave to, or prepare to be overwhelmed and sunk!’ Cimon’s opponents had brought up weapons from below and were making ready to defend themselves, so he followed up his words by seizing a grappling-iron and hurling it on to the stern of the Rhodian ship as it was pulling swiftly away, thus bringing his bows hard up against the enemy’s poop. Without waiting to be joined by his comrades, he leapt aboard the Rhodians’ ship like a raging lion as though contemptuous of all opposition. Spurred on by his love, he set about his adversaries with astonishing vigour, striking them down with his cutlass, one after another, like so many sheep. On seeing this the Rhodians laid down their arms, and more or less in chorus gave themselves up as his prisoners. Then Cimon said to them:

• From The Decameron (1353)

  But having given a great deal of thought to devising some means of consorting with her lover, and being under constant pressure from Ruberto himself to find a way out of this impasse, she eventually hit upon the following expedient: since her bedroom overlooked the street, and she had frequently had occasion to observe that Arriguccio, once he was asleep, slept like a log, she would ask Ruberto to come to the front door towards midnight and she would go and let him in. In this way she could spend some time in his arms whilst her husband was soundly asleep. But so that she would know that he had come, she contrived, in such a way that nobody would notice, to dangle a length of string from the bedroom window with its end almost touching the ground; at its other end, the string ran along the floor of the room to the bed, finishing up under the bedclothes, and as soon as she was in bed, she tied it to her big toe. Ruberto was duly informed beforehand, and she further directed him that, on arriving at the house, he was to give the string a tug, and if her husband was asleep, she would release it and go downstairs to let him in; but if her husband was still awake, she would hold on to the string and haul it in, to let him know that he was to go away. This arrangement suited Ruberto down to the ground, and he made regular use of it, sometimes being able to see her and sometimes not. They continued to use this ingenious device until one night, when the lady was asleep, Arriguccio happened to stretch his leg down the bed and catch his foot in the string. Having groped for it with his hand and discovered that it was attached to the lady’s toe, he said to himself: ‘This must clearly be some devilish trick or other.’ On observing that the string passed out by the window, he was quite convinced of it; so he gently detached it from the lady’s toe, tied it to his own, and waited, alert and vigilant, to see what would happen. Shortly afterwards, Ruberto came along and jerked the string as usual, giving Arriguccio a start. He had not tied it on properly, and so Ruberto, who had given it a good tug and was left with the string in his hands, assumed that he was to wait, which is what in fact he did.

• From The Decameron (1353)

  ‘As for your love, or that you should belong to me, these are matters towards which, as I said before, I am utterly indifferent. Go on belonging, if you can, to the man you belonged to before, whom I now love as much as I formerly hated, considering the pretty pass to which you have been brought on his account. You women are always falling in love with younger men, and yearning for them to love you in return, because of their fresher complexions and darker beards, their jaunty gait, their dancing and their jousting; but when a man is properly mature, he has put such matters as these behind him, and knows a thing or two that these young fellows have yet to learn. ‘Moreover, because a young man will cover more miles in a single day, he seems to you a better rider. But whereas I admit that he will shake your skin-coat 4 with greater vigour, the older man, being more experienced, has a better idea of where the fleas are lurking. Besides, a portion that is small, but delicately flavoured, is infinitely preferable to a larger one that has no taste at all. And a hard gallop will tire and weaken a man, however young, whilst a gentle trot, though it may bring him somewhat later to the inn, will at least ensure that he is still in good fettle on arrival. ‘Senseless creatures that you are, you fail to perceive how much evil may lie concealed beneath their handsome outward appearance. A young man is never content with one woman, but desires as many as he sets his eyes upon, thinking himself worthy of them all; hence his love can never be stable, as you can now bear witness all too clearly for yourself. Besides, they feel they have a right to be pampered and worshipped by their women, and take an enormous pride in boasting of their conquests – a failing which has caused many a woman to land in the arms of the friars, who keep their lips sealed about such matters. When you claim that your maid and I are the only people who know of your secret love, you are sadly mistaken. You deceive yourself if that is what you believe, for the people of the district where he lives, as well as of your own, talk about nothing else; but the person most closely involved is invariably the last to hear of these things. And you should also remember that young men will steal from you, whereas older men will give you presents. ‘And so, having made a bad choice, you may remain his to whom you gave yourself, and leave me, whom you spurned, to another; for I have found a lady who is far more worthy of my love, and understands me better than you ever did.

• From The Decameron (1353)

  ‘I learned about it this morning from a poor old woman, who often comes to see me because she spent a long time with our father in Palermo and Perugia; or at least she tells me she did. And if it weren’t for the fact that I thought it more decorous for you to come to my own house than for me to visit you in another’s, I would have called to see you hours ago.’ After saying this, she began to inquire about all of his relatives, naming each one individually, and Andreuccio, allowing himself to be led even further up the garden path, told her how they all were. As it was a very hot evening, and they had been talking together for some little time, she sent for Greek wine3 and sweetmeats and saw that Andreuccio was given something to drink, after which he got up to go, saying it was time for supper. She refused to allow him to do any such thing: on the contrary, pretending to be deeply hurt, she flung her arms round his neck, saying: ‘Alas, now I am quite certain how little you care for me! What else am I to think, when you are with a sister you have never seen before, in her own house, where you should have stayed from the moment you arrived, and now you want to leave me to go and have supper at some inn! Really! You are going to sup with me. My husband is not at home, for which I am very sorry, but though I am merely a woman, I am quite capable of supplying you with a little hospitality.’ Andreuccio, not knowing how else to reply, said: ‘I care for you just as much as any man should care for his sister, but if I don’t go back they will be waiting for me all evening to turn up for supper, and I shall cut a bad figure.’ Whereupon she said: ‘Good heavens, as if I didn’t have anyone in the house who could be sent to tell them not to expect you! But you would be doing a much greater kindness, and no more than your duty, if you were to send word to your companions that they should come and have supper here. And then afterwards, if you still insist on leaving, you could all go back to the inn together.’